of Paris who are my bankers. Wherever I am they will be sent to me.
--My regards to Mrs. Rand, & believe me
WILLIAM C. BRYANT
P. S. My wife and Fanny desire their affectionate remembrances to both
of you. Mrs. Bryant tells me to say that she will write to Mrs. Rand as
soon as she can possibly find leisure.
MANUSCRIPT: Yale University Library.
John Goffe Rand ( 1801-1873) of New Hampshire was a portrait painter who
worked in Boston and Charleston before coming to New York about 1833. That year
he was made an Associate of the National Academy, becoming acquainted with the Bryants and painting a portrait of the poet, before sailing for London with money
apparently provided by Bryant. The portrait, and letters furnished him by Bryant, Rand believed, opened for him the doors of fashionable sitters and celebrities, and he
immediately wrote his benefactor of his deep gratitude for "favours received." Rand
to Bryant, January [5/6?], and January 25, 1834, NYPL-BG. See DAA, p. 523; Callow, Kindred Spirits, pp. 71-73.
On January 25. Rand had written, "I don't flatter you when I say that your
portrait is universally admired." A Dr. Sleigh who saw it promised the artist letters to "a Duke and several other distinguished characters," and a young lady who was "a real
blue" recited some of Bryant's poems. When Rand presented her with Bryant's autograph clipped from a letter, she promised to introduce the Rands to "a brother of
Miss [Maria] Edgeworth" and other celebrities.
Lady Charlotte Bury ( 1775-1861), author of Flirtation, Separation, The Divorced, and other novels, who held an appointment in the household of the Princess
290. To Thatcher T. Payne1
[ Paris, August 9, 1834]
You have heard I presume, from Mr. Leggett of our arrival in France,
of our voyage up the Seine, of our journey from Rouen, and finally of
our anchorage in Paris.
Every step of our journey reminded us that we were in an old country. Almost every thing we saw spoke of the past, of an antiquity without
limit; every where our eyes rested on the handiwork of those who had
been dead for ages and witnessed the customs which they had bequeathed
to their descendants. The churches were so vast, so solid, and so time-
eaten; the dwellings so grey, and of such antique architecture and in the
large towns rose so high along the narrow and cavernous streets; the
thatched cottages were so mossy and their ridges so grown with grass! The
very hills around them looked scarcely so old, for there was something like
youthfulness in their vegetation--their shrubs and flowers. The country