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George Ticknor, Life, letters and journals of George Ticknor (ed. George Hillard), Chapter 2: (search)
r this there was but one Roman Catholic church in Boston. Mr. Ticknor was present at the dedication of the first Roman Catholic church, built with the aid of Protestants. In 1865 he dictated the following account of the scene:— In 1803 the Catholic Church in Franklin Street was dedicated, and now, at sixty-two years distance, I remember it as if it were yesterday. I went to the dedication, and to the service there the next Sunday, and was thoroughly frightened. There were very few Catholics here then, and the church was half filled with Protestants. We little boys were put on a bench in front of the upper pews, before the chancel. Bishop Cheverus,—who spoke English pretty well,—before he began the mass, addressed the Protestants, and told us all that we must not turn our backs to the altar. I dare say we boys had turned round to look at the singers, for the music was a good deal more gay and various than we were used to. Cheverus told us we must not turn round, for the Hos<
George Ticknor, Life, letters and journals of George Ticknor (ed. George Hillard), Chapter 13: (search)
ed to read; but I listened, as they were talking on a subject of political and legal notoriety, with which society and the journals were then ringing. It was, whether, under a phrase in the Charte, or Constitution, La religion Romaine Catholique est la religion de laEtat, Protestants were required on days of public religious ceremony, like the Procession of the Corpus Christi, to hang out tapestry before their houses, or give other outward signs of respectful observance. The more earnest Catholics maintained that they were so required; the Protestants denied it, and had just prevailed, on the highest appeal in the courts of law. Mad. de Duras was displeased with this decision, and was maintaining her point with not a little brilliancy; the gentleman in gray answering her with wit, but not as if he wanted to discuss the matter. But at last it seemed to me that he became a little piqued with some of her sharp sallies, and said, rather suddenly and in a different tone, But do you kno
George Ticknor, Life, letters and journals of George Ticknor (ed. George Hillard), Chapter 24: (search)
at each member had not a table, I found also, and was glad to find, Prince John. I had talked with him a good deal already, and now the conversation was very agreeably kept up, Mr. Forbes, Countess Stroganoff, Mad. de Zeschau, and two or three other pleasant persons making up the party. Among other things we talked about Mary Stuart, and there was a great disposition in everybody present to defend Elizabeth,—except in Mr. Forbes and myself,—which was curious, as two or three of them were Catholics. Mr. Forbes, apropos of this discussion, said that in his family they still preserve the autograph letter of one of his ancestors, who was a maid of honor to Queen Elizabeth, begging her friends to let her come home to them, because her life was made miserable at Court by the Queen's ill-temper, who, she said, was just then in constant bad-humor about her lovers, and plagued her — the writer—all day long with sly pinches and privy nips, which last, Mr. Forbes said, were the very words
George Ticknor, Life, letters and journals of George Ticknor (ed. George Hillard), Chapter 25: (search)
natural history, and the youngest for his diligence in his profession,—which is the law, —and for the wide, philanthropic views which he has expressed in a sensible work on prison discipline. The whole family, indeed, is well known through this part of Germany for its intelligence, accomplishments, and excellent character; living on their estates generally the whole year, and doing great good by the kindness they exercise and the spirit of improvement they diffuse. They are, of course, Catholics, but they are—though very religious—not bigoted; have travelled a great deal, and lived in England, as well as other countries, so that, among their other accomplishments, they all talk good English. . . . We joined the family at tea, in a small, pleasant sort of boudoir, formed in the projecting tower of the castle, which almost overhangs the Elbe, commanding very grand and beautiful views up and down the river. The conversation was very agreeable. Mr. Noel, an Englishman of about f