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Piedmont (Italy) (search for this): chapter 17
eminently qualified to write a history of any part of the Peninsula,—said to me, Once a week I spend an afternoon with the Marquis Capponi to take a lesson in Italian history. Nobody knows it as he does. I speak to you at large about Capponi, because you are more interested in him, I suppose, than you are in anybody else in Florence. He told me that the first hundred pages of your Ferdinand and Isabella were translated by Mariotti, Signor Antonio Gallenga, author of Country Life in Piedmont, and works on the history and present state of Italy. Mariotti was a pseudonyme. who used to live in Boston, and that they were better done than the rest. . . . . I passed an evening with the Grand Duke, who, soon after we reached Florence, went off to the marriage of his eldest son with a very charming Saxon Princess. He is more changed than almost anybody I have yet seen. He stoops, and is very gray. But this can be easily accounted for. Before 1848 he thought himself a popular pr
Herculaneum (Italy) (search for this): chapter 17
e in attending to any others you may give me. I am not only in such cases working for a friend, but for myself and for a multitude of outside barbarians . . . . We left Rome about the middle of March, after having passed a pleasanter winter there than any I have ever passed in Europe. . . . . A fortnight in Naples was much less satisfactory. The city itself is anything but agreeable; but the excursions are charming, and the Museo Borbonico, containing in numberless rooms the spoils of Herculaneum and Pompeii, could be agreeably visited daily for almost any length of time, going occasionally to see the spots from which its treasures came. Another fortnight divided between Sorrento and drives to Amalfi, Salerno, Paestum, etc., was delicious; especially eight quiet days spent in the full burst of spring at Sorrento, with the most beautiful bay in the world before our windows, Vesuvius in front, and the Mediterranean washing the foundations of the terrace on which our parlor opened
Humboldt, Tenn. (Tennessee, United States) (search for this): chapter 17
pleased, from reverence for Humboldt, to show the whole, exactly in the order he had appointed, and then see us to the cars to go back. Once, as we were going along a walk where a cord had been stretched, to signify that the passage was forbidden, he removed it and told us to go through. I hesitated, and objected on account of the prohibition. I should like, he replied, to see anybody, in Potsdam or Berlin, who will stop me when I have these crooked lines that everybody knows—taking out Humboldt's note—telling me to go on. Just so it was when I dined with the King, in consequence of a letter to him from the King of Saxony. It was a large dinner in honor of the arrival of the Duke of Baden, who was married three days afterwards to the beautiful and only niece of the King. Humboldt, as you know, dines with the King every day, and sits in the strangers place of honor, opposite to him at a narrow table. He had me introduced by the proper person to all the family, and introduced
Potsdam (Brandenburg, Germany) (search for this): chapter 17
had a note from him. The minuteness of his care would have been remarkable in a young man. One day, when, at our own lodgings, we expressed a doubt about going to Potsdam, he urged us so strongly to go, and said so much about the changes since we were last there, that we told him we would take the next day for it. The same evening there came a long note entitled Plan strategique pour Potsdam, containing the minutest directions about going and returning, with a list of everything we ought to see there. He took the same pains to enable Mr. Ticknor to see to advantage his brother, William von Humboldt's, place at Tegel. On arriving, we found the librarian ofe was forbidden, he removed it and told us to go through. I hesitated, and objected on account of the prohibition. I should like, he replied, to see anybody, in Potsdam or Berlin, who will stop me when I have these crooked lines that everybody knows—taking out Humboldt's note—telling me to go on. Just so it was when I dined wi
Florence (Italy) (search for this): chapter 17
Chapter 17: Italy. winter in Rome. Florence, Turin, Paris. letters to Mr. Prescott, Count Circourt, and Mr. Greenough. topped there. And then such a journey as we had for seven days to Florence; not a cloud in the sky, so to speak; no wind, no heat, no cold, nadies could see everything they wanted to see, and drove down into Florence on the 2d of November through hedge-rows of myrtle and roses. Themore interested in him, I suppose, than you are in anybody else in Florence. He told me that the first hundred pages of your Ferdinand and Ispassed an evening with the Grand Duke, who, soon after we reached Florence, went off to the marriage of his eldest son with a very charming Soth domestic and foreign, I do not believe. To W. H. Prescott. Florence, May 8, 1857. my dear William,—I have to thank you for two mostom which we turned our faces with great regret,—and a fortnight in Florence, where I did a good deal of work for the Library, and then came on
Belgium (Belgium) (search for this): chapter 17
I have been here less than two days, and of course have seen very few people; but everything I have seen in society has been as strongly marked with the changes and revolutions of the period since I was last here, as the city and its streets. The first evening—having arrived at noon—I went to see the Marquis Arconati and his very remarkable wife. When I knew them in 1835-38 at their castle near Brussels, in Heidelberg, and in Paris, they were living on the income of their great estates in Belgium. . . . . Now all his estates have been restored to him, and he has, since 1849, left the dominions of Austria and established himself here, where he enjoys, amidst great splendor, the consideration and influence which his personal character and his high position naturally give him. Several deputies were in his salon, . . . . and one or two men of letters, attracted there chiefly, I think, by Mad. Arconati, who is everywhere regarded as one of the most intellectual women of her time, but one
Paestum (Italy) (search for this): chapter 17
anter winter there than any I have ever passed in Europe. . . . . A fortnight in Naples was much less satisfactory. The city itself is anything but agreeable; but the excursions are charming, and the Museo Borbonico, containing in numberless rooms the spoils of Herculaneum and Pompeii, could be agreeably visited daily for almost any length of time, going occasionally to see the spots from which its treasures came. Another fortnight divided between Sorrento and drives to Amalfi, Salerno, Paestum, etc., was delicious; especially eight quiet days spent in the full burst of spring at Sorrento, with the most beautiful bay in the world before our windows, Vesuvius in front, and the Mediterranean washing the foundations of the terrace on which our parlor opened. The mornings that we passed in the orange groves there, where the trees were in luxuriant fruit, and the afternoons we gave to going on donkeys over the precipitous hills, and once to boating on the still waters, we shall never
Piacenza (Italy) (search for this): chapter 17
in order to see Count Frederic Thun, the civil Viceroy of Lombardy and Venice, as Radetzky is the military; neither having the title, but all the power. . . . . In Milan I found friends old and new, and occupation enough for the five days we stopped there. And then such a journey as we had for seven days to Florence; not a cloud in the sky, so to speak; no wind, no heat, no cold, no dust; the carriage always open, and breathing and living a pleasure in such an atmosphere. We paused at Piacenza, Pavia, Modena, and Bologna, so that the ladies could see everything they wanted to see, and drove down into Florence on the 2d of November through hedge-rows of myrtle and roses. There we stopped thirteen days. I had a good deal to do for the Library, in establishing a permanent agency, and ordering the purchase of books. But I went to see the old things that most interested me, in my three previous visits, and look forward to my fifth next spring, with added pleasure and interest. So
Department de Ville de Paris (France) (search for this): chapter 17
Italy. winter in Rome. Florence, Turin, Paris. letters to Mr. Prescott, Count Circourt, andench tone, and where, amidst all the luxury of Paris, and in grand old tapestried halls, such as Pair castle near Brussels, in Heidelberg, and in Paris, they were living on the income of their greatr. Mr. Ticknor passed the month of June in Paris, and, although it was the season when French seo. Ticknor. When the party first reached Paris the Duc de Broglie was still in town, and alsoith Mr. Ticknor. Ten days after his arrival in Paris the Count and Countess de Circourt returned, f sketches his experience in his four visits to Paris:— As you say truly, the traditions, even, ed from the old French salons. When we were in Paris in 1857, the Duchesse de Rauzan was there witrs gone. And what is to come in their place? Paris is externally the most magnificent capital in ssed away in this, Mr. Ticknor's last visit to Paris, and on the 29th of June the whole party trave[6 more...]
Lombardy (Italy) (search for this): chapter 17
ttle touch of cold weather, but the roses are still in full blow, and so are the cactuses, and other southern plants, in great numbers on the Pincio. We had a week of full moon at Venice,—including the eclipse, and enjoyed our open gondola on the Grand Canal, which was filled with Bacarole choruses till after midnight nearly every night we were there, a thing to be had nowhere else in the world. At Verona I stopped a day, chiefly in order to see Count Frederic Thun, the civil Viceroy of Lombardy and Venice, as Radetzky is the military; neither having the title, but all the power. . . . . In Milan I found friends old and new, and occupation enough for the five days we stopped there. And then such a journey as we had for seven days to Florence; not a cloud in the sky, so to speak; no wind, no heat, no cold, no dust; the carriage always open, and breathing and living a pleasure in such an atmosphere. We paused at Piacenza, Pavia, Modena, and Bologna, so that the ladies could see
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