hide Sorting

You can sort these results in two ways:

By entity
Chronological order for dates, alphabetical order for places and people.
By position (current method)
As the entities appear in the document.

You are currently sorting in descending order. Sort in ascending order.

hide Most Frequent Entities

The entities that appear most frequently in this document are shown below.

Entity Max. Freq Min. Freq
George Ticknor 393 1 Browse Search
Elisha Ticknor 314 20 Browse Search
Department de Ville de Paris (France) 176 0 Browse Search
Madrid (Spain) 158 0 Browse Search
Gottingen (Lower Saxony, Germany) 150 0 Browse Search
Daniel Webster 121 1 Browse Search
France (France) 100 0 Browse Search
United States (United States) 84 0 Browse Search
Wolfgang A. Von Goethe 72 0 Browse Search
Friedrich Tieck 72 0 Browse Search
View all entities in this document...

Browsing named entities in a specific section of George Ticknor, Life, letters and journals of George Ticknor (ed. George Hillard). Search the whole document.

Found 403 total hits in 169 results.

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 ...
George Ticknor (search for this): chapter 22
riting to strangers, Miss Edgeworth said to Mr. Ticknor: The sooner you can come to us, if I might romised to come back to Ireland, Note by Mr. Ticknor, written February 9, 1836: After an intervabetween Miss and Mrs. Edgeworth and Mr. and Mrs. Ticknor, and did not cease until the death of Mrs. the Museum at York, an eminent geologist. Mr. Ticknor had known him in Dublin, when he was Secretfollowing their arrival at Mulgrave Castle, Mr. Ticknor says:— We began our excursion by stoppe off. The next day, at Kirby Moorside, Mr. Ticknor was shown a common-looking house where Villange a creature. On the 25th September, Mr. Ticknor reached Wentworth House, Lord Fitzwilliam's different inmates in the house. Note by Mr. Ticknor: When I look back upon this visit, it seemsh diamonds, laces, and feathers. Note by Mr. Ticknor: I asked Lord Fitzwilliam what could induce a resume of this autumnal visit in London, Mr. Ticknor says:— I dined once with my old friend[2 more...]<
onishing how distinctly a single voice is heard, even in its lowest and sweetest tones, through nearly every part of this wide pile; and the stillness of the multitudes to catch its murmurs is sometimes as thrilling as the notes themselves. Grisi can fill the whole building with the most brilliant sounds. We dined at Lord Fitzwilliam's, who has taken a large house just outside the gates, for the Festival week, which he thinks it his inherited duty to patronize. . . . . September 12.—Mr. Willis of Caius College, Cambridge, who has published on architecture, being here, and desirous to see some parts of the cathedral not usually seen, Mr. Harcourt had it opened and lighted, and a party was formed to go over it. It was very curious. We were shown, under the pavement of the present choir, the remains of the ancient choir of the church built in 1070 and burnt in 1137, together with one arch of the still older church built about A. D. 900, all discovered in 1830, when the excavations
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 ffairs. His conversation was very various, sometimes quite remarkable, but never rich or copious like Wordsworth's, and never humorous or witty. It was rather abundant in matters of fact, and often in that way quite striking and effective. . . . York, September 6.—We arrived here early, and established ourselves in the narrow, but neat and comfortable lodgings which we had previously secured for the Musical Festival week. The city, though old, seemed beautifully clean; and the streets, though
Frederic Ponsonby (search for this): chapter 22
f countenance. His manner was as quiet and simple as possible, perfectly willing to talk, but not seeming to have much to say. We were presented also to Mr. Wood, I believe a son-in-law of Lord Grey, and to Mr. Chaloner, a brother-in-law of Lord Fitzwilliam, who is here with his wife, a daughter of the late Lord Dundas, and a son and daughter. We found too the Dundases, whom we left here on Tuesday, and a Mr. Phillips, Thomas J. Phillips, Esq. a fine scholar-like young man, and Mr. Frederic Ponsonby, of the Besborough family. . . . . Lord Spencer, whom I sat near at dinner, was very agreeable. We talked about the hunting season, which is now just beginning. He said he used to keep a pack formerly, and that the relations into which it brought him with his neighbors and the county had taught him more of human nature than he had learnt in any other way. The whole affair of fox-hunting, he added, with all its trespasses upon property, could not be maintained, if the whole neigh
Fitzwilliams (search for this): chapter 22
ndays, so that we made a formidable procession, the children and all constituting about twenty. Those of the tenantry who were in the churchyard-perhaps a dozen—drew up to the path and took off their hats as Lord Fitzwilliam passed in. . . . . The church is small, very old, and has nothing curious about it but a few old monuments, especially one to Lord Strafford's father and one to himself, all quite rude. He was the last distinguished person buried here; his son, with the Rockinghams, Fitzwilliams, etc., being deposited in York Minster. The pew of the family is of oak, very rudely carved, and has a shattered look; but it is in the state in which it was when the famous Strafford sat there, and has his arms ill cut in several places. . . . . I could not help imagining how things looked when he was there, and the great Marquis of Rockingham, and when Burke and Fox sat there, as they often did, with the late Lord Fitzwilliam. I had many strange visions about it, and little heeded poo
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 are indebted to Lord Dudley Stuart for carrying the bill in favor of the Poles through Parliament—was there a little while, and improvisated with great talent. There was nothing English about it, any more than if we had all been in Italy. Dr. Holland, who travelled in Greece w
ll, and this explained it. Later, the government changed its opinion on the measure, Lord Althorp introduced it again, received the most efficient, good-tempered, and sagacious support for it, both in committee and in the House, and carried it, with Copley's aid, in every stage, and in every way, except debate. Lord Spencer talked to me, too, a great deal about his recollections of Fox, Pitt, and Sheridan, placing the latter much lower than his party usually does, and giving more praise to Pitt than I ever heard a Whig give him. He does not talk brilliantly,—he hardly talks well, for he hesitates, blushes even, and has a queer chuckling laugh, —but he interests you and commands your attention. I felt sure all the time that I was getting right impressions from him. . . . . As we went down to the chapel, Lord Spencer told me that so solemn and fine a chapel is nowhere else kept up in England. Dr. Dundas read prayers, and about fifty-five were present. Sunday, October 4.—The fore<
ed to have him among them, as Lord Mulgrave told me, did him all honor and made him as comfortable as possible, and, when he went away, crowded about him and asked when he would come again. With the next plague, said the gracious landlord, and rode off. The next day, at Kirby Moorside, Mr. Ticknor was shown a common-looking house where Villiers, Duke of Buckingham, died, whose death is thus recorded in the parish register of the place: buried in the yeare of our Lord 1687, April ye 17. Gorges uiluas Lord dooke of bookingam, etc.,—so carelessly and ignorantly was the death of a statesman, out of date, put on record, even in the midst of his own possessions and tenantry. About two miles to the northwest of Kirby Moorside, I stopped to see the small but remarkable church of Kirkdale. It stands in a retired and quiet valley, and has undergone considerable repairs; but the Saxon arch of its principal entrance is still surmounted by a sundial, on which there is a plain Saxon inscri
Mary Sneyd (search for this): chapter 22
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 secoMiss 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, andte delightful, referring constantly to Mrs. Edgeworth, who seems to be the authority in all matters of fact, and most kindly repeating jokes to her infirm aunt, Miss Sneyd, who cannot hear them, and who seems to have for her the most unbounded affection and admiration. About herself, as an author, she seems to have no reserve o
John Gilpin (search for this): chapter 22
uch moved when he showed me his only son, and reminded me that I had last seen him hardly three weeks old, in his cradle in the same room. . . . . Southey was natural and kind, but evidently depressed, much altered since I saw him fifteen years ago, a little bent, and his hair quite white. He showed me the materials for his edition of Cowper and the beginning of the Life; the last work, he says, he shall ever do for the booksellers. Among the materials was the autograph manuscript of John Gilpin, and many letters .. . . . He read us, too, about three cantos of his Oliver Newman,—the poem on American ground,—some of it fine, but the parts intended to be humorous in very bad taste. He showed me as many curious and rare manuscripts and books as I could look at, and told me that he means now to finish his history of Portugal and Portuguese literature; and if possible write a history of the Monastic Orders. If he does the last, it will be bitter enough. He says he has written no Qu
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 ...