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to see, and are not likely to get as soon as you will care to have it, I will send it to you at once. This is very possible, nowadays, for the liquor question is getting mixed up with our general politics, which it never ought to be, any more than a question in religion. But such things can rarely be avoided in so free institutions as ours,--perhaps not in yours . . . . What you tell me of Thiebaut de Champagne is very curious, and much of it new. He was always one of my favorites, from 1817, when I studied the earliest French literature in Paris, under the advice of Roquefort and Raynouard, and made such collections of books as they told me to make. But I never heard before the tradition that he brought home with him from Palestine the Provence Rose, which we cultivate here in a country Thiebaut never dreamt of; nor did I ever suppose that there were such remains of the ancient splendor of Provence as you describe. Please to tell me, therefore, when you write,—and I hope that,
July 30th, 1869 AD (search for this): chapter 24
se. Yours sincerely, Geo. Ticknor. In 1869 Mr. George Ticknor Curtis had in press his Life of Webster, and Mr. Ticknor gave careful perusal to both manuscript and proof-sheets of this work, in which he took a deep interest. A great number of short letters and many pages of memoranda, in his handwriting, testify to the fidelity and industry with which he performed this labor of love. The following will serve as a specimen of his tone. To George T. Curtis, Esq. Brookline, July 30, 1869. my dear George,—Your letter of the 26th came yesterday, and the proof I enclose came late this forenoon . . . . On reading the proofs I am more and more struck with the fact, that the events you relate, most of which have happened in my time, seem to me to have occurred much longer ago than they really did. The civil war of ‘61 has made a great gulf between what happened before it in our century and what has happened since, or what is likely to happen hereafter. It does not seem
se as very curious matters. On running over the list, I was surprised to find that I had known so many of the members, and on examining it, in consequence, with more care, I find that I have had more or less correspondence with twenty-nine out of the one hundred and fifty-seven members, beginning with Sir Joseph Banks, who runs back to 1778; besides which I have met in society and talked with at least twenty-seven more; so that I have really known fifty-six of the old Johnson Club, all since 1815! The reason is that I am such an old fellow; I was seventy-six yesterday . . . . We are all well and prosperous. I am better than I have been for two years, and take great comfort in the tolerated laziness of old age. The Dexters are just gone to the sea-coast for five or six weeks seabathing; but I am safe in adding their kind regards to ours, for all of you. Yours faithfully, Geo. Ticknor. Tell me about Sir Francis Doyle, and the Professorship of Poetry at Oxford. I have known
January 28th (search for this): chapter 24
of Agassiz, and perhaps we like the book overmuch, especially as we have been reading it in an advance copy, as such things are called, and so have had nobody to moderate our opinion. We are all well, grandchildren and all; and all who have ever seen you and yours send you affectionate regards. Ever yours, Geo. Ticknor To Hon. Edward Twisleton. Boston, March 22, 1868. my dear Twisleton,—Your sad letter Sir Edmund Head died very suddenly, of disease of the heart, on the 28th of January, and Mr. Ticknor felt the loss of his friendship deeply. The verses mentioned by Mr. Twisleton, are, he says, by Bland, of the Greek Anthology, which, among others, Bland wrote in reference to himself, under the impression that he should not live long. Sir Edmund repeated them, nearly word for word, after an interval of twenty-five years, having only heard them recited once. They are as follows:— While others set, thy sun shall fall; Night without eve shall close on thee: And he who
lder than you are, gets up the hill every now and then; and the other day absolutely met here Judge Phillips, from Cambridge, who is quite as old as he is. So I do not despair. Practically, you are younger than I am. So is Cogswell; but he moves as little, almost, as I do. We all, from my wife down, send our love to you, and want to see you. We shall not any of us have such another winter to move about in,—hardly many days like to-day. Look out, therefore, for tomorrow. Yours from 1804-5, Geo. Ticknor. To the King of Saxony. Boston, U. S. A., September 29, 1870. Sire,—Your Majesty is called to great private suffering, as well as to great public anxieties. We have just received a notice of the death of your excellent sister, the Princess Amelia, and we well know what sorrow this brings upon you and your house. She was so good, so intellectual, so agreeable. Be assured that we sympathize, in my home, with this your great affliction. We can never forget the constant k
u, drawn up as skilfully as her father would have done it, and told me that you were to have, for a fortnight, the two catalogues she brought here when she came with you on Saturday. I wish the books in both were well settled on the shelves of the Boston Library. The Barton Library, containing both the Shakespeare collection and the miscellaneous library here mentioned, is now among the treasures of the Boston Public Library. It was purchased from Mrs. Barton shortly before her death, in 1873. But I had no opinions to give her different from those I gave her when you were present, to wit, that she should make up her opinion from the best information she can get. . . . . As property the collection is, no doubt, valuable, and she does not purpose to part with it without a proper compensation. But she can easily find out its value. You are to help her, and I am very glad of it, for I cannot . . . . The principal matter, of course, is the Shakespeare collection. She says that
is older than you are, gets up the hill every now and then; and the other day absolutely met here Judge Phillips, from Cambridge, who is quite as old as he is. So I do not despair. Practically, you are younger than I am. So is Cogswell; but he moves as little, almost, as I do. We all, from my wife down, send our love to you, and want to see you. We shall not any of us have such another winter to move about in,—hardly many days like to-day. Look out, therefore, for tomorrow. Yours from 1804-5, Geo. Ticknor. To the King of Saxony. Boston, U. S. A., September 29, 1870. Sire,—Your Majesty is called to great private suffering, as well as to great public anxieties. We have just received a notice of the death of your excellent sister, the Princess Amelia, and we well know what sorrow this brings upon you and your house. She was so good, so intellectual, so agreeable. Be assured that we sympathize, in my home, with this your great affliction. We can never forget the constan
Chapter 24: 1867 to 1870. letters to Sir E. Head, Hon. E. Twisleton, Sir Walter Trevelyan, the King of Saxony, G. T. Curtis, General Thayer. To Sir Edmund Head, London. Boston, February 21, 1867. my dear Head,—I am surprised to find that I sent you no answer about the meaning of El moron in the ballad of Blanca sois, Señora Mia. To be sure, I had no doubt but that it meant the horse, as soon as you gave me the suggestion of Mrs. Marshall, and I rather think that we ought both of us to feel a little mortified that we needed the lady's hint. And, to be sure, further I can say in reply to your question, that I do not remember any other case in which the name of the color is put for the horse, although I will bet a penny I ought to recollect cases in which pardo, bayo, etc., are so used. But is not Sancho's ass just as good as any horse in the world, and just as classical, and is he not called el rucio fifty times in Don Quixote? And now I am in the way of c
regular advancement, which may sometimes lead to awkward results. At least, I feel sure that we should in this country do better. . . . . I hope you will write to me again before long; and that when you do you will tell me about Lady Head and her daughters. Meantime, if you see them, pray give them our affectionate regards. We think of them and speak of them often. Only yesterday I read over Sir Edmund's beautiful verses on a Pan-Athenaic vase. Yours sincerely, Geo. Ticknor. In 1869 Mr. George Ticknor Curtis had in press his Life of Webster, and Mr. Ticknor gave careful perusal to both manuscript and proof-sheets of this work, in which he took a deep interest. A great number of short letters and many pages of memoranda, in his handwriting, testify to the fidelity and industry with which he performed this labor of love. The following will serve as a specimen of his tone. To George T. Curtis, Esq. Brookline, July 30, 1869. my dear George,—Your letter of the 26
d Maine; for you come, as nearly as you can, to the voluntary principle, which seems needful in all virtue, and, perhaps, in all real and satisfactory reform in manners and morals. But when union of efforts is necessary, as it is in this case, the smaller each union is, in moderate numbers,—if the aggregate of all the unions is numerous enough,—the more likely is the main general purpose to be carried. The most formidable political combination of our times was, I suppose, the Tugend-Bund of 1808, etc., because it consisted of an immense number of small societies, scattered all over Germany, but little connected with each other except by their one great object, and really knowing little about each other's operations and mode of proceeding. Now, if I understand the matter, you have in the Province of Canterbury,—embracing, to be sure, a large part of England,—above a thousand parishes, hamlets, etc., where money will not buy the means of intoxication. It is a great thing, and it h
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