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Edward L. Pierce, Memoir and letters of Charles Sumner: volume 1, Chapter 10: the voyage and Arrival.—December, 1837, to January, 1838— age, 26-27. (search)
aid to be the finest specimen of Gothic architecture on the Continent. Certainly it is immensely vast and elaborate, transcending all that my imagination had pictured as the result of this architecture, The minuteness of the workmanship testifies that it was done by those who commanded hands for labor with a facility not unlike that which summoned the thousands of laborers who raised the pyramids of Egypt. 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
Edward L. Pierce, Memoir and letters of Charles Sumner: volume 1, Chapter 13: England.—June, 1838, to March, 1839.—Age, 27-28. (search)
ur clubs; To the Garrick through Brown, and the Travellers' through Sergeant D'Oyly. the Garrick, Alfred, Travellers', and Athenaeum. He was present in court dress at the coronation of Queen Victoria in the Abbey, receiving the courtesy of two tickets,—one from Lord Lansdowne, and the other from Sir Charles Vaughan. He attended the sessions of the courts and the debates in Parliament, reserving till the London season was over the remarkable sights,—the Tower, Tunnel, British Museum, and Abbey. He sat on the bench at Westminster Hall, and dined with the judges at the Old Bailey, where he spoke at the call of the Lord Mayor. Following the plan of his journey, he observed with the keenest interest men, society, courts, and parliament. Having been invited to many country-seats, he was well provided with facilities for visiting different parts of England, as also of Scotland and Ireland. He left London, July 24, to attend, by invitation of the judges, the circuits, and to visit
Edward L. Pierce, Memoir and letters of Charles Sumner: volume 1, Chapter 14: first weeks in London.—June and July, 1838.—Age, 27. (search)
or thirty interesting persons I meet every day. This very week I have declined more invitations than I have accepted; and among those that I declined were invitations to dinner from Lord Denman, Lord Bexley, Mr. Senior, Mr. Mackenzie, &c. As ever, affectionately yours, C. S To Judge Story. London, July 12, 1838. my dear Judge,—I have now been in London more than a month; but have not seen the Tower or the Tunnel, the British Museum or the theatres, the General Post-Office or Westminster Abbey (except as dressed for the Coronation): I have seen none of the sights or shows at which strangers stare. How, then, have I passed this time, till late midnight? In seeing society, men, courts, and parliaments. These will soon vanish with the season; while London's column will still point to the skies, and the venerable Abbey still hold its great interests, when men and society have dispersed. In a few days, this immense city will be deserted; the equipages which throng it will dis
Edward L. Pierce, Memoir and letters of Charles Sumner: volume 1, Chapter 15: the Circuits.—Visits in England and Scotland.—August to October, 1838.—age, 27. (search)
erstanding his character; for I know well some of his most intimate friends. The Duke of Wellington says of him, Damned odd fellow,—half mad! And Brougham, who is now vexed with the Duke for interfering to save the ministry so often, says Westminster Abbey is yawning for him! . . . I hope I do not repeat myself; but writing as I do, at inns and clubhouses, and with my mind full fraught with what I have seen or heard, I hardly know what I write. You will not count me vain for communicatingster spirit Brougham. I have already described to you, induce me to send these lines immediately on the heels of my last. How odd it seemed to knock at a neighbor's door, and inquire, Where does Mr. Wordsworth live? Think of rapping at Westminster Abbey, and asking for Mr. Shakspeare, or Mr. Milton! I found the poet living, as I could have wished, with worldly comfort about him, and without show. His house was not so large or so elegant as to draw the attention from its occupant; and mor