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Samuel Rogers (search for this): chapter 3
ed visit to Persia. I answered to all this as if I had spoken to a countryman, and then turned the conversation to his own poems, and particularly to his English Bards, which he has so effectually suppressed that a copy is not easily to be found. He said he wrote it when he was very young and very angry; which, he added, were the only circumstances under which a man would write such a satire. When he returned to England, he said, Lord Holland, who treated him with very great kindness, and Rogers, who was his friend, asked him to print no more of it, and therefore he had suppressed it. Since then, he said, he had become acquainted with the persons he had satirized, and whom he then knew only by their books,—was now the friend of Moore, the correspondent of Jeffrey, and intimate with the Wordsworth school, and had a hearty liking for them all,—especially as they did not refuse to know one who had so much abused them. Of all the persons mentioned in this poem, there was not one, he sa
with Murray, and had a genuine booksellers' dinner, such as Lintot used to give to Pope and Gay and Swift; and Dilly, to Johnson and Goldsmith. Those present were two Mr. Duncans, Fellows of New College, Oxford, Disraeli, author of the Quarrels and Calamities of Authors, Gifford, and Campbell. The conversation of such a party could not long be confined to politics, even on the day when they received full news of the Duke of Wellington's successes; and, after they had drunk his health and Blucher's, they turned to literary topics as by instinct, and from seven o'clock until twelve the conversation never failed or faltered. Disraeli, who, I think, is no great favorite, though a very good-natured fellow, was rather the butt of the party. The two Duncans were acute and shrewd in correcting some mistakes in his books. Gifford sometimes defended him, but often joined in the laugh; and Campbell, whose spirits have lately been much improved by a legacy of £ 5,000, was the life and wi
d striking; and I found his manners affable and gentle, the tones of his voice low and conciliating, his conversation gay, pleasant, and interesting in an uncommon degree. I stayed with him about an hour and a half, during which the conversation wandered over many subjects. He talked, of course, a great deal about America; wanted to know what was the state of our literature, how many universities we had, whether we had any poets whom we much valued, and whether we looked upon Barlow as our Homer. He certainly feels a considerable interest in America, and says he intends to visit the United States; but I doubt whether it will not be indefinitely postponed, like his proposed visit to Persia. I answered to all this as if I had spoken to a countryman, and then turned the conversation to his own poems, and particularly to his English Bards, which he has so effectually suppressed that a copy is not easily to be found. He said he wrote it when he was very young and very angry; which, he
William Roscoe (search for this): chapter 3
Departure for Europe. arrival in England. State of feeling there. Mr. Roscoe. Chirk Castle. Dr. Parr. arrival in London. Mr. Vaughan. Mr. Sharp. SirI soon found that not a few people looked upon the matter quite differently. Mr. Roscoe, mild and philosophical in his whole character, was opposed to the war, and, udiated article. While in Liverpool, Mr. Ticknor made the acquaintance of Mr. Roscoe, then in the enjoyment of wealth as well as fame, and gives a sketch of him in Liverpool, I know not that you will be much interested to hear of any but Mr. Roscoe, whom you already know as an author, and probably as the Lorenzo of his nativhich, if I recollect right, concludes Dr. Currie's collection. These papers, Mr. Roscoe seems to preserve with a sort of holy reverence, and he read me from among thst the best Greek one in England, without seeing him, at least for a moment. Mr. Roscoe had volunteered me a letter, but I left Liverpool half a day before I intende
her phraseology, and has more the air of eloquence than I have ever heard before from a lady. But, then, it has something of the appearance of formality and display, which injures conversation. Her manner is gracious and elegant; and, though I should not think of comparing her to Corinne, yet I think she has uncommon powers. . . . June 16.—We dined at Mr. Vaughan's, with Dr. Schwabe, a learned German clergyman, who gave us considerable information on the state of letters in Germany; Mr. Maltby, the successor of Porson in the London Institution, (Gifford says he is the best Greek scholar left, since Porson's death), and Elmsley, the writer of the Greek articles in the Quarterly Review. In a note subsequently added, Mr. Ticknor stated that Elmsley was not the writer of the articles ascribed to him. He expressed to me his surprise that I spoke so good English, and spoke it, too, without an accent, so that he should not have known me from an Englishman. This is the first instanc
Humphry Davy (search for this): chapter 3
. Chirk Castle. Dr. Parr. arrival in London. Mr. Vaughan. Mr. Sharp. Sir Humphry Davy. Gifford. Lord Byron. anecdotes of Bonaparte. Mr. Murray. Mr. West. iliar terms, Lord Byron, the most brilliant man of letters in England, and Sir Humphry Davy, the most brilliant man of science. Every hour of his time was agreeably , than I expected them to be. June 13.—I breakfasted this morning with Sir Humphry Davy, of whom we have heard so much in America. He is now about thirty-three, philosophy, that he should find the struggle of his choice pretty severe. Lady Davy was unwell, and when I was there before, she was out, so I have not yet seen ll. June 15.—As her husband had invited me to do, I called this morning on Lady Davy. I found her in her parlor, working on a dress, the contents of her basket snth. June 21.—I passed an hour this morning very pleasantly indeed with Sir Humphry Davy, from whom I have received great courtesy and kindness. He told me that w<
James Burgess (search for this): chapter 3
, and before their determinations were known, two of the frigates went down to Algiers, to ascertain by personal inquiry. Captain Fuller and the other captain had an audience of the Dey, but the only answer they could get was this: Your masters were fools, when they had the Frenchman in their hands, that they did not cut off his head. If I catch him, I shall act more wisely. At three o'clock, I went to the literary exchange at Murray's bookstore. Gifford was there, as usual, and Sir James Burgess, who, I find, is the man of whom Cumberland so often speaks, and in conjunction with whom he wrote the Exodiad; and before long Lord Byron came in, and stayed out the whole party. I was glad to meet him there; for there I saw him among his fellows and friends,—men with whom he felt intimate, and who felt themselves equal to him. The conversation turned upon the great victory at Waterloo, for which Lord Byron received the satirical congratulations of his ministerial friends with a good
not forward and striking; and I found his manners affable and gentle, the tones of his voice low and conciliating, his conversation gay, pleasant, and interesting in an uncommon degree. I stayed with him about an hour and a half, during which the conversation wandered over many subjects. He talked, of course, a great deal about America; wanted to know what was the state of our literature, how many universities we had, whether we had any poets whom we much valued, and whether we looked upon Barlow as our Homer. He certainly feels a considerable interest in America, and says he intends to visit the United States; but I doubt whether it will not be indefinitely postponed, like his proposed visit to Persia. I answered to all this as if I had spoken to a countryman, and then turned the conversation to his own poems, and particularly to his English Bards, which he has so effectually suppressed that a copy is not easily to be found. He said he wrote it when he was very young and very ang
Benjamin Vaughan (search for this): chapter 3
e left Liverpool on the 17th, and arrived here on the 25th, and are just settled in our respective lodgings, and ready to present our letters of introduction. Journal. May 30.—To-day I dined at Mr. William Vaughan's, the brother of Mr. Benjamin Vaughan, of Hallowell, and of Mr. John Vaughan, of Philadelphia, and as actively kind and benevolent as either of them. Dr. Rees, the editor of the Cyclopaedia, was there, and, though now past seventy, and oppressed with the hydrothorax, he stillr there is nobody in England whom Mad. de Stael more valued,—though I have already two other introductions to her. I parted from Sir Humphry with real regret. He goes out of town to-morrow. We dined to-day with Mr. Manning,—brother of Mrs. Benjamin Vaughan,—a very intelligent gentleman. He told us a story of Bonaparte, which, from the source from which he had it, is likely to be true. Lord Ebrington, son of Lord Fortescue, was in Elba, and Bonaparte, finding he was the nephew of Lord Gre
number of hours have passed with me in England. He gave me a new reading in Macbeth, from Henderson, to whom Mrs. Siddons once read her part for correction, when Mr. Sharp was present. The common pointing and emphasis is:— Macbeth. If we should fail? Lady Macbeth. We fail. But screw your courage to the sticking place, AndLady Macbeth. We fail. But screw your courage to the sticking place, And we'll not fail. No, said Henderson, on hearing her read it thus, that is inconsistent with Lady Macbeth's character. She never permits herself to doubt thLady Macbeth's character. She never permits herself to doubt their success, and least of all when arguing with her husband. Read it thus, Mrs. Siddons:— Macbeth. If we should fail? Lady Macbeth (with contempt). We fail? But Macbeth. If we should fail? Lady Macbeth (with contempt). We fail? But screw your courage to the sticking place And we'll not fail. June 7.—This morning I breakfasted with Mr. Sharp, and had a continuation of yesterday,—more pleasanLady Macbeth (with contempt). We fail? But screw your courage to the sticking place And we'll not fail. June 7.—This morning I breakfasted with Mr. Sharp, and had a continuation of yesterday,—more pleasant accounts of the great men of the present day, and more amusing anecdotes of the generation that has passed away. After breakfast he carried me through the S
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