John L. Motley to Anna Lothrop Motley, December 22, 1862

Vienna,

December 22, 1862.

My dearest Mother: It is long since I have written, and, indeed, I have been far from well for some time — nothing serious or which can cause anxiety, but making me uncomfortable and almost incapable of writing. I cannot, however, let the Christmas-tide pass over without sending you my dearest and best greetings and wishes for health and happiness. Thank God, however, I entertain the hope of living to see the day when even in Boston there will be no pro-slavery party, because when there is no longer slavery there can no longer be a party to support it. . . .

The young Crown Princess of Prussia (Princess Royal of England) was here for three days a little while ago. The morning after her arrival I received a note from my colleague the Prussian minister, in whose house she was staying, informing me she was very desirous of making my acquaintance, having been lately reading my works, etc., and requesting me to call that morning. This I accordingly did, and was received very kindly by the young princess and her husband, and spent a very agreeable half-hour with them quite alone. She is rather petite, has a fresh young face, with pretty features, fine teeth, and a frank and agreeable smile, and an interested, earnest, and intelligent manner. Nothing can be simpler or more natural than her style, which I should say was the perfection of good breeding. She was in close mourning. She said many complimentary things about my writings, and indeed I may say that I heard from others, Lord Bloomfield and Baron Werther for instance, that she was one of my most enthusiastic readers. I say this because I think it will please you.

She had also been reading Froude, whom she much admired. I told her that he was a friend of mine, and that I, too, entertained the highest opinion of him as a historian, although he had by no means converted me to his faith in Henry VIII. The princess was evidently disposed to admire that polygamous party, and was also a great adorer of Queen Elizabeth. Whence I concluded that she had not read my last two volumes, as she would hardly have expected entire sympathy from me in this respect. I told her that although I had great respect for Queen Elizabeth's genius and accomplishments and energy, I was not one of her thick-and-thin admirers. She spoke of Carlyle's last work — I mean his “History of Frederick the Great.” I said that Carlyle's other works seemed to me magnificent, wonderful monuments of poetry and imagination, profound research, and most original humor; but that I thought him a most immoral writer, from his exaggerated reverence for brute force, which he was so apt to confound with wisdom and genius. A world governed a la Carlyle would be a pandemonium. The young prince is tall, blond, soldierly, intelligent, with frank, agreeable manners. Baron Werther told me last night that I ought to feel myself complimented, as I was the only person outside of the imperial family whom the princess had seen in Vienna, except the English ambassador and Lady Bloomfield.

We have very pleasant, bright winter weather here, never much above or below the freezing-point. The Vienna climate is not unlike that of Boston, only very much mitigated. It is dry, clear, with a respectable cold in winter and tolerable heat in summer. I am sorry to say it does not suit me very well. I mean that it has that electrifying, irritating effect of the Boston atmosphere upon me, which does not put me in good working trim. However, I am determined that the new year shall find me hard at work on Volume III. We all send love to you and my father and all at home. Good-by. God bless you, my dearest mother, and all the blessings of the season attend you and all. Write when you can; your letters always give me great pleasure. I shall not let so long an interval elapse again without sending at least a note.

Ever your affectionate son,

J. L. M.

SOURCE: George William Curtis, editor, The Correspondence of John Lothrop Motley in Two Volumes, Library Edition, Volume 2, p. 299-301

John L. Motley to Anna Lothrop Motley, November 29, 1861

Vienna,

December, 1, 1861.

My Dearest Mother: Your letter of November 5 reached us a few days ago. It is always a great delight to me to receive a note, however short, from your hand, and this time it was a nice, long, and very interesting letter. God knows how long we shall be able to correspond at all, for what I have been dreading more than anything else since our Civil War began seems now, alas! inevitable. Before this reaches you the Southerners have obtained an advantage which all their generals and diplomatists would not have procured for them in twenty years — the alliance of England and the assistance of her fleets and armies. As a technical point, I shall ever remain of opinion that a merchant ship like the Trent is no portion of neutral soil, and that therefore it is no asylum for any individual against a ship of war exercising its belligerent rights on the high seas. The jurisdiction of English merchant vessels is municipal and extends only to their own subjects. It cannot legally protect the enemies of the United States against the United States government. The law of nations prevails on the ocean, and the law of war is a part of that code. The law of war allows you to deal with your enemy where you can find him, and to intercept an ambassador on his passage to a neutral country, provided you can do it without violating neutral soil. A ship of war is deemed a portion of its sovereign's soil; a merchantman is not; so that if the Trent was not a ship of war, and was not within three miles of a neutral coast, I should say that the arrest of Mason and Slidell was legal according to public laws and to the decisions of English admiralty, and according to the uniform practice of the English cruisers throughout the early part of this century. We know too well how many of our sailors were taken from our merchant vessels and compelled to serve against nations at peace with us. But all this signifies nothing.

The English crown lawyers have decided that the arrest was illegal, and it is certainly not in accordance with the principles which we formerly sustained, although it is with the English practice. So England has at last the opportunity which a very large portion of its inhabitants (although not the whole, nor perhaps even a majority) have been panting for, and they step into the field with the largest fleet which the world has ever seen as champions and allies of the Southern Confederacy. If the commander of the Jacinto acted according to his instructions, I hardly see how we are to extricate ourselves from this dilemma, and it remains nevertheless true that Mason and Slidell have done us more damage now than they ever could have done as diplomatists. I am sorry to have taken up the whole of my letter with this theme. Our thoughts are of nothing else, and our life is in telegrams. I never expect another happy hour, and am almost brokenhearted. My whole soul was in the cause of the United States government against this pro-slavery mutiny, and I never doubted our ultimate triumph; but if the South has now secured the alliance of England, a restoration of the Union becomes hopeless.

We are on very good terms with the English ambassador here and Lady Bloomfield, and they, as well as most of the members of the embassy, have always expressed themselves in the most frank and sympathetic language in regard to our government and our cause, and even now that this incident has occurred, Lord Bloomfield, in discussing the matter with me last night, expressed the deepest regret, together with the most earnest hope that the affair might be arranged, although neither he nor I can imagine how such a result is to be reached. We are, as you may suppose, very unhappy, and have really nothing to say about our life here. If Vienna were paradise it would be gloomy under such circumstances. Mary and Lily are both well, and join me in much love to you and my father and all the family.

I shall write by the next steamer, if only a single page like this. Perhaps the communications will be stopped before your answer can arrive.

God bless you. And believe me

Your ever-affectionate son,

J. L. M.

SOURCE: George William Curtis, editor, The Correspondence of John Lothrop Motley in Two Volumes, Library Edition, Volume 2, p. 218-20

Lieutenant-Colonel Theodore Lyman to Elizabeth Russell Lyman, March 5, 1865

March 5, 1865

. . . Well, the rain held up and some blue sky began to show, and I mounted on what I shall have to call my Anne of Cleves — for, in the choice words of that first of gentlemen, Henry VIII, she is “a great Flanders mare” — and rode forth for a little exercise. Verily I conceived we should rester en route, s[u]ch was the mud in one or two places! She would keep going deeper and deeper, and I would strive to pick out a harder path and would by no means succeed. Nevertheless, I made out to find some terra firma, at last, and, by holding to the ridges got a very fair ride after all. I found not much new out there, towards the Jerusalem plank: some cavalry camped about, as usual, and a new railroad branch going to supply them, and called Gregg's branch. Gregg, by the way, has resigned. He is a loss to the service, and has commanded a cavalry division very successfully for a long time. I don't know why he went out, since he is a regular officer. Some say it is a pretty wife, which is likely, seeing the same had worked in that style with others. Then there is Major Sleeper, resigned too. He has served long and well, and been wounded; so I say, what a pity that he should not stick to the end. It is human nature to expect a full performance of duty, when once a man has done decidedly well. These branch railroads are like mushrooms, and go shooting out at the shortest notice. The distinguished Botiano was entirely taken down by the performances of this sort. Just at the time of our new extension to the left, he went for a few days to Washington. When he got back, he was whisked over five miles of new railroad, including a number of bridges! This upset him wholly, and it was hard to make him believe that there hadn't been an old line there before. Now where do you suppose I went last night? Why, to the theatre! Certainly, in my private carriage to the theatre; that is to say, on horseback, for may high powers forfend me from an ambulance over corduroys and these mud-holes! Rather would I die a rather swifter death. To explain, you must understand that good Colonel Spaulding commands a regiment of engineers, a fine command of some 1800 men. As they are nearly all mechanics, they are very handy at building and have erected, among other things, a large building, which is a church on Sundays, and a theatre on secular occasions. Thither the goodly Flint rode with me. On the outside was about half the regiment, each man armed with a three-legged stool, and all waiting to march into the theatre. We found the edifice quite a rustic gem. Everything, except the nails, is furnished by the surrounding woods and made by the men themselves. The building has the form of a short cross and is all of rustic work; the walls and floors of hewn slabs and the roof covered with shingles nailed on beams, made with the bark on. What corresponds to the left-side aisle was railed off for officers only, while the rest was cram-full of men. The illumination of the hall was furnished by a rustic chandelier, that of the stage by army lanterns, and by candles, whose rays were elegantly reflected by tin plates bought from the sutler. The entertainment was to be “minstrels”; and, to be sure, in walked an excellent counterpart of Morris, Pell, and Trowbridge, who immediately began an excellent overture, in which the tambourine gentleman, in particular, was most brilliant and quite convulsed the assembled engineers. The performances were, indeed, most creditable, and there was not a word of any sort of coarseness throughout. A grand speech on the state of the country, by a brother in a pair of gunny-bag trousers, was quite a gem. He had an umbrella, of extraordinary pattern, with which he emphasized his periods by huge whacks on the table. I think the jokes were as ingeniously ridiculous as could be got up, and that, you know, is the great thing in minstrels. Brudder Bones came a little of the professional by asking his friend: “What can yer play on dat banjo?” “Anyting,” says the unwary friend. “Well, den, play a game o' billiards!” “Can't play no billiards! kin play a tune” cries the indignant friend. “Well den, if yer kin play a tune, jis play a pon-toon!” All to the inextinguishable delight of the engineers. After the play the good Colonel, who is one of the salt of the earth, insisted on my taking pigs’ feet as a supper.

SOURCE: George R. Agassiz, Editor, Meade’s Headquarters, 1863-1865: Letters of Colonel Theodore Lyman from the Wilderness to Appomattox, p. 310-2