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Cambridge History of American Literature: volume 3 (ed. Trent, William Peterfield, 1862-1939., Erskine, John, 1879-1951., Sherman, Stuart Pratt, 1881-1926., Van Doren, Carl, 1885-1950.) 2 0 Browse Search
Thomas Wentworth Higginson, Carlyle's laugh and other surprises 2 0 Browse Search
George Ticknor, Life, letters and journals of George Ticknor (ed. George Hillard) 2 0 Browse Search
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Cambridge History of American Literature: volume 3 (ed. Trent, William Peterfield, 1862-1939., Erskine, John, 1879-1951., Sherman, Stuart Pratt, 1881-1926., Van Doren, Carl, 1885-1950.), Book III (continued) (search)
or from the Mississippi Valley, from writers who, thanks to Parkman, had discovered the richness and variety of the French regime there—Constance Fenimore Woolson and Mary Hartwell Catherwood. Of all these Mrs. Jackson wrote perhaps the best single romance in Ramona (1884), a story aimed to carry forward an indictment, already begun in the same author's A century of Dishonor (1881), against the treatment of the Indians by their white conquerors. Ramona, however, and her Temecula husband Alessandro have so little Indian blood that their wrongs seem less those of Indians than the wrongs which all the older Californians, Indian or Spanish, suffered from the predacious vanguard of the Anglo-Saxon conquest. And the romance dominates the problem. For Mrs. Jackson, Spanish California had been a paradise of patriarchal estates set in fertile valleys, steeped in drowsy antiquity, and cherished by fine unworldly priests. Her tragic story derives much of its impressiveness from the pomp of
Thomas Wentworth Higginson, Carlyle's laugh and other surprises, chapter 24 (search)
could copy! What do you think? Am I possessed of a demon? Is it a freak of mental disturbance, or what? I have the feeling that if I could only read it to you, you would know. If it is as good as Mrs. Trimble, Mr. Jackson & Miss Woolsey think, I shall be indeed rewarded, for it will tell. But I can't believe it is. I am uneasy about it — but try as I may, all I can, I cannot write slowly for more than a few moments. I sit down at 9.30 or 10, & it is one before I know it. In good weather I then go out, after lunching, and keep out, religiously till five: but there have not been more than three out of eight good days all winter:--and the days when I am shut up, in my room from two till five, alone — with my Ramona and Alessandro, and cannot go along with them on their journey, are maddening. Fifty-two last October and I'm not a bit steadier-headed, you see, than ever! I don't know whether to send this or burn it up. Don't laugh at me whatever you do. Yours always, H.
George Ticknor, Life, letters and journals of George Ticknor (ed. George Hillard), Chapter 16: (search)
d not tell him where I came from,—and then went to the Pertzes'. . . . . I stayed till after eleven, and had a first-rate time; came home and wrote till half past 12. This morning I feel rested; but I have a good deal of work to do to-day; go at ten to see some rare Spanish books; at one to Humboldt; at five to Varnhagen; and fill the rest of the time with writing about books. To-morrow I settle accounts, pay up, and send off everything to Leipzig; and on Sunday, at six, expect to meet Alessandro [his courier] at the station. The Duke of Saxe-Cobourg, who has taken half the hotel for the fetes of the marriage, arrived last night, while I was at the Pertzes', and the consequence is that the entries are full of livery-servants, and the porte-cochere is garnished with a guard of honor. To Hon. E. Everett. parts of this letter have appeared in the preceding chapter. Berlin, September 20, 1856. . . . . Two evenings ago I was at Dr. Pertz's house, in a very brilliant and int