Edward L. Pierce, Memoir and letters of Charles Sumner: volume 1

[264] from the distant waters of my own country. A word from a friend, when it has traversed so many ridges of the sea, becomes tenfold consecrated. All that you have promised for me in Europe has been more than realized. I have seen new lives; and the life of life seems to have burst upon me. Cicero could hardly have walked with a more bounding and yet placid joy through the avenues of his Elysium, and conversed with Scipio and Laelius, than I,—a distant American, of a country which has no prescription, no history, and no association,—walk daily in the places which now surround me.

. . . There is no individual about whom I have more changed my mind by coming to Paris than Louis Philippe. I had hitherto esteemed him a sensible, prudent, but ordinary sovereign. I find him a great one, truly great; mingling in business as much as his ministers, and controlling them all. He is more than his cabinet. Measures emanate from him. With skill that is wonderful, he has reined in the revolution of July. He stands now, with the Republicans pressing on one side and the Legitimists on the other, both complaining of broken oaths and promises: the first, of his promise to surround his throne with republican institutions; the second, of his ancient relations with his cousin, Charles X. His habits are very industrious. He rises so early as to be in his study at eight o'clock; breakfasts at ten with his family; from twelve to four attends to public business, receives, &c.; from four to six takes his exercise; at six dines with his family, with whom he passes the evening till ten o'clock; When he retires to his study, and writes till two o'clock, his hour of retiring. It is supposed that he is engaged upon some book,—memoirs, perhaps. . . . Tocqueville has been absent from the city till last week. I shall call on him to-day.

As ever, faithfully yours,

Journal.

March 9, 1838. Assisted about law papers; called on M. Érard, who invited me to dine with him on Sunday next. Visited Foelix, and examined his library; with most of the books on French law I am already more or less acquainted. Next tried to find Tocqueville, but he has left the city; returned to my room, and was in deshabille;, preparing to go out to dine with a French lawyer, when my door opened and a gentleman in black, of about the middle size, rather thin, with sharp black eyes, black hair brushed smoothly, entered my room. He announced himself as M. Cousin.¹ I offered him a chair, and he was good enough to sit with me for more than an hour. He