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Sorrento (Italy) (search for this): chapter 17
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 the delicious fruit as it fell from the trees,—left nothing to desire. Next after Rome, we have undoubtedly regretted Sorrento. But enough of this. Thank Susan for all her kindness to Lizzie, of which Lizzie has written often, and thank her fo good deal fatigued when I left the city; but I enjoyed, perhaps in consequence of this, eight days of delicious rest at Sorrento soon afterwards, more than I ever enjoyed any days of mere repose in my life. But then I was never in such a delicious
Vesuvius (Italy) (search for this): chapter 17
e 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 forget. Those gardens, Hesperian fables true,—if true, there only,—where the ladies sketched, and ate the delicious fruit as it fell from the trees,—left nothing to d<
St. Peter (Minnesota, United States) (search for this): chapter 17
es Expedition to Japan, which he had just learned that Mr. Ticknor had not yet seen. 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.
Buchanan (search for this): chapter 17
h the details and confidence I should if I were at home. But I am, perhaps, more cool than I should be if I were in the midst of the domestic discussion, though certainly I have less connaissance de causes. I do not, indeed, see far ahead. Mr. Buchanan has made his Cabinet, and it is as good and conservative a cabinet as could have been expected from his position. . . . . The country, too, is quiet, and the new government will begin without a fierce or indiscriminate opposition to its measurhat will soon be settled. I think it likely they will, and that we shall have a sectional excitement within two years fiercer than the one that preceded the late Presidential election . . . . . That any degree of wisdom and integrity can make Mr. Buchanan's administration of the country other than dangerous to our peace, both 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 most agreeable mementos of kindness;
Colloredo (search for this): chapter 17
lect him in Boston, full of esprit, and with vast stores of knowledge, partly inherited as it were from his remarkable father, but chiefly acquired by hard work and very extensive travels. He is a member of two classes of the Institute, and one of the few very popular men of letters now in Paris. The Germans are better off, as they always are in Rome, where they have loved to come ever since their first irruption, fourteen centuries and more ago. The ablest man I meet is, I suppose, Count Colloredo, the Austrian Ambassador, living in great state and luxury in the vast old Palazzo di Venezia. He is a spare man, looking much like a Yankee, quick and eager in all his motions, yet unmistakably a grand-seigneur, both by the dignity and by the attentive politeness of his manners. We knew him very well twenty years ago, just beginning his career as Austrian Minister at Dresden with auguries of great success, which have been fully justified; for he satisfied his government during five
Ristori (search for this): chapter 17
ave worked a good deal, more than I expected to, and have found more than I anticipated in the Libraries, which seem to expand as I advance. . . . February 17.—. . . . . We are in the midst of the Carnival, with mild, delicious, clear weather, that makes everything gay, carries everybody into the Corso in open caleches, and fills the Villa Borghese with blue violets, and the Villa Pamphili with roses and camellias. We have a balcony in the Corso, and grow as crazy as the crowd below us. Ristori is acting, and we have a box at the theatre. The upper society is as active as the lower, mingling with it on even terms all the afternoons, and setting up for itself with dinners and balls in the evenings. . . . . It is all very strange, often a mad scene. I think I never saw so much of it before, or was so much with the people that carry it on. Certainly I never watched it so carefully, or knew so much about it, as I do now. In 1837 the amusements of the Carnival were prohibited from
Due De la Rochefoucauld (search for this): chapter 17
s. At all the other palazzos—and in sundry other places—a half-hour or an hour may be spent pleasantly, whenever the inmates are not out visiting, a fact politely intimated by shutting half of the porte-cochere. I go pretty often in this way, especially to the Borgheses', One evening in conversation with the Dowager-Princess Borghese, the fact was noticed that in his three visits to Europe, Mr. Ticknor had met members of five generations of the family of the Princess, who was nee la Rochefoucauld. An appointment was immediately made for his seeing her infant great-grandson, who represented the sixth generation, and Prince Borghese laughingly bade him come back in another twenty years and see the next. The frequency of this kind of incident became amusing to Mr. Ticknor's party, so that once, on seeing him introduced to an Italian lady and presently use a gesture as of measuring a small height from the ground, one exclaimed, Of course, he is telling her he saw her when she was a
Paris (search for this): chapter 17
ther twenty years and see the next. The frequency of this kind of incident became amusing to Mr. Ticknor's party, so that once, on seeing him introduced to an Italian lady and presently use a gesture as of measuring a small height from the ground, one exclaimed, Of course, he is telling her he saw her when she was a little child, which proved to be the fact. where there is of course much of a French tone, and where, amidst all the luxury of Paris, and in grand old tapestried halls, such as Paris cannot show, you find the most simple and unpretending ways; the children and their playthings, in the third and fourth generation, mixed up with a stray cardinal or two, or a couple of foreign ambassadors and their wives, as I witnessed the last time I was there. . . . . Of the French, except the personnel of the Embassy, . . . . I know hardly anybody that I care to see often . . . . But we are promised Ampere, who comes to Rome as often as he can, and generally writes something good abo
George Ticknor (search for this): chapter 17
there. He took the same pains to enable Mr. Ticknor to see to advantage his brother, William voon to Japan, which he had just learned that Mr. Ticknor had not yet seen. and so on, and so on, seelip II. . . . . Ma basta. Yours always, Geo. Ticknor To William H. Prescott. Rome, Januarynoticed that in his three visits to Europe, Mr. Ticknor had met members of five generations of the yesterday, unlike any I have seen here. Mr. Ticknor dined also during the winter at the French to hear from you. . . . . Yours always, Geo. Ticknor. Mr. Ticknor passed the month of June Mr. Ticknor passed the month of June in Paris, and, although it was the season when French society was scattered, he saw many of his oldead it. Farewell. . . . . Yours always, Geo. Ticknor. When the party first reached Paris thews of the death of the Duchesse de Rauzan, Mr. Ticknor sketches his experience in his four visits ng intellectual society in every form. All this is described in his daily letters to Mrs. Ticknor. [9 more...]
M. Guizot (search for this): chapter 17
alfresco, on a lovely summer day. Count Circourt was constantly a delightful companion in town, breakfasting and dining in the Place Vendome, dropping in for interesting talk, and showing hearty sympathy when the bad news came from America. M. Guizot invited Mr. Ticknor to Val Richer, where he went and had two most agreeable days; and he afterwards went for a day or two to Gurcy, the country-place of M. d'haussonville, where he once more saw the Due de Broglie. In a letter to Count Circoman of the Bedchamber; and finally in the winter of 1837-38, which we had the pleasure of passing in Paris, when the Duchesse de Broglie and Madame de Rauzan shared with Madame de Circourt the inheritance they had received from their mothers, and Guizot and Thiers and Mole had salons with very little of the old feminine grace and gentleness in them. But this was the last that I saw of what remained from the old French salons. When we were in Paris in 1857, the Duchesse de Rauzan was there wi
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