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English Bards (search for this): chapter 3
nited 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 added, were the only circumstances under which a man would write such a satire. When he retude Harold, which he began at Joannina and finished at Smyrna; and of the extravagant intention he had formed of settling in Greece, which, but for the state of his affairs, that required his presence in England, he should have fulfilled. The English Bards and Scotch Reviewers, he told me, he wrote at his paternal estate in the country, the winter before he set forth on his travels, while a heavy fall of snow was on the ground, and he kept house for a month, during which time he never saw the l
Nelson (search for this): chapter 3
. June 23.—We spent half the forenoon in Mr. West's gallery, where he has arranged all the pictures that he still owns. . . . He told us a singular anecdote of Nelson, while we were looking at the picture of his death. Just before he went to sea for the last time, West sat next to him at a large entertainment given to him herewer I do feel. I never pass a paint-shop where your Death of Wolfe is in the window, without being stopped by it. West, of course, made his acknowledgments, and Nelson went on to ask why he had painted no more like it. Because, my lord, there are no more subjects. D—n it, said the sailor, I did n't think of that, and asked him hampagne. But, my lord, I fear your intrepidity will yet furnish me such another scene; and, if it should, I shall certainly avail myself of it. Will you? said Nelson, pouring out bumpers, and touching his glass violently against West's,—will you, Mr. West? then I hope that I shall die in the next battle. He sailed a few days<
Freeman (search for this): chapter 3
nd the subject of taking Canada,—though it was evident enough that he knew little about any of them. Thirty years ago, said he in a solemn tone, which would have been worthy of Johnson,—thirty years ago, sir, I turned on my heel when I heard you called rebels, and I was always glad that you beat us. He made some inquiries on the subject of our learning and universities, of which he was profoundly ignorant, and spoke of the state of religion in our section of the country—in particular of Dr. Freeman's alterations of the Liturgy, which he had seen—with a liberal respect, much beyond what I should have expected from a Churchman. When I came away, he followed me to the door, with many expressions of kindness, and many invitations to come and spend some time with him, on my return to England, and finally took leave of me with a bow, whose stately and awkward courtesy will always be present in my memory whenever I think of him. His first evening in London was spent at the theatre, w
Richard Porson (search for this): chapter 3
t of the literary clubs in London, from the days of Burke down to the present time. He told me a great many amusing anecdotes of them, and particularly of Burke, Porson, and Grattan, with whom he had been intimate; and occupied the dinner-time as pleasantly as the same number of hours have passed with me in England. He gave meMr. 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 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 instance I have yet met of this
James Mackintosh (search for this): chapter 3
hat in the spring of 1815 he was employed in writing an article for the Quarterly Review upon the life and achievements of Lord Wellington. He wrote in haste the remarkable paper which has since been published more than once, and the number of the Review containing it was urged through the press, so as to influence public opinion as much as possible, and to encourage the hearts of men throughout the country for the great contest. At the same time a number of the Edinburgh was due. Sir James Mackintosh had written an able and elaborate article, to show that the war ought to have been avoided, and that its consequences to England could only be unfortunate and inglorious. The number was actually printed, stitched, and ready for distribution; but it was thought better to wait a little for fear of accidents, and especially for the purpose of using it instantly after the first reverse should occur, and to give it the force of prophecy. The battle of Waterloo came like a thunder-clap.
Leon (search for this): chapter 3
uld be impossible, in a mind constituted like his, to predict the future from the present. After all, it is difficult for me to leave him, thinking either of his early follies or his present eccentricities; for his manners are so gentle, and his whole character so natural and unaffected, that I have come from him with nothing but an indistinct, though lively impression of the goodness and vivacity of his disposition. June 27.—This evening I went to Drury Lane, to see Kean in the part of Leon. Lord Byron, who is interested in this theatre, and one of its managing committee, had offered me a seat in his private box. . . . . There was nobody there, this evening, but Lord and Lady Byron, and her father and mother. It was indeed only a very pleasant party, who thought much more of conversation than of the performance; though Kean certainly played the part well, much better than Cooper does. In the next box to us sat M. G. Lewis; a very decent looking man compared with the form my i
ZZZ (search for this): chapter 3
crew 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 Stock Exchange into the London Exchange, the square area of a large stone pile built in the time of Charles II.; from there to Lloyd's Coffee-House, and finally to Guildhall.Zzz To Mr. And Mrs. Ticknor. London, June 8, 1815. . . . . I cannot tell you how happy your letters have made me. It is all well, and I am sure home must still be to you what it always has been to me, the place of all content and happiness. You, my dear father, are now, I suppose, at Hanover, and I know all that you are enjoying there. . . . . Tell the children how dear they will be to me wherever I may go, and do not suffer them to forget me, for there are few things I should dread so mu
Manning (search for this): chapter 3
it to him, and had the conscience to ask four thousand guineas for it. When I came away, Sir Humphry gave me several letters for the Continent, and among them one for Canova, one for De la Rive at Geneva, and one for Mad. de Stael, which I was very glad to receive from him,—for 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 Grenville, asked him to dinner. Nobody was present but Drouot, who soon retired, and left the host and the English guest tete-à--tete. The nobleman is a modest, indeed bashful man, and was so disconcerted by the awkwardnes
G. F. Cooke (search for this): chapter 3
: I can truly say I never knew what acting was until I saw her. This must be taken as a proof of the power Miss O'Neil exercised, for Mr. Ticknor had often seen Cooke in Boston, and placed his acting above that of any male actor whom he saw in Europe. He saw Cooke in Shylock nine times in succession, generally leaving the theatCooke in Shylock nine times in succession, generally leaving the theatre after Shylock's last scene. The play was The Gamester. I cried like a school-boy, to the great amusement of the John Bulls who were around me in the pit. All night my dreams did homage to the astonishing powers of this actress, and my first waking imaginations this morning still dwelt on the hysterical laugh when she was carrie, the conversation naturally turned on the stage. Lord Byron asked me what actors I had heard, and, when I told him, imitated to me the manner of Munden, Braham, Cooke, and Kemble, with exactness, as far as I had heard them. Kemble has been ill ever since I arrived, and is now in Scotland, and of course I could not judge of the
Hatton (search for this): chapter 3
nd was a Middleton, and that's the reason the picture is here. They tell an odd story, the old lady went on, that when she was riding to the burying of her fourth, the gentleman she was behind—for it was before carriages were known in England—thought it was best to be in season, and so put the question to her as they came home from the grave. She told him, she was very sorry indeed he was too late, but if she had that melancholy office to perform again, she would certainly remember him. Hatton, May 23, 1815.—Dr. Parr lives at Hatton, but four miles from Warwick, and I was resolved not to pass so near to one who is the best Latin scholar, and almost 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 intended, and the consequence was, that I did not receive it till I reached London. So I went to the doctor's with a traveller's effrontery, and sent in a note, asking leave to visi<
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