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Thomas Wentworth Higginson, Carlyle's laugh and other surprises 1 1 Browse Search
Cambridge History of American Literature: volume 3 (ed. Trent, William Peterfield, 1862-1939., Erskine, John, 1879-1951., Sherman, Stuart Pratt, 1881-1926., Van Doren, Carl, 1885-1950.) 1 1 Browse Search
Edward L. Pierce, Memoir and letters of Charles Sumner: volume 1 1 1 Browse Search
Thomas Wentworth Higginson, John Greenleaf Whittier 1 1 Browse Search
Bliss Perry, The American spirit in lierature: a chronicle of great interpreters 1 1 Browse Search
Wendell Phillips, Theodore C. Pease, Speeches, Lectures and Letters of Wendell Phillips: Volume 2 1 1 Browse Search
Wendell Phillips, Theodore C. Pease, Speeches, Lectures and Letters of Wendell Phillips: Volume 1 1 1 Browse Search
Ernest Crosby, Garrison the non-resistant 1 1 Browse Search
Knight's Mechanical Encyclopedia (ed. Knight) 1 1 Browse Search
Henry Morton Stanley, Dorothy Stanley, The Autobiography of Sir Henry Morton Stanley 1 1 Browse Search
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Bliss Perry, The American spirit in lierature: a chronicle of great interpreters, Chapter 8: Poe and Whitman (search)
rs, and they were caught in the more morbid and extravagant phases of the great European movement while its current was beginning to ebb. Their acquaintance with its literature was mainly at second-hand and through the medium of British and American periodicals. Poe, who was older than Whitman by ten years, was fifteen when Byron died, in 1824. He was untouched by the nobler mood of Byron, though his verse was colored by the influence of Byron, Moore, and Shelley. His prose models were De Quincey, Disraeli, and Bulwer. Yet he owed more to Coleridge than to any of the Romantics. He was himself a sort of Coleridge without the piety, with the same keen penetrating critical intelligence, the same lovely opium-shadowed dreams, and, alas, with something of the same reputation as a dead-beat. A child of strolling players, Poe happened to be born in Boston, but he hated Frogpondium his favorite name for the city of his nativity-as much as Whistler hated his native town of Lowell. His
Thomas Wentworth Higginson, John Greenleaf Whittier, English men of letters. (search)
English men of letters. Edited by John Morley. Cloth. 12mo. Price, 40 cents, each Addison. By W. J. Courthope. Bacon. By R. W. Church. Bentley. By Prof. Jebb. Bunyan. By J. A. Froude. Burke. By John Morley. Burns. By Principal Shairp. Byron. By Prof. Nichol. Carlyle. By Prof. Nichol. Chaucer. By Prof. A. W. Ward. Coleridge. By H. D. Traill. Cowper. By Goldwin Smith. Defoe. By W. Minto. de Quincey. By Prof. Mason. Dickens. By A. W. Ward. Dryden. By G. Sainksbury. Fielding. By Austin Dobson. Gibbon. By J. Cotter Morison. Goldsmith.. By William Black. gray. By Edmund Gosse. Hume.. By T. H. Huxley. Johnson. By Leslie Stephen. Keats. By Sidney Colvin. Lamb. By Alfred Ainger. Landor. By Sidney Colvin. Locke. By Prof. Fowler. MacAULAYulay. By J. Cotter Morison. Milton. By Mark Pattison. Pope. By Leslie Stephen. SCOlTT. By R. H. Hutton. Skelley. By J. A. Symonds. Sheridan. By Mrs. Oliphant.
Edward L. Pierce, Memoir and letters of Charles Sumner: volume 1, Chapter 15: the Circuits.—Visits in England and Scotland.—August to October, 1838.—age, 27. (search)
s expressed always with some humor, look at these. They would make a volume of infinite fun. I have passed five days with Brown in rambling round his grounds and in reading in his library. He wished to be remembered kindly to you. The smack of Edinburgh society still remains on my lips. There I saw, in a short time and in a most unfavorable season, many men of interest,—old companions of Scott,—and also those whose characters speak sufficiently for themselves. Tait asked me to meet De Quincey, the opium-eater; but I was engaged to ride with Lord Jeffrey, and could not go. Strachur Park, Oct. 3, 1838. I close this letter at the seat of the Lord-Advocate of Scotland, in Argyleshire, in the very midst of the Highlands. As ever, yours affectionately, C. S. P. S. Lord Jeffrey and Sydney Smith both spoke of Macaulay as a talker who said too much,—so much that Jeffrey thought he was not a popular diner out; and Sydney Smith said, when I told him that I had met Macaulay, We<
Cambridge History of American Literature: volume 3 (ed. Trent, William Peterfield, 1862-1939., Erskine, John, 1879-1951., Sherman, Stuart Pratt, 1881-1926., Van Doren, Carl, 1885-1950.), Index (search)
Dekanawida, 619 De l'allemagne, 453 Deland, Margaret, 291 De Leon, Daniel, 600 Deliciae Hortenses, 573 Dellenbaugh, F. S., 138, 141, 150, 158, 160, 167 Del Mar, A., 440 De Long, 168 De Maiden mid Nodings on, 24 De Mille, Wm., 266, 276, 279, 280, 282, 289 Democracy, 86 Democracy and education, 423 Democratic Review. 301, 304 Demosthenes, 465 D'Ennery, 271 Dennie, Joseph, 481 Dennis, J. S., 212 Densmore, 271 Denver Tribune (Colorado), 27 De Quincey, 475 Der Alte Feierheerd, 585 Der arme Teufel, 583 Der Bleicher Apreitor, 602 Der Hoch-Deutsch Pennsylvanische Geschicht-Schreiber, 575 Der Kerchegang in alter Zeit, 585 Der Niagara, 581 Der Pedlar, 580 Der Seekadet, 588 Der Tunnel, 582 Der Unbekanter, 608 Der Wilde, 578 Der Wochentliche Philadelphische Staatsbote, 575, 576 Des armen Teufel Gesammelte Schriften, 583 Deschamps, 595 Description of Louisiana, 180 Desjardins, Ernest, 184 De Smet, P. J., 138
Thomas Wentworth Higginson, Carlyle's laugh and other surprises, chapter 17 (search)
rwards bound in substantial volumes, with morocco binding and proper lettering. All his writings were thus handsomely treated, and the shelves devoted to his own works, pamphlet or otherwise, were to the eye a very conservatory and flower garden of literature; or like a chamberful of children to whom even a frugal parent may allow himself the luxury of pretty clothes. All his literary arrangements were neat and perfect, and represented that other extreme from the celebrated collection of De Quincey in Dove Cottage at Grasmere, where that author had five thousand books, by his own statement, in a little room ten or twelve feet square; and his old housekeeper explained it to me as perfectly practicable because he had no bookcases, but simply piled them against the walls, leaving here and there little gaps in which he put his money. In the delicate and touching dedication of Scudder's chief work, Men and letters, to his friend Henry M. Alden, the well-known New York editor, he says:
Thomas Wentworth Higginson, Short studies of American authors, Poe. (search)
ginative prose-writing is as unquestionable as Hawthorne's. He even succeeded, which Hawthorne did not, in penetrating the artistic indifference of the French mind; and it was a substantial triumph, when we consider that Baudelaire put himself or his friends to the trouble of translating even the prolonged platitudes of Eureka, and the wearisome narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym. Neither Poe nor Hawthorne has ever been fully recognized in England; and yet no Englishman of our time, not even De Quincey, has done any prose imaginative work to be named with theirs. But in comparing Poe with Hawthorne, we see that the genius of the latter has hands and feet as well as wings, so that all his work is solid as masonry, while Poe's is broken and disfigured by all sorts of inequalities and imitations; he not disdaining, for want of true integrity, to disguise and falsify, to claim knowledge that he did not possess, to invent quotations and references, and even, as Griswold showed, to manipulate
Thomas Wentworth Higginson, Irene E. Jerome., In a fair country, My out-door study (search)
and jagged when compared through the magnifier with the tapering fineness of the insect's sting. Once separated from Nature, literature recedes into metaphysics, or dwindles into novels. How ignoble seems the current material of London literary life, for instance, compared with the noble simplicity which, a half-century ago, made the Lake Country an enchanted land forever. Is it worth a voyage to England to sup with Thackeray in the Pot Tavern? Compare the enormity of pleasure which De Quincey says Wordsworth derived from the simplest natural object, with the serious protest of Wilkie Collins against the affectation of caring about Nature at all. Is it not strange, says this most unhappy man, to see how little real hold the objects of the natural world amidst which we live can gain on our hearts and minds? We go to Nature for comfort in joy, and sympathy in trouble, only in books. . . . . . What share have the attractions of Nature ever had in the pleasurable or painful interes
Thomas Wentworth Higginson, Harvard Memorial Biographies, 1863. (search)
n I expected, and consequently I have not accomplished nearly all that I could wish. Greek and Latin I have kept at with a constancy of which, under all the circumstances,—hard work and scarcity of rest,—I think I may be justly proud. I find that I have lost none of my ability to read them easily, but from the want of grammars I feel that my knowledge of them is not nearly so exact as it once was. The Holy Bible,—the reading of which has been a daily duty and pleasure to me,—John Foster, De Quincey, Macaulay, Shakespeare, Tennyson, and Dickens have formed my leisure reading, if that time which I have stolen from my sleep can be called leisure. I can fairly say that they have been my greatest pleasure ever since I left home. I hope that a year's time, and possibly less, will see me again so situated that the bulk of my time, and not the spare minutes only, may be given up to them. I have been like the mother in Tom Hood's Lost child, who did not know the love she felt for her chil
James Russell Lowell, Among my books, Wordsworth. (search)
It would be instructive to know what were Wordsworth's studies during his winter in Goslar. De Quincey's statement is mere conjecture. It may be guessed fairly enough that he would seek an entrancl of producing any general effect, because the sentences are long and involved; and his friend De Quincey, who corrected the press, has rendered them more obscure by an unusual system of punctuation. whose business he was able to do by deputy, thus leaving him ample leisure for nobler duties. De Quincey speaks of this appointment as an instance of the remarkable good luck which waited upon Wordscharacteristics little is related. He was somewhat above the middle height, but, according to De Quincey, of indifferent figure, the shoulders being narrow and drooping. His finest feature was the et he had no sense of smell, and Haydon that he had none of form. The best likeness of him, in De Quincey's judgment, is the portrait of Milton prefixed to Richardson's notes on Paradise Lost. He was
Margaret Fuller, Memoirs of Margaret Fuller Ossoli (ed. W. H. Channing), chapter 11 (search)
d she, I think it is because he is so kind a neighbor. True to the kindred points of Heaven and Home. Edinburgh.—De Quincey. At Edinburgh we were in the wrong season, and many persons we most wished to see were absent. We had, however, thety. Of our country he spoke very wisely and hopefully. I had the satisfaction, not easily attainable now, of seeing De Quincey for some hours, and in the mood of conversation. As one belonging to the Wordsworth and Coleridge constellation (he, tfaction seeing some persons who illustrated the past dynasty in the progress of thought here: Wordsworth, Dr. Chalmers, De Quincey, Andrew Combe. With a still higher pleasure, because to one of my own sex, whom I have honored almost above any, I wen very earnest in his views of art. I had some pleasant hours with them, and the last night which they and I passed with De Quincey, a real grand conversazione, quite in the Landor style, which lasted, in full harmony, some hours. Carlyle. Of t
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