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

[341] 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 me, himself, to everybody else that I could possibly desire to know, and more than I can now remember; intimated—I have no doubt—to the King that he would like to have him talk to me,—for he did it, a long time after dinner,—and placed me at table opposite to the bride, as he said, that I might see how handsome she was, and near himself, who, like many men of extreme age, eats very largely, yet still talked all the time, as if he were doing nothing else. He had the great collections in the arts opened to us in the most thorough manner; met us at Rauch's studio, at the time when he knew Rauch had invited us to be there,¹ and so on, and so on, seeming to care for us constantly. I do not believe there is another man in Europe who would have taken such trouble for a person of so little consequence, and from whom he could expect only gratitude.

November 27.—We have been here a week, and I have seen a good many of the old places and monuments. They all seem natural; some fresh, as if I had seen them yesterday, particularly St. Peter's and the Pantheon. Yesterday afternoon, the weather being very fine, we went to the top of the Capitol and looked at the grand panorama, the septem dominos montes, the old Alban Hills, the Sabine, the remote snow-capped Apennines, and then the whole modern city, crowded at our feet. It was such a sight as can never be seen too often, and I was glad to find that I knew nearly everything by heart. I think I shall enjoy Rome very much, because I shall go to see only the things I want to. Having seen everything twice before with care, I regard myself as emeritus.

If at any time you want to know what we are doing, you have only to stop and see Lizzie a moment. She always has the last news, and will be only too happy to tell them, or read them, in exchange for the great pleasure a little visit from you will giveher. . . . .

I am very glad to hear that your Robertson, expurgatus et emendatus, is so near the confines of day. I only wish it were all your work instead of a part; for respectable as the old, philosophical Edinburgh clergyman was, he can never be made fit to fill the gap between ‘Ferdinand and Isabella’ and ‘Philip II.’ . . . . Ma basta.

Yours always,