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Edward L. Pierce, Memoir and letters of Charles Sumner: volume 2, Chapter 24: Slavery and the law of nations.—1842.—Age, 31. (search)
of the second part) to Lady Carlisle,—the kind and warm-hearted mother of Lord Morpeth. She writes me: I am so much obliged to you for the most interesting pamphlet on the Creole question. I admired it extremely, and have seldom read any thing that had a greater effect upon me. Lord Carlisle thought it so good that, though not politically intimate with Sir Robert Peel, he sent it to him, thinking it was what he ought to see. I trust that you will gain strength fast. In the hills of Berkshire the nymphs of health seem to live. Several friends have been there recently, and have returned with pleasant recollections. The Ticknors and the Prescotts have passed some time at Lebanon. Yours ever most sincerely, Charles Sumner. P. S. Dickens will write a series of graphic sketches on our country,— one on International Copyright; another, I think, on Slavery, American Notes, Ch. XVII. with the first sentence from the Declaration of Independence for his motto. To Dr. Franc
Edward L. Pierce, Memoir and letters of Charles Sumner: volume 2, Chapter 25: service for Crawford.—The Somers Mutiny.—The nation's duty as to slavery.—1843.—Age, 32. (search)
in America. I might go further: I doubt if there is any poet now alive, and not older than he, who has written so much and so well. . . . Longfellow is to be happy for a fortnight in the shades of Cambridge; then to visit his wife's friends in Berkshire; then his own in Portland. I am all alone,—alone. My friends fall away from me. Ever and ever yours, Charles Sumner, To Thomas Crawford, Rome. July 16, 1843. my dear Crawford,—The moments pass, and I can only say that Allston is deng, like those of Lear's horses, have been shod with felt. You will find dear Longfellow married to the beautiful and most lovely Mary Ashburton. They were married July 13. They will rejoice to see you. They still linger among her friends in Berkshire till Saturday, Aug. 19, when they will return to Cambridge, where she will commence her life as Professorin. As for me, I am as much alone, and altogether as poor a creature, as when we enjoyed together the hospitality of the monks of the Alban
Edward L. Pierce, Memoir and letters of Charles Sumner: volume 2, July 13. (search)
d to do more good, to touch the soul to finer issues; pieces that will live to be worn near the hearts of men when the thrilling war-notes of Campbell and Korner will be forgotten. You and I admire the poetry of Gray. There are few things in any language which give me more pleasure than the Elegy in a Country Churchyard, the Progress of Poesy, and the Bard. On these his reputation rears itself, and will stand for ever. But I had rather be the author of A Psalm of Life, The Light of Stars, The Reaper and the Flowers, and Excelsior, than those rich pieces of Gray. I think Longfellow without rival near his throne in America. I might go further: I doubt if there is any poet now alive, and not older than he, who has written so much and so well. . . . Longfellow is to be happy for a fortnight in the shades of Cambridge; then to visit his wife's friends in Berkshire; then his own in Portland. I am all alone,—alone. My friends fall away from me. Ever and ever yours, Charles Sumne
Edward L. Pierce, Memoir and letters of Charles Sumner: volume 2, chapter 30 (search)
wife on landing. You will deem it, I fear, a sad welcome. I shall leave Boston, probably for Berkshire, as soon as my strength will permit. I long for a change of air and to taste the health of ththinks I may leave town next Wednesday, when I propose to take the railway by short stages for Berkshire, where I have several friends. Mrs. Appleton, A kinswoman of Sumner, ante, Vol. I. p. 2, no dwelling during my whole illness—of a journey bringing with it variety of scene and air. From Berkshire my present intention is to go, by the way of the North River and New York, to Newport, where I shall breathe still another atmosphere, unlike that which enfolds the woody hills of Berkshire. Believe me, dear Mrs. Waterston, though this note comes so tardily, truly grateful for your kindnesnt it would be with difficulty that I should walk to the head of Hancock Street. I shall go to Berkshire, where the atmosphere is particularly kindly and favorable to broken-down characters like myse