It was a sentimental age when strong men were not afraid to cry (or weep, as they would say), when Harriet Beecher Stowe’s great novel and Stephen Foster’s songs could stir genuine emotions.
James M. McPherson -- What They Fought For - 1861-1865
UNCLE TOM’S CABIN or Life among the Lowly By Harriet Beecher Stowe VOLUME I CHAPTER I In Which the Reader Is Introduced to a Man of Humanity Late in the afternoon of a chilly day in February, two gentlemen were sitting alone over their wine, in a well-furnished dining parlor, in the town of P——, in Kentucky.
Harriet Beecher Stowe -- Uncle Tom’s Cabin
Here’s a partial list: Ralph Touchett in Henry James’s novel The Portrait of a Lady (1881) and Milly Theale inhis later The Wings of the Dove (1902), Little Eva in Harriet Beecher Stowe’s Uncle Tom’s Cabin (1852), Paul Dombey in Charles Dickens’s Dombey and Son (1848), Mimi in Puccini’s opera La Boheme (1896), Hans Castorp and his fellow patients at the sanatorium in Thomas Mann’s Magic Mountain (1924), Michael Furey in Joyce’s "The Dead," Eugene Gant’s father in Thomas Wolfe’s Of Time…
Thomas C. Foster -- How to Read Literature Like a Professor
While the war still raged he told the writer Harriet Beecher Stowe, "Whichever way the war ends, I have the impression that I shall not last long after it is over."
Bill O’Reilly and Martin Dugard -- Killing Lincoln
("The musical stories that Hitler most loved did not make him a better person," Gottschall writes.) On the other hand, Harriet Beecher Stowe wrote an influential story about the evils of slavery.
Adam Gopnik -- Can Science Explain Why We Tell Stories?
I walked her to the Lincoln Memorial and lectured her on Abraham Lincoln, the Emancipation Proclamation, Jefferson Davis, Robert E. Lee, Stephen Douglas, Mary Todd, Andrew Johnson, John Wilkes Booth, Dr. Samuel Mudd, Edwin M. Stanton, Salmon P. Chase, Harriet Beecher Stowe, and Simon Legree.
Russell Baker -- Growing Up
In April, 1851, Harriet Beecher Stowe (who once described herself in a letter as "a little bit of a woman—somewhat more than forty, about as thin and dry as a pinch of snuff: never very much to look at in my best days, and looking like a used-up article now") sent the first chapter of what she thought would be a short novel to the National Era, an antislavery weekly published in Washington, D. C. It turned out to be a very long book.