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Racine (Wisconsin, United States) (search for this): chapter 1
o a miracle, but far removed from the ardent dreams and soft credulity of the world's youth. Sometimes I think I would give all our gains for those times when young and old gathered in the feudal hall, listening with soul-absorbing transport to the romance of the minstrel, unrestrained and regardless of criticism, and when they worshipped nature, not as high-dressed and pampered, but as just risen from the bath. Cambridge, May 14, 1826.—I am studying Madame de Stael, Epictetus, Milton, Racine, and Castilian ballads, with great delight. There's an assemblage for you. Now tell me, had you rather be the brilliant De Stael or the useful Edgeworth——though De Stael is useful too, but it is on the grand scale, on liberalizing, regenerating principles, and has not the immediate practical success that Edgeworth has. I met with a parallel the other day between Byron and Rousseau, and had a mind to send it to you, it was so excellent. Cambridge, Jan. 10, 1827.—As to my studies, I am e
Mariana (France) (search for this): chapter 1
hing truthfulness by herself, in the story of Mariana. Summer on the Lakes, p. 81. At first Yet the occasion found her equal to it, for Mariana had the kind of spirit which, in a better cauastically laughing, with backward glances, at Mariana, left alone. Alone she went to her room, l at universal perfidy, she could not get. And Mariana, born for love, now hated all the world. T her life, the only stain upon the history of Mariana. They talked to her, as girls having few ty; and, in a grave, sad voice, summoned forth Mariana to answer charges to be made against her. Mariana stood up and leaned against the chimneypiece. Then eight of the older girls came forward, the griefs of my sad life. I will tell you, Mariana, what I never expected to impart to any one. rself, but for one near and dear as herself. Mariana knew the dignity and reserve of this lady's nforgotten the vow of the returning prodigal. Mariana could not resent, could not play false. The t[4 more...]
Princeton, Mass. (Massachusetts, United States) (search for this): chapter 1
idge-Port, Massachusetts, on the 23d of May, 1810. Among her papers fortunately remains this unfinished sketch of youth, prepared by her own hand, in 1840, as the introductory chapter to an autobiographical romance. Parents. My father was a lawyer and a politician. He was a man largely endowed with that sagacious energy, which the state of New England society, for the last half century, has been so well fitted to develop. His father was a clergyman, settled as pastor in Princeton, Massachusetts, within the bounds of whose parish-farm was Wachuset. His means were small, and the great object of his ambition was to send his sons to college. As a boy, my father was taught to think only of preparing himself for Harvard University, and when there of preparing himself for the profession of Law. As a Lawyer, again, the ends constantly presented were to work for distinction in the community, and for the means of supporting a family. To be an honored citizen, and to have a home o
New England (United States) (search for this): chapter 1
ed sketch of youth, prepared by her own hand, in 1840, as the introductory chapter to an autobiographical romance. Parents. My father was a lawyer and a politician. He was a man largely endowed with that sagacious energy, which the state of New England society, for the last half century, has been so well fitted to develop. His father was a clergyman, settled as pastor in Princeton, Massachusetts, within the bounds of whose parish-farm was Wachuset. His means were small, and the great I now well understand its causes, seems to my wiser mind as odious as it was unnatural. The puny child sought everywhere for the Roman or Shakspeare figures, and she was met by the shrewd, honest eye, the homely decency, or the smartness of a New England village on Sunday. There was beauty, but I could not see it then; it was not of the kind I longed for. In the next pew sat a family who were my especial aversion. There were five daughters, the eldest not above four-and-twenty,— yet they had
Romeo (Michigan, United States) (search for this): chapter 1
ave me associations with the day of empty formalities, and arbitrary restrictions; but though the forbidden book or walk always seemed more charming then, I was seldom tempted to disobey.— This Sunday—I was only eight years old—I took from the book-shelf a volume lettered Shakspeare. It was not the first time I had looked at it, but before I had been deterred from attempting to read, by the broken appearance along the page, and preferred smooth narrative. But this time I held in my hand Romeo and Juliet long enough to get my eye fastened to the page. It was a cold winter afternoon. I took the book to the parlor fire, and had there been seated an hour or two, when my father looked up and asked what I was reading so intently. Shakspeare, replied the child, merely raising her eye from the page. Shakspeare,—that won't do; that's no book for Sunday; go put it away and take another. I went as I was bid, but took no other. Returning to my seat, the unfinished story, the personag
Groton (Massachusetts, United States) (search for this): chapter 1
I needed change of scene, and to be roused to activity by other children I have kept you at home, he said, because I took such pleasure in teaching you myself, and besides I knew that you would learn faster with one who is so desirous to aid you. But you will learn fast enough wherever you are, and you ought to be more with others of your own age. I shall soon hear that you are better, I trust. School-life. The school to which Margaret was sent was that of the Misses Prescott, in Groton, Massachusetts. And her experience there has been described with touching truthfulness by herself, in the story of Mariana. Summer on the Lakes, p. 81. At first her school-mates were captivated with her ways; her love of wild dances and sudden song, her freaks of passion and of wit. She was always new, always surprising, and, for a time, charming. But after a while, they tired of her. She could never be depended on to join in their plans, yet she expected them to follow out hers with t
Ovid (Michigan, United States) (search for this): chapter 1
s a great deal to me then, and is so still. Though his words do not abide in memory, his presence does: serene, courtly, of darting hazel eye, a selfsufficient grace, and an appreciation of the world of stern realities, sometimes pathetic, never tragic. He is the natural man of the world; he is what he ought to be, and his darts never fail of their aim. There is a perfume and raciness, too, which makes life a banquet, where the wit sparkles no less that the viands were bought with blood. Ovid gave me not Rome, nor himself, but a view into the enchanted gardens of the Greek mythology. This path I followed, have been following ever since; and now, life half over, it seems to me, as in my childhood, that every thought of which man is susceptible, is intimated there. In those young years, indeed, I did not see what I now see, but loved to creep from amid the Roman pines to lie beneath this great vine, and see the smiling and serene shapes go by, woven from the finest fibres of all t
Department de Ville de Paris (France) (search for this): chapter 1
essful authorship. Thou art to us still more the Man, though less the Genius, than Shakspeare; thou dost not evade our sight, but, holding the lamp to thine own magic shows, dost enjoy them with us. My third friend was Moliere, one very much lower, both in range and depth, than the others, but, as far as he goes, or the same character. Nothing secluded or partial is there about his genius,— a man of the world, and a man by himself, as he is. It was, indeed, only the poor social world of Paris that he saw, but he viewed it from the firm foundations of his manhood, and every lightest laugh rings from a clear perception, and teaches life anew. These men were all alike in this,—they loved the natural history of man. Not what he should be, but what he is, was the favorite subject of their thought. Whenever a noble leading opened to the eye new paths of light, they rejoiced; but it was never fancy, but always fact, that inspired them. They loved a thorough penetration of the murki
Weimar (Thuringia, Germany) (search for this): chapter 1
es, but his expressions are free and appropriate. I have also read a most entertaining book, which I advise you to read, (if you have not done so already,) Russell's Tour in Germany. There you will find more intelligent and detailed accounts than I have seen anywhere of the state of the German universities, Viennese court, secret associations, Plica Polonica, and other very interesting matters. There is a minute account of the representative government given to his subjects by the Duke of Weimar. I have passed a luxurious afternoon, having been in bed from dinner till tea, reading Rammohun Roy's book, and framing dialogues aloud on every argument beneath the sun. Really, I have not had my mind so exercised for months; and I have felt a gladiatorial disposition lately, and don't enjoy mere light conversation. The love of knowledge is prodigiously kindled within my soul of late; I study much and reflect more, and feel an aching wish for some person with whom I might talk fully and o
Europe (search for this): chapter 1
self-possession, not in timidity, —all combined to make up a whole impression, which, though too young to understand, I was well prepared to feel. How wearisome now appears that thorough-bred millefleur beauty, the distilled result of ages of European culture! Give me rather the wild heath on the lonely hill-side, than such a rose-tree from the daintily clipped garden. But, then, I had but tasted the cup, and knew not how little it could satisfy; more, more, was all my cry; continued througo me rude, tiresome, and childish, as I did to them dull and strange. This experience had been earlier, before I was admitted to any real friendship; but now that I had been lifted into the life of mature years, and into just that atmosphere of European life to which I had before been tending, the thought of sending me to school filled me with disgust. Yet what could I tell my father of such feelings? I resisted all I could, but in vain. He had no faith in medical aid generally, and justly
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