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March 22nd, 1868 AD (search for this): chapter 24
copy, and the two Annas have enjoyed it as much as I have. Lady Head, I am sure, will like it. But you know how fond we are 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
e. But Carus must be very old. Does he still preserve the faculties which so long distinguished him? Is he well? This seems an appropriate place to introduce a memorandum made about this period by Mr. Ticknor, recalling one of the pleasures of his middle life. The little meetings at Prince John's were, I believe, sometimes called the Academia Dantesca, and extended through the years when the Prince was making his translation. I went to only two or three of them, in the winter of 1835-36, and never met anybody at them, except Tieck, Dr. Carus, and Karl Forster, though I believe other persons were occasionally there, especially the Mit-Regent, afterwards King Frederic. I think there are notices of them in the Life of Forster, 1846, where I am kindly remembered as meeting him at the Prince's, which I never did except on these occasions. Forster was an excellent Italian scholar, and translated, as early as 1807, from Dante. So was Carus, who made a plan of the Divina Commedia
rvive. But Carus must be very old. Does he still preserve the faculties which so long distinguished him? Is he well? This seems an appropriate place to introduce a memorandum made about this period by Mr. Ticknor, recalling one of the pleasures of his middle life. The little meetings at Prince John's were, I believe, sometimes called the Academia Dantesca, and extended through the years when the Prince was making his translation. I went to only two or three of them, in the winter of 1835-36, and never met anybody at them, except Tieck, Dr. Carus, and Karl Forster, though I believe other persons were occasionally there, especially the Mit-Regent, afterwards King Frederic. I think there are notices of them in the Life of Forster, 1846, where I am kindly remembered as meeting him at the Prince's, which I never did except on these occasions. Forster was an excellent Italian scholar, and translated, as early as 1807, from Dante. So was Carus, who made a plan of the Divina Comm
August 31st, 1869 AD (search for this): chapter 24
ation or principles. Webster seems to have been the last of the Romans; and yet he, too, made mistakes. But I hope you will give a good prominence to his solemn protest in the Senate against the annexation of Texas. It is one of the grandest things he ever did. . . . . But I am interrupted. William Gardiner, Mrs. Cabot, etc., and dinner immediately; in short, nothing before the post, but, Ever yours, and all well, Geo. T. To Sir Walter C. Trevelyan, Bart. Boston, U. S. A., August 31, 1869. my dear Trevelyan,—My silence is not forgetfulness, neither is it ingratitude; it is simply old age. I am past seventy-eight, and, like nearly everybody of that age, I do, not what I like best to do, but what I can. I cannot walk much, and I forget a great deal, and I write as little as I can. Reading is my great resource, and I have lately been much amused with Crabbe Robinson, who is a model for old men, as far as their strength holds out. But your letter to me, written above a y
January 8th, 1868 AD (search for this): chapter 24
r all the kindness we received in Dresden from your whole family. Remember us, too, to the Princess Amelia, who was so considerate to us, not only at home, but when we met her afterwards in Florence, and whose works are kept among our pleasant reading and that of our friends. Preserve us, I pray you, in your kind recollections, and believe me to be always, very faithfully and affectionately, Your Majesty's friend and servant, Geo. Ticknor. To Sir Edmund Head, London. Boston, January 8, 1868. my dear Head,—The new year must not get on any farther without my recognizing that I owe you a good deal of happiness, and wishing you a great deal more. I think I wrote to you last, just after we came to town in the late autumn; but whether I did or not, I want to hear from you again. If we had not, in the mean time, heard of Lady Head's recovery, I should have claimed a letter sooner. But we want to hear about all of you,—not forgetting yourself. We want to hear, too, about
she was the last of my brothers and sisters. She has left, in the whole country, a very good memory. Her last years were very retired. In the year 1855 she had submitted to an operation for cataract, which relieved her at least of the almost complete blindness which was her fate. She could again write and read, but at a certain distance her eye—the one was entirely lost— was very feeble. Since this time she had abandoned her authorship. The political situation of the last period, since 1866, preoccupied her much, and I believe that the war of this summer has much contributed to abridge her life. Yet her death was a very gentle one. She died in the moment when the priest was on the point of reaching her the sacrament, almost without a single-pang. To her last hour she continued a true friend to her family, and a sincere and pious Christian. I wrote you already, in my last letter, of the successes of our arms and the honorable part which my troops and my sons have taken in i
September 6th, 1867 AD (search for this): chapter 24
. 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 his family and himself many years, and he sent me lately the volume of Poems by which he claimed, and apparently won, the place. Is he obliged to reside? To his Majesty John, King of Saxony. Boston, U. S. A., September 6, 1867. Sire,—The political condition of the world, on both sides of the Atlantic, does not seem to have become more tranquil or hopeful since I received your Majesty's last kind and interesting letter, in which you spoke of it so justly. We all look, in this country, with great anxiety on the state of affairs in Europe. We do not see how a war is to be avoided next summer, and hardly comprehend by what statesmanship it has already been postponed so long. The ill-will of nations has no
ath of my poor sister. My answer to your last letter seemed not yet to have reached you, and I am uncertain if it was written before or after this lamentable event. I thank you heartily for the part you take in my sorrow, and for all you say on account of the dear departed. It was for me, and for us all, a great loss; for me particularly, as she was the last of my brothers and sisters. She has left, in the whole country, a very good memory. Her last years were very retired. In the year 1855 she had submitted to an operation for cataract, which relieved her at least of the almost complete blindness which was her fate. She could again write and read, but at a certain distance her eye—the one was entirely lost— was very feeble. Since this time she had abandoned her authorship. The political situation of the last period, since 1866, preoccupied her much, and I believe that the war of this summer has much contributed to abridge her life. Yet her death was a very gentle one. She
April 29th, 1869 AD (search for this): chapter 24
is faculties, with, perhaps, a long life. Yet he was so full of physical strength, which he delighted to enjoy in the most vigorous bodily exercises, and he took such pleasure in the resources of his marvellous memory, as well as in a sort of general intellectual activity, which he spread over so many subjects of elegant culture, as well as of judicial and administrative policy, that I never much shared his own apprehensions or those of his friends. To Hon. Edward Twisleton. Boston, April 29, 1869. my dear Twisleton,—Don't give me up because I have grown old. At 77-8 a man does, not what he most likes to do, but what he is able to do; and I am not able to do the half of what I could in a day only a few years ago, nor half as well as then. A long time before I came to this conclusion good old Dr. Jackson, whom you must remember, told me, in one of the last visits he ever made me, that he was reduced to one third. It seemed to me very strange, but I now find that my time is com
September 29th, 1870 AD (search for this): chapter 24
ay 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 kindness of the Princess to us when we lived in Dresden, and when we met
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