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Chapter 21:

When Mr. Ticknor entered on his second period of European life, he resumed his former habit of keeping a journal, persevered in it with untiring fidelity, and filled its pages with accounts of all that was likely to be of continued interest to himself and his friends. In selecting passages from this journal and from his letters of the same period, the difficulty has been to refrain from making too copious extracts. He always, to the end of his life, regarded the years he passed in Europe as being in some degree sacrificed; and though the sacrifice was made each time for a worthy purpose and met a rich reward, yet the reward never fully outweighed to him the warm satisfaction of life in his native country, in the home that was the centre of his wishes and affections. The proportionate value which he thus gave, in his own mind, to the different points of his experience, should not be wholly disregarded here; but the temptation is irresistible to fill many pages with the European journal, though only a very small part of the whole will appear.1

A prosperous voyage of twenty-five days from New York to Liverpool—not a long passage for those days of sailingves-sels—had an exciting conclusion, which Mr. Ticknor thus describes:—

At the moment when, with a gentle breeze, we felt as if we should reach our port in a few hours, when, in fact, I was sitting quietly in the cabin, writing a letter to announce our arrival, the wind came out suddenly ahead, and almost at once blew a gale. It was not without much difficulty and tacking all day, that we got round Holyhead and [403] the Skerries, and lay to. But the wind in the night became more violent, we drifted a good deal, and at last were obliged, about four o'clock in the morning, to get under way again. Still the pilot did not venture to approach the mouth of the river, but stood off and on, until he finally thought the danger of going in less than that of attempting to keep off, as the ship could not be expected to bear the canvas necessary to enable her to run to the northward. With a long tack, therefore, that made a fair wind of it, we drove for the port. But it was an appalling sight to see her cross the bar and rush up the river. It seemed now and then as if all its waters were swept together into mountainous heaps by the violence of the gale, so that we saw the bottom and its yellow sands; for while the wind carried us [under bare poles] twelve knots an hour, the tide carried us six more. The appearance of the river was very extraordinary indeed. Its waters are always yellow, and were now rendered doubly so by the turbidness which the violent wind gave to them; and as this wind, together with the tide, was driving so furiously up the stream, the river itself looked as if it were composed of moving heaps of sand, the very foundations of which we could see. The waves seemed higher than they do in a gale on the ocean, because they could be measured by objects on the shores; but they were not really so. The housetops on the river-bank were many of them studded with people, watching our fearful course up the river, and expecting to see us go ashore somewhere before their eyes. The weather was sometimes, for a moment, quite thick; if it had continued so for a quarter of an hour, the pilot could not have seen his landmarks, and we should have been sent instantly on some of the many shoals around us, where, as we were told afterwards, the fury of the tempest would have made a total wreck of us in a very few moments. It was, therefore, a glad, very glad moment, when, after twenty-six hours buffeting with the spirit of this storm, we placed our feet once more on the firm-set earth, just at twelve o'clock, midday, of Thursday the 25th of June.2 But for several days afterwards we continued to receive melancholy accounts of the disasters of others. Four fine vessels were lost, besides small craft; and among them a brig which we saw repeatedly during the day, and a very large ship, larger than our own,—which took the gale a good deal further to windward than we did, so that she had [404] much the advantage of us,—with which we consorted and tacked all day, and which got round the Skerries immediately after us, but was a total wreck, with the loss of all on board. She was a fine British merchantman from the Baltic. Our ship, indeed, behaved nobly, and carried us through our danger as if she were conscious and proud of her success. It was a pleasure to see and to feel her power. The scene, too, was very grand and solemn, especially at midnight, when there was still a little twilight; and at two and three o'clock in the morning, when the sea was running very high, either quite black or entirely white. But, notwithstanding this, and all Milton's poetry about ‘Mona's wizard height’ and the channel here, I think I shall not care to see it again, in fair weather or foul.

Once safely landed on English soil, the fresh and vivid interest of travel began, which Mr. Ticknor could now enjoy, with less regretful longings for absent friends than in his youthful journeys, since he had his wife and his two little girls with him. In describing the departure from New York, whither relatives had accompanied them, and where friends gathered round them, he says, ‘It was not like the parting, when I left Boston, twenty years before, for England. I went at that time with friends, indeed, but with none of my family. Now, I carry all with me, . . . . and as I travel surrounded by my home, it seems not unreasonable to hope for a sort of enjoyment of which I then had no knowledge; and to feel sure that I shall escape that sensation of solitude and weariness which made my absence at that time all but intolerable to me.’ The welcome he everywhere received was very gratifying, and he entered at once on a delightful series of social excitements and pleasures.


Oxford, July 2, 1835.—The approach to Oxford is fine, its turrets and towers showing so magnificently from all sides; and the drive up High Street, with palaces on either hand, is one of the grandest in Europe. As soon as dinner was over I went to see Dr. Buckland, the famous geologist, Professor in the University, and Canon of Christ Church, where he has spacious and comfortable apartments for his family, including a pleasant garden. He received me with the kindness which is characteristic of his countrymen, and immediately took [405] me a long and beautiful walk, to show me the grounds and meadows attached to his magnificent College. On our return he proposed to me to pass the evening with a party, at the other corner of his quadrangle, collected to meet Dr. Chalmers, who is just now the great lion at Oxford, having come here to be created D. D. . . . .

I went with Dr. Buckland, about half past 9 o'clock, to Dr. Burton's, the Professor of Divinity, who lives in quite a magnificent style, his rooms hung with velvet. There I found Dr. Chalmers, a very plain, earnest, simple man, of nearly seventy; Davies Gilbert, the late President of the Royal Society, fully seventy years old, but extremely pleasant and animated; and a large number of the canons of Christ Church, besides our host and his handsome, agreeable wife, Dr.Buckland and Mrs. Buckland, the younger Copleston, etc, etc. It was an extremely agreeable conversazione. Tea was over when we entered, and no refreshment was offered afterwards, but the talk was excellent, and spirited.

Dr. Chalmers was curious and acute about our poor-laws, and knew a good deal about the United States; praised Dr. Channing for his intellectual power and eloquence, and considered his mind of the first order; thought Stuart the ablest man in America on the other side of the theological discussions going on there; and placed a great value on Abbott's ‘Young Christian,’ and his other practical works. He is, I think, much gratified with the attentions shown him at Oxford, which seem to have been abundant for a week, and which might indeed flatter any man; but he also seems plain, straightforward, and sincere, speaking his broad Scotch as honestly as possible, and expressing his own opinions faithfully, but entirely considerate of the opinions and feelings of others.

Mr. Gilbert's enthusiasm is more prompt and obvious than that of Dr. Chalmers, and it gratified me a good deal to hear him say, in the midst of the savants of Oxford, that Dr. Bowditch's ‘La Place’ is the first work extant on Astronomy. But I think Dr. Buckland was accounted the pleasant talker of the party. . . . . We separated a little before eleven, having made an arrangement to breakfast with Dr. Buckland, who asked a small party to meet us.

July 3.—We went to Dr. Buckland's at nine, and found there Dr. Chalmers, his wife and daughter, Dr.Burton and Mrs. Burton, Mr. Lloyd, Professor of Political Economy, Dr. Barnes, Vice Dean of Christ Church, and one or two others.

We breakfasted in Dr. Buckland's study, surrounded with the manuscripts of his ‘Bridgewater Treatise,’ now in the press, organic [406] remains of all sorts, and the books and paraphernalia of a hardwork-ing, efficient student. It was all very pleasant. The conversation was general, and such as suited a small party in such a place; but the whole, including a walk in the garden, was not protracted beyond half past 10 o'clock.

After the rest of the party were gone, Dr. Buckland carried us through the whole of the magnificence of his magnificent College in detail. . . . . We then took his written directions for a more cursory view of the rest of Oxford.

The travellers reached London on the 4th of July, and the next morning, among other visits, Mr. Ticknor called on Mr. Samuel Rogers,—whom he calls ‘the Doyen of English literature,’— and promised to return in the evening and dine with him.


July 5.—The dinner at Rogers's was truly agreeable; nobody present but Mr. Kenney, the author of the farce ‘Raising the Wind.’ The house, as everybody knows, opens on the park near the old mall, which was the fashionable walk in Pope's time, and the place from which the beaux were to see the lock of Belinda's hair, when it should be changed into a constellation; his garden gate opening immediately upon the green grass, and his library and dining-room windows commanding a prospect of the whole of the park, and of all the gay life that is still seen there.

Everything within the house is as beautiful and in as good taste as the prospect abroad. The rooms are fine and appropriate, and the walls covered with beautiful pictures,. . . . each of the principal masters being well represented. The library is the same, all recherche, and yet all in perfectly good taste. . . . . Mr. Rogers's conversation was in keeping with his establishment, full of the past,—anecdotes, facts, recollections in abundance,—and yet quite familiar with all that is now passing and doing in the world. All he says is marked by the good taste he shows in his works, and the perfected good sense which he has been almost a century in acquiring. . . . .

July 10.3—. . . . From two to four or five we were at a very agreeable private concert, given for the benefit of the poor Poles, by Mad. Filipowicz, who played marvellously on the violin herself. Tickets [407] were kindly sent to us by Lady C. D., or we should have known nothing about it, and should have been sorry to have missed it, for a large number of the best singers were there,—Tamburini, Lablache, Rubini, Grisi, Malibran. . . . .

Returning some visits afterwards we found Mrs. Lockhart at home, and spent some time with her and her children, whom we shall not see again on this visit, as they go to Boulogne for a month to-morrow. She is grown a matronly woman since I saw her, and her boy, Walter, is a fine little fellow, with his grandfather's long upper lip; but in other respects she is little changed. Her Scotch accent is as broad as ever, and she is still entirely simple, frank, and kindly.

I was much gratified to have her tell me that it was the opinion of the family and friends that my picture of her father is the best one extant, and that nothing equals it except Chantrey's bust; so that I am sure of it now, for she volunteered the remark, with all her characteristic simplicity and directness.

The evening we spent very agreeably indeed, in a party collected to meet us at Mrs. Lister's.4 Mr. Parker was there, whom I saw in Boston a year ago, and who has lately carried a contested election against Lord John Russell;. . . . Lord and Lady Morley, fine old people of the best school of English character; the beautiful and unpretending Lady James Graham;. . . . Senior, the political economist; Babbage, the inventor of the great calculating machine, etc. . . . . We went at ten and came home at midnight, having enjoyed ourselves a good deal; for they were all, as far as I talked with them, highly cultivated, intellectual people.

July 12—. . . . . . From church we went, by his especial invitation, to see Babbage's calculating machine; and I must say, that during an explanation which lasted between two and three hours, given by himself with great spirit, the wonder at its incomprehensible powers grew upon us every moment. The first thing that struck me was its small size, being only about two feet wide, two feet deep, and two and a half high. The second very striking circumstance was the fact that the inventor himself does not profess to know all the powers of the [408] machine; that he has sometimes been quite surprised at some of its capacities; and that without previous calculation he cannot always tell whether it will, or will not work out a given table. The third was, that he can set it to do a certain regular operation, as, for instance, counting 1, 2, 3, 4; and then determine that, at any given number, say the 10,000th, it shall change and take a different ratio, like triangular numbers, 1, 3, 6, 9, 12, etc.; and afterwards at any other given point, say 10,550, change again to another ratio. The whole, of course, seems incomprehensible, without the exercise of volition and thought. . . . . But he is a very interesting man, ardent, eager, and of almost indefinite intellectual activity, bold and frank in expressing all his opinions and feelings. . . .

I dined at Lord Holland's, in his venerable and admirable establishment at Holland House. The party was small, but it was select. Lord and Lady Holland, and Mr. Allen; Colonel Fox, and his wife Lady Mary, the daughter of the present king; Earl Grey, who has such preponderating influence now, without being Minister; Lord Melbourne, the Premier himself; Mr. Labouchere,5 another of the Ministry, who was in America, and who is now Master of the Mint and Vice-President of the Board of Trade, as well as Member of Parliament; Lord and Lady Cowper, who is sister of Lord Melbourne; and Lord Minto, lately Minister at Berlin.

In the evening my old friend Murray, now Lord Advocate of Scotland, came in, and Lady Minto, with one of the Austrian Legation, and several other persons. The conversation was extremely vivacious and agreeable. Lord Grey is uncommonly well preserved for his age, being now seventy-one years old, and talked well on all subjects that came up, including Horace; Fanny Kemble's book, which he cut to pieces without ceremony; the great question of the ballot and its application to English elections, etc.

Lord Melbourne, now fifty-six years old, was somewhat less dignified than Lord Grey, but seemed to be very heartily liked by everybody. He, too, was full of literary anecdote, and a pleasant, frank, and extremely easy talk, occasionally, however, marked with a quick, penetrating glance, which showed him to be always ready and vigilant.

After dinner, when we were in the long library, he took me away [409] from the rest of the party, and asked me a great many questions about the practical operation of the ballot in the United States, and gave his opinion very freely on the relations of the two countries. He said that as we get along further from the period of our Revolution and the feelings that accompanied it, we get along easier together; that Jefferson and Madison disliked England so much that they took every opportunity to make difficulty; that Monroe was a more quiet sort of person, but that J. Q. Adams ‘hated England’; and that they much preferred the present administration, which seemed sincerely disposed to have all things easy and right. He asked if Van Buren was likely to be the next President. I told him I thought he would be. He said he was a pleasant and agreeable man, but he did not think him so able as Mr. McLane, who preceded him.6 He asked if there was no chance for Webster. I told him I thought there was but little. He said that from what he had read of his speeches, and what he had heard about him, he supposed Webster was a much stronger man than Van Buren, etc., etc. His manner was always frank, and often gay, and during the whole dinner, and till he went away, which was not till about eleven o'clock, I should not—if I had not known him to be Prime Minister—have suspected that any burden of the state rested on his shoulders.

It struck me as singular that dinner was not at all delayed for him; so that we sat down without him and without inquiry, except that, after we were at table, Lady Holland asked Lady Cowper if her brother would not come. To which she replied, he certainly would. Even at last, when he came in, so little notice was taken of him that, though he sat opposite to me,—and the party was very small and at a round table,—I did not perceive his arrival, or suspect who he was, until I was introduced to him some moments afterwards. Another thing struck me, too; the King was alluded to very unceremoniously when Lady Mary Fox was not present. Without saying directly that he had done a very vulgar thing, Lord Melbourne said the King had actually, the day before yesterday, proposed fourteen toasts and made a quantity of speeches at his own table; intending to be understood that the King had done what was entirely unbecoming his place. Indeed, it was plain, the King is not a favorite among his present ministers.

Public business was much talked about,—the corporation bill, the motion for admitting dissenters to the universities, etc., etc.; and as to the last, when the question arose whether it would be debated on [410] Tuesday night, it was admitted to be doubtful whether Lady Jersey would not succeed in getting it postponed, as she has a grand dinner that evening. . . . Nothing could exceed the luxury of the rechurche dinner;. . . . the gentlemen sat about an hour, when the ladies had retired; the conversation during the whole evening being very various and lively, much filled with literary allusion and spirit, and a little louder and more bruyant than it was when I was in England before, in similar company.

Monday, July 13.—We all breakfasted—including Nannie—with the excellent and kind old Mr. Rogers, nobody being present except Campbell the poet, who returned two or three days ago from his A1-gerine expedition, of which, of course, he is now full. I need not say that the two hours we thus passed were extremely agreeable. The vast amount of Mr. Rogers's recollections, extending back through the best society for sixty years; his exquisite taste, expressed alike in his conversation, his books, his furniture, and his pictures; his excellent common-sense and sound judgment; and his sincere, gentle kindness,7 coming quietly, as it does, from the venerableness of his age, render him one of the most delightful men a stranger can see in London. He went over his whole house with us, showed us his pictures, curiosities, correspondence with distinguished men, etc., etc., and made the visit seem extremely short. Campbell was pleasant, a little over-nice both in his manner and choice of words and subjects, witty, even, sometimes; but, though full of fresh knowledge from Africa, by no means so interesting as Rogers.

July 14.—I went this morning by appointment to see Lady Byron. . . . . The upper part of her face is still fresh and young; the lower part bears strong marks of suffering and sorrow. Her whole manner is very gentle and quiet,—not reserved, but retiring,—and there are sure indications in it of deep feeling. She is much interested in doing good, and seemed anxious about a school she has established, to support, as well as educate, a number of poor boys, so as to fit them to be teachers.8 She talked well, and once or twice was amused, and laughed; but it was plain that she has little tendency to gayety. Indeed, she has never been in what is called society, since her separation [411] from Lord Byron, not even to accompany her daughter, who went abroad, whenever she went at all, with Mrs. Somerville. Her whole appearance and conversation gratified me very much, it was so entirely suited to her singular position in the world.

We dined with my friend Kenyon9 very agreeably, meeting Mr. Robinson,10 a great friend of Wordsworth, and a man famous for conversation; Mr. Harness, a popular and fashionable preacher, who has lately edited one of the small editions of Shakespeare very well; and five or six other very pleasant men. It was a genuinely English dinner, in good taste, with all the elegance of wealth, and with the intellectual refinement that belongs to one who was educated at one of their Universities, and is accustomed to the best literary society of his country.

July 15.—I dined with Mr. T. Baring, and a small party, fitted to his fine bachelor's establishment, where nearly every person was a member of the House of Commons. The two persons I liked best, whom I had not seen before, were Sir George Grey, the principal Under Secretary for the Colonies, and Mr. Bingham Baring, eldest son of Lord Ashburton, of opposite politics, but both very intelligent men. Labouchere was there, and Wilmot, whom I had known as Secretary of Legation to Mr. Addington. The talk was chiefly on English party politics, which were discussed with entire good-humor and some raillery, the company being nearly equally divided on the points that now divide the nation.

From dinner I went with Mrs. T. to Mrs. Buller's in Westminster, one of the leading old English Tory families, in which they have now both a bishop and an admiral, besides two members of the House of Commons; the youngest of whom, representing Liskeard, has lately made a speech in favor of the ballot, which has created quite a sensation. . . . The party was small, and the most interesting persons in it were Mrs. Austin, the translator, who seems to have a strong masculine mind,. . . . and the famous O'Connell, a stout gentleman, with [412] a full, but rather hard, florid face, and a red wig, talking strongly and fluently upon all subjects.

We could, however, stay there but a short time, for we were to go to Almack's, where, with some exertion, we arrived just before the doors were closed at midnight. It was very brilliant, as it always is, and the arrangements for ease and comfort were perfect; no ceremony, no supper, no regulation or managing, brilliantly lighted large halls, very fine music, plenty of dancing. . . . It struck me, however, that there were fewer of the leading nobility and fashion there than formerly, and that the general cast of the company was younger. I talked with Lady Cowper, Lady Minto, and Lord Falmouth, for I hardly knew any one else, and was very well pleased when, at two o'clock, the ladies declared themselves ready to come home.

July 16.—We drove out to Chelsea this morning and had a very pleasant hour with Mrs. Somerville, which made me doubly sorry that constant engagements elsewhere prevent us from accepting their very kind and hearty invitations to Chelsea. . . . . They are all as simple, natural, and kind as possible. I went, too, while Mrs. Ticknor was with Mrs. Somerville, to inquire for poor Stewart Newton, and heard only of the constant failure of his strength, and the prospect of his final release, even within a few days or weeks.

We dined at Mr. Senior's,11 with a party of about a dozen, including Archbishop Whately, who is staying in the house, with his chaplain, Dr. Dickinson; Sir David Baird, who went to Russia on the first appearance of the cholera there to report on it to his government; etc., etc. The Archbishop of Dublin was the most curious person to me, of course. He is tall, rather awkward, constantly in motion, constantly talking very rapidly, with a good deal of acuteness and a great variety of knowledge, not without humor, and indulging frequently in classical allusions and once or twice venturing a Greek quotation. He is not prepossessing in manner, and Rogers, from the constant motion of his person from side to side, calls him the ‘White Bear ’;12 but you always feel, in talking with him, that you are in [413] the grasp of a powerful mind. . . . . The conversation was uncommonly various, and the Archbishop and Sir D. Baird very entertaining. We brought Mrs. Austin home in our carriage, and had some very pleasant talk with her in a drive of three miles.

July 17.—In returning a few calls this morning I went to see Sydney Smith, and found him a good deal stouter than he was when I knew him before, and with his hair grown quite white; but not a jot less amusing. He seems to think that the government of the United States was much weakened by the compromise about the tariff with South Carolina, and says that it is the opinion of the wise politicians in England. . .

We dined in the city with our very kind friends the Vaughans;13 and I was much gratified to find that, notwithstanding Mr. W. Vaughan's great age, he is, excepting deafness, quite well preserved. . . . . We met there, too, my old friend Mr. Maltby, the successor of Porson as Librarian of the London Institution, whom I had formerly known both here and in Italy, still full of the abundance of his learning and zeal.

The evening, from a little after ten to half past 1, we spent at the Marchioness of Lansdowne's, who gave a grand concert. The house itself, with its fine grounds filling the whole of one side of Berkeley Square, is not surpassed by any in London . . . . . It was of course, in the phrase of the town, ‘a select party,’ and was on the highest scale of London magnificence and exclusiveness. . . . The music was such as suited such a party; Malibran, Grisi, and Rubini,—the three finest voices in Europe,—assisted by Lablache, Tamburini, etc. Malibran and Grisi were twice pitted against each other in duets, and did unquestionably all they were capable of doing to surpass each other. The effect was certainly very great. I enjoyed it vastly more than I enjoyed Almack's, for I knew a large number of people, and had a plenty of pleasant conversation.

July 18.—At twelve o'clock we drove out, by appointment, to Mrs. Joanna Baillie's, at Hampstead, took our lunch with her, and passed the time at her house till four o'clock . . . . . We found her living in a small and most comfortable, nice, unpretending house, where she has dwelt for above thirty years. She is now above seventy, and, dressed with an exact and beautiful propriety, received us most gently and kindly. Her accent is still Scotch; her manner strongly marked with that peculiar modesty which you sometimes [414] see united to the venerableness of age, and which is then so very winning; and her conversation, always quiet and never reminding you of her own claims as an author, is so full of good sense, with occasionally striking and decisive remarks and occasionally a little touch of humor, that I do not know when I have been more pleased and gratified than I was by this visit.

She lives exactly as an English gentlewoman of her age and character should live, and everything about her was in good taste and appropriate to her position, even down to the delicious little table she had spread for us in her quiet parlor.

When I asked her about her own works, she answered my questions very simply and directly, but without any air of authorship; and I was very glad to hear her say that, in the autumn, she intends to publish the three remaining volumes of her plays, which have been so many years in manuscript, thinking, as she said, ‘that it is better to do up all her own work, as she has lived to be so old, rather than to leave it, as she originally intended, to her executors.’ She led us a short distance from her house and showed us a magnificent view of London, in the midst of which, wreathed in mist, the dome of St. Paul's towered up like a vast spectre to the clouds, and seemed to be the controlling power of the dense mass of human habitations around and beneath it. It is the most imposing view of London I have ever seen. . . . .

July 19, Sunday.—. . . .We went to St. Paul's and heard Sydney Smith, who had kindly given us his pew . . . . . The sermon was an admirable moral essay, to prove that righteousness has the promise of the life that now is. It was written with great condensation of thought and purity of style, and sometimes with brilliancy of phrase and expression, and it was delivered with great power and emphasis. . . . . It was by far the best sermon I ever heard in Great Britain, though I have heard Alison, Morehead, etc., besides a quantity of bishops and archbishops, and both the manner and matter would have been striking anywhere. After the service was over and we were coming away, Mr. Smith came, in some unaccountable manner, out of one of the iron gates that lead into the body of the church, and went round with us, placed us under the vast dome, and showed us the effect from the end of the immense nave. It was very solemn, notwithstanding which he could not refrain from his accustomed humor and severe criticism.

July 20.—Just as I was going to breakfast I received a very kind note from Mr. Rogers, asking me to come and breakfast with his old [415] friend Whishart14 and Professor Smyth.15 I was very glad to go, to meet the latter especially, whom I had barely seen at Lady Lansdowne's concert. His singular appearance attracted my notice there, at first. Tall and somewhat awkward, dressed like a marquis de l'ancien regime, and looking like one, with his earlocks combed out and his hair powdered, but still with an air of great carelessness, he moved about in that brilliant assembly, hardly spoken to by a single person, with a modest and quiet air, as if he belonged not to it; and yet, when there was a fine passage in the music, seeming to enjoy it as if he were all ear. This morning he came in the same whimsical dress, and had the same singular air. But I found it all entirely natural and simple. He talked well, and not much, and some of his remarks had great beauty as well as great truth and originality; now and then he showed a striking eagerness in manner which contrasted strongly with his usual modesty and reserve. On the whole, I think he justified his reputation as a man of genius, and as one of the first men now at Cambridge, where he is Professor of Modern History.

I was sorry to leave them early, and for so disagreeable a purpose as that of being examined before a committee of the House of Commons, on the subject of the ballot as practically managed in the United States. I had refused twice to go, but being much pressed and receiving a very civil note from the chairman, and having nothing to say but what I chose, I at last went. Mr. Ord, a pleasant gentleman from Northumberland, whose father I formerly knew, presided, and Warburton, the philosopher, as they call him, Grote, a very sensible, excellent member from the city, etc., were present, and asked acute questions. I was, however, most curious about Shiel, the Irish agitator; a short, thick-set, fiery-faced little fellow, who carried all the marks of his spirit in the eagerness of his countenance and manner, and in the rapidity and vehemence of his utterance.—They all treated me with the greatest courtesy and kindness, evidently desirous only to get facts. . . . . The examinations are very skilfully and very fairly conducted, if these are specimens.

We dined with Mrs. Reid;16 . . . . . the dinner was more than commonly [416] agreeable. Dr. Roget was there, the Secretary of the Royal Society and author of one of the Bridgewater Treatises, a first-rate man; Dr. Bostock, a leading member of the Royal Society; Mr. Hogg, who is about publishing his ‘Travels in the East,’ and who told us many pleasant stories of Lady Hester Stanhope, etc. In the evening several of the Aikin family came in, and I confess I looked with some interest on the ‘Charles’ of Mrs. Barbauld's ‘Evenings at Home,’ though he came with a wig and two daughters, one of whom has made him already a grandfather.

July 21.—At half past 4 I returned to the House of Commons,17 to hear the great debate of the session, the debate on the Church question of Ireland, in which the Ministry are to vindicate the wisdom of the resolution on which they turned out the Tories, and in which Sir R. Peel and his friends hope seriously, in their turn, to overthrow their successful adversaries. It will be a hardly fought field, and it is already anticipated that the contest-contrary to the old habits of the House — will be protracted through several nights.18

When I arrived the Speaker was not in the chair, and the House, in committee, was considering a case of divorce, and examining two or three female witnesses. Nothing could well be more disorderly than the whole proceedings. Parts of them were indecent; and, at the best, there was much talking, laughing, and walking about; no attention paid to the business in hand, or to the speakers, though O'Connell, Spring Rice, and some other men of mark were among them; and as for dignity, deference, or propriety of any sort, it was evidently a matter not heeded at all. I sat, as a foreigner, on the floor, and had a most truly comfortable place; and talked quite at my ease, without suppressing my voice at all, with the members whom I knew, or to whom I was introduced. . . . . Finally, when Peel rose to open the debate in earnest, the House could be said to attend to the business before it. And well they might, for it was worth listening to, from the very business-like air with which it was managed.

Sir Robert is now between fifty and sixty, growing stout without [417] being corpulent, and a fine, easy, manly-looking gentleman. He was dressed in white pantaloons, a blue surtout coat, and a black cravat. He rarely faced the speaker, but turned to the body of the House. He had a vast mass of documents and notes, but did not refer to them very often. His opening was conciliatory, but somewhat vehement. As he went on he grew more vehement, too much so, I thought, for the very business-like tone of his speech. Sometimes he was sportive; once or twice, only, sarcastic; and even then I thought him judicious. He was always easy, always self-possessed, went with consummate skill over the weak parts of his cause, and felt his position in the House exactly, and showed unvarying and sure tact in managing and playing with it. He was cheered a great deal too often; sometimes at the end of every sentence for five or six successively, so as to interrupt him from going on, and occasionally with such vociferation that it was absolutely as bad as at a theatre.

But, after all, he did not produce on me or leave with me the impression of a mind of the first, or—may I dare to say it?—of the second order; and I have no more doubt than I have of anything else within my personal experience, that I have heard, both in England and in America, intellectual efforts of statesmanship quite beyond any Sir R. Peel can make. But I do not know that I have ever seen a man who had more skill and practice in managing a deliberative assembly; and perhaps this is the highest praise a political leader may now seek in the House of Commons.

One thing struck me a good deal. If he made a happy hit, so that the House cheered or laughed, he did not once fail, as soon as the laughing or cheering had subsided, to amplify upon it, and substantially to repeat it. But he did it ingeniously always, and sometimes with considerable effect; though, I think, in a person of less influence and name, it would occasionally have been thought an undignified trick. Eloquence, however, no longer works miracles. Before seven in the evening I saw eleven members of the House sound asleep at one time, notwithstanding the cheering.

I did not stay to hear anybody else, but went to join Mrs. T. at a very pleasant ladies' dinner-party at Dr. Ferguson's, where I met Mr. McNeill and his wife, the sister of John Wilson, who have been in Persia, connected with the British mission there, twelve years, and were both of them, especially the husband, full of vigorous talent and a various information very curious so far west.

July 22.—We had an extremely agreeable breakfast this morning. Mr. Sydney Smith, whom I had asked a few days ago, and who [418] did not come, now volunteered, and I added my friend Kenyon, and Henry Taylor.19 Mr. Smith was in great spirits, and amused us excessively by his peculiar humor. I do not know, indeed, that anything can exceed it, so original, so unprepared, so fresh. Taylor said little, but Kenyon produced quite an impression on Mr. Smith, who was surprised as well as pleased, for they knew each other very little before. It was a rare enjoyment.

When it was over we went regularly to see some of the London sights, which all strangers must see. . . . We arrived at home just in season to dress ourselves, and reach Kent House before dinner, where we had a most agreeable and quiet time, dining without company, with Mrs. Villiers and Mr. and Mrs. Lister, excellent and pleasant people, the two last well known by their lively books, which have been reprinted in America. While A. was listening to Mrs. Lister's music, and looking over her beautiful drawing, I made a short visit at Lord Holland's, thus making the range of our day's work extend from ten in the morning to eleven at night, and from the Thames Tunnel to Holland House, a space of nine miles.

On the 25th of July, after these three weeks of excitement and fatigue, Mr. Ticknor set out with his family for a tour through England and Wales, which, with the modes of travelling then in use, consumed much more time than would now be employed, but was, perhaps, all the more charming where every step was full of interest. Mr. Ticknor had purchased a large travelling-carriage, more like the covered ‘drag’ of the present day than like any other vehicle now seen, and, foreseeing a long use for it, had caused it to be fitted with many comforts and conveniences which English ingenuity provided for such demands. In this, always with four post-horses, he travelled for the next two years and a half, till it had become like a family mansion, to be at last given up with regret.

On the 26th of July Mr. Ticknor thus describes a visit to Miss Mitford, in the neighborhood of Reading:—


We found Miss Mitford living literally in a cottage, neither ornee nor poetical,—except inasmuch as it had a small garden crowded [419] with the richest and most beautiful profusion of flowers,—where she lives with her father, a fresh, stout old man who is in his seventy-fifth year. She herself seemed about fifty, short and fat, with very gray hair, perfectly visible under her cap, and nicely arranged in front. She has the simplest and kindest manners, and entertained us for two hours with the most animated conversation and a great variety of anecdote, without any of the pretensions of an author by profession, and without any of the stiffness that generally belongs to single ladies of her age and reputation. We liked her very much, and the time seemed to have been short, when at ten o'clock we drove back to Reading.20

From Reading the route led through Gloucester to the Wye, through Wales to Holyhead, and so across to Dublin, where the party arrived on the 9th of August, in time for the meeting of the British Association for the Advancement of Science.

August 10.—There is a great bustle in Dublin to-day with the opening of the fifth meeting of the British Association for the Advancement of Science, to attend which, I am told, a thousand persons are already present. Everything, however, seems to be well prepared, and made especially comfortable and agreeable to those strangers who come from a distance. The place where all arrangements are made is the large, fine examination-hall in Trinity College, where tickets are obtained, and a common lounge and exchange is held in the morning from nine to eleven. At eleven the sections are opened. . . . . To-day, for instance, Sir John Ross expounded a theory of the Aurora Borealis, in the physical section, and Sir John Franklin with others entered into the discussion about it. Professor Griffiths explained the geology of Ireland in the geological section, and Professor Sedgwick of Cambridge, Mr. Murchison, and other distinguished men in the same department continued the discussion, and so on .. . . . As a stranger from a great distance, I had free tickets for the whole week presented to me. In the evening, at eight o'clock, the whole body, with the ladies of the stranger membersthere is not room for more-meet in the rotunda, a superb room, every other evening, hold a conversazione and discussions, and on the other evening have papers read and reports from the heads of the sections as to what their respective sections have done. . . . .

This evening Sir Thomas Brisbane, the President of the Association last year,—a soldier who has circumnavigated the world four [420] times, and is distinguished both in science and as an officer,—took the chair, and in a frank, neat speech resigned it to his successor, the Provost of Trinity College,. . . . who gave a discussion about the reconciliation of geology and the Scriptures, which was delivered in so low a voice that almost nobody heard it. Of course we soon—after in vain endeavoring to listen—began to talk, for which I was extremely well situated, having Mr. Tom Moore for my next neighbor. I found him a little fellow, as we all know him to be, very amiable, I should think, and quite pleasant. I enjoyed it very much, for besides him, Whewell; Sir John Franklin; the Surgeon General, Mr. Crampton; Weld, the traveller in America, and now Secretary of the Dublin Society; Dr. Graves, a distinguished physician [and a professor in the University of Dublin], were close to me. The Lord Lieutenant [Lord Mulgrave] sat directly in front of us, dressed in a full military uniform ornamented with stars that blazed with diamonds over his whole breast. He is only thirty-eight years old, looks younger, is graceful and easy in his manners, and received the abundant applause occasionally bestowed on him by the audience, in a style that quite became his place, modestly, but with dignity. I was a little surprised to find that I had known him as the author of ‘ Matilda’ and ‘Yes and No,’ etc., under his previous title of Viscount Normanby. . . . .

When the Provost had finished his address, Professor Hamilton, one of the secretaries of the Association for the year, rose and read a discourse on the objects of the meeting, the purposes of the institution, and the results of the last year's labors. At the age of twenty-seven he is now the great man here. When only nineteen he was made a Fellow of Trinity and Mathematical Professor, since which he has risen to be one of the first mathematicians in Europe. Besides this, he is reported to be a fine Greek scholar, to have an extremely metaphysical mind, and to write good poetry.21 All I know is, that in a long conversation with him this morning, I found him pleasant and warm-hearted; and that this evening he gave us a beautiful and eloquent address of an hour long, exactly hitting the tone of the occasion, and the wants and feelings of a large popular audience. I was delighted with it, and it produced a fine effect.

August 12.—. . . . At five I went to the Ordinary, provided for [421] such members as choose to take it at five shillings a head, but to which, as a stranger, I have free tickets. The Provost of Trinity College presided, and as the most distinguished men make it a point to be there, it is always pleasant. Our party was particularly so,— Sir Alexander Creighton, Professor Graves, Beaumont, and Tocqueville,22 etc. It was all over, however, by half past 7, for at eight comes the general meeting at the Rotunda. . . .

August 12—This morning I breakfasted with a small party in the Common <*> of Trinity College, the Provost presiding. Whewell, Sir <*> Franklin, and Wilkie, the painter, were in my immediately neighborhood, and I conversed with all of them a good deal. W<*> looks very much like a fresh, undisciplined Yankee, but <*> freely and well. Wilkie is delightful, so simple, so pleasant, and, when he spoke of poor Stewart Newton, so kind and truehearted. Occasionally he showed shrewdness and knowledge of the world, and it is plain he looks quite through the ways of men. But there is no harm in this, for he is certainly kind.

Franklin is not tall, but he has an ample, solid, iron frame, and his head is singularly set back upon his neck, so that he seems always to be looking up; besides which he has a cast in one of his eyes, very slight, and not always perceptible. His manners are not very elegant, nor his style of conversation or of public discussion very polished; but he is strong, quick, graphic, and safe. . . . .

I went to but one section this morning; the geological, where I heard Agassiz23—from, I believe, Lausanne, in Switzerland, and reputed one of the first naturalists in the world-discuss the question of fossil remains of fishes. He did it in French, plainly, distinctly, and with beauty of phrase. He is still young, and was greatly applauded, as were Sedgwick and Murchison when they followed and eulogized him. I was very much pleased with the whole scene.

I dined with Lord Mulgrave, the Lord Lieutenant, in the Government House, in the magnificent Phoenix Park. I had been for some days engaged to dine with Mr. Litton, a leading member of the bar, but an invitation from the Viceroy, like an invitation from the King, is in the nature of a command. . .. . The ceremonies of the dinner were regal. The aides-de-camp, three in number, received us in a rich [422] saloon, which we entered through a suite of apartments. . . . . A few minutes after seven there were about twenty-five persons in the room. It was an agreeable mixture of rank and fashion with the savants now collected in Dublin. The Provost of Trinity, as President of the Association, Sir Thomas Brisbane, the President of the last year, Lord Cloncurry, Lord Clare, Sir Alexander Creighton, Professor Robinson, Professor Hamilton, old Mr. Dalton of Manchester, Thomas Moore, Babbage, a Norwegian nobleman, a French baron, Whewell, Phillips, Prichard, the three aids, two or three other persons, and myself.

When the company was assembled, Lord Mulgrave came in and went round, each person being presented to him as he passed. To most of them he barely bowed. To others he spoke, and his manners throughout were elegant and kind. As I had brought him a letter from Lord Holland, he inquired about him, talked a little about America, and passed on. When this ceremony was over, he mixed with the company. . . . . He came up to where I was standing with Moore, and talked pleasantly some time about Wilkie, and about Stewart Newton, of whom he spoke with interest. Soon, however, dinner was announced. Lord Mulgrave went in alone. . .. . I sat next to Sir John Franklin, and near Moore, and had a very good time, Sir John talking about his travels and adventures. There was no ceremony at table. Lord Mulgrave drank wine with a few of us, and was pleasant in conversation,—‘ affable,’ we should say in America,—but not striking.

August 14.—This morning, early, I drove out to the Observatory and breakfasted with Professor Hamilton, taking in my carriage Professor Whewell of Cambridge, and Professor Rigaud of Oxford, who much enlivened a drive five miles out and in. Whewell I found full of spirits and vivacity, various and amusing in conversation, and without the least appearance of the awkwardness I saw, or supposed I saw, in him at first. Professor Rigaud was without much humor, but truly good-tempered and agreeable. We met there Sir John Ross, a very stout, easy, quiet gentleman of about fifty-five, with much of the air of a naval commander. While we were in the Observatory he compared with the time-keeper there the chronometer which had been used by Parry, and which had gone with him through all his terrible sufferings.

Hamilton himself was very eager, simple, and direct, but a little nervous; and Whewell made himself merry at a discussion about Kant's philosophy, in which Hamilton showed his metaphysical acumen against a German at table, but showed, too, that he was familiar [423] with the labyrinth of the German writers. . . . . Certainly, for one only twenty seven or eight years old, he is a very extraordinary person.

August 15.—. . . . In the evening, a grand dinner was given by the Provost and Senior Fellows of Trinity College to the Lord Lieutenant and about three hundred of the members of the Association. It was a beau finale to the splendid week Dublin has given to so many distinguished guests. We assembled in the imposing hall of Trinity Library, two hundred and eighty feet long, at six o'clock. . . . . When the company was principally assembled, I observed a little stir near the place where I stood, which nobody could explain, and which, in fact, was not comprehended by more than two or three persons present. In a moment, however, I perceived myself standing near the Lord Lieutenant and his suite, in front of whom a space had been cleared, and by whom was Professor Hamilton, looking much embarrassed. The Lord Lieutenant then called him by name, and he stepped into the vacant space.

‘I am,’ said his Excellency, ‘about to exercise a prerogative of royalty, and it gives me great pleasure to do it, on this splendid public occasion, which has brought together so many distinguished men from all parts of the empire, and from all parts even of the world, where science is held in honor. But, in exercising it, Professor Hamilton, I do not confer a distinction. I but set the royal, and, therefore, the national mark on a distinction already acquired by your genius and labors.’ He went on in this way for three or four minutes, his voice very fine, rich, and full; his manner as graceful and dignified as possible; and his language and allusions appropriate, and combined into very ample flowing sentences.

Then, receiving the state sword from one of his attendants, he said, ‘Kneel down, Professor Hamilton’; and laying the blade gracefully and gently, first on one shoulder, and then on the other, he said, ‘Rise up, Sir William Rowan Hamilton.’ The knight rose, and the Lord Lieutenant then went up and, with an appearance of great tact in his manner, shook hands with him. No reply was made. The whole scene was imposing; rendered so, partly, by the ceremony itself, but more by the place in which it passed, by the body of very distinguished men who were assembled there, and especially by the extraordinarily dignified and beautiful manner in which it was performed by the Lord Lieutenant. The effect at the time was great, and the general impression was, that, as the honor was certainly merited by him who received it, so the words by which it was conferred were so [424] graceful and appropriate that they constituted a distinction by themselves, greater than the distinction of knighthood. I was afterwards told that this was the first instance in which a person had been knighted by a Lord Lieutenant, either for scientific or literary merit.

The dinner was in the great hall for public examinations, and was abundant and beautiful, in better order, and more quiet, than any public dinner I ever witnessed. It was even recherche in the food, wines, ices, and fruits, among which last they had the costly luxury of peaches and pine-apples, grown of course entirely under glass, and furnished in great profusion. . . . . A Latin grace and thanks were sung, with great beauty and sweetness, by the College choir, which has the reputation of being the best in the three kingdoms.

August 16.—I dined with the Lord Lieutenant, driving again through that magnificent park, two or three miles, to reach the Lodge. It was a small party, consisting only of two ladies, who seemed to be connections of Lord Mulgrave; the usual proportion of aidesde-camp and secretaries; Mr. Harcourt of York; Mr. Stanley of the Derby family; Mr. Vignolles, one of the chaplains; Wilkie, the painter; and myself. . . . . When Lord Mulgrave came in he spoke to every one, not ceremoniously, as he did the other day, but very familiarly. He sat down first, asked us to be seated, and talked very agreeably; was evidently pleased to find that his books had been printed and read in America, and said that he still had a particular liking for his old title of Lord Normanby, under which he wrote them. . . . .

After the ladies had left the table he became very pleasant in conversation, telling amusing stories,. . . . and talking about the present condition of Dublin and its progressive improvement with apparently much knowledge of facts and a deep interest. He certainly talked uncommonly well. . . . We came away bringing with us all, I believe, the impression he seems to leave everywhere, that of a highbred nobleman and an intellectually accomplished gentleman.

August 17.—We left Dublin this morning for an excursion into the county of Wicklow,. . . . and in about an hour reached the hospitable mansion of Mr. Isaac Weld, the former traveller in America, now the Secretary of the Dublin Society, which his labors have chiefly made what it now is, and one of the most efficient persons in all the arrangements and proceedings of the last busy and exciting week. He is, I suppose, above sixty years old, with a quiet but rather earnest look and manner, and belongs to the old Catholic family of Welds in England, of which the present Cardinal Weld is a leading member. [425] . . . . Mr. Weld is a man of moderate fortune, much connected with whatever is distinguished for intelligence and science in Ireland, and author of several books and many papers in their Transactions; but his ‘Travels in America’ was a youthful production,. . . . for the opinions of which, touching the United States, he expressed his regret, as mistaken.

Soon after we had established ourselves in our very comfortable quarters at Ravenswell, his place near the village of Bray,. . . . we set off for a dejeuner and fete champetre given by Mr.Putland and Mrs. Putland. . . . . A great many of the members of the Association had stayed another day to be present at it, and we saw again there Sir John Ross, Tom Moore, Wilkie, Lady Morgan, Dr. Sands, Sir John Tobin, Dr. Lardner,24 and many more most agreeable people.

. . . . At six o'clock we returned to Mr. Weld's and found dinner ready. . . . There were soon collected the Taylors,25 Sir William Hamilton,26 Sir John and Lady Franklin, and several other interesting people, with whom we passed a delightful evening.

1 This journal includes 1,700 quarto pages. The journal of his first visit to Europe contains about the same number of smaller pages, more closely written.

2 Note by Mr. Ticknor: ‘Even at the last moment, when all other danger was over, we were within two minutes of being entirely wrecked, from the circumstance that both the anchors got foul; but if the worst had happened here, no lives would have been lost.’

3 The intervening days were busy ones, and included meetings with interesting persons, most of whom are, however, mentioned afterwards.

4 Mrs. Thomas Lister,—afterwards Lady Theresa,—sister to Lord Clarendon. After Mr. Lister's death she became, in 1844, the wife of Sir George Cornewall Lewis; and, beside her novel ‘Dacre,’—reprinted in America before 1835,—she published, in 1852, the ‘Lives of Friends and Contemporaries of Lord Chancellor Clarendon.’ Her beauty was celebrated. Mr. Lister was the author of ‘Granby,’ ‘Herbert Lacy,’ etc., and of a life of Lord Chancellor Clarendon.

5 Henry Labouchere, afterwards Lord Taunton, travelled in the United States in 1824-25 with Hon. Edward Stanley,—the late Earl of Derby,—Hon. Stuart Wortley, and Evelyn Denison,—afterwards Speaker of the House of Commons and Lord Ossington,—when they all were often at Mr. Ticknor's house.

6 As Ministers of the United States to England.

7 Note by Mr. Ticknor on another occasion: ‘From what I have heard since, I suppose Rogers is not always so kind and charitable as I found him both to-day and whenever I saw him afterwards.’

8 Mr.Ticknor and Mrs. Ticknor visited this school at Ealing, by the desire of Lady Byron, and were pleased especially with seeing ‘how much can be done by a moderate sum of money, judiciously expended.’

9 In another passage of the Journal Mr. Ticknor says: ‘Mr. Kenyon is a man of fortune and literary tastes and pursuits, about fifty years old, whom I knew on the Continent in 1817. He has travelled a great deal, and though a shy man and mixing little in general society, is a man of most agreeable and various resources. Three or four years ago he printed, without his name, a volume called “A rhymed Plea for Tolerance,” which was much praised in the “Edinburgh Review,” and contains certainly much poetical feeling, and a most condensed mass of thought.’

10 Henry Crabbe Robinson.

11 Nassau W. Senior, the distinguished barrister and political economist, shortly before this period Professor of Political Economy at Oxford, and principal author of changes in the Poor Laws. Mr. Senior's ‘Diaries,’ since published, show the variety of social and political information which made intercourse with him full of entertainment.

12 Note by Mr. Ticknor: ‘This joke, I find since, was not original with Rogers, but a nickname Whately obtained when he was head of one of the small colleges at Oxford.’

13 See ante, pp. 15 and 55.

14 * Note by Mr. Ticknor: ‘I did not then know who Whishart was; but Miss Edgeworth afterwards told me that he was a man of much talent, and one of the men of all societies in his time, the particular friend of Sir Samuel Romilly.’

15 Professor Smyth, whom Mr. Ticknor had seen in 1819, in Cambridge; see ante, p. 271.

16 A lady of fortune and radical opinions, who gave her time and money to the service of the poor, in a truly Christian spirit. She kept open a library and reading-room for them, at her own expense.

17 Having been there two hours before, merely to see the hall.

18 On Friday, July 24, Mr. Ticknor adds the two following notes: ‘The debate lasted three nights, and was decided this morning between three and four o'clock by a majority of thirty-seven against Sir R. Peel.’—‘I saw Mr. Harness when we were visiting the hall of the House of Commons on Tuesday last, at two o'clock, waiting to get into the gallery, where he remained till two in the morning, as closely wedged in as human bodies could be packed. This he endured three successive days and nights, to hear the debate. But nobody except an Englishman would have gone through it, I think.’

19 Author of ‘Philip Van Artevelde.’

20 Miss Mitford mentions this visit in a letter given in her Memoirs.

21 Upon a later occasion, Professor Sedgwick, as President of the British Association, in an address, called him ‘a man who possessed within himself powers and talents perhaps never before combined in one philosophic character.’

22 Whom Mr. Ticknor had already known well in America.

23 When Agassiz and Ticknor became close and faithful friends, a few years after this, the great naturalist was delighted to know that his triumph on this day had been witnessed by Mr. Ticknor; for he was put, on that occasion, to a test so severe as to be hardly fair, and came out of it with perfect success.

24 One evening, during the meeting in Dublin, Mr. Ticknor heard Dr. Lardner make the well-known discourse in which he pronounced it to be impossible that a steamboat should ever cross the ocean; but though he often referred to this assertion afterwards, it did not so much impress him at the time as to induce him to remark on it in his journal.

25 Previously mentioned by Mr. Ticknor as ‘Mr. John Taylor, the geologist, and main authority upon whatever is done in mining in England and elsewhere, with his wife and two pleasant daughters.’ Mr. Ticknor and his family made a short visit, ten days later, at the Taylors' pretty place, Coeddhu, in Wales, beside a visit at St. Asaph's.

26 Sir William Hamilton sent Mr. Ticknor, as a parting souvenir, a copy of a sonnet, written by him on the occasion of his receiving the honor of knighthood, just described, which Mr. Ticknor always regarded as one of the finest sonnets in the English language. It has since appeared in an article on the character and genius of this very extraordinary man, in the ‘Dublin University Magazine’ for January, 1842.

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