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Thomas Wentworth Higginson, The new world and the new book 10 0 Browse Search
Wendell Phillips, Theodore C. Pease, Speeches, Lectures and Letters of Wendell Phillips: Volume 2 8 0 Browse Search
Laura E. Richards, Maud Howe, Florence Howe Hall, Julia Ward Howe, 1819-1910, in two volumes, with portraits and other illustrations: volume 1 6 0 Browse Search
Bliss Perry, The American spirit in lierature: a chronicle of great interpreters 4 0 Browse Search
Edward L. Pierce, Memoir and letters of Charles Sumner: volume 3 4 0 Browse Search
Francis B. Carpenter, Six Months at the White House 4 0 Browse Search
Thomas Wentworth Higginson, Henry Walcott Boynton, Reader's History of American Literature 4 0 Browse Search
Thomas Wentworth Higginson, Book and heart: essays on literature and life 4 0 Browse Search
Edward L. Pierce, Memoir and letters of Charles Sumner: volume 1 4 0 Browse Search
James Parton, The life of Horace Greeley 4 0 Browse Search
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Ulysses S. Grant, Personal Memoirs of U. S. Grant, West Point-graduation (search)
ve to remain always. I did not take hold of my studies with avidity, in fact I rarely ever read over a lesson the second time during my entire cadetship. I could not sit in my room doing nothing. There is a fine library connected with the Academy from which cadets can get books to read in their quarters. I devoted more time to these, than to books relating to the course of studies. Much of the time, I am sorry to say, was devoted to novels, but not those of a trashy sort. I read all of Bulwer's then published, Cooper's, Marryat's, Scott's, Washington Irving's works, Lever's, and many others that I do not now remember. Mathematics was very easy to me, so that when January came, I passed the examination, taking a good standing in that branch. In French, the only other study at that time in the first year's course, my standing was very low. In fact, if the class had been turned the other end foremost I should have been near head. I never succeeded in getting squarely at either e
J. B. Jones, A Rebel War Clerk's Diary, chapter 22 (search)
se of any kind be re-established. Their ships would be destroyed, and their people could never come among us but at the risk of ill treatment. They could not maintain a standing army of half a million, and they could not disarm us in such an extensive territory. The best plan, the only plan, to redeem the past and enjoy blessings in the future, is to cease this bootless warfare and be the first to recognize our independence. We are exasperated with Europe, and like the old colonel in Bulwer's play, we can like a brave foe after fighting him. Let the North do this, and we will trade with its people, I have no doubt, and a mutual respect will grow up in time, resulting, probably, in combinations against European powers in their enterprises against governments on this continent. December 8 A letter from Gen. Lee, received to-day, states that, in the recent campaigns, he has experienced the effects of having inferior artillery and fixed ammunition. But this discrepancy is ra
Francis B. Carpenter, Six Months at the White House, Xxxviii. (search)
was to play Richelieu that evening, and, knowing his tastes, I said it was a play which I thought he would enjoy, for Forrest's representation of it was the most life-like of anything I had ever seen upon the stage. Who wrote the play? said he. Bulwer, I replied. Ah! he rejoined; well, I knew Bulwer wrote novels, but I did not know he was a play-writer also. It may seem somewhat strange to say, he continued, but I never read an entire novel in my life! Said Judge Harris, Is it possible? Bulwer wrote novels, but I did not know he was a play-writer also. It may seem somewhat strange to say, he continued, but I never read an entire novel in my life! Said Judge Harris, Is it possible? Yes, returned the President, it is a fact. I once commenced Ivanhoe, but never finished it. This statement, in this age of the world, seems almost incredible — but I give the circumstance as it occurred. However it may have been with regard to novels, it is very certain — as I have already illustrated — that he found time to read Shakspeare; and that he was also fond of certain kinds of poetry. N. P. Willis once told me, that he was taken quite by surprise, on a certain occasion when he w<
Robert Underwood Johnson, Clarence Clough Buell, Battles and Leaders of the Civil War. Volume 4., Notes on Cold Harbor. (search)
nation was superb, and the coolness of his gunners and cannoneers was worthy of the unbounded admiration which we, their enemies, felt for them. Their firing increased in rapidity as their difficulties multiplied, but it showed no sign of becoming wild or hurried. Every shot went straight to the object against which it was directed; every fuse was accurately timed, and every shell burst where it was intended to burst. I remember that in the very heat of the contest there came into my mind Bulwer's superb description of Warwick's last struggle, in which he says that around the king-maker's person there centered a little war, and I applied the phrase to the heroic fellow who was so superbly fighting against hopeless odds immediately in front of me. Several of his guns were dismounted, and his dead horses were strewn in rear. The loss among his men was appalling, but he fought on as coolly as before, and with our glasses we could see him calmly sitting on his large gray horse directin
Owen Wister, Ulysses S. Grant, III. (search)
Indeed, he was a very uncle-like sort of a youth, writes a comrade, Henry Coppee. His picture rises before me . . . in the old torn coat, obsolescent leather gig-top, loose riding pantaloons, with spurs buckled over them, going with his clanking sabre to the drill-hall. He exhibited but little enthusiasm in anything. Here is testimony to that mental indolence, or torpor, which pervaded his nature; and he gives more himself. I rarely read over a lesson the second time. . . . I read all of Bulwer's, . . . Cooper's, Marryat's, Scott's, Washington Irving's works, Lever's, and many others that I do not now remember. His letters home show an appreciation of natural scenery, and this he seems always to have had. During his furlough at home after two years at the Academy it is narrated by Richardson that, in accordance with an agreement between himself and classmates to abstain from liquor for a year, he steadily refused to drink with his old friends. The object of the cadets was to s
Benjamnin F. Butler, Butler's Book: Autobiography and Personal Reminiscences of Major-General Benjamin Butler, Chapter 18: why I was relieved from command. (search)
ave to remain always. I did not take hold of my studies with avidity, in fact I rarely ever read over a lesson the second time during my entire cadetship. I could not sit in my room doing nothing. There is a fine library connected with the Academy from which cadets can get books to read in their quarters. I devoted more time to these than to books relating to the course of studies. Much of the time, I am sorry to say, was devoted to novels, but not those of a trashy sort. I read all of Bulwer's then published, Cooper's, Marryat's, Scott's, Washington Irving's works, Lever's, and many others that I do not now remember. Mathematics was very easy to me, so that when January came, I passed the examination, taking a good standing in that branch. In French, the only other study at that time, in the first year's course, my standing was very low; in fact, if the class had been turned the other end foremost, I should have been near the head. I never succeeded in getting squarely at eit
Southern Historical Society Papers, Volume 3. (ed. Reverend J. William Jones), chapter 2.9 (search)
dy general exchange. I have written home by my old college-mate, Capt. Zeke Crocker, who is on the exchange list. Much of my time is spent writing to my lady friends in the Valley of Virginia and Baltimore, and to relatives South. No letters from home, however, reached me by flag of truce boat, though I know they have been written. The authorities are intentionally negligent about forwarding and delivering our letters from Dixie to us. Have read MacARIAria, by Miss Evans; The Caxtons, by Bulwer, and am reviewing arithmetic and algebra. A number of valuable books have been sent us by the ever thoughtful and attentive Baltimore ladies. They will never know how much they have done, in various kindly ways, to ameliorate our unhappy condition and relieve the dull tedium of our monotonous life. God bless the noble women of Baltimore! They are angels of mercy to us. The supply of drinking water has been scarce and insufficient lately, and those who have been too nice to use the filthy
Thomas Wentworth Higginson, Book and heart: essays on literature and life, Chapter 1: discontinuance of the guide-board (search)
B. This is a fact. The truth is, that in Miss Edgeworth's day they ordered the matter differently. Either the sinners and saints were called up by name in the closing chapter, and judgment rendered in detail, or else very explicit reasons were given why the obvious award was impracticable. The Lord Lilburnes of this hollow world are not to be pelted with the soft roses of poetical justice. He is alone with old age and in the sight of death. Thus stands the guide-board at the close of Bulwer's Night and Morning; and in the discontinuance of such aids there is doubtless a certain risk. Some of the most powerful works of modern fiction have apparently failed to impress their moral on the careless reader. All really strong novels involving illicit love are necessarily tragedies at last, not vaudevilles; and nowhere is this more true than in French literature. The clever woman who said that nothing was worse than French immorality except French morality, simply failed to go belo
Thomas Wentworth Higginson, Book and heart: essays on literature and life, Chapter 10: Favorites of a day (search)
object of such enthusiasm that publishers quarrelled for the right to reproduce them in English, and old friendships were sundered by the competition to translate them. At that time all young men who wished for a brilliant social career still took for their models either Pelham or Vivian Grey,; and I remember that a man of fine intellect, who had worked in a factory till he was eighteen, once told me that he had met with no intellectual influence to be compared with that exerted upon him by Bulwer's novels. The historical tales of G. P. R. James were watched for by thousands of eager readers, and his solitary horseman rode through the opening page among the plaudits of a myriad hearts. Dickens laughed all these away, as Cervantes smiled away Spain's chivalry; and now Dickens himself is set aside by critics as boisterous in his fun and maudlin in his sentiment. All teaches us that fame is, in numberless cases, the most fleeting of all harvests; that it is, indeed, like parched corn
Charles E. Stowe, Harriet Beecher Stowe compiled from her letters and journals by her son Charles Edward Stowe, Chapter 8: first trip to Europe, 1853. (search)
We confess that in the whole modern romance literature of Germany, England, and France, we know of no novel to be called equal to this. In comparison with its glowing eloquence that never fails of its purpose, its wonderful truth to nature, the largeness of its ideas, and the artistic faultlessness of the machinery in this book, George Sand, with her Spiridon and Claudie, appears to us untrue and artificial; Dickens, with his but too faithful pictures from the popular life of London, petty; Bulwer, hectic and selfconscious. It is like a sign of warning from the New World to the Old. Madame George Sand reviewed the book, and spoke of Mrs. Stowe herself in words at once appreciative and discriminating: Mrs. Stowe is all instinct; it is the very reason she appears to some not to have talent. Has she not talent? What is talent? Nothing, doubtless, compared to genius; but has she genius? She has genius as humanity feels the need of genius,the genius of goodness, not that of
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