Showing posts with label Belgium. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Belgium. Show all posts

Tuesday, March 31, 2020

Diary of Gideon Welles: Tuesday, May 24, 1864

Nothing especial at the Cabinet. The condition and position of the armies canvassed. Chase was not present. He seldom attends of late.

Seward urges the departure of the Niagara. I have no doubt that Sanford, our Minister at Belgium, one of Seward's pets, who is now here, has been instrumental in urging this matter. He wants a public vessel to carry him abroad, and has cajoled Seward . . . to effect this object. I do not like to be bamboozled, as Colonel Benton says, by such fellows as Sanford.

There are, however, some reasons to influence action.

Seward sent to my house on Saturday evening a bundle of dispatches from Mr. Dayton, and also from Mr. Bigelow, our consul at Paris, relative to the conduct and feelings of the French Government. That breaking through the blockade for tobacco looks mischievous, and one or more vessels ought doubtless to appear in European waters.

Bigelow, in his confidential dispatch, tells Seward that it was not judicious to have explained to the French Government in regard to the resolution of our House of Representatives that they would maintain the Monroe Doctrine.

SOURCE: Gideon Welles, Diary of Gideon Welles, Secretary of the Navy Under Lincoln and Johnson, Vol. 2: April 1, 1864 — December 31, 1866, p. 38-9

Wednesday, October 11, 2017

Diary of Gideon Welles: Saturday, October 10, 1863

Lord Lyons, who returned last night, called on me to-day with Admiral Milne and staff, accompanied by Secretary Seward. Admiral Milne has a pleasant face, more Scotch than English. He is tall, — six feet two, — strongly built, not fleshy yet not spare, — a good physique in every respect. While we were conversing, Mr. Seward interrupted to say he had referred the Spanish claim of maritime jurisdiction to the King of Belgium. I asked whether the King of Belgium was an authority on international law and impowered to decide questions of this character so as to make them binding on others. His decision might be conclusive against Spain if he should adhere to the marine league, but were he to decide otherwise, his decision would conclude no government but the United States. I did not believe Great Britain would yield to the dictum of the King of Belgium against tradition and usage and the established law of nations, if the United States did. She would therefore approach Spanish territory to within three miles, while we, by this submission, would be excluded for six miles by the decree if against us.

Seward was a little nonplused. Both Lord Lyons and Admiral Milne exchanged significant looks at this singular reference, which jeopardized our rights and secured us nothing.

Dining at Lord Lyons's this evening, Admiral Milne, who sat next me, stated that he is the first British admiral who has visited New York since the government was established, certainly the first in forty years. He said that it had been the policy of his government to avoid such visitations, chiefly from apprehensions in regard to their crews, their language and general appearance being the same as ours. There were doubtless other reasons which neither of us cared to introduce. He was exceedingly attentive and pleasant. Said he had tried to preserve harmony and good feeling, and to prevent, as far as possible, irritation and vexatious questions between us. Complimented the energy we had displayed, the forbearance exercised, the comparatively few vexatious and conflicting questions which had arisen under the extraordinary condition of affairs, the management of the extensive blockade, and the general administration of our naval matters, which he had admired and in his way sustained without making himself a party in our conflict.

There were some twenty or twenty-five guests, including the Prussian, Spanish, and Brazilian Ministers, the Secretary of State, the Attorney-General, and myself of the Cabinet. The whole was well-timed and judiciously got up for the occasion, and with a purpose. It is, I think, the harbinger of a better state of things, or rather of a change of policy by the English government.

Chase has gone to Ohio preparatory to the election, which takes place next Tuesday. Great interest is felt throughout the country in the result. Chase is understood to have special interest in this election.

SOURCE: Gideon Welles, Diary of Gideon Welles, Secretary of the Navy Under Lincoln and Johnson, Vol. 1: 1861 – March 30, 1864, p. 467-9

Sunday, July 23, 2017

John L. Motley to Mary Lothrop Motley, February 17, 1863

Vienna, February 17, 1863.

My Dearest Little Mary: I hope that you will accept this note from me as the family contribution for to-day.

I assure you, when you know Vienna as well as we do, you will agree that to screw out a letter once a week is a Kunststück to be proud of. I can't very well write to you, as I write to the State Department, about the movements in Montenegro, the Polish insurrection, or the Prussian-French treaty of commerce, although I dare say these things would amuse you about as much as they do the people at Washington just now, where they have so much other fish to fry. To-day is the last day of the carnival, which we celebrate by remaining calmly within doors in the bosom of our respected family. The great ball at Prince Schwarzenberg's took place last Sunday, so that we were obliged respectfully but firmly to decline. Soon begins the season of “salons.” Now, if there is one thing more distasteful to me than a ball, it is a salon. Of course I don't object to young people liking to dance, and the few balls in the great houses here are as magnificent festivals as could be got up anywhere, and Lily had always plenty of partners and danced to her heart's content, notwithstanding that nearly all the nice youths of the French and English embassies have been transplanted to other realms. But I think that no reasonable being ought to like a salon. There are three topics — the Opera, the Prater, the Burg Theater; when these are exhausted, you are floored. Conversazioni where the one thing that does not exist is conversation are not the most cheerful of institutions.

The truth is that our hostile friends the English spoil me for other society. There is nothing like London or England in the social line on the Continent. The Duke of Argyll writes to me pretty constantly, and remains a believer in the justice of our cause, although rather desponding as to the issue; and Mr. John Stuart Mill, who corresponds with me regularly and is as enthusiastic as I am, tells me that the number of men who agree with him in wishing us success is daily increasing. Among others he mentioned our old friend the distinguished Dr. Whewell, Master of Trinity (with whom we stayed three days at Cambridge when I received my degree there), who, he says, is positively rude to those who talk against the North. He won't allow the “Times” to come into the house. Well, I hope the recent and remarkable demonstrations in England will convince the true lovers of union and liberty in America where our true strength lies, and who our true lovers are.

We have given four diplomatic dinners. The last was five days ago. Sixteen guests, beginning with Count Rechberg and the Prince and Princess Callimaki (Turkish ambassador), and ending with a French and Belgian attache or two. The French and English ambassadors and secretaries dined with us the week before. I think we shall give no more at present, unless we have a smaller one, to which we shall invite the Rothschild of the period, as we have had several good dinners at his house. I am very glad that you are to dine with Mrs. Amory to meet General McClellan. We feel very grateful to Mr. and Mrs. Amory and S—— for their kindness to you. Pray never forget to give all our loves to them. Did Mrs. Amory ever get a letter I wrote her? Its date was May 12. Pray remember us most kindly to Mr. and Mrs. Ritchie. I am so glad that you have been seeing so much of them lately. It is impossible for you not to be fond of them when you know them. Give my love also to Miss “Pussie,” and to my Nahant contemporary, who I hope continues on the rampage as delightfully as ever. You will tell us, of course, what impression General McClellan makes upon you. Personally there seems much that is agreeable, almost fascinating, about him. I only saw him for a single moment, but was much impressed by his manner. I wish it had been his destiny to lead our armies to victory, for I don't see that we have any better man. But no one man will ever end this war except he be an abolitionist heart and soul, and a man of military genius besides.

Things have gone a million miles beyond compromise. Pray tell me what you learn of Hooker.

We all join in kindest love to you, my darling, and to your grandmama and grandpapa, and all at home.

Your ever-affectionate
P. G.

SOURCE: George William Curtis, editor, The Correspondence of John Lothrop Motley in Two Volumes, Library Edition, Volume 2, p. 314-6

Saturday, February 14, 2015

Diary of William Howard Russell: March 26, 1861

After our pleasant breakfast came that necessity for activity which makes such meals disguised as mere light morning repasts take their revenge. I had to pack up, and I am bound to say the moral aid afforded me by the waiter, who stood with a sympathizing expression of face, and looked on as I wrestled with boots, books, and great coats, was of a most comprehensive character. At last I conquered, and at six o'clock p. m. I left the Clarendon, and was conveyed over the roughest and most execrable pavements through several miles of unsympathetic, gloomy, dirty streets, and crowded thoroughfares, over jaw-wrenching street-railway tracks, to a large wooden shed covered with inscriptions respecting routes and destinations on the bank of the river, which as far as the eye could see, was bordered by similar establishments, where my baggage was deposited in the mud. There were no porters, none of the recognized and established aids to locomotion to which we are accustomed in Europe, but a number of amateurs divided the spoil, and carried it into the offices, whilst I was directed to struggle for my ticket in another little wooden box, from which I presently received the necessary document, full of the dreadful warnings and conditions, which railway companies inflict on the public in all free countries.

The whole of my luggage, except a large bag, was taken charge of by a man at the New York side of the ferry, who “checked it through” to the capital — giving me a slip of brass with a number corresponding with a brass ticket for each piece. When the boat arrived at the stage at the other side of the Hudson, in my innocence I called for a porter to take my bag. The passengers were moving out of the capacious ferry-boat in a steady stream, and the steam throat and bell of the engine were going whilst I was looking for my porter; but at last a gentleman passing, said, “I guess y'ill remain here a considerable time before y'ill get any one to come for that bag of yours;” and taking the hint, I just got off in time to stumble into a long box on wheels, with a double row of most uncomfortable seats, and a passage down the middle, where I found a place beside Mr. Sanford, the newly-appointed United States Minister to Belgium, who was kind enough to take me under his charge to Washington.

The night was closing in very fast as the train started, but such glimpses as I had of the continuous line of pretty-looking villages of wooden houses, two stories high, painted white, each with its Corinthian portico, gave a most favorable impression of the comfort and prosperity of the people. The rail passed through the main street of most of these hamlets and villages, and the bell of the engine was tolled to warn the inhabitants, who drew up on the sidewalks, and let us go by. Soon the white houses faded away into faint blurred marks on the black ground of the landscape, or twinkled with starlike lights, and there was nothing more to see. The passengers were crowded as close as they could pack, and as there was an immense iron stove in the centre of the car, the heat and stuffiness became most trying, although I had been undergoing the ordeal of the stove-heated New York houses for nearly a week. Once a minute, at least, the door at either end of the carriage was opened, and then closed with a sharp, crashing noise, that jarred the nerves, and effectually prevented sleep. It generally was done by a man whose sole object seemed to be to walk up the centre of the carriage in order to go out of the opposite door —occasionally it was the work of a newspaper boy, with a sheaf of journals and trashy illustrated papers under his arm. Now and then it was the conductor; but the periodical visitor was a young gentleman with chain and rings, who bore a tray before him, and solicited orders for “gum drops,” and “lemon drops,” which, with tobacco, apples, and cakes, were consumed in great quantities by the passengers

At ten o'clock, P.M., we crossed the river by a ferry-boat to Philadelphia, and drove through the streets, stopping for supper a few moments at the La Pierre Hotel. To judge from the vast extent of the streets, of small, low, yet snug-looking houses, through which we passed, Philadelphia must contain in comfort the largest number of small householders of any city in the world. At the other terminus of the rail, to which we drove in a carriage, we procured for a small sum, a dollar I think, berths in a sleeping-car, an American institution of considerable merit. Unfortunately a party of prize-fighters had a mind to make themselves comfortable, and the result was anything but conducive to sleep. They had plenty of whiskey, and were full of song and fight, nor was it possible to escape their urgent solicitations “to take a drink,” by feigning the soundest sleep. One of these, a big man, with a broken nose, a mellow eye, and a very large display of rings, jewels, chains, and pins, was in very high spirits, and informed us he was “Going to Washington to get a foreign mission from Bill Seward. He wouldn't take Paris, as he didn't care much about French or Frenchmen; but he'd just like to show John Bull how to do it; or he'd take Japan if they were very pressing.” Another told us he was “Going to the bosom of Uncle Abe” (meaning the President) — “that he knew him well in Kentucky years ago, and a high-toned gentleman he was.” Any attempts to persuade them to retire to rest made by the conductors were treated with sovereign contempt; but at last whiskey asserted its supremacy, and having established the point that they “would not sleep unless they pleased,” they slept and snored.

At six, A. M., we were roused up by the arrival of the train at Washington, having crossed great rivers and traversed cities without knowing it during the night. I looked out and saw a vast mass of white marble towering above us on the left, stretching out in colonnaded porticoes, and long flanks of windowed masonry, and surmounted by an unfinished cupola, from which scaffold and cranes raised their black arms. This was the Capitol. To the right was a cleared space of mud, sand, and fields, studded with wooden sheds and huts, beyond which, again, could be seen rudimentary streets of small red brick houses, and some church-spires above them.

Emerging from the station, we found a vociferous crowd of blacks, who were the hackney-coachmen of the place; but Mr. Sanford had his carriage in waiting, and drove me straight to Willard's Hotel where he consigned me to the landlord at the bar. Our route lay through Pennsylvania Avenue — a street of much breadth and length, lined with ӕlanthus trees, each in a white-washed wooden sentry-box, and by most irregularly-built houses in all kinds of material, from deal plank to marble — of all heights, and every sort of trade. Few shop-windows were open, and the principal population consisted of blacks, who were moving about on domestic affairs. At one end of the long vista there is the Capitol; and at the other, the Treasury buildings — a fine block in marble, with the usual American classical colonnades.

Close to these rises the great pile of Willard's Hotel, now occupied by applicants for office, and by the members of the newly-assembled Congress. It is a quadrangular mass of rooms, six stories high, and some hundred yards square; and it probably contains at this moment more scheming, plotting, planning heads, more aching and joyful hearts, than any building of the same size ever held in the world. I was ushered into a bedroom which had just been vacated by some candidate — whether he succeeded or not I cannot tell, but if his testimonials spoke truth, he ought to have been selected at once for the highest office. The room was littered with printed copies of letters testifying that J. Smith, of Hartford, Conn., was about the ablest, honestest, cleverest, and best man the writers ever knew. Up and down the long passages doors were opening and shutting for men with papers bulging out of their pockets, who hurried as if for their life in and out, and the building almost shook with the tread of the candidature, which did not always in its present aspect justify the correctness of the original appellation.

It was a remarkable sight, and difficult to understand unless seen. From California, Texas, from the Indian Reserves, and the Mormon Territory, from Nebraska, as from the remotest borders of Minnesota, from every portion of the vast territories of the Union, except from the Seceded States, the triumphant Republicans had winged their way to the prey.

There were crowds in the hall through which one could scarce make his way — the writing-room was crowded, and the rustle of pens rose to a little breeze — the smoking-room, the bar, the barber's, the reception-room, the ladies' drawing-room — all were crowded. At present not less than 2,500 people dine in the public room every day. On the kitchen floor there is a vast apartment, a hall without carpets or any furniture but plain chairs and tables, which are ranged in close rows, at which flocks of people are feeding, or discoursing, or from which they are flying away. The servants never cease shoving the chairs to and fro with a harsh screeching noise over the floor, so that one can scarce hear his neighbor speak. If he did, he would probably hear as I did, at this very hotel, a man order breakfast, “Black tea and toast, scrambled eggs, fresh spring shad, wild pigeon, pigs' feet, two robins on toast, oysters,” and a quantity of breads and cakes of various denominations. The waste consequent on such orders is enormous — and the ability required to conduct these enormous establishments successfully is expressed by the common phrase in the States, “Brown is a clever man, but he can't manage an hotel.” The tumult, the miscellaneous nature of the company — my friends the prize-fighters are already in possession of the doorway — the heated, muggy rooms, not to speak of the great abominableness of the passages and halls, despite a most liberal provision of spittoons, conduce to render these institutions by no means agreeable to a European. Late in the day I succeeded in obtaining a sitting-room with a small bedroom attached, which made me somewhat more independent and comfortable — but you must pay highly for any departure from the routine life of the natives. Ladies enjoy a handsome drawing-room, with piano, sofas, and easy chairs, all to themselves.

I dined at Mr. Sanford's, where I was introduced to Mr. Seward, Secretary of State; Mr. Truman Smith, an ex-senator, much respected among the Republican party; Mr. Anthony, a senator of the United States, a journalist, a very intelligent-looking man, with an Israelitish cast of face; Colonel Foster of the Illinois railway, of reputation in the States as a geologist; and one or two more gentlemen. Mr. Seward is a slight, middle-sized man, of feeble build, with the stoop contracted from sedentary habits and application to the desk, and has a peculiar attitude when seated, which immediately attracts attention. A well-formed and large head is placed on a long slender neck, and projects over the chest in an argumentative kind of way, as if the keen eyes were seeking for an adversary; the mouth is remarkably flexible, large but well-formed, the nose prominent and aquiline, the eyes secret, but penetrating, and lively with humor of some kind twinkling about them; the brow bold and broad, but not remarkably elevated; the white hair silvery and fine — a subtle, quick man, rejoicing in power, given to perorate and to oracular utterances, fond of badinage, bursting with the importance of state mysteries, and with the dignity of directing the foreign policy of the greatest country — as all Americans think — in the world. After dinner he told some stories of the pressure on the President for place, which very much amused the guests who knew the men, and talked freely and pleasantly of many things — stating, however, few facts positively. In reference to an assertion in a New York paper, that orders had been given to evacuate Sumter, “That,” he said, “is a plain lie — no such orders have been given. We will give up nothing we have — abandon nothing that has been intrusted to us. If people would only read these statements by the light of the President's inaugural, they would not be deceived.” He wanted no extra session of Congress. “History tells us that kings who call extra parliaments lose their heads,” and he informed the company he had impressed the President with his historical parallels.

All through this conversation his tone was that of a man very sanguine, and with a supreme contempt for those who thought there was anything serious in secession. “Why,” said he, “I myself, my brothers, and sisters, have been all secessionists — we seceded from home when we were young, but we all went back to it sooner or later. These States will all come back in the same way.” I doubt if he was ever in the South; but he affirmed that the state of living and of society there was something like that in the State of New York sixty or seventy years ago. In the North all was life, enterprise, industry, mechanical skill. In the South there was dependence on black labor, and an idle extravagance which was mistaken for elegant luxury — tumble-down old hackney-coaches, such as had not been seen north of the Potomac for half a century, harness never cleaned, ungroomed horses, worked at the mill one day and sent to town the next, badly furnished houses, bad cookery, imperfect education. No parallel could be drawn between them and the Northern States at all. “You are all very angry,” he said, “about the Morrill tariff. You must, however, let us be best judges of our own affairs. If we judge rightly, you have no right to complain; if we judge wrongly, we shall soon be taught by the results, and shall correct our error. It is evident that if the Morrill tariff fulfils expectations, and raises a revenue, British manufacturers suffer nothing, and we suffer nothing, for the revenue is raised here, and trade is not injured. If the tariff fails to create a revenue, we shall be driven to modify or repeal it.”

The company addressed him as “Governor,” which led to Mr. Seward's mentioning that when he was in England he was induced to put his name down with that prefix in a hotel book, and caused a discussion among the waiters as to whether he was the “Governor” of a prison or of a public company. I hope the great people of England treated Mr. Seward with the attention due to his position, as he would assuredly feel and resent very much any slight on the part of those in high places. From what he said, however, I infer that he was satisfied with the reception he had met in London. Like most Americans who can afford it, he has been up the Nile. The weird old stream has great fascinations for the people of the Mississippi — as far at least as the first cataract.

SOURCE: William Howard Russell, My Diary North and South, p. 30-6

Saturday, May 26, 2012

Dry Goods


The market is dull.  The speculators in staple  goods who bought so largely some months ago are now very anxious to sell, and are distressing the market and disturbing the calculations of manufacturers and may very likely check a little the disposition to produce new goods. – The market does not respond to the pressure and the few buyers limit themselves to actual wants.

DOMESTIC GOODS. – Prints are inactive and holders are anxious to sell, yet domestic fabrics have nothing to fear from competition of foreign importations as few prints are now imported.  Old goods are however being liberated from bond and offered for sale.

Printing cloths are declining with a panic desire to force sales in presence of a better supply of the raw material.  In sheetings and shirtings there is no change.  The regular receivers are firm, but could not, nevertheless obtain current quotations if they were to press sales.  The export demand is very trifling.  In woolens there is also less doing.  Delaines do not attract much demand at present.  Jobbers are quiet.  Fancy cassimeres of desirable styles are active, both silk mixtures and wool good, but the demand is confined to these kinds.  Clothing houses are not buying much.  Western buyers and buyers from the Middle States are making a few selections, but the West holds a large quantity of inferior goods, which they want to sell.  Stocks are moderate in first hands.

FOREIGN GOODS. – The importations have increased considerably, and auction sales are now commencing.  British goods have been largely sold, though the regular trade has not fully opened.  The speculative demand is over and prices are less buoyant.  Low priced delaines are, however, in ready sale and low priced cloths are in some request.  Silks are more inquired for, especially staple kinds.  Fancy silks are dull.  Prices are steady.  There is considerable business in ribbons, and sales have been making to some extent to buyers from Boston, Philadelphia, Cincinnati and the West.

Military goods are now mostly sold for cash.  Many houses refuse to sell on any other terms. – Woolen goods are dull.  Fancy cassimeres, low priced German, Belgian and English cloths alone command a market and those of good styles. – French worsted are inactive.  The value of the goods imported last week is $1,500,000, which is an increase, though only half the amount imported in the corresponding week of last year.  Prints, linens, blankets, cotton goods, worsted, and silks are among the articles chiefly imported. – N. Y. Independent.

– Published in The Burlington Weekly Hawk-Eye, Burlington, Iowa, Saturday, March 8, 1862, p. 3

Friday, May 25, 2012

Tremendous Inundation In Germany And France


The Augsburg Gazette contains letters from Munich, Nuremberg and Stuttgard stating that all the rivers are overflowed.  Between Salzburg and Linz railway communication is cut off.  The waters of the Iser have left their bed, and at Nuremberg the Peignitz has become a great river, so that many of the streets and squares of the city are completely inundated.  A temporary bridge connects the two portions of the city and the Nuremberg correspondent could not appear on the 31st of January, because the building in which it was printed was flooded with water.  At Cornstadt the Neckar has risen nine feet above its usual hight [sic] and at Halle boats were plying in the market place, and crowds of people had to make their escape from the lower floors of their houses in skiffs.

The Garlarnhe Gazette publishes a letter from Mannheim dated the 3d of February stating that the waters of the Neckar were still rising and that every spot was overflowed clear to the Heidelber turnpike.  The Rhine, too, was ten feet higher than usual and still rising.  At Roxheim an arched bridge had been carried away, and the great dyke ant Rheingennheim was broken.  The Neckar was filled with wreck, among which barrels, doors and various domestic utensils were seen floating off.  At Wertheim, the Main rose eight feet in twenty four hours and people were navigating the streets in boats.

In France and Belgium the floods were still more disastrous.  In the latter country, the whole valley of the Meuse is desolated, the great accumulations of snow in the Vosges mountains in France having melted very rapidly under the influence of the late rains and mild weather and precipitated themselves into the Meuse river.

– Published in The Burlington Weekly Hawk-Eye, Burlington, Iowa, Saturday, March 8, 1862, p. 3