Nahant, July 14, 1861.
My Dearest Mary:
This is the first rainy day since I landed in the country, now nearly five
weeks ago. It has been most wondrously bright weather day after day, sometimes
very hot, but as it can never be too hot for me, I have been well satisfied. I
was so glad to hear of Lady Dufferin's safe return, and I do hope sincerely
that the Syrian sun has not visited her too roughly, but that the gentle
atmosphere of an English summer will entirely restore her. What a comfort it
must be to dear Mrs. Norton to have them safe back again!
Alas! during all my pleasure at reading your letters I could
not throw off for a moment the dull, deadly horror of the calamity of which I
wrote to you in my last. Yesterday I went out to Longfellow's house, by
especial message from Tom Appleton, to attend the funeral. It was not thus that
I expected for the first time after so long an absence to cross that threshold.
The very morning after my arrival from England I found Longfellow's card, in my
absence, with a penciled request to come out and sup with them, Tom,
Mackintosh, and the rest. I could not go, but have been several times begged to
come since that day, yet this is the first time I have been there. I am glad I
had seen F–––, however. I think I told you that I saw her a few days ago, at
the chair of her dying father; she was radiant with health and beauty, and was
so cordial and affectionate in her welcome to me. I did not mean to look at her
in her coffin, for I wished to preserve that last image of her face undimmed.
But after the ceremony at the house the cortege went to Mount Auburn, and there
was a brief prayer by Dr. Gannett at the grave, and it so happened that I was
placed, by chance, close to the coffin, and I could not help looking upon her
face; it was turned a little on one side, was not in the slightest degree
injured, and was almost as beautiful as in life — “but for that sad, shrouded
eye,” and you remember how beautiful were her eyes. Longfellow has as yet been
seen by no one except his sisters. He has suffered considerable injury in the
hands, but nothing which will not soon be remedied. He has been in an almost
frenzied condition, at times, from his grief, but, I hear, is now comparatively
composed; but his life is crushed, I should think. His whole character, which
was so bright and genial and sunny, will suffer a sad change.
. . . We were expecting the Longfellows down here every day.
Tom and he own together the old Wetmore cottage, and they were just opening it
when the tragedy occurred. I still think it probable that they will come, for
he certainly cannot remain in his own house now. My mother is decidedly gaining
strength and is very cheerful. I don't find Mr. Cabot much changed, except that
he is more lame than he was. They have invited me to Newport, and so have Mr.
Sears and Bancroft, but I have no idea of going. I have hardly time to see as
much of my friends and relations in Boston and its neighborhood as I wish.
I had better go back, I think, and try to do a year's hard
work in the diggings, as I can be of no use here, and it is absolutely
necessary for me to go on with my work.
. . . Although it seems so very difficult for the English
mind, as manifested in the newspapers, to understand the objects of the war,
they seem to twenty millions of us very plain — first, to prohibit forever the
extension of negro slavery, and to crush forever the doctrine that slavery is
the national, common law of America, instead of being an exceptional, local
institution confined within express limits; secondly, to maintain the authority
of the national government, as our only guaranty for life, liberty, and
civilization. It is not a matter of opinion, but of profound, inmost conviction,
that if we lose the Union, all is lost; anarchy and Mexicanism will be
substituted for the temperate reign of constitutional, representative
government and the English common law. Certainly these objects are respectable
ones, and it is my belief that they will be attained. If, however, the war
assumes larger proportions, I know not what results may follow; but this I do
know, that slavery will never gain another triumph on this continent.
This great mutiny was founded entirely on two great postulates
or hopes. First, the conspirators doubted; not of the assistance, in every free
State, of the whole Democratic party, who they thought would aid them in their
onslaught against the Constitution, just as they had stood by them at the polls
in a constitutional election. Miserable mistake! The humiliation of the
national flag at Sumter threw the whole Democratic party into a frenzy of rage.
They had sustained the South for the sake of the Union, for the love of the
great Republic. When the South turned against the national empire and fired
against the flag, there was an end of party differences at that instant
throughout the free States. Secondly, they reckoned confidently on the immediate
recognition and alliance of England. Another mistake! And so, where is now the
support of the mutiny? Instead of a disunited North, there is a distracted
South, with the free States a unit. There is no doubt whatever that the
conspirators expected confidently to establish their new constitution over the
whole country except New England.
I find the numbers of United States troops given thus:
General Patterson's command, 25,000; General McClellan, 45,000; General
McDowell, 45,000; General Butler, 20,000; total, 135,000. Certainly, if we
should deduct ten per cent, from this estimate, and call them 120,000, we
should not be far wrong. McDowell commands opposite Washington, along
Arlington, at Alexandria, etc.; McClellan is at this moment at Beverly, and
Grafton in West Virginia; Butler is at and near Fortress Monroe; Patterson is
at Martinsburg. I take it for granted that you have a good map of Virginia, and
that you study it.
Now for the commanders. McClellan is a first-class man,
thirty-seven years of age, of superior West Point education, and has
distinguished himself in Mexico. The country seems to regard him as the
probable successor to Scott in its affections when he shall be taken from us.
McDowell is a good, practical, professional soldier, fully equal to his work,
about forty years of age. Patterson is an Irishman by birth, age sixty-nine,
but educated here, and has been in the army much of his life, having served
both in the War of 1812 and in Mexico, and he commands against an able rebel,
Johnston, who is, or was, at Winchester and its neighborhood. Butler is the
militia general who commanded at Annapolis, for a time, in the first outbreak,
and has since been made major-general in the army. The Gordon regiment, whose
departure from Boston I mentioned in my last, are now at Martinsburg, and will
be in the front ranks under Patterson, who has been perpetually menaced by
Johnston with a general attack. The prevailing impression is, however, that
Johnston will fall back, as the rebels have constantly been doing; all the
dash, impetuosity, and irrepressible chivalry on their part have hitherto only
manifested themselves on paper.
Don't be affected by any sneers or insinuations of slowness
against Scott; I believe him to be a magnificent soldier, thoroughly equal to
his work, and I trust that the country and the world will one day acknowledge
that he has played a noble and winning game with consummate skill. He can
afford to neglect newspaper criticism at present, whether cis- or
transatlantic. One victory at least he has achieved: he has at last reduced the
lying telegram manufacturers to submission. Henceforth you may read our
newspaper accounts with tolerable confidence. Now look at the map of Virginia,
and you will see his plan so far as developed. You read the American
newspapers, of course, which I ordered for you. Yesterday and to-day bring
accounts from McClellan, in which he officially informs government that he has
routed and annihilated the rebels in West Virginia. Their general is killed,
their army broken to pieces. One colonel (Pegram) has surrendered himself and
his whole regiment. McClellan has at least 1000 prisoners. He has lost very few
men, the rebels perhaps 200, but the result is a large one. I am sure no one
wishes to hear a long list of killed and wounded on either side. What Scott
wishes is to demoralize and disorganize this senseless and wanton rebellion,
and to crush its leaders. Now, these 10,000 just routed by McClellan compose
the main force by which the counter-revolution of West Virginia was to be
prevented. There is another force in the southwest, on the Kanawha, under the
redoubtable Wise, whose retreat you will soon hear of. You will also, I think,
soon find that Johnston has fallen back from Winchester. Thus the rebels will
soon be squeezed down toward Richmond. There, I suppose, they must make a
stand, and there will, perhaps, be a great battle. Hitherto, however, they have
shown no avidity for such a result. Virginia is the battle-ground for the
summer.
SOURCE: George William Curtis, editor, The
Correspondence of John Lothrop Motley in Two Volumes, Library Edition,
Volume 2, p. 175-80
