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Thomas Wentworth Higginson, Henry Walcott Boynton, Reader's History of American Literature, Chapter 10: forecast (search)
o do. It is a fortunate fact that popular judgment, even at the time, is apt to fix upon some one poem by each poet, for instance, and connect the author with that poem inseparably thenceforward. Fate appears to assign to each some one boat, however small, on which his fame may float down towards immortality, even if it never attains it. This is the case, for instance, with Longfellow's Hiawatha, Lowell's Commemoration Ode, Holmes's Chambered Nautilus, Whittier's Snow-bound, Mrs. Howe's Battle Hymn, Whitman's My Captain, Aldrich's Fredericksburg sonnet, Helen Jackson's Spinning, Thoreau's Smoke, Bayard Taylor's Song of the Camp, Emerson's Daughters of time, Burroughs's Serene I Fold my hands, Piatt's The morning Street, Mrs. Hooper's I slept and dreamed that life was beauty, Stedman's Thou art mine, Thou hast given thy word, Wasson's All's well, Brownlee Brown's Thalatta, Ellery Channing's To-morrow, Harriet Spofford's In a summer evening, Lanier's Marshes of Glynn, Mrs. Moulton's T
y spirit of revolutionary republicanism. But in true pioneer fashion we get along with a makeshift until something better turns up. The lyric and narrative verse of the Civil War itself was great in quantity, and not more inferior in quality than the war verse of other nations has often proved to be when read after the immediate occasion for it has passed. Single lyrics by Timrod and Paul Hayne, Boker, H. H. Brownell, Read, Stedman, and other men are still full of fire. Yet Mrs. Howe's Battle Hymn, scribbled hastily in the gray dawn, interpreted, as no other lyric of the war quite succeeded in interpreting, the mystical glory of sacrifice for Freedom. Soldiers sang it in camp; women read it with tears; children repeated it in school, vaguely but truly perceiving in it, as their fathers had perceived in Webster's Reply to Hayne thirty years before, the idea of union made simple, sensuous, passionate. No American poem has had a more dramatic and intense life in the quick breathing
rayer, Whittier 161 Annabel Lee, Poe 192 Anthologies, American, 269 Arsenal at Springfield, the, Longfellow 156 Assignation, the, Poe 193 Astoria, Irving 91 Atala, Chateaubriand 96 Atlantic monthly, 161, 167, 170, 250, 257 Autobiography, Franklin 58-59 Autocrat of the Breakfast table, the, Holmes 164, 167 Bacchus, Emerson 129 Ballad of the French Fleet, a, Longfellow 155 Bancroft, George, 89,176, 177-78 Barefoot boy, the, Whittier 158 Bartol, C. A., 115 Battle Hymn of the Republic, Howe 224, 225 Battle of the Kegs, the, Hopkinson 69 Bay Psalm book, 85 Beecher, H. W., 216-17 Belfry of Bruges, the, Longfellow 156 Bells, the, Poe 5-6,192 Biglow papers, the, Lowell 170, 172, 173 Black Cat, the, Poe 194 Blaine, J. G., quoted, 163 Blithedale romance, the, Hawthorne 145-46, 150-51 Boston news-letter, 60 Boy's town, a, Howells 250 Bracebridge Hall, Irving 91 Bradford, William, 28 Bradstreet, Anne, 36-37 Bridge, the, Longfellow
Laura E. Richards, Maud Howe, Florence Howe Hall, Julia Ward Howe, 1819-1910, in two volumes, with portraits and other illustrations: volume 1, Chapter 1: Ancestral (search)
d daughter-in-law of the General who died in Middletown, Rhode Island, in 1886, at the age of one hundred and two. This lady was dear to our mother as the one remaining link with her father's generation. A visit to Cousin Nancy was one of her great pleasures, and we children were happy if we were allowed to accompany her. The old lady sat erect and dignified in her straight-backed chair, and the two discoursed at length of days gone by. To Cousin Nancy Julia was always young, though the Battle Hymn of the Republic was already written when the old lady charged her to cultivate a literary taste. On another occasion — it was one of the later visits — she said with emphasis, Julia, do not allow yourself to grow old! When you feel that you cannot do a thing, get up and do it Julia never forgot this advice. Cousin Nancy never read a novel in her life, as she announced with pride. She wished to read the Annals of the Schonberg-Cotta family, but, finding it to be a work of fiction, de
Laura E. Richards, Maud Howe, Florence Howe Hall, Julia Ward Howe, 1819-1910, in two volumes, with portraits and other illustrations: volume 1, Chapter 8: little Sammy: the Civil War 1859-1863; aet. 40-44 (search)
own out of mortal crown. J. W. H. I honour the author of the Battle Hymn, and of The flag. She was born in the city of New York. I couldand groping for pen and paper, scrawled in the gray twilight the Battle Hymn of the Republic. She was used to writing thus; verses often came Union armies marched to its swing. Among the singers of the Battle Hymn was Chaplain McCabe, the fighting chaplain of the 122d Ohio Voluces; and when he came to that night in Libby Prison, he sang the Battle Hymn once more. The effect was magical: people shouted, wept, and saelpless Honesty! As if Honesty could ever be helpless.) The Battle Hymn of the Republic has been translated into Italian, Spanish, and Astein's monster such a creation grows to be — such a poem as the Battle Hymn, when it has become the sacred scroll of millions, each one of wthem The flag, which is to be found in many anthologies. As the Battle Hymn was the voice of the nation's, so this was the expression of her
Laura E. Richards, Maud Howe, Florence Howe Hall, Julia Ward Howe, 1819-1910, in two volumes, with portraits and other illustrations: volume 1, Chapter 10: the wider outlookv1865; aet. 46 (search)
t, too, quite near me. I shortened the essay somewhat. It was well heard and received. Afterwards I read my poem called Philosophy, and was urged to recite my Battle Hymn, which I did. I was much gratified by the kind reception I met with and the sight of many friends of my youth. A most pleasant lunch afterwards at Mrs. Hunt'so the Boys' Reform School at Westboro. In the yard where the boys were collected, the guests were introduced. Quite a number crowded to see the Author of the Battle Hymn. Two or three said to me: Are you the woman that wrote that Battle Hymn? When I told them that I was, they seemed much pleased. This I felt to be a great honBattle Hymn? When I told them that I was, they seemed much pleased. This I felt to be a great honor. The next day again she is harassed with correcting proofs and furnishing copy. Ran to Bartol for a little help, which he gave me. The Reverend C. A. Bartol was our next-door neighbor in Chestnut Street, a most kind and friendly one. His venerable figure, wrapped in a wide cloak, walking always in the middle of the road
Laura E. Richards, Maud Howe, Florence Howe Hall, Julia Ward Howe, 1819-1910, in two volumes, with portraits and other illustrations: volume 1, Chapter 4:
241 Beacon Street
: the New Orleans Exposition 1883-1885; aet. 64-66 (search)
ar Marion's friend. May 16. Gave my talk to the colored people, soon after two in the afternoon in their department. A pretty hexagonal platform had been arranged. Behind this was a fine portrait of Abraham Lincoln, with a vase of beautiful flowers [gladiolus and white lilies] at its base. I spoke of Dr. Channing, Garrison, Theodore Parker, Charles Sumner, John A. Andrew, Lucretia Mott, and Wendell Phillips, occupying about an hour. They gave me a fine basket of flowers and sang my Battle Hymn. Afterwards the Alabama cadets visited us. We gave them tea, cake and biscuits and I made a little speech for them. Winter and spring passed rapidly, each season bringing fresh interest. The picturesqueness of New Orleans, the many friends she made among its people, the men and women gathered from every corner of the world, well made up to her for the vexations which inevitably attended her position. Looking back on these days, she said of them: It was like having a big, big Nursery
Laura E. Richards, Maud Howe, Florence Howe Hall, Julia Ward Howe, 1819-1910, in two volumes, with portraits and other illustrations: volume 1, Chapter 5: more changes--1886-1888; aet. 67-69 (search)
id not know Mrs. Howe could speak so well); she takes part in the Authors' Reading for the Longfellow Memorial in the Boston Museum, reciting Our orders and the Battle Hymn, with her lines to Longfellow recently composed. I wore my velvet gown, my mother's lace, Uncle Sam's Saint Esprit, and did my best, as did all the others. of her early letters; here she spent happy days, warm with outer and inner sunshine. California was a-tiptoe with eagerness to see and hear the author of the Battle Hymn ; many lectures were planned, in San Francisco and elsewhere. The Journal gives but brief glimpses of this California visit, which she always recalled with dellefield. Those were times of sorrow; this is one of joy. Let us thank God, who has given us these victories. The audience rose en masse, and stood while the Battle Hymn was sung, author and audience joining in the chorus. After her second lecture in Santa Barbara, she sauntered a little, and spent a little money. Bought som
Laura E. Richards, Maud Howe, Florence Howe Hall, Julia Ward Howe, 1819-1910, in two volumes, with portraits and other illustrations: volume 1, Chapter 6: seventy years young 1889-1890; aet. 70-71 (search)
gregationalists whom I had known, Antoinette Blackwell, of whose ordination I told; then of Theodore Parker, of whom I said, Nothing that I have heard here is more Christian than what I heard from him. I told of his first having brought into notice the hymn, Nearer, My God, to Thee, and said that I had sung it with him; said that in advising with all women's clubs, I always urged them to include in their programmes pressing questions of the day. Was much applauded.... They then sang the Battle Hymn and we adjourned. She spent Christmas with Sister Annie, in great contentment; her last word before starting for home is, Thank God for much good To Maud Boston. I reached Boston very comfortably on Monday night about eleven o'clock. I was slower than usual [on the journey] in making friends with those around me, but finally thought I would speak to the pleasantlooking woman on my left. She had made acquaintance with the people who had the two sections behind mine. I had observ
Laura E. Richards, Maud Howe, Florence Howe Hall, Julia Ward Howe, 1819-1910, in two volumes, with portraits and other illustrations: volume 1, Chapter 8: divers good causes 1890-1896; aet. 71-77 (search)
are helpless men, tender women and children. We invoke here the higher powers of humanity against the rude instincts in which the brute element survives and rules. Aid us, paper, aid us, pen, Aid us, hearts of noble men! Aid us, shades of champions who have led the world's progress! Aid us, thou who hast made royal the scourge and crown of thorns! After hearing these words, Frederick Greenhalge, then Governor of Massachusetts, said to her, Ah, Mrs. Howe, you have given us a prose Battle Hymn! The Friends of Armenia did active and zealous service through a number of years, laboring not only for the saving of life, but for the support and education of the thousands of women and orphans left desolate; Schools and hospitals were established in Armenia,. and many children were placed in American homes, where they grew up happily, to citizenship. Nearly ten years later, a new outbreak of Turkish ferocity roused the Friends to new fervor, and once again her voice was lifted up