Edward L. Pierce, Memoir and letters of Charles Sumner: volume 2

[306] in New Hampshire. All has gone well. I am glad that he has been at the ‘Community;’ that he has seen the superiority of the spiritual and intellectual over the merely physical; that he has felt the warmth of genial kindness and friendship; that he has had a year or more of happiness; and that, finally, in the exercise of his own judgment, without undue influence from any quarter, he has deliberately elected the farm in New Hampshire. Perhaps you will join with me in thinking that all has been for the best. . . .

Bancroft's ‘History of the Revolution’ goes to press in June. He has asked me to read it before it is published. And this reminds me to suggest to you, if you are writing for the public, to submit what you write to one or more discreet, careful, and scholarly characters before the printer touches a line. I know no writer whose pen is so accurate, or whose judgment is so unerring, as not to be benefited by the counsels of a friend. All of the circle in which I am familiar count upon the kindness in this respect from friends; and very recently Hillard read his memoir of Cleveland, written originally with great care, to our little club,—Felton, Longfellow, and myself (Howe is absent). We suggested emendations for every page, and afterwards I did the same in proof. The memoir makes an exquisite little volume. I know no person in our community who could leave a more beautiful memorial of a beautiful life.

Ever affectionately yours,

Charles.

To Dr. Samuel G. Howe.

Boston, May 31, 1844.

dear Howe,—This will find you returned from Greece. I am glad that you have been there, if it were merely for the souvenirs and dreams of youth; but I doubt not that, in the present posture of affairs in Greece, you have been able to be of essential service there. Do tell me fully how Greece appeared. What do you think of the people, of their prospects for advancement in civilization, of their rulers, and of their King? I wonder that I did not visit Greece. I thought that I had not time enough. A month from my sojourn in Rome would have sufficed. But how pleasant is the memory of my Roman life!—the happiest days I have ever passed. I rose early,—six o'clock; studied Italian,—Dante, Tasso, and Macchiavelli; studied all works on art,—Lanzi, Vasari, De Quincy, &c.; visited galleries and churches; mused in the Forum; and, in the shadows of summer evenings, sat on the stones of the Colosseum. Art, literature, antiquity, and the friendship of Greene and Crawford, warm and instructive, shed choice influences; while, at the close of each day, I could discern a certain progress in the knowledge of things which I was happy to know. Such another summer would make me forget much unhappiness.

To descend to our American strife of politics, you will be surprised by the nomination of Polk for the Presidency by the ‘Loco’ Convention. This was the result of the feud between the supporters of Cass and Van Buren,