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Browsing named entities in Edward L. Pierce, Memoir and letters of Charles Sumner: volume 3. You can also browse the collection for J. L. Motley or search for J. L. Motley in all documents.

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Edward L. Pierce, Memoir and letters of Charles Sumner: volume 3, chapter 14 (search)
. I shall not return until I can announce myself as recovered, without being obliged to make any reserves. He remained in Paris a month, meeting there Bemis, Motley, Bigelow, and Joseph Lyman, and seeing much of Theodore Parker, Mr. Parker spoke at the time most affectionately of Sumner, calling him the great, dear, noble515. then an invalid, with whom he drove six hours the day after Parker's arrival. Bemis wrote in his journal an account of a conversation in Sumner's room, with Motley and Parker present, when Sumner spoke of John A. Andrew, hoping he would soon be governor of Massachusetts, and recalling Judge Peleg Sprague's tribute to his abirs by Lord Chatham; one day at Argyll Lodge with the duke, where I met Gladstone; one day with Dr. Lushington at Ockham Park in Surrey; one day with my countryman Motley, the historian of the Dutch commonwealth, at Walton-on-Thames; one day with Lord Clarendon at the Grove; one day with Lord Spencer Born in 1835; twice lord lie
Edward L. Pierce, Memoir and letters of Charles Sumner: volume 3, Chapter 43: return to the Senate.—the barbarism of slavery.—Popular welcomes.—Lincoln's election.—1859-1860. (search)
Indies, which appeared in tile Edinburgh Review in 1825, and had been overlooked or designedly omitted in the collected edition of his Essays. The paper contained a reference to his recent intercourse with the historian, who had died a few weeks before. The Duke of Argyll, whose home at Kensington was very near Macaulay's, wrote Sumner an account of the historian's last days; the duchess added a note, recalling how heartily he grasped Sumner's hand at their last meeting at Argyll Lodge. Motley wrote Sumner, Jan. 2, 1860: Do you remember the breakfast at Holly Lodge? This was the last time we had any of us the pleasure of meeting Macaulay, I believe. I am sure it was the last time that I saw him, and I am not likely to forget it very soon. Do you remember how gay and amusing he was after breakfast, in his library,—repeating ballads from Mother Goose, and quoting stanzas from Dante's Inferno in the same breath, and fighting Monckton Milnes about German poetry? Well, in that very