Paris, Aug. 20, '50.
My Dear Sumner:
— I am always cheered by the sight of your “hand-o'-write” and that of your
last letter was more than usually welcome. Notwithstanding your sad errand you
seemed to be in an elastic and healthy tone of mind, and I know too well by
experience of the opposite condition what a blessing that is: may my friend
never fall from the one into the other! You will be surprised at the date of
this, and exclaim, “Why are you not en route for Frankfort?” I'll tell
you. I had concluded or been persuaded by your letter and other considerations
to go and attend the Peace Congress. I left Paris for that purpose on Friday
evening last so as to be in Frankfort on the 20th, but I had hardly got an
hundred miles when I began to feel the sure premonitions of an attack of cholera
morbus. I remained all night in a miserable inn, hoping to be able to go on
by the early train; but it was too certain that the grip of disease was upon
me; I therefore turned back with all speed to get properly attended here. I was
quite ill Saturday and Sunday; yesterday better but unable to travel, and
to-day not fit for a fatiguing journey. I must therefore give up the Congress.
All I should have done would have been to move for an adjournment en masse to
the seat of war in Holstein, and discuss war between the two hostile armies. I
am sick of this preaching to Israel in Israel; the Gentile ought to hear. Peace
men should go to Russia, and Abolitionists to the Slave States. Besides, this
calling upon France and Germany to disarm while Russia has the open blade in
hand is what I cannot do. Our combativeness and destructiveness are the weapons
God gives us to use as long as they are necessary, in order to keep
others less advanced than we are in quiet by the only motives they will heed,
selfishness and fear; you may as well appeal to conscience and benevolence in
babes and idiots as in Russians and Tartars, I mean en masse. Conscience
and benevolence they have, ay! and so have babes and idiots, but they are (not)
yet called into life and action.
You tell me to go about sightseeing and to enjoy the rare
opportunity before me. I go to see nothing — I care little for shows. I want to
be back in the only place in the world which is fit for me or has charm for me;
in my own office with the harness on my back. I wish you had my opportunity and
I had yours. So goes the world. . . .
Kind words to Longfellow, Hillard, Felton, &c. Tell
Briggs my conscience has been continually smiting me about my neglect of that
Frenchman in prison. I hope he is out.
Ever, dear Sumner,
most affectionately thine,
S. G. H.
SOURCE: Laura E. Richards, Editor, Letters and
Journals of Samuel Gridley Howe, Volume 2, p. 322-3
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