George Ticknor, Life, letters and journals of George Ticknor
George Hillard, Ed.

[328] I have been in them at least twice before, and in some cases three times,—I feel a good deal as a professor emeritus does, who keeps the title, but does none of the work of his place. I call myself a traveller, but fulfil little of a travellers duty . . . .

I enjoy, however, seeing my old friends very much. Count Arrivabene, in his fine old castle at Gaesbeck,¹ with its beautiful walks and environs, gave me great pleasure, but I did not go into the church of Ste. Gudule at Brussels, though I was near it many times. At Cologne I never knew anybody, or at least I never knew more than one person, and I forget his name; so I went only to the cathedral. But that was enough. I was astonished to find how much has been done towards finishing it, and begin to believe, what never seemed credible to me before, that it may yet be completed. . . . . But enough of the old city; it is in the main a nasty old place.

Bonn, on the contrary, is as neat as a new pin. But there, too, except one afternoon's delicious excursion up the river to the Godesberg and the Drachenfels, and a visit to the monument of Beethoven, I hardly once went out of the house. Your aunt Catherine,² and the girls, and Charles were enough; but besides these, I had my old kind friend, Professor Welcker, every day, Pauli,—a very active, spirited young man who was secretary to Bunsen,—and Professor Gerhard, the last day, who was among those Lady Lyell wrote Anna she had seen at Berlin, and hoped we should see there, little thinking that he was an old acquaintance, and was coming right to us at Bonn.

Here it is much the same sort of thing. Dr. Pauli told me of an enthusiastic, scholar-like German, whom I had known at Rome, and who, after having been for some years private secretary to Prince Albert, is now living up in the old castle.³ He came this morning and left his card, inviting me to breakfast. It was too late, for we were just finishing that important meal. However, when we went up to the castle, we found him there showing about Captain H., a young man fresh from the Crimea, where he went through all the battles and sieges in a battalion which brought home less than half its numbers . . . . . Now he has a very agreeable, fine-looking wife,