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James Montgomery (search for this): chapter 22
th 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 ove tell, and the people here know nothing about it. There is no use in having such things remembered.. . . . When I went into the gallery before dinner I found Montgomery talking with Mr. Lowe. He—Montgomery—is a small man, above sixty-five years old, rather feeble and sensitive, but good, kind, and benevolent, and greatly lovedes, who is in the iron-trade at Sheffield, and who, it seems, has been these thirty years trying to obtain notice as a poet, but never succeeding until lately. Montgomery represents him—as might have been anticipated—to be a person with much talent and tenderness, mixed up with great rudeness, passion, and prejudice. After di
Rufus King (search for this): chapter 22
re is a plain Saxon inscription, signifying that it was placed there by Orm the son of Gamal, in the days of Edward the King and of Tosti the Earl, which brings its date to 1055-65, when Tosti was Earl of Northumberland, and Edward, the Confessor, King. Three days later they passed through Leeds, where the Messrs. Gott—two of whom Mr. Ticknor had met at York—showed him the wonderful machinery of their great woollen manufactory, with a freedom and openness very unusual; and after resting frot, gentle, and low, ever an excellent thing in woman; a good mother, who has educated her family herself, and done it well and successfully; a good wife, managing her household judiciously; a good friend, as Lady Byron knows, to whose daughter, Lady King, she has been of great practical use; a domestic person, yet receiving and enjoying a great deal of the best scientific and literary society, and frequenting occasionally the most exclusive and fashionable; skilled in the modern languages, two
James Mackintosh (search for this): chapter 22
character and tone assumed by the priests, who have every day, as they assure me, more and more the air of claiming superiority; especially where, as in the case of Edgeworthtown, the old priests have been removed, and Jesuits placed in their stead. After lunch,—there is only one service in the church,—Miss Edgeworth showed me a good many curious letters from Dumont,— one in particular, giving an account of Madame de Stael's visit, in 1813, to Lord Lansdowne at Bowood, for a week, when Mackintosh, Romilly, Schlegel, Rogers, and a quantity more of distinguished people were there; but Miss Edgeworth declined, not feeling apparently willing to live in a state of continual exhibition for so long a time. It was, however, very brilliant, and was most brilliantly described by Dumont. One thing amused me very much. Madame de Stael, who had just been reading the Tales of Fashionable Life,—then recently published,—with great admiration, said to Dumont of Miss Edgeworth: Vraiment elle
Richard Yorke (search for this): chapter 22
and played a little whist. . . . . Before we went to bed Lord Fitzwilliam and the ladies urged us so kindly and earnestly to return to them on Saturday, and meet Lord Spencer,. . . . that we promised to do so. . . . . I shall be very glad to see this distinguished statesman so quietly and familiarly. September 29.—We left Wentworth House to-day, after 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: 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 ol
Thompson (search for this): chapter 22
d 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 poor old Mr. Lowe. . . . We lounged slowly home through the grounds and gardens. . . . After lunch, Lord Fitzwilliam said he should go to hear a charity sermon two or three miles off, and asked who would go with him; but all declined except Lady Mary and Mr. Thompson, it being understood that Dr. Dundas would read the evening service in the chapel after dinner. Instead of going to church we made a party at half past 3, to see the stables and the establishment for young horses at one of the lodges. They were well worth the trouble. . . . . After dinner. . . . the party distributed itself through the gallery and the library rooms, to the number of about thirty. A little before nine o'clock the groom of the chambers came as usual and said, My lord
Hart Davis (search for this): chapter 22
Over the fireplace is a head of James I. as large as life, beautifully carved in oak. . . . . In short, we saw whatever the most—exact and kind attention could find to amuse us within the wide range of the Tower, and came away promising to dine with them on Monday. . . . . The dinner [on Monday] was elegant, and truly comfortable. Colonel Hume, and two or three other high officers of the proud and fashionable Guards; Mr. Seymour, just setting out for a journey to Egypt and the East; Mr. Hart Davis; young Mr. Doyle; and two or three other agreeable people, constituted the party. . . . We had a most pleasant time. Indeed, the very minute and consistent, but altogether unobtrusive attentions and kindness of Sir Francis make all feel at their ease and happy in his house; and the conversation, which was chiefly literary, with a mixture of politics and nationalities, was as agreeable as could be desired. . . . . One day, as we came back from Wimbledon and Putney,. . . . we drove to
Kirby Moorside (search for this): chapter 22
d 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 inscription, signifying that it was pla
Giulia Grisi (search for this): chapter 22
to-day was Handel's Messiah,— the whole of it,—a great work, which requires all the power and variety that the art of music can bring with it; and which, I suppose, has never been heard so well anywhere as in this vast and solemn minster. . . . It is astonishing 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 curiou<
William Wordsworth (search for this): chapter 22
ph's.—At Ambleside we found a kind note from Wordsworth, inviting us to come directly to him. I walkt, as I anticipated, a house of trouble. Mrs. Wordsworth's sister died a few weeks ago; Mr. WordswMr. Wordsworth's sister—a person of much talent—lies at the point of death, and his daughter is suffering undever. But they received me—I mean Mr. and Mrs. Wordsworth, their daughter, and their two sons—with ts, did not seem to recall their sorrows. Wordsworth was very agreeable. He talked about politicor us to go up to Rydal and breakfast with Mr. Wordsworth, he came and breakfasted with us. His talkand we parted and came back to Ambleside. Wordsworth, as usual, talked the whole time. He showede drove from Ambleside she accompanied us to Wordsworth's, where we passed a couple of hours very ags surprised to find him less desponding than Wordsworth, though perhaps more excited. He says, howee remarkable, but never rich or copious like Wordsworth's, and never humorous or witty. It was r
Elers (search for this): chapter 22
out to meet us,—a small, short, spare lady of about sixty-seven, with extremely frank and kind manners, and who always looks straight into your face with a pair of mild, deep 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 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
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