John Lothrop Motley to his Family, June 14, 1861

Woodland Hill,

June 14, 1861.

My Dearest Mary And Dearest Darlings: My note from Halifax, with the announcement which you must have seen in the papers, will have told you enough of my voyage.¹ It was a singularly favorable one, and we reached Boston Wednesday morning at eight o'clock. I found my dear mother looking not worse than I had anticipated, but very feeble. She had had an attack of neuralgic pain the day before, and was not able to come out of her room. She was, however, pretty well the next day, and is not very much changed in the face, although she has evidently become more infirm.

My father seems a good deal older, but is very active and in vigorous health. All the various members of the family are very well. I walked out about eleven o'clock, and went first to the State House to see Governor Andrew. He received me with the greatest cordiality, I may say distinction, and thanked me very warmly for my papers in the “Times.” I may as well mention once for all that not a single person of the numbers with whom I have already spoken has omitted to say the same thing. You know how enthusiastic our people are when pleased, and you can therefore imagine the earnest and perhaps somewhat exaggerated commendations which I receive.²

The paper was at once copied bodily into the Boston and New York papers, with expressions of approbation, and I make a point of stating this to you, both because I was myself surprised at the deep impression which the article seems to have made here, and in order that you may let any of our English friends who are interested know that the position taken in the article is precisely that which is recognized by all men throughout the free States as the impregnable one in this momentous conflict.

The reason why I am saying so much about it now is simply because it is the text, as it were, to all I have, or probably shall have, to say on the subject of American politics in my letter to you. Any one who supposes that this civil war is caused by anything else than by an outrageous and unprovoked insurrection against a constituted government, because that government had manifested its unequivocal intention to circumscribe slavery and prevent forever its further extension on this continent, is incapable of discussing the question at all, and is not worth listening to. Therefore it is (and with deep regret I say it) that there is so deep and intense a feeling of bitterness and resentment toward England just now in Boston. Of course I only speak of Boston, because, having been here but two days, I have as yet taken no wider views, and I intend, when I write, to speak only of that “which I do know.” The most warm-hearted, England-loving men in this England-loving part of the country are full of sorrow at the attitude taken up by England. It would be difficult to exaggerate the poisonous effects produced by the long-continued, stinging, hostile articles in the “Times.” The declaration of Lord John Russell that the Southern privateers were to be considered belligerents was received, as I knew and said it would be, with great indignation, especially the precedent cited of Greece struggling against Turkey, to justify, as it were, before England and the world, the South struggling against the United States government. This, then, is the value, men say to me every moment, of the antislavery sentiment of England, of which she has boasted so much to mankind. This is the end of all the taunts and reproaches which she has flung at the United States government for being perpetually controlled by the slavery power, and for allowing its policy to be constantly directed toward extending that institution. Now that we have overthrown that party, and now that we are struggling to maintain our national existence, and, with it, liberty, law, and civilization, against the insurrection which that overthrow has excited, we are treated to the cold shoulder of the mother-country, quite as decidedly as if she had never had an opinion or a sentiment on the subject of slavery, and as if the greatest war of principle which has been waged, in this generation at least, was of no more interest to her, except as it bore on the cotton question, than the wretched squabbles of Mexico or South America. The ignorance, assumed or actual, of the nature of our Constitution, and the coolness with which public speakers and writers have talked about the Southern States and the Northern States, as if all were equally wrong, or equally right, and as if there had never been such a state in existence as the one which the queen on her throne not long ago designated as the “great Republic,” have been the source of surprise, disappointment, and mortification to all. Men say to me, We did not wish England to lift a little finger to help us, we are not Austria calling in Russia to put down our insurrections for us, but we have looked in vain for any noble words of encouragement and sympathy. We thought that some voice, even of men in office, or of men in opposition, might have been heard to say, We are sorry for you, you are passing through a terrible ordeal; but we feel that you are risking your fortunes and your lives for a noble cause, that the conflict has been forced upon you, that you could not recede without becoming a byword of scorn among the nations. Our hands are tied; we must be neutral in action: you must fight the fight yourself, and you would be ashamed to accept assistance; but our hearts are with yon, and God defend the right. But of all this there is not a word.

. . . Now, it is superfluous for me to say to you that I am not expressing my own opinions in what I am writing. In my character of your own correspondent, I am chronicling accurately my first impressions on arriving here. You see that the language I hear does not vary so much in character as in intensity from that which I have used myself on all occasions in England to our friends there. But the intensity makes a great difference, and I am doing my best, making use of whatever influence and whatever eloquence I possess, to combat this irritation toward England, and to bring about, if I can, a restoration of the old kindliness.

You cannot suppose that I am yet in condition to give you much information as to facts. One thing, however, is certain, there is no difference of opinion here. There is no such thing as party. Nobody asks or cares whether his neighbor was a Republican, or Democrat, or abolitionist. There is no very great excitement now, simply because it is considered a settled thing, which it has entered into no man's head to doubt, that this great rebellion is to be put down, whatever may be the cost of life and treasure it may entail. We do not know what General Scott's plan is, but every one has implicit confidence in his capacity, and it is known that he has matured a scheme on a most extensive scale. There are now in Washington and Maryland, or within twelve hours' march of them, about 80,000 Union troops. There are, including these, 240,000 enrolled and drilling and soon to be ready. The idea seems to be that a firm grasp will be kept upon Maryland, Washington, Western Virginia, and that Harper's Ferry, Richmond, and Norfolk will be captured this summer; that after the frosts of October vast columns of men will be sent down the Mississippi, and along it, cooperating with others to be sent by sea; that New Orleans will be occupied, and that thus with all the ports blockaded, and a cordon of men hemming them in along the border of the Middle States, the rebellion will be suffocated with the least possible effusion of blood. Of course there will be terrible fighting in Virginia this summer, and I am by no means confident that we shall not sustain reverses at first, for the rebels have had longer time to prepare than we, and they are desperate. General Scott promises to finish the war triumphantly before the second frost, unless England interferes. This was his language to the man who told me.

You see that it was no nightmare of mine, this possibility of a war with England. General Scott loves and admires England, but there is a feeling in Washington that she intends to recognize the Southern Confederacy. This would be considered by our government, under the present circumstances, as a declaration of war; and war we should have, even if it brought disaster and destruction upon us. But I have little fear of such a result. I tell every one what is my profound conviction, that England will never recognize the “Confederacy” until the de facto question is placed beyond all doubt, and until her recognition is a matter of absolute necessity. I have much reliance on Forster. I know that his speech will do infinite good, and I doubt not that Buxton will be warm and zealous. I hope that Milnes and Stirling will keep their promise. But what nonsense it is for me to tell of what you know already, and what I shall know in a few days!

Yesterday afternoon I came out here to stop for a couple of nights. My first object was to visit Camp Andrew. This is the old Brook Farm, the scene of Hawthorne's “Blithedale Romance,” and his original and subtle genius might, I should think, devise a new romance out of the wonderful transformation effected now in that locality.

Five regiments, in capital condition, have already gone from Massachusetts to the seat of war, being, as you know, the very first to respond to the President's summons. We have more enlisted for the war, which are nearly ready to move, and will have their marching orders within a fortnight. Of these the crack one is Gordon's regiment—the Massachusetts Second. Lawrence Motley is one of the first lieutenants in this corps, and you would be as pleased as I was to see what a handsome, soldierly fellow he is. And there is no boy's play before his regiment, for it is the favorite one. All the officers are of the jeunesse doree of Boston —Wilder Dwight, young Quincy, Harry Russell, Bob Shaw, Harry Higginson of Dresden memory, and others whose names would be familiar to you, are there, and their souls are in their work. No one doubts that the cause is a noble and a holy one; and it is certainly my deliberate opinion that there was never a war more justifiable and more inevitable in history.

We went to the camp to see the parade. To my unsophisticated eye there was little difference between these young volunteers and regular soldiers. But of course my opinion is of little worth in such matters. I had a good deal of talk with Colonel Gordon. He is about thirty, I should think. He graduated first in his class at West Point, served through the Mexican War, and is, I should think, an excellent soldier. He is very handsome, very calm and gentle in manner, with a determined eye. You will watch, after this, with especial interest the career of the Massachusetts Second.

. . . Gordon's regiment will, it is hoped, be taken into the permanent service after the war, as the regular army must always be on a much larger scale than before. In that case these officers will have a profession, which has been one of the great wants for young men of rich families in our part of the country.

I am now going into town, when I shall post this letter and order your Boston newspaper. No event has taken place, of any very great moment, since I left you. General Scott, I am very glad to say, is in no hurry. He is too old a campaigner and strategist to wish to go unprepared into petty conflicts to furnish food for telegrams. The thing is to be done on a great scale. There is no thought of peace, and there is a settled conviction in the minds of the most pacific by nature that, even had the United States government been base enough to acknowledge the Southern Confederacy, it would necessarily have been involved in war with it. There are at least half a dozen casus belli, which, as between two belligerent nations, could only be settled by the sword, unless the North chose to go on its knees and accept the dictation of the South. There is no need of saying more. The Mississippi alone speaks war out of its many mouths. The Union hardly intended, when it bought Louisiana and the Mississippi valley, in order to take it from the control of one enemy, to make a present of it to another and more bitter foe.

The girls here are all pretty and nice. N____ sings very well, with a fine, fresh, ringing voice, and gave me “The Star-Spangled Banner” last night with great spirit. God bless you all, dearest ones. I will write from Washington.

Ever most affectionately,

J. L. M.

I shall go to see Mrs. Greene³ to-day, who is in town and in good health. It was impossible for me to do so yesterday, as I was detained by many visitors. Amory came almost the first. He is delightful as ever, and sends his love to you.

_______________

¹ Mr. Motley's anxiety in this crisis of American affairs led to a sudden visit to Boston, his family then expecting to follow him. His appointment to the post of United States minister to Austria, which became vacant after his return, changed the plan.

² At the beginning of the Civil War Mr. Motley wrote an elaborate letter to the London "Times," explaining clearly and comprehensively the nature of the Union and the actual causes of the struggle. There was so much misunderstanding upon the subject that the letter was of the greatest service. It was republished in the United States, and universally read and approved.

³ Sister to Lord Lyndhurst

SOURCE: George William Curtis, editor, The Correspondence of John Lothrop Motley in Two Volumes, Library Edition, Volume 2, p. 128-36