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Christine Bonaparte (search for this): chapter 22
h and 13th of October, was crowded with interest and beauty, and the ten days passed in London were busy, not only by reason of the kind attentions of friends, but with the necessary preparations for a migration to the Continent. In a resume of this autumnal visit in London, Mr. Ticknor says:— I dined once with my old friend Lady Dudley Stuart. She is a good deal altered in person, and has feeble health, but her essential character is the same that I knew eighteen years ago. Christine Bonaparte. See ante, p. 183, and note. Lord Dudley Stuart was at Lord Brougham's on a visit. The company consisted of the Duke de Regina, the Count del Medico,—who owns the Carrara quarries,—and two or three other persons. It was pleasant, the conversation being entirely in French, and much of the amusement of the evening being music. An English composer, who is just bringing out an opera which he dedicates to Lady D. Stuart, came in and played and sang; and a Polish prince-among those who <
ly in York, and it was one of my pleasures to witness his exquisite enjoyment of the music at the minster. A visit of three days at Thorn's House—the seat of Mr. Gaskell, ten miles from Leeds—now followed. Professor Smyth of Cambridge joined the party at Leeds, by appointment, and added to every interest and enjoyment in the next two days by his delightful union of talent, simplicity, quaint humor, and most winning kindliness. Mr. Gaskell had been Member of Parliament for Malden, and his son at this time represented Shropshire. The whole family were rich in cultivation, refinement, and hospitality, and the establishment elegant and luxurious. Immediately after lunch [on the first day] Mrs. Gaskell carried us to the house of that strange person, Mr. Waterton, whose Wanderings in South America excited so much remark a few years ago. He is an anomaly; a thorough Catholic, and holding the most despotic theories of government, yet a radical at home, in order to overturn everyth
Wighill Park (search for this): chapter 22
having enjoyed as much really considerate kindness as we ever enjoyed anywhere in four days, and came thirty-five miles,. . . . to Colonel Richard Yorke's, at Wighill Park. . . . October 3.—In the course of the four days we stayed at Wighill Park there were about twenty different inmates in the house. Note by Mr. Ticknor: WWighill Park there were about twenty different inmates in the house. Note by Mr. Ticknor: When I look back upon this visit, it seems as if I were recollecting some of the descriptions of parties in country-houses in English novels, so much truer are they to nature than is generally imagined. It was a very pleasant party, whose chief attraction and amusement was music. . . . Sir Francis Doyle, an old officer, and very inlishment was perfect for its purposes, in comforts and luxuries, and there was an exactness in the mode of carrying it on that was quite remarkable. We left Wighill Park between eleven and twelve, and reached Lord Fitzwilliam's before five. Twelve or thirteen miles off, the milestones that announced the distance From Wentworth
, the poet, to meet us, and that they had proposed to make a party for Sheffield to go with us, so that we altered our plan. . . . . After breakfast we went over some other parts of this vast pile of building, saw the state sleeping-apartments, which are magnificent, and many other suites of rooms that are very rich and comfortable. . . . The saloon fitted up by the present Lord Fitzwilliam is very rich and magnificent. On one side of it hangs the famous picture of Lord Rockingham's horse Whistler, by Stubbs, nearly as large as life, and one of the most striking pictures of an animal I ever saw. It is nothing but a painting of a horse, no trappings, no background, no earth, yet it does not leave any feeling of deficiency. Lord Fitzwilliam told me that when the horse was painted Lord Rockingham intended to have put George III. upon him; but, said he, laughing, the king misbehaved about that time, and so Lord Rockingham would not have him there. However, he added, that is a story I
Chapter 22: Edgeworthtown. English lakes.-York. Doncaster. Wentworth house. Journal. August 21.—We set out pretty early this morning to make a visit, by invitation, to the Edgeworths, at Edgeworthtown, sixty-five English miles from Dublin. . . . The whole country we passed through was like a succession of prairies, so little inequality was there in the surface, and it was only at rare intervals we even saw any tolerably sized hills in the horizon. Nor were the objects on the road more various. . . . . The ruins of an old castle of the Leinsters, at Maynooth, two mounds, which were probably burial-places of the aborigines, a good many ruined churches, and a good many villages, some very squalid and wretched, and some as comfortable as the poorer Scotch hamlets, were all we noticed. . . . . At last we approached the house. There was no mistaking it. We had seen none such for a long time. It is spacious, with an ample veranda, and conservatory covering par
Thomas Lister (search for this): chapter 22
and, the upturned faces of the immense crowd that welcomed her made another impressive sight. The descriptions of these scenes, and of Castle Howard, Rivaulx Abbey, and other interesting spots, must be set aside to make room for visits at pleasant country-houses. First comes Mulgrave Castle, where, by Lord Mulgrave's invitation, given at Dublin, the party were received by Mr. and Mrs. Edward Villiers, Mrs. Edward Villiers was a sister of Lady Mulgrave, and Mr. Villiers a brother of Mrs. Lister, a highly intellectual person, with large and pleasant resources in belles-lettres knowledge, whom, says Mr. Ticknor, I thought quite equal to any of the family for talent, beside which he is a better scholar than any of them. then staying there. On September 18, the day following their arrival at Mulgrave Castle, Mr. Ticknor says:— We began our excursion by stopping in a small village belonging to Lord Mulgrave. We wished to get a little information from the clergyman, but he wa
memory supplies to her, combined into a whole which I can call nothing else but extraordinary vivacity. She certainly talks quite as well as Lady Delacour or Lady Davenant, and much in the style of both of them, though more in that of Lady Davenant. . . . August 22.—It has been a rainy day to-day, the first, properly so, thatLady Davenant. . . . August 22.—It has been a rainy day to-day, the first, properly so, that we have had since we left Liverpool, nearly two months ago. I was heartily glad of it, for it prevented all talk of driving into a country essentially flat and uninteresting, and kept us in the most interesting and agreeable society. We did not really separate during the whole day, from breakfast, at nine, until bedtime, half aft not get them out again. Many parts of it were much altered; two only were printed just as they were first put on paper, with hardly the correction of a word,—Lady Davenant's conversation with Helen in the pony phaeton, and Lady Cecilia's conversation with Helen towards the end, telling her all that had happened during their separ<
she said that it was a recent conception altogether, first imagined about two years before it was printed. The Collingwoods, she said, were a clumsy part of it; she put them in, thinking to make something of them, but was disappointed, and there they stuck, she could not get them out again. Many parts of it were much altered; two only were printed just as they were first put on paper, with hardly the correction of a word,—Lady Davenant's conversation with Helen in the pony phaeton, and Lady Cecilia's conversation with Helen towards the end, telling her all that had happened during their separation. These two portions she said she dictated to her sister Lucy, whom she represented to be a person of sure taste. She dictated these particular passages because, as they were to represent narrative conversation, she thought this mode of composing them would give them a more natural air, and whenever her sister's pen hesitated, she altered the word at once. So, said she, all that turned
Maria Edgeworth (search for this): chapter 22
gray eyes, whenever she speaks to you. With her characteristic directness, she did not take us into the library until she had told us that we should find there Mrs. Alison of Edinburgh, and her aunt, Miss Sneyd, Aunt by courtesy, since Miss Maria Edgeworth was the only surviving child of the first Mrs. Edgeworth, a Miss Elers; while Miss Sneyd was sister to the second and third wives of Richard Lovell Edgeworth. a person very old and infirm; and that the only other persons constituting the fMrs. Edgeworth, a Miss Elers; while Miss Sneyd was sister to the second and third wives of Richard Lovell Edgeworth. a person very old and infirm; and that the only other persons constituting the family were Mrs. Edgeworth, Fourth wife of Mr. Edgeworth, Miss Beaufort, sister of Sir Francis Beaufort. Miss Honora Edgeworth, Daughter of the third Mrs. Edgeworth. and Dr. Alison, a physician, and son of the author on Taste. Having thus put us en pays de connaissance, she carried us into the library. It is quite a large room, full of books, and every way comfortable as a sitting-room. We had not been there five minutes before we were, by her kindness and vivacity, put completely at ou
enty or eighty servants were there when we went in, and with the family and visitors made quite a respectable congregation. The ladies were in the gallery, the female servants chiefly under it. . . . . September 28.—We intended to have left Wentworth House this morning, and, passing the day at Sheffield, about ten miles off, have proceeded on our journey to-morrow; but I found Lord Fitzwilliam had invited Montgomery, the poet, to meet us, and that they had proposed to make a party for Sheffield to go with us, so that we altered our plan. . . . . After breakfast we went over some other parts of this vast pile of building, saw the state sleeping-apartments, which are magnificent, and many other suites of rooms that are very rich and comfortable. . . . The saloon fitted up by the present Lord Fitzwilliam is very rich and magnificent. On one side of it hangs the famous picture of Lord Rockingham's horse Whistler, by Stubbs, nearly as large as life, and one of the most striking pictu
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