hide Sorting

You can sort these results in two ways:

By entity (current method)
Chronological order for dates, alphabetical order for places and people.
By position
As the entities appear in the document.

You are currently sorting in ascending order. Sort in descending order.

hide Most Frequent Entities

The entities that appear most frequently in this document are shown below.

Entity Max. Freq Min. Freq
Severance 66 0 Browse Search
Petrarch 50 0 Browse Search
Delia 49 43 Browse Search
Comstock 29 11 Browse Search
Jean Paul 28 0 Browse Search
Janet 25 1 Browse Search
De Marsan 18 8 Browse Search
Providence, R. I. (Rhode Island, United States) 10 0 Browse Search
New England (United States) 10 0 Browse Search
Thoreau 10 0 Browse Search
View all entities in this document...

Browsing named entities in a specific section of Thomas Wentworth Higginson, Oldport days, with ten heliotype illustrations from views taken in Newport, R. I., expressly for this work.. Search the whole document.

Found 31 total hits in 13 results.

1 2
1st (search for this): chapter 5
he serene atmosphere that she diffused ever all human life. A few days passed rapidly by us. We walked and rode and boated and read. Little Marian came and went, a living sunbeam, a self-sufficing thing. It was soon obvious that she was far less demonstrative toward her parents than toward me; while her mother, gracious to her as to all, yet rarely caressed her, and Kenmure, though habitually kind, was inclined to ignore her existence, and could scarcely tolerate that she should for one instant preoccupy his wife. For Laura he lived, and she must live for him. He had a studio, which I rarely entered and Marian never, though Laura was almost constantly there; and after the first cordiality was past, I observed that their daily expeditions were always arranged for only two. The weather was beautiful, and they led the wildest outdoor life, cruising all day or all night among the islands, regardless of hours, and almost of health. No matter: Kenmure liked it, and what he liked sh
August 1st (search for this): chapter 5
An artist's creation. When I reached Kenmure's house, one August evening, it was rather a disappointment to find that he and his charming Laura had absented themselves for twenty-four hours. I had not seen them together since their marriage; my admiration for his varied genius and her unvarying grace was at its height, and I was really annoyed at the delay. My fair cousin, with her usual exact housekeeping, had prepared everything for her guest, and then bequeathed me, as she wrote, to Janet and baby Marian. It was a pleasant arrangement, for between baby Marian and me there existed a species of passion, I might almost say of betrothal, ever since that little three-year-old sunbeam had blessed my mother's house by lingering awhile in it, six months before. Still I went to bed disappointed, though the delightful windows of the chamber looked out upon the glimmering bay, and the swinging lanterns at the yard-arms of the frigates shone like some softer constellation beneath the
Michel Angelo (search for this): chapter 5
nless they could pilot us to some world where the splendor of her loveliness could match their own. Twilight faded, evening darkened, and still Kenmure lay motionless, until his strong form grew in my moody fancy to be like some carving of Michel Angelo's, more than like a living man. And when he at last startled me by speaking, it was with a voice so far off and so strange, it might almost have come wandering down from the century when Michel Angelo lived. You are right, he said. I haveMichel Angelo lived. You are right, he said. I have been living in a fruitless dream. It has all vanished. The absurdity of speaking of creative art! With all my life-long devotion, I have created nothing. I have kept no memorial of her presence, nothing to perpetuate the most beautiful of lives. Before I could answer, the door came softly open, and there stood in the doorway a small white figure, holding aloft a lighted taper of pure alabaster. It was Marian in her little night-dress, with the loose blue wrapper trailing behind her, le
Beatrice (search for this): chapter 5
ail of that mission. She was kicking about the bed, by this time, in her nightgown, and holding her pink little toes in all sorts of difficult attitudes, when she suddenly said, looking me full in the face: If my mother was so high up that she had her feet upon a star, do you think that I could see her? This astronomical apotheosis startled me for a moment, but I said unhesitatingly, Yes, feeling sure that the lustrous eyes that looked in mine could certainly.see as far as Dante's, when Beatrice was transferred from his side to the highest realm of Paradise. I put my head beside hers upon the pillow, and stayed till I thought she was asleep. I then followed Kenmure into Laura's chamber. It was dusk, but the after-sunset glow still bathed the room with imperfect light, and he lay upon the bed, his hands clenched over his eyes. There was a deep bow-window where Laura used to sit and watch us, sometimes, when we put off in the boat. Her veolian harp was in the casement, brea
Canova (search for this): chapter 5
, each reflection of her least movement, the turning of her head, the ungloving of her hand. Strange! that, with all this intoxicating presence, she yet led a life so free from self, so simple, so absorbed, that all trace of consciousness was excluded, and she was as free from vanity as her own child. As we were once thus employed in the studio, I asked Kenmure, abruptly, if he never shrank from the publicity he was thus giving Laura. Madame Recamier was not quite pleased, I said, that Canova had modelled her bust, even from imagination. Do you never shrink from permitting irreverent eyes to look on Laura's beauty? Think of men as you know them. Would you give each of them her miniature, perhaps to go with them into scenes of riot and shame? Would to heaven I could! said he, passionately. What else could save them, if that did not? God lets his sun shine on the evil and on the good, but the evil need it most. There was a pause; and then I ventured to ask him a questio
Dante (search for this): chapter 5
she must not fail of that mission. She was kicking about the bed, by this time, in her nightgown, and holding her pink little toes in all sorts of difficult attitudes, when she suddenly said, looking me full in the face: If my mother was so high up that she had her feet upon a star, do you think that I could see her? This astronomical apotheosis startled me for a moment, but I said unhesitatingly, Yes, feeling sure that the lustrous eyes that looked in mine could certainly.see as far as Dante's, when Beatrice was transferred from his side to the highest realm of Paradise. I put my head beside hers upon the pillow, and stayed till I thought she was asleep. I then followed Kenmure into Laura's chamber. It was dusk, but the after-sunset glow still bathed the room with imperfect light, and he lay upon the bed, his hands clenched over his eyes. There was a deep bow-window where Laura used to sit and watch us, sometimes, when we put off in the boat. Her veolian harp was in th
Susan Halliday (search for this): chapter 5
that she might first tell some stories to her doll. With the sunny readiness that was a part of her nature, she straightway turned to that young lady, -plain Susan Halliday, with both cheeks patched, and eyes of different colors,--and soon discoursed both her and me into repose. When I waked again, it was to find the child conlaced together, and her long lashes sweeping her cheeks-to repeat two verses of a hymn which Janet had taught her. My nerves quivered a little when I saw that Susan Halliday had also been duly prepared for the night, and had been put in the same attitude, so far as her jointless anatomy permitted. This being ended, the doll and hof pure alabaster. It was Marian in her little night-dress, with the loose blue wrapper trailing behind her, let go in the effort to hold carefully the doll, Susan Halliday, robed also for the night. May I come in? said the child. Kenmure was motionless at first; then, looking over his shoulder, said merely, What? Janet
Janet (search for this): chapter 5
uest, and then bequeathed me, as she wrote, to Janet and baby Marian. It was a pleasant arrangemenole; but breakfast-time drew near at last, and Janet's honest voice was heard outside the door. I clasp, and a silvery voice to prattle. I sent Janet out to sail, with the other servants, by way oive and beautiful marionnette. Then she placed Janet in the middle of the floor, and performed the in Marian's behalf. I had easily persuaded Janet to let me have a peep every night at my darlinAfter one moment of such bliss she could go to Janet, go anywhere; and when the same graceful prese somehow strayed into a confidential talk with Janet about her mistress. I was rather troubled to seemed that Laura's constitution was not fit, Janet averred, to bear these irregular hours, early e passed through the hall and went up stairs. Janet met us at the head of the stairway, and asked oking over his shoulder, said merely, What? Janet said, continued Marian, in her clear and metho[2 more...]
Petrarch (search for this): chapter 5
ok, his manly bearing and clear blue eyes, enhanced the fascination of her darker beauty. America is full of the short-lived bloom and freshness of girlhood; but it is a rare thing in one's life to see a beauty that really controls with a permanent charm. One must remember such personal loveliness, as one recalls some particular moonlight or sunset, with a special and concentrated joy, which the multiplicity of fainter impressions cannot disturb. When in those days we used to read, in Petrarch's one hundred and twenty-third sonnet, that he had once beheld on earth angelic manners and celestial charms, whose very remembrance was a delight and an affliction, since it made all else appear but dream and shadow, we could easily fancy that nature had certain permanent attributes which accompanied the name of Laura. Our Laura had that rich brunette beauty before which the mere snow and roses of the blonde must always seem wan and unimpassioned. In the superb suffusions of her cheek
Recamier (search for this): chapter 5
en her great mirror must retain, film over film, each reflection of her least movement, the turning of her head, the ungloving of her hand. Strange! that, with all this intoxicating presence, she yet led a life so free from self, so simple, so absorbed, that all trace of consciousness was excluded, and she was as free from vanity as her own child. As we were once thus employed in the studio, I asked Kenmure, abruptly, if he never shrank from the publicity he was thus giving Laura. Madame Recamier was not quite pleased, I said, that Canova had modelled her bust, even from imagination. Do you never shrink from permitting irreverent eyes to look on Laura's beauty? Think of men as you know them. Would you give each of them her miniature, perhaps to go with them into scenes of riot and shame? Would to heaven I could! said he, passionately. What else could save them, if that did not? God lets his sun shine on the evil and on the good, but the evil need it most. There was a
1 2