I feel heart-sick here. The Senate is a lone place, with few who are capable of yielding any true sympathy to me. I wish I were in some other sphere. Let no person take office or embark in politics unless for the sake of a sentiment which he feels an inexpressible impulse to sustain in this way.
These latter days have had some recreation. For instance, Tuesday, dinner with the French Minister; company pleasant; Cass very genial and friendly; Calderon always affectionate to me; our friend Ampère, who talked of you. Wednesday, dinner with the President; more than forty at table; dinner French, served à la Russe, heavy, beginning at 6½ o'clock and ending at 9½; Miss Fillmore pleasant and attractive, particularly when she spoke of you. Thursday, dinner at F. P. Blair's, about seven miles out of town, family party, with a diplomat and a politician. Friday, dinner with Seward, whom I like much, and with whom I find great sympathy. Saturday, dinner with Robert Walsh, whose new wife has very little to say. Sunday, dinner with Lieutenant Wise, whose little establishment is very complete. He calls his wife Charley. I thought once or twice he spoke to me. Would that I were with you, and could share your calm thoughts! As for me, farewell content; farewell the tranquil mind!
SOURCE: Edward L. Pierce, Memoir and Letters of Charles Sumner, Vol. 3, p. 264
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