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Edgar Fawcett
Born
in New York, New York, The United States
May 26, 1847
Died
May 02, 1904
Genre
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An Ambitious Woman
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published
1883
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39 editions
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The Adventures of a Widow
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published
1884
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33 editions
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Douglas Duane: A Romance
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published
2015
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16 editions
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Solarion: A Romance
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published
2015
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13 editions
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Some Reminiscences of old Victoria
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published
1912
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27 editions
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Purple and Fine Linen
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published
2010
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19 editions
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The New King Arthur, an Opera Without Music
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The Buntling ball: A Graeco-American play
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published
2009
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30 editions
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Tales of King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table, Vol. 5 of 10 (Forgotten Books)
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The New King Arthur: An Opera Without Music
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“{Letter from Fawcett to the great Robert Ingersoll, 1894}
I do so wish, that, in all these big questions, literary men would take you more for a guide than they do, or seem to do. You have, of course, an immense constituency; but your love of letters and your deeply poetic spirit render you worthy of a far greater reverence and respect from writers than it seems to me that you receive. I want the brilliancy of your thought to penetrate our literature profoundly and permanently. But of course that will come. The younger generation of writers cannot escape you any more than the air they breath. You will, indeed, be the air they breath, -- and hence, in many cases, if not all, their inspiration. Especially should the poets love you and sit at your feet. If you die before you see the change, I believe that those who now love you and survive you will see how much of the mere pietistic rubbish in modern poetry has been gradually yet surely swept away by the mighty besom of your fearless and noble intellect.”
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I do so wish, that, in all these big questions, literary men would take you more for a guide than they do, or seem to do. You have, of course, an immense constituency; but your love of letters and your deeply poetic spirit render you worthy of a far greater reverence and respect from writers than it seems to me that you receive. I want the brilliancy of your thought to penetrate our literature profoundly and permanently. But of course that will come. The younger generation of writers cannot escape you any more than the air they breath. You will, indeed, be the air they breath, -- and hence, in many cases, if not all, their inspiration. Especially should the poets love you and sit at your feet. If you die before you see the change, I believe that those who now love you and survive you will see how much of the mere pietistic rubbish in modern poetry has been gradually yet surely swept away by the mighty besom of your fearless and noble intellect.”
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