| 201 | Author: | Irving
Washington
1783-1859 | Add | | Title: | The Alhambra | | | Published: | 1997 | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 | | | Description: | The common people of Spain have an oriental
passion for story-telling and are fond of the marvellous.
They will gather round the doors of
their cottages in summer evenings, or in the
great cavernous chimney corners of their ventas
in the winter, and listen with insatiable delight
to miraculous legends of saints, perilous adventures
of travellers, and daring exploits of robbers
and contrabandistas. The wild and solitary nature
of a great part of Spain; the imperfect state
of knowledge; the scantiness of general topics
of conversation, and the romantic, adventurous
life that every one leads in a land where travelling
is yet in its primitive state, all contribute
to cherish this love of oral narration, and to produce
a strong expression of the extravagant and
wonderful. There is no theme, however, more
prevalent or popular than that of treasures buried
by the Moors. It pervades the whole country.
In traversing the wild Sierras, the scenes of ancient
prey and exploit, you cannot see a Moorish
atalaya or watch-tower perched among the cliffs,
or beetling above its rock-built village, but your
muleteer, on being closely questioned, will suspend
the smoking of his cigarillo to tell some tale
of Moslem gold buried beneath its foundations;
nor is there a ruined alcazar in a city, but has
its golden tradition, handed down, from generation
to generation, among the poor people of the
neighbourhood. | | Similar Items: | Find |
202 | Author: | Irving
Washington
1783-1859 | Add | | Title: | The Crayon miscellany | | | Published: | 1997 | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 | | | Description: | In the often vaunted regions of the Far West,
several hundred miles beyond the Mississippi, extends
a vast tract of uninhabited country, where
there is neither to be seen the log house of the
white man, nor the wigwam of the Indian. It
consists of great grassy plains, interspersed with
forests and groves, and clumps of trees, and watered
by the Arkansas, the grand Canadian, the
Red River, and all their tributary streams. Over
these fertile and verdant wastes still roam the
Elk, the Buffalo, and the wild horse, in all their
native freedom. These, in fact, are the hunting
grounds of the various tribes of the Far West.
Hither repair the Osage, the Creek, the Delaware
and other tribes that have linked themselves
with civilization, and live within the vicinity
of the white settlements. Here resort also,
the Pawnees, the Comanches, and other fierce,
and as yet independent tribes, the nomades of
the prairies, or the inhabitants of the skirts of
the Rocky Mountains. The regions I have mentioned
forms a debateable ground of these warring
and vindictive tribes; none of them presume
to erect a permanent habitation within its borders.
Their hunters and “Braves” repair thither
in numerous bodies during the season of game,
throw up their transient hunting camps, consisting
of light bowers, covered with bark and skins,
commit sad havoc among the innumerable herds
that graze the prairies, and having loaded themselves
with venison and buffalo meat, warily
retire from the dangerous neighbourhood.
These expeditions partake, always, of a warlike
character; the hunters are all armed for action,
offensive and defensive, and are bound to
incessant vigilance. Should they, in their excursions,
meet the hunters of an adverse tribe,
savage conflicts take place. Their encampments,
too, are always subject to be surprised
by wandering war parties, and their hunters,
when scattered in pursuit of game, to be captured
or massacred by lurking foes. Mouldering
skulls and skeletons, bleaching in some dark ravine,
or near the traces of a hunting camp, occasionally
mark the scene of a foregone act of
blood, and let the wanderer know the dangerous
nature of the region he is traversing. It is the purport
of the following pages to narrate a month's
excursion to these noted hunting grounds, through
a tract of country which had not as yet been explored
by white men. | | Similar Items: | Find |
203 | Author: | Irving
Washington
1783-1859 | Add | | Title: | The Crayon miscellany | | | Published: | 1997 | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 | | | Description: | I SIT down to perform my promise of giving
you an account of a visit made many years since
to Abbotsford. I hope, however, that you do
not expect much from me, for the travelling
notes taken at the time are so scanty and vague,
and my memory so extremely fallacious, that I
fear I shall disappoint you with the meagreness
and crudeness of my details. “On retiring to my bed chamber this evening
I have opened your letter, and cannot lose a
moment in expressing to you the strong interest
which it has excited both in Colonel Wildman
and myself, from the details of your peculiar
situation, and the delicate, and, let me add, elegant
language in which they are conveyed. I
am anxious that my note should reach you previous
to your departure from this neighbourhood,
and should be truly happy if, by any arrangement
for your accommodation, I could prevent the necessity
of your undertaking the journey. Colonel
Wildman begs me to assure you that he will
20
use his best exertion in the investigation of those
matters which you have confided to him, and
should you remain here at present, or return
again after a short absence, I trust we shall
find means to become better acquainted, and to
convince you of the interest I feel, and the real
satisfaction it would afford me to contribute in
any way to your comfort and happiness. I will
only now add my thanks for the little packet which
I received with your letter, and I must confess
that the letter has so entirely engaged my attention,
that I have not as yet had time for the
attentive perusal of its companion. | | Similar Items: | Find |
205 | Author: | Irving
Washington
1783-1859 | Add | | Title: | The beauties of Washington Irving, author of "The sketch-book," "Knickerbocker," "Crayon miscellany," &c | | | Published: | 1997 | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 | | | Description: | During a journey that I once made through the Nctherlands,
I had arrived one evening at the Pomme d' Or,
the principal inn of a small Flemish village. It was after
the hour of the table d'hote, so that I was obliged to make
a solitary supper from the reliques of its ampler board.
The weather was chilly; I was seated alone in one end
of a great gloomy dining-room, and my repast being over,
I had the prospect before me of a long dull evening, without
any visible means of enlivening it. I summoned
mine host, and requested something to read; he brought
me the whole literary stock of his household, a Dutch
family-bible, an almanack in the same language, and a
number of old Paris newspapers. As I sat dozing over
one of the latter, reading old news and stale criticisms,
my ear was now and then struck with bursts of laughter
which seemed to proceed from the kitchen. Every one
that has travelled on the continent must know how favourite
a resort the kitchen of a country inn is to the
middle and inferior order of travellers; particularly in
that equivocal kind of weather, when a fire becomes agreeable
towards evening. I threw aside the newspaper, and
explored my way to the kitchen, to take a peep at the
group that appeared to be so merry. It was composed
partly of travellers who had arrived some hours before in
a diligence, and partly of the usual attendants and hangers-on
of inns. They were seated round a great burnished
stove, that might have been mistaken for an altar, at
which they were worshipping. It was covered with
various kitchen vessels of resplendent brightness; among
which steamed and hissed a huge copper tea-kettle. A
large lamp threw a strong mass of light upon the group
bringing out many odd features in strong relief. Its
yellow rays partially illumined the spacious kitchen, dying
duskily away into remote corners; except where they
settled into mellow radiance on the broad side of a flitch of
bacon, or were reflected back from well-scoured utensils,
that gleamed from the midst of obscurity. A strapping
Flemish lass, with long golden pendants in her ears, and a
necklace with a golden heart suspended to it, was the presiding
priestess of the temple. | | Similar Items: | Find |
206 | Author: | Judd
Sylvester
1813-1853 | Add | | Title: | Margaret | | | Published: | 1997 | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 | | | Description: | “Didymus Hart being summoned to this Committee, on the
information of sundry witnesses, that the said Hart on the
27th day of this month, had violated the laws of the Continental
and Provincial Congress, and done other acts contrary to the
liberties of the country, appeared, and after due proof being
made of said charge, the said Hart was pleased to make a full
confession thereof, and in the most equivocal and insulting
manner attempted to vindicate said conduct, to wit: “Whereas I, the subscriber, have from the perverseness of
my wicked heart maliciously and scandalously abused the
character and proceedings of the Continental and Provincial
Congress, Selectmen of this town, and the Committees of
Safety in general, I do hereby declare, that at the time of my
doing it, I knew the said abuses to be the most scandalous
falsehoods, and that I did it for the sole purpose of abusing
those bodies of men, and affronting my townsmen, and all the
friends of liberty throughout the Continent. Being now fully
sensible of my wickedness, and notorious falsehoods, I humbly
beg pardon of those worthy characters I have so scandalously
abused, and voluntarily renouncing my former principles, do
promise for the future to render my conduct unexceptionable
to my countrymen, by strictly adhering to the measures of
Congress, and desire this my confession may be printed in the
Kidderminster Chronicle for three weeks successively. “Livingston.—We have long kept silence about the movements
in this place; but the matter has become too public to
excuse any farther negligence. Over the Red Dragon of Infidelity
they have drawn the skin of the Papal Beast, and tricked
the Monster with the trappings of Harlotry! On the ruins of
one of our Churches they have erected a Temple to Human
Pride and Carnal Reasoning. The contamination is spreading
far and wide; and unless something be attempted, the
Kingdom of God in our midst must soon be surrendered to the
arts of Satan. It is understood that the Rev. Mr. L—, of B—,
has openly and repeatedly exchanged pulpits with the man,
who having denied his Lord and Master, they have had the
hardihood to invest with the robes of the Christian Office.
Brethren shall we sleep, while the enemy is sowing tares in our
midst? | | Similar Items: | Find |
207 | Author: | Judd
Sylvester
1813-1853 | Add | | Title: | Richard Edney and the governor's family | | | Published: | 1997 | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 | | | Description: | It began to snow. What the almanac directed its readers
to look out for about this time — what his mother told Richard
of, as she tied the muffler on his neck in the morning —
what the men in the bar-rooms, where he stopped to warm
himself, seemed to be rubbing out of their hands into the fire
— what the cattle, crouching on the windward side of barn-yards,
rapped to each other with their slim, white horns —
what sleigh-bells, rapidly passing and repassing, jingled to
the air — what the old snow, that lay crisp and hard on the
ground, and the hushed atmosphere, seemed to be expecting
— what a “snow-bank,” a dense, bluish cloud in the south,
gradually creeping along the horizon, and looming midheavens,
unequivocally presaged, — a snow-storm, came
good at last. “This may certify that the bearer, Richard Edney by
name, son of John and Mary Edney, of this town, whose
birth has been duly registered in the town records, and his
baptism in the records of the Church; having arrived at
man's estate, and profited of such occasions as his native
village affords, being desirous to see other places, and visit
cities and towns more remote, is a member of the Church of
Christ in this town, and has maintained a good walk and
conversation; that he is a lover of truth, and a friend of
humanity; is a practical agriculturist; ingenious in the
understanding of mechanics, and industrious in the fulfilment
of his tasks. He is believed to be a youth of honor
and trustworthiness. As such, he is recommended to the
fellowship and sympathy of the good, the true, the noble,
everywhere. “Mr. Edney is requested to discontinue his visits at the
Governor's. Depravity of heart, foulness of intention, and
viciousness of life, cannot always be concealed. If he
wishes for information, he can inquire of Miss Plumy
Alicia Eyre. In the absence of the Governor and his family,
the undersigned, retaining sole charge of the house,
deems it her duty to protect its purity and defend its honor;
and she would leave Mr. Edney no possible room to doubt
that an authority assumed by weak and feeble hands will
be supported by others stronger than herself, and as strong
as anybody. | | Similar Items: | Find |
208 | Author: | Kennedy
John Pendleton
1795-1870 | Add | | Title: | Swallow Barn, or A sojourn in the Old Dominion | | | Published: | 1997 | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 | | | Description: | I can imagine your surprise upon the receipt
of this, when you first discover that I have really
reached the Old Dominion. To requite you for my
stealing off so quietly, I hold myself bound to an explanation,
and, in revenge for your past friendship,
to inflict upon you a full, true, and particular account
of all my doings, or rather my seeings and thinkings,
up to this present writing. You know my cousin
Ned Hazard has been often urging it upon me,—so
often that he began to grow sick of it,—as a sort of
family duty, to come and spend some little fragment
of my life amongst my Virginia relations, and I have
broken so many promises on that score, that, in truth,
I began to grow ashamed of myself. “Dear and Respected Friend,—Touching the
question of the law-suit which, notwithstanding the
erroneous judgments of our unlearned courts, still
hangs in unhappy suspense, I am moved by the consideration
urged in your sensible epistle to me of the
fifteenth ultimo, to submit the same, with all the
matters of fact and law pertinent to a right decision
thereof, to mutual friends, to arbitrate the same between
us; not doubting that the conclusion will be
agreeable to both, and corroborative of the impressions
which I have entertained, unaltered from the
first, arising of this controversy with my venerated
neighbour, the late Walter Hazard. | | Similar Items: | Find |
209 | Author: | Kennedy
John Pendleton
1795-1870 | Add | | Title: | Swallow Barn, or A sojourn in the Old Dominion | | | Published: | 1997 | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 | | | Description: | In the time of the Revolution, and for a good
many years afterwards, Old Nick enjoyed that solid
popularity which, as Lord Mansfield expressed it,
follows a man's actions rather than is sought after
by them. But in our time he is manifestly falling
into the sere and yellow leaf, especially in the
Atlantic states. Like those dilapidated persons who
have grown out at elbows by sticking too long to a
poor soil, or who have been hustled out of their profitable
prerogatives by the competition of upstart numbers,
his spritish family has moved off, with bag and
baggage, to the back settlements. This is certain,
that in Virginia he is not seen half so often now as
formerly. A traveller in the Old Dominion may
now wander about of nights as dark as pitch, over
commons, around old churches, and through graveyards,
and all the while the rain may be pouring
down with its solemn hissing sound, and the thunder
may be rumbling over his head, and the wind
moaning through the trees, and the lightning flinging
its sulphurous glare across the skeletons of dead
horses, and over the grizzly rawheads upon the tombstones;
and, even, to make the case stronger, a
drunken cobbler may be snoring hideously in the
church door, (being overtaken by the storm on his
way home,) and every flash may show his livid,
dropsical, carbuncled face, like that of a vagabond
corpse that had stolen out of his prison to enjoy the
night air; and yet it is ten to one if the said traveller
be a man to be favoured with a glimpse of that old-fashioned,
distinguished personage who was wont to
be showing his cloven foot, upon much less provocation,
to our ancestors. The old crones can tell you
of a hundred pranks that he used play in their day,
and what a roaring sort of a blade he was. But,
alas! sinners are not so chicken-hearted as in the
old time. It is a terribly degenerate age; and the
devil and all his works are fast growing to be forgotten. | | Similar Items: | Find |
210 | Author: | Kennedy
John Pendleton
1795-1870 | Add | | Title: | Rob of the Bowl | | | Published: | 1997 | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 | | | Description: | It is now more than one hundred and forty-four
years since the ancient capital of Maryland was
shorn of its honours, by the removal of the public
offices, and, along with them, the public functionaries,
to Annapolis. The date of this removal, I think, is
recorded as of the year of grace sixteen hundred
and ninety-four. The port of St. Mary's, up to that
epoch, from the first settlement of the province, comprehending
rather more than three score years, had
been the seat of the Lord Proprietary's government.
This little city had grown up in hard-favoured times,
which had their due effect in leaving upon it the visible
tokens of a stunted vegetation: it waxed gnarled
and crooked, as it perked itself upward through the
thorny troubles of its existence, and might be likened
to the black jack, which yet retains a foothold in this
region,—a scrubby, tough and hardy mignon of the
forest, whose elder day of crabbed luxuriance affords
a sour comment upon the nurture of its youth. | | Similar Items: | Find |
211 | Author: | Kennedy
John Pendleton
1795-1870 | Add | | Title: | Rob of the Bowl | | | Published: | 1997 | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 | | | Description: | The festival of St. Therese, Blanche's birth-day,
so anxiously looked for by the younger inhabitants
of St.Mary's, and scarcely less heartily welcomed
by the elder, at length came round. Towards sunset
of an evening, mild in temperature and resplendent
with the glorious golden-tipped clouds of the
October sky, the air fraught with that joyful freshness
which distinguishes this season in Maryland,
groups of gay-clad persons were seen passing on the
high road that led from the town to the Rose Croft.
The greater number, according to the usage of that
day, rode on horseback, the women seated on pillions
behind their male escort. Some of the younger
men trudged on foot, and amongst these was even
seen, here and there, a buxom damsel cheerily making
her way in this primitive mode of travel and
showing by her merry laugh and elastic step how
little she felt the inconvenience of her walk. “ORDER OF COUNCIL. “I, Gilbert Travers, sergeant of musqueteers, who
formerly served in the Walloon Guard of his Highness
the Prince of Orange, and hath held the degree of
Master of the Noble Science of Defence in forty-seven
prizes, besides four that I fought as a provost
before I took said degree, will not, in regard to the
fame of Stark Whittle, fail to meet this brave inviter
at the time and place appointed; desiring a clear
stage and from him no favour. | | Similar Items: | Find |
213 | Author: | Cooke
John Esten
1830-1886 | Add | | Title: | The Virginia comedians, or, Old days in the Old Dominion | | | Published: | 2003 | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 | | | Description: | “My dear Champ—I have heard of your conduct, sir,
and have no intention of being made the laughing-stock of
my neighbors, as the father of a fool. No, sir! I decline
being advised and pitied, and talked about and to by the
country on your account. I know why you have left the
Hall, sir, and taken up your residence in town. Alethea
has told me how you insulted her, and flouted her well-meant
advice, and because she entreated you, as your sister, not to
go near that young woman again, tossed from her, and fell
into your present courses. I tell you again, sir, that I will
not endure your conduct. I won't have the parson condoling,
and shaking his head, and sighing, and, when he comes
in the Litany to pray for deliverance from all inordinate and
sinful affections—from all the deceits of the world, the
flesh, and the devil—have him looking at the Hall pew,
and groaning, until every body understands his meaning.
No, sir! If you make yourself a fool about that common
actress, you shall not drag us into it. And Clare Lee!
have you no regard for her feelings? Damn my blood, sir!
I am ashamed of you. Come away directly. If you are
guilty of any thing unworthy toward that young woman, I
will strike your name from the family Bible, and never look
upon your face again. Remember, sir; and you won't be
fool enough to marry her, I hope. Try it, sir, and see the
consequence. Pah! a common actress for my daughter—
the wife of the representative of the house of Effingham,
after my death. 'Sdeah, sir! it is intolerable, abominable;
and I command you to return at once, and never look upon
that young woman again. For shame, sir. Am I, at my
age, to be made a laughing-stock of, to be jeered at by the
common people, at the county court, as the father of the
young man that played the fool with the actress? No, sir.
Leave that place, and come and do what you are expected to
do, called on to do—take Clare Lee to the Governor's ball.
I inclose your invitation. Leave that woman and her artful
seductions. Reflect, sir, and do your duty to Clare, like a
gentleman. If it is necessary, I repeat, sir, I command you
to return, and never see that girl again. “I have received your letter, sir, and decline returning
to Effingham Hall, or being dictated to. I have passed my
majority, and am my own master. No one on earth shall
make a slave of me. “A man about to die, calls on the only Englishman he
knows in this place, to do a deed of charity. Hallam, we
were friends—a long time since, in Kent, Old England, and
to you I make this appeal, which you will read when I will
be cold and stiff. You know we were rivals—Jane chose
to marry me! I used no underhand acts, but fought it fairly
and like an honest soldier—and won her. You know it, and
are too honest a man to bear me any grudge now. I married
her, and we went away to foreign countries, and I became
a soldier of fortune—now here—now there:—it runs
in the family, for my father was covered with wounds. She
stuck to me—sharing all my trials—my suffering—as she
shared my fortunate days. She was my only hope on earth
—my blessing:—but one day God took her from me. She
died, Hallam, but she left herself behind in a little daughter
—I called her Beatrice, at the request of her mother. The
locket around the child's neck, is her mother's gift to her:
preserve it. Well: we travelled—I grew sick—I came to
Malta, here—I am dying. Already I feel the cold mounting
from my feet to my heart—my eyes are growing hazy, as
my hand staggers along—my last battle's come, comrade!
Take the child, and carry her to my brother John Waters,
who lives in London somewhere—find where he is, and tell
him, that Ralph Waters sends his baby to him to take care
of:—she is yonder playing on the floor while I am dying. I
ask you to do this, because you are an honest man, and because
you loved Jane once. I have no money—all I had is
gone for doctor's stuff and that:—he couldn't stand up
against death! Keep my military coat to remember me by
—it is all I have got. As you loved her who was my wife,
now up in heaven, take care of the child of an English soldier;
and God reward you. “Please come to me. | | Similar Items: | Find |
214 | Author: | Cooke
John Esten
1830-1886 | Add | | Title: | The Virginia comedians, or, Old days in the Old Dominion | | | Published: | 2003 | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 | | | Description: | “This indenture, made in the month of March, of the
year of grace one thousand seven hundred and ninety-five,
in the Colony of Virginia, Continent of North America,—” “Come over to `the Trap,' and dine and sleep with me.
Be sure to be in trim to ride through a cane-brake, that is,
in buff and leather: and ride Tom—the large piebald: he's
a glorious animal, by George! “Oh my dear Miss Donsy! “I regret the harshness and passion of my address to you
yesterday. I trust you will not permit it to remain in your
recollection. I have no calmness on that subject, and for
this reason must ask you never again to allude to it. I am
afraid of myself. For God's sake! don't arouse the devil in
me when I am trying to lull it, at the risk of breaking my
heart in the attempt. This is an unhappy world, and devious are the
ways thereof. Man—especially a rude fellow, morbleu!—
knows not what to do often; he is puzzled; he hesitates and
stands still. Do you ask me what I mean by this small moral
discourse? Parbleu! I mean that I am the rude fellow
and the puzzled man. Your letter is offensive—I will not make any derogatory
agreement with you, sir. I would rather end all at
once, and I hereby call on you to meet me, sir, this very day,
at the Banks' Cross-roads. At five o'clock this evening, I
shall await you. “Not simply `sir,' because you are what I have
written—friend, companion. Let me out with what I would
write at once—and in the best manner I can write it, being
but a rude soldier, unused to handling the pen. “I accede to the request of Captain Waters. I know
him for a brave soldier, and a most honorable man. I ask
nothing more. The rest lies with my daughter. “I know what I have done is disgraceful, and horrible,
and awful, and all that—but it was meant well, and I
don't care what you may say; it has succeeded. The time
to acknowledge the trick is come, and here goes. It went
this way: | | Similar Items: | Find |
216 | Author: | Cozzens
Frederic S.
(Frederic Swartwout)
1818-1869 | Add | | Title: | Prismatics | | | Published: | 2003 | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 | | | Description: | “The loveliest thing in life,” says a gifted author, “is
the mind of a young child.” The most sensitive
thing, he might have added, is the heart of a young
artist. Hiding in his bosom a veiled and unspeakable
beauty, the inspired Neophyte shrinks from contact with
the actual, to lose himself in delicious reveries of an ideal
world. In those enchanted regions, the great and powerful
of the earth; the warrior-statesmen of the Elizabethan
era; the steel-clad warriors of the mediæval ages; gorgeous
cathedrals, and the luxuriant pomp of prelates, who had
princes for their vassals; courts of fabled and forgotten
kings; and in the deepening gloom of antiquity, the nude
Briton and the painted Pict pass before his enraptured
eyes. Women, beautiful creations! warm with breathing
life, yet spiritual as angels, hover around him; Elysian
landscapes are in the distance; but ever arresting his
steps,—cold and spectral in his path,—stretches forth the
rude hand of Reality. Is it surprising that the petty
miseries of life weigh down his spirit? Yet the trembling
magnet does not seek the north with more unerring fidelity
than that “soft sentient thing,” the artist's heart, still
directs itself amid every calamity, and in every situation, towards
its cynosure—perfection of the beautiful. The law
which guides the planets attracts the one; the other is
influenced by the Divine mystery which called the universe
itself into being; that sole attribute of genius—creation. | | Similar Items: | Find |
217 | Author: | Cozzens
Frederic S.
(Frederic Swartwout)
1818-1869 | Add | | Title: | The sayings of Dr. Bushwhacker, and other learned men | | | Published: | 2003 | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 | | | Description: | “Sir,” said our learned friend, Dr. Bushwhacker,
“we are indebted to China for the four principal
blessings we enjoy. Tea came from China, the
compass came from China, printing came from China,
and gunpowder came from China—thank God! China,
sir, is an old country, a very old country. There is one
word, sir, we got from China, that is oftener in the
mouths of American people than any other word in the
language. It is cash, sir, cash! That we derive from
the Chinese. It is the name, sir, of the small brass coin
they use, the coin with a square hole in the middle. And
then look at our Franklin; he drew the lightning from
the skies with his kite; but who invented the kite, sir?
The long-tailed Chinaman, sir. Franklin had no invention;
he never would have invented a kite or a printing-press.
But he could use them, sir, to the best possible
advantage, sir; he had no genius, sir, but he had remarkable
talent and industry. Then, sir, we get our umbrella
from China; the first man that carried an umbrella, in
London, in Queen Anne's reign, was followed by a mob.
That is only one hundred and fifty years ago. We get
the art of making porcelain from China. Our ladies must
thank the Celestials for their tea-pots. Queen Elizabeth
never saw a tea-pot in her life. In 1664, the East India
Company bought two pounds two ounces of tea as a present
for his majesty, King Charles the Second. In 1667,
they imported one hundred pounds of tea. Then, sir,
rose the reign of scandal—Queen Scandal, sir! Then,
sir, rose the intolerable race of waspish spinsters who
sting reputations and defame humanity over their dyspeptic
cups. Then, sir, the astringent principle of the
herb was communicated to the heart, and domestic troubles
were brewed and fomented over the tea-table. Then, sir,
the age of chivalry was over, and women grew acrid and
bitter; then, sir, the first temperance society was founded,
and high duties were laid upon wines, and in consequence
they distilled whiskey instead, which made matters a great
deal better, of course; and all the abominations, all the
difficulties of domestic life, all the curses of living in a
country village; the intolerant canvassing of character,
reputation, piety; the nasty, mean, prying spirit; the
uncharitable, defamatory, gossiping, tale bearing, whispering,
unwomanly, unchristianlike behavior of those
who set themselves up for patterns over their vile
decoctions, sir, arose with the introduction of tea.
Yes, sir; when the wine-cup gave place to the tea-cup,
then the devil, sir, reached his culminating point. The
curiosity of Eve was bad enough; but, sir, when Eve's
curiosity becomes sharpened by turgid tonics, and scandal
is added to inquisitiveness, and inuendo supplies the
place of truth, and an imperfect digestion is the pilot
instead of charity; then, sir, we must expect to see human
nature vilified, and levity condemned, and good
fellowship condemned, and all good men, from Washington
down, damned by Miss Tittle, and Miss Tattle,
and the Widow Blackleg, and the whole host of tea-drinking
conspirators against social enjoyment.” Here
Dr. Bushwhacker grew purple with eloquence and indignation.
We ventured to remark that he had spoken of
tea “as a blessing” at first. “Yes, sir,” responded Dr.
Bushwhacker, shaking his bushy head, “that reminds
one of Doctor Pangloss. Yes, sir, it is a blessing, but
like all other blessings it must be used temperately, or
else it is a curse! China, sir,” continued the Doctor,
dropping the oratorical, and taking up the historical,
“China, sir, knows nothing of perspective, but she is
great in pigments. Indian ink, sir, is Chinese, so are vermillion
and indigo; the malleable properties of gold, sir,
were first discovered by this extraordinary people; we
must thank them for our gold leaf. Gold is not a pigment,
but roast pig is, and Charles Lamb says the origin of
roast pig is Chinese; the beautiful fabric we call silk,
sir, came from the Flowery Nation, so did embroidery,
so did the game of chess, so did fans. In fact, sir, it is
difficult to say what we have not derived from the Chinese.
Cotton, sir, is our great staple, but they wove and
spun long staple and short staple, yellow cotton and white
cotton before Columbus sailed out of the port of Palos in
the Santa Maria.” Dear Fredericus: A. Walther writ this in `quaint
old sounding German.' It is done into English by your
friend, My Dear Cozzens:—I had hoped to spend my vacation
in quiet idleness, with a rigorous and religious abstinence
from pen and ink. But I cannot refuse to comply with
the request you urge so eloquently, placing your claim to
my assistance not only on the ground of old friendship,
but also as involving important objects, literary and scientific,
as well as social and commercial; all of them (to
repeat your phrase and Bacon's), “coming home to the
business and bosoms of men.” My dear Editor:—I have been much amused in learning
through the press, as well as from the more sprightly narrative
of your private letter, that such and so very odd claims
and conjectures had been made as to the authorship of
my late hasty letter to you, in proof that the poets and
gentlemen of old Greece and Rome drank as good
champagne as we do. You know very well that the
letter which you published was not originally meant for
the public, and the public have no right at all to inquire
who the author may be; nor, indeed, has the said impertinent
public to inquire into the authorship of any
anonymous article which harms nobody, nor means to do
so. I have not sought concealment in this matter, nor
do I wish notoriety. If any one desires the credit of
the communication, such as it is, he or she is quite welcome
to it until I find leisure to prepare for the press a
collection of my Literary Miscellanies under my own
name. I intend to embody in it an enlarged edition of
this essay on the antiquity of champagne mousseux, with
a regular chain of Greek and Latin authorities defending
and proving all my positions. | | Similar Items: | Find |
218 | Author: | Cummins
Maria S.
(Maria Susanna)
1827-1866 | Add | | Title: | El Fureidîs | | | Published: | 2003 | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 | | | Description: | The sun was setting over that far-famed Eastern land,
which, when the Most High divided unto the nations their
inheritance, He gave unto his chosen people,—that land
which the leader of Israel's hosts saw from afar, though he
entered not in,—that land immortalized as the paradise of
our earthly parents, the Canaan of a favored race, the birthplace
and the tomb of prophets, the scene of Jehovah's
mightiest works, the cherished spot whence the dayspring
from on high has visited us, the blessed soil which the
feet of the Prince of Peace have trod. | | Similar Items: | Find |
219 | Author: | Curtis
George William
1824-1892 | Add | | Title: | The Potiphar papers | | | Published: | 2003 | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 | | | Description: | It is surely unnecessary to call the attention
of so astute an observer, and so austere a critic,
as yourself, to the fact that the title of the leading
essay in this little volume (of which, permit
me to say, you are so essential an ornament) is
marked as a quotation; and a quotation, as you
will very well remember, from the lips of our
friend, Mrs. Potiphar, herself. If gilt were only gold, or sugar-candy common
sense, what a fine thing our society would
be! If to lavish money upon objets de vertu,
to wear the most costly dresses, and always to
have them cut in the height of the fashion; to
build houses thirty feet broad, as if they were
palaces; to furnish them with all the luxurious
devices of Parisian genius; to give superb banquets,
at which your guests laugh, and which
make you miserable; to drive a fine carriage
and ape European liveries, and crests, and coats-of-arms;
to resent the friendly advances of your
baker's wife, and the lady of your butcher (you
being yourself a cobbler's daughter); to talk
much of the “old families” and of your aristocratic
foreign friends; to despise labour; to
prate of “good society;” to travesty and parody,
in every conceivable way, a society which we
know only in books and by the superficial
observation of foreign travel, which arises out
of a social organization entirely unknown to us,
and which is opposed to our fundamental and
essential principles; if all this were fine, what
a prodigiously fine society would ours be! My dear Caroline,—Lent came so frightfully
early this year, that I was very much afraid
my new bonnet à l'Impératrice would not be out
from Paris soon enough. But fortunately it arrived
just in time, and I had the satisfaction
of taking down the pride of Mrs. Crœsus, who
fancied hers would be the only stylish hat in
church the first Sunday. She could not keep
her eyes away from me, and I sat so unmoved,
and so calmly looking at the Doctor, that she
was quite vexed. But, whenever she turned
away, I ran my eyes over the whole congregation,
and would you believe that, almost without
an exception, people had their old things?
However, I suppose they forgot how soon Lent
was coming. As I was passing out of church,
Mrs. Croesus brushed by me: It certainly is not papa's fault that he doesn't
understand French; but he ought not to pretend
to. It does put one in such uncomfortable situations
occasionally. In fact, I think it would be
quite as well if we could sometimes “sink the
paternal,” as Timon Crœsus says. I suppose
every body has heard of the awful speech pa
made in the parlor at Saratoga. My dearest
friend, Tabby Dormouse, told me she had heard
of it every where, and that it was ten times as
absurd each time it was repeated. By the by,
Tabby is a dear creature, isn't she? It's so nice
to have a spy in the enemy's camp, as it were,
and to hear every thing that every body says
about you. She is not handsome,—poor, dear
Tabby! There's no denying it, but she can't
help it. I was obliged to tell young Downe so,
quite decidedly, for I really think he had an
idea she was good-looking. The idea of Tabby
Dormouse being handsome! But she is a useful
little thing in her way; one of my intimates. My Dear Mrs. Downe,—Here we are at last!
I can hardly believe it. Our coming was so sudden
that it seems like a delightful dream. You
know at Mrs. Potiphar's supper last August in
Newport, she was piqued by Gauche Boosey's
saying, in his smiling, sarcastic way: I hear and obey. You said to me, Go, and I
went. You now say, come, and I am coming,
with the readiness that befis a slave, and the
cheerfulness that marks the philosopher. I am very anxious that you should allow me
to receive your son Frederic as a pupil, at my
parsonage, here in the country. I have not lived
in the city without knowing something about
it, despite my cloth, and I am concerned at the
peril to which every young man is there exposed.
There is a proud philosophy in vogue
that every thing that can be injured had better
be destroyed as rapidly as possible, and put out
of the way at once. But I recall a deeper and
tenderer wisdom which declared, “A bruised
reed will he not break.” The world is not
made for the prosperous alone, nor for the
strong. We may wince at the truth, but we
must at length believe it,—that the poor in
spirit, and the poor in will, and the poor in
success, are appointed as pensioners upon our
care. | | Similar Items: | Find |
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