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Shakspeare (search for this): chapter 10
also we passed in a narrow street the house in which Pierre Corneille was born, on which was printed in large characters, La Maison du Grand Corneille. It was a tall and well-looking house, the lower part of which, I think, was occupied by a brazier. A beautiful bronze statue of Corneille has been quite recently erected by subscription on one of the bridges. My guide spoke of him as one of the greatest men of France: the same in France, he said, as that great man that lived in England. Shakspeare, I said. Yes, said he; he died not many years ago! At dinner to-day we had the music of the harp instead of the guitar, and an attendant appeal to charity. It seems that I could spend months in Rouen and still find interest. If I had time and fortune I should like, while here, to read the various histories of this wonderful cathedral, and master the romantic history of Normandy. From Normandy sprang the long line of kings that has governed England; and here are the tombs of the fo
d to the conquest of England. Their waves dash now with the same foamy crests as when these two conquerors timidly entrusted themselves to their bosom. Civilization, in the mean time, with its attendant servants—commerce, printing, and Christianity—has been working changes in the two countries on either side; so that Caesar and William, could they revisit the earth, might not recognize the lands from which they passed, or which they subdued. The sea receives no impress from man. This idea Byron has expanded in some of the most beautiful stanzas he has written in the Childe Harold. On Christmas Day, besides writing in his journal, he wrote letters to Hillard and Judge Story. To Hillard he wrote: It is now seventeen days, and I am without news of you and your affairs, and of all our common friends; and I feel sad to think that many more days will elapse before I shall hear from you. When you write, dwell on all particulars; tell me about all my friends, give me every turn of the
Coeur Lion (search for this): chapter 10
. I can hardly imagine such a work at the present day. No building, unless it be Westminster Abbey, abounds more in historical associations. Enlarged, if not built, by the ancient dukes of Normandy anterior to the conquest of England, it is the chosen place where the bones of many of them repose. Here are the remains of Rollo, the first duke of Normandy and the ancestor of the Conqueror, and over them a monumental effigy; of William of the Long Sword, his son; of Henry, the father of Coeur de Lion; and here the Lion-heart itself was deposited. At a later day, the remains of the Duke of Bedford—the English regent of France, discomfited by the Maid of Orleans—were deposited here; and an inscription behind the great altar marks the spot. Different parts, in the neighborhood of altars, are occupied by inscriptions and engraved effigies of bishops, archbishops, cardinals, and other eminent men, whose standing or character gave them admission after death to this company. Over all was
trust, are now assembling for the happy meal. I have just left the dinner-table, where I remembered all in a glass of Burgundy. In both letters, as in his journal, he dwelt upon the historic scenes which belong to the English Channel. While writing the letter to Judge Story, a French whaleman came in sight, the tricolor flapping in the wind, the first sail seen during the voyage,—a refreshing sight, but momentary, as both vessels were speeding in opposite directions. On the evening of the 25th, the captain descried dimly Start Point, in Devonshire; and the next morning Sumner saw Cape Barfleur, about fifteen miles to the right, –his first glimpse of Europe, and the first land he had seen since the afternoon of the eighth, when he went below while the headlands of New Jersey were indistinctly visible on the distant horizon. On account of unfavorable winds encountered in the Channel, the Albany did not come to anchor at the Havre docks till early on the morning of the 28th,—less t<
January 6th, 1838 AD (search for this): chapter 10
d with thatch, which was generally overgrown with moss. The thatch appears to be straw matted on the roof quite thickly. In observation of the country, and in reflection upon what I saw, the time passed away until, after descending a long and steep hill, we entered Rouen,—time-honored Rouen. If Havre appeared ancient, what shall I say of Rouen? I seemed among catacombs. Nothing but the living countenances and the merchandise at the windows appeared fresh. To Judge Story he wrote, Jan. 6, 1838: The whole country was full of novelty. During the day I was kept at the highest pitch of excitement, and when, at dusk, we entered the ancient city of Rouen, it seemed as if all the dreams of my boyhood were to be realized. And again of his visit to the cathedral at Rouen: Need I tell you that my whole frame thrilled with every step and every glance of my eye. I was fully recompensed for the expense of my journey and the imprisonment of a sea voyage. Such floods of feeling and reflect
of the 25th, the captain descried dimly Start Point, in Devonshire; and the next morning Sumner saw Cape Barfleur, about fifteen miles to the right, –his first glimpse of Europe, and the first land he had seen since the afternoon of the eighth, when he went below while the headlands of New Jersey were indistinctly visible on the distant horizon. On account of unfavorable winds encountered in the Channel, the Albany did not come to anchor at the Havre docks till early on the morning of the 28th,—less than twenty days from the time of sailing. Journal. Dec. 26, 1837. At half-past 2 o'clock this afternoon a pilot from Havre came aboard. We were still off Cape Barfleur, and, as he informed me, fifty-four miles from Havre. I inquired after news, and particularly from England; to which his reply was, tout est tranquille,—his idea of news seeming to resolve itself into the question of peace or war. Dec. 27. Still in Havre Roads, and anchored within three miles of the city.<
January, 1838 AD (search for this): chapter 10
Chapter 10: the voyage and Arrival.—December, 1837, to January, 1838— age, 26-27. This memoir, for the period of Sumner's absence from the country, must be confined chiefly to selections from his letters, and a journal which he began on the voyage and continued nearly four months. The journal begins thus:— Dec. 25, 1837.—Christmas. It is now seventeen days since I left New York for Havre in the ship Albany, Captain Johnston. Described in a letter of Sumner to Judge Story, Dec. 25, as a man of science and veracity. My passage had been taken, and my bill on the Rothschilds in Paris obtained, on the 7th December. On that day dined with a pleasant party at Mrs. Ledyard's, Mrs. Susan Ledyard, 53 Crosby Street; a friend of Judge Story, and the daughter of Brockholst Livingston, a judge of the Supreme Court of the United States, 1806-23. She died March 7, 1864; surviving her husband, Benjamin Ledyard, more than half a century.— the last dinner of my native land. Lef
seventeen days since I left New York for Havre in the ship Albany, Captain Johnston. Described in a letter of Sumner to Judge Story, Dec. 25, as a man of science and veracity. My passage had been taken, and my bill on the Rothschilds in Paris obtained, on the 7th December. On that day dined with a pleasant party at Mrs. Ledyard's, Mrs. Susan Ledyard, 53 Crosby Street; a friend of Judge Story, and the daughter of Brockholst Livingston, a judge of the Supreme Court of the United States, 1806-23. She died March 7, 1864; surviving her husband, Benjamin Ledyard, more than half a century.— the last dinner of my native land. Left early, called on one or two friends, and spent the residue of the hours before retiring—running far into the watches of the night—in writing letters; saying some parting words to the friends whom I value. And a sad time it was, full of anxious thoughts and doubts, with mingled gleams of glorious anticipations. I thought much of the position which I abando<
December 27th (search for this): chapter 10
ot come to anchor at the Havre docks till early on the morning of the 28th,—less than twenty days from the time of sailing. Journal. Dec. 26, 1837. At half-past 2 o'clock this afternoon a pilot from Havre came aboard. We were still off Cape Barfleur, and, as he informed me, fifty-four miles from Havre. I inquired after news, and particularly from England; to which his reply was, tout est tranquille,—his idea of news seeming to resolve itself into the question of peace or war. Dec. 27. Still in Havre Roads, and anchored within three miles of the city. Adverse winds have disappointed our expectations, and doomed us to a longer imprisonment. The city may be dimly descried beneath a heavy mist; but every thing is so indistinct that I cannot form any definite idea of its size or general appearance. To-night I sleep on the waters of France. He wrote to his sister Mary, the 27th, giving an account of the voyage, and expressing a brother's interest in her studies:— <
December 30th (search for this): chapter 10
on that, while we were at dinner, a beautiful girl entered the room (there were about eighteen or twenty at table), and, having first touched her guitar, sang to its accompaniment several pretty French songs, and then handed her little tin box to each person at the table. She stood behind me, and first presented her box to me. I dropped into it a few sons, and regarded the whole scene as thoroughly and beautifully characteristic of France. She was listened to with pleasure and respect. Dec. 30 (Saturday). A day at Rouen, the ancient capital of Normandy; and my eyes and mind have been constantly on the stretch with interest and observation. Shortly after breakfast, in company with a fellow-traveller, I took a commissionnaire, or guide, to conduct me to the interesting objects in the place. He spoke English, and, as a resident of the town, had a superficial acquaintance with it; and therefore was in a degree useful, though afterwards I learned from examining the guide-book (which
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