Diary of Henry Greville: Thursday, January 3, 1861

The King of Prussia¹ died yesterday at Sans-Souci.

The American Secession question now occupies public attention more than any other subject. Mr. Motley, who is here, considers it as certain, but does not think the Northern States will thereby lose any of their importance.

Fanny Kemble writes to me, December 9:

'What can I tell you, except that the election of Mr. Lincoln to the Presidency appears to be precipitating the feud between the Northern and Southern States to immediate and most disastrous issues? The Cotton-growing States declare their purpose of at once seceding from the Union—the Slave-growing States depend upon them for their market, but depend still more upon the undisturbed security of the Union for the possibility of raising in safety their human cattle.

‘The Northern States seem at last inclined to let the Southern act upon their long threatened separation from them—the country is in a frightful state of excitement from one end to the other.

'The commercial and financial interests of all the States are already suffering severely from the impending crisis. It is a shame and a grief to all good men to think of the dissolution of this, in some respects, noble and prosperous confederacy of States. It is a horror to contemplate the fate of these insane Southerners if, but for one day, their slaves should rise upon them, when they have ascertained, which they will be quick enough to do, that they are no longer sure of the co-operation of the North in coercing their servile population. In short, there is no point of view from which the present position of this country can be contemplated which is not full of dismay. Conceive the position of the English in India if they had known beforehand of the murderous projected rising of the natives against them and had been without troops, arms, means of escape, or hope of assistance, and you have something like the present position of the Southern planters. God knows how fervently I bless that Providence which turned the worldly loss of my children's property, by their father's unprincipled extravagance, into so great a gain. Their shares were sold more than a year ago, and it will never be their fate to inflict injustice and oppression, or tremble before impending retribution.'

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¹ Frederick William IV.

SOURCE: Alice Countess of Stratford, Leaves from the Diary of Henry Greville: 1857-1861, p. 339-41

Diary of Gideon Welles: Tuesday, April 17, 1866

Seward read the dispatches which he proposed to send to Mr. Motley,—the first, protesting against the sending of troops to Mexico by the Austrian Government, the second, in case they did send, after being thus notified, that he ask for his papers and withdraw from Vienna.

McCulloch favored the first paper, but objected to the last; deprecated war under any circumstances, and even at any time for so worthless a people as the Mexicans. Stanton was for both. Dennison was most emphatic for both and for maintaining the Monroe Doctrine. Was ready to fight the European Powers, if they presumed to interfere with the American states; considered the honor and welfare of the country involved in this. Speed concurred with McCulloch, Harlan with Dennison. I suggested it would have been better, and would now be better, to meet the real party if we were to do anything; that we should take the head of France rather than the tail of Austria. That I did not mean to object to the measures marked out by the Secretary of State, which I looked upon as a menace, but that to fire off an ultimatum to remote Austria, while we had done nothing of the kind as regards France, whose troops were on our Southwestern frontiers, did not strike me favorably.

Seward said he was only waiting Bigelow's dispatches to take the same course towards France, if she did not recede. Have a telegram this evening from Commander Cooper of the Winooski that the Ocean Spray had arrived at Eastport with five hundred stand of arms and asking if he should permit them to land. Within five minutes Colonel Seward came in with papers from the Secretary of State, consisting of a note from Sir Frederick Bruce, inclosing two telegrams from Eastport in regard to arms on the Spray, urging that the arms and the Fenians should not be permitted to meet. These had been sent to Stanton, who had returned them with a note [to the effect] that General Meade was on his way to Eastport, but he disliked to send an order by telegraph, for that would apprize the Fenians of his coming, and suggesting that the Navy could take some action. Seward wrote in pencil on the back of the envelope inclosing the papers, that I "could send orders to restrain action, or another to that effect."

I observe that these men are very chary about disturbing the Fenians, and I do not care to travel out of the line of duty to relieve them. I therefore sent word that I was content to leave the subject with Cooper till to-morrow, when General Meade would doubtless be at Eastport; if not, the civil authorities were there, with whom the Navy would coöperate, or whom they could assist.

Speed and Stanton expressed an opinion, in which others of the Cabinet concurred, that property once taken and used by the Rebel Government became forfeited to the original owner and was legal capture. I had so previously decided last fall on the question of twenty-two rollers and machinery captured at Charlotte and now at Norfolk.

Thad Stevens yesterday introduced a resolution directing that three copies of Forney's Chronicle should be sent to our legations and consuls abroad and be paid for out of the contingent of the House, — a monstrous proposition made in wanton recklessness and supported by sixty votes. Forney in return puffs Stevens as the "Great Commoner."

SOURCE: Gideon Welles, Diary of Gideon Welles, Secretary of the Navy Under Lincoln and Johnson, Vol. 2: April 1, 1864 — December 31, 1866, p. 485-7

Diary of George Mifflin Dallas, April 28, 1861

I have repeatedly observed on the utter impossibility of keeping a diary without long chasms. More than a month has gone by, and an eventful one, too, without my dotting a single item! I must brush up and try to preserve the features of my few days for remaining in this great country, which, while commanding my highest admiration, I find, after five years of trial, I do not and cannot like.

I went last night to Cambridge House. Lord Palmerston has emerged from the tortures of the gout, and is in admirable looks and spirits. He looks upon the exraordinary report of the bombardment for forty hours of and from Fort Sumter, without any one being hurt, as an absurdity which further news will clear up. Nothing else engaged the conversation of the whole company. Italy, Poland, Hungary, and Holstein all yield in interest to the drama thought to be now formally inaugurated in America. One gentleman confidently predicted that the Southerners would capture Washington and give the Northerners the severest thrashing they have ever had. Motley has worked himself into such a fever at the prospect that he says he can neither read nor write, and must go home.

SOURCE: George Mifflin Dallas, Diary of George Mifflin Dallas, While United States Minister to Russia 1837 to 1839, and to England 1856 to 1861, Volume 3, p. 442-3

Diary of George Mifflin Dallas, January 5, 1861

Frederick William, whom I saw at the wedding of his son and the Princess Royal, after acting as Regent since November, 1858, has mounted the throne, by the death of the old crazy King William IV., under the name of William V. of Prussia. His politics are more liberal than his predecessor's.

Brougham publishes in the Times of to-day his brief correspondence with Redpath, who invites to a consultation how to extinguish slavery in the United States. The poor old trimmer is backing out, and wants to abdicate his chiefdom of Exeter Hall. This is his second or third effort to wriggle himself out of the humiliation consequent upon his fanatical negrophilism at the Statistical Congress.

On Wednesday last the ceremony of again proroguing Parliament took place in the House of Lords. The day appointed for meeting is the 5th of February, but "for despatch of business" was omitted; inadvertently, or by design?

Mr. Motley, the historian, called and spent an hour in chat. I expressed my great delight with his recently issued work, the "Dutch Republic." Told him I had noted two new spellings, Escorial and Burghley; the first he said was unquestionably correct, the second he took from the Lord Treasurer's uniform mode of signing his name, though it was spelled very variously. In the course of conversation he avowed the opinion that Walsingham, not Burghley, was the great Minister of Queen Elizabeth, and he thought that Elizabeth had taken to herself merit and glory which really belonged to the British people generally. We turned over the distressing condition of American politics. He is for saving the Union at almost any sacrifice; but I thought I could perceive that he entertained the theory that, maintaining the name, the flag, and the Constitution, we should be happier and equally great without the cotton States. He is inveterately hostile to slavery. Now that his two volumes are making him famous, he proposes to be presented with his wife and daughter at Court. Of course I shall be proud to gratify his wish in that respect. I think he remembers that the literary fame of Washington Irving made him chargé at this Court and subsequently Minister at Madrid. Lincoln can give me no more acceptable successor. The foundations for such an appointment are more broad, more durable, and in every way more satisfactory than those of mere political partisanship.

SOURCE: George Mifflin Dallas, Diary of George Mifflin Dallas, While United States Minister to Russia 1837 to 1839, and to England 1856 to 1861, Volume 3, p. 425-7

John L. Motley to Lady William Russell, March 17, 1864

Vienna, March 17, 1864.

Dear Lady William: A thousand thanks for your letter, which gave us inexpressible delight, not alone for its wit and its wisdom, which would have made it charming to read even if it had been addressed to any one else, but because it brings a fresh assurance that we are not quite forgotten yet by one of whom we think and speak every day. I should write oftener, dear Lady William, but for two reasons: one, that I am grown such a dull and dismal eremite, although always in a crowd, that I consider it polizeiwidrig to expose any one to the contagion of such complaints; secondly, because yours is an answer to my last, after the interval of a year, and I never venture to write a second letter till the first one has been completed by its answer. It is an old superstition of mine that a correspondence can't go on one leg. I always think of letters in pairs, like scissors, inexpressibles, lovers, what you will. This is a serious statement, not an excuse, for I have often wished to write, and have been repelled by the thought. It was most charitable of you, therefore, to send me one of your green leaves fluttering out of the bowers of Mayfair as the first welcome harbinger of spring after this very fierce winter:

Frigora mitescunt zephyris: ver proterit restas.

How well I remember that sequestered village of Mayfair, and the charming simplicity of its unsophisticated population! “Auch ich war in Arcadien geboren.” I, too, once hired a house in Hertford Street, as you will observe. Would that I could walk out of it to No. 2 Audley Square, as it was once my privilege to do! I infer from what you say, and from what I hear others say, that you are on the whole better in regard to the consequences of that horrible accident in Rome, and I rejoice in the thought that you are enjoying so much, notwithstanding, for a most brilliant planetary system is plainly revolving around you, as the center of light and warmth. I am so glad you see so much of the Hugheses. They are among our eternal regrets. I echo everything you say about both, and am alternately jealous of them that they can see you every day, and almost envious of you for having so much of them. So you see that I am full of evil passions. Nevertheless, I shall ever love perfidious Albion for the sake of such friends as these, notwithstanding her high crimes and misdemeanors toward a certain republic in difficulties which shall be nameless. What can I say to you that can possibly amuse you from this place?

Perhaps I had better go into the haute politique. We live, of course, in an atmosphere of Schleswig-Holsteinismus, which is as good as a London fog in this dry climate. I don't attribute so much influence as you do to the “early associations with Hamlet on the British mind.” Rather do I think it an ancient instinct of the British mind to prefer a small power in that important little peninsula, that it may be perpetually under the British thumb. For myself, I take great comfort in being comparatively indifferent to the results of the contest. As to its being decided on the merits, that is of course out of the question. A war about Poland was saved, after a most heroic effusion of ink in all the chanceries of Europe, by knocking Poland on the head. And a war about Denmark may be saved by knocking Denmark on the head. As to the merits of Schleswig-Holstein, are there any? Considered as private property, these eligible little estates may be proved to belong to almost anybody. Early in the ninth century the sand-banks of the Elbe were incorporated in the Germanic empires, while those beyond the Eider were under the suzerainty of Denmark. In the first half of the eleventh century all Schleswig was Danish, and at the beginning of the thirteenth Holstein, including Lübeck and Dithmarschen, was incorporated in the kingdom of Denmark. Then there were revolutions, shindies of all kinds, republics, que sais-je? Then came 1460, the election of King Christian I. of Denmark as Duke of Schleswig-Holstein. There is much virtue in the hyphen. The patent of that excellent monarch is extant, written in choice Plattdeutsch, by which he declares the hyphen eternal. The provinces shall remain eternally together, undivided, says the patent. What a pity the king, too, couldn't have been eternal! The bon Roi d'Yvetot himself could n't have settled matters in his domain more comfortably for all future times.

But I forbear. Who can help approving the pluck with which little Denmark stands up to her two gigantic antagonists? But I am afraid there has been too much judicious bottle-holding. Anyhow, it is amusing to watch the chaos in the councils at Frankfort. The Diet is at its last gasp. Everybody has a different proposition of' “combination” to make every day; everybody is defeated, and yet there are no conquerors. The Bund means mischief, and wriggles about, full of the most insane excitement, to the thirty-fourth joint of its tail, but can do no harm to any one. Decidedly the poor old Bund is moribund. What do you think of your young friend Maximilian, Montezuma I.? I was never a great admirer of the much-admired sagacity of Louis Napoleon. But I have been forced to give in at last. The way in which he has bamboozled that poor young man is one of the neatest pieces of escamotage ever performed. If he does succeed in getting the archduke in, and his own troops out, and the costs of his expedition paid, certainly it will be a Kunststiick. The priest party, who called in the French, are now most furiously denouncing them, and swear that they have been more cruelly despoiled by them than by Juarez and his friends. So poor Maximilian will put his foot in a hornets' nest as soon as he gets there. Such a swarm of black, venomous insects haven't been seen since the good old days of the Inquisition. Now, irritare crabrones is a good rule, and so Max is to have the Pope's blessing before he goes. But if the priests are against him, and the Liberals are for a republic, who is for the empire?

Meantime he has had smart new liveries made at Brussels, to amaze the Mexican heart. Likewise he has been seen trying on an imperial crown of gilt pasteboard, to see in the glass if it is becoming. This I believe to be authentic. But I am told he hasn't got a penny. Louis Napoleon is squeezing everything out of him that he may have in prospect. In one of the collections of curiosities in Vienna there is a staff or scepter of Montezuma, but I believe his successor is not even to have that, which is, I think, unjust. The celebrated bed of roses is, however, airing for him, I doubt not. I put into this envelop a wedding-card of Rechberg and Bismarck,¹ which has been thought rather a good joke here, so much so as to be suppressed by the police. It has occurred to me, too, that it might amuse you to look over a few of the Vienna “Punches.” “Figaro” is the name of the chief Witzblatt here, and sometimes the fooling is good enough. The caricatures of Rechberg are very like; those of Bismarck less so.

Julian Fane has been shut up a good while, but, I am happy to say, is almost himself again. I saw him a few days ago, and he bid fair to be soon perfectly well, and he is as handsome and fascinating as ever. Dear Lady William, can't you send me your photograph? You promised it me many times. We have no picture of you of any kind. We should like much to have your three sons. We have one of Odo, however. Likewise we should exceedingly like to have one of Lord Stratford de Redcliffe, if you think you could get it for us, with his autograph written below. He once promised it. Will you remember us most sincerely and respectfully to him, and prefer this request? I shall venture also to ask you sometimes to give our earnest remembrances to Lord and Lady Palmerston. We never forget all their kindness to us. But if I begin to recall myself to the memory of those I never forget, I should fill another sheet, so I shall trust to you to do this to all who remember us. And pray do not forget us.

Most sincerely yours,

J. L. M.

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¹ Caricature of the time.

SOURCE: George William Curtis, editor, The Correspondence of John Lothrop Motley, Volume III, p. 9-14

John L. Motley to the Duchess of Argyll, February 7, 1864

Vienna,

February 7, 1864.

Dear Duchess Of Argyll: We get on very well in Vienna. We have an extremely pleasant house with a large garden. Many of our colleagues are very kind and agreeable; your ambassador most especially so — high-minded, honorable, sympathetic, good-tempered, amiable. Everybody respects and loves him for his fine qualities of mind and character. Lady Bloomfield is very charming and accomplished, and has but one fault in the world: she has been away from us three or four months, and we all miss her very much.

I have purposely avoided speaking of the one topic of which my mind is always full, because when I once begin I can never stop, and I become an intolerable bore.

I am glad you spoke of Colonel Shaw. His father and mother are intimate friends of ours, and I have had a touching letter from Mr. Shaw since his son's death. I knew the son, too, a beautiful, fair-haired youth, with everything surrounding him to make life easy and gay. When I was at home in 1861 I saw him in camp. He was in the same tent with one of my own nephews, both being lieutenants in what has since become a very famous regiment — the Massachusetts Second. I had the honor of presenting their colors to that regiment, and saw them march out of Boston 1040 strong. Since that day they have been in countless actions, some of the bloodiest of the war. A large proportion of its officers, all of them young men of well-known Boston families, have been killed or severely wounded; and in the last papers received I read that the regiment, reduced to about two hundred, has returned on a few weeks' furlough and to recruit its numbers, having reenlisted — like most of the other regiments whose term expires this year — for three years longer, or for the duration of the war. I believe that they would serve for twenty years rather than that our glorious Republic should be destroyed. But be assured that the government of the United States is firm as the mountains.

Young Robert Shaw is a noble type of the young American. Did you see the poem to his memory in the January number of the "Atlantic"? It is called "Memorise Positum," and is, I think, very beautiful. The last verse is especially touching. It is by Russell Lowell, one of our first poets, as you know. The allusion is to his two nephews who were killed in Virginia. A third nephew (he has no sons), Colonel Lowell of the Second Massachusetts Cavalry, is in active service in Meade's army. He lately married a sister of Colonel Shaw, and she is with him now. Shaw fought all through the campaigns of Virginia, in the Massachusetts Second, until he took the command of the Massachusetts Fifty-fourth (colored). His was a beautiful life and a beautiful death.

I shall say no more. My wife and daughters join me in sincerest remembrances and best wishes for the duke and yourself and all your household. I beg to remain, dear Duchess of Argyll,

Most truly yours,

J. L. M.

I wish you would whisper to the duke that he owes me a letter, and that if he should ever find time to write I will write a short letter in return.

SOURCE: George William Curtis, editor, The Correspondence of John Lothrop Motley, Volume III, p. 4-6

John L. Motley to Anna Lothrop Motley, January 27, 1864

January 27, 1864.

My Dearest Mother: Since I last wrote I have had the pleasure of receiving your kind letter of 28th December. Although I regret to find that you are still so much a sufferer from neuralgia and rheumatism, it is a great satisfaction that your eyesight is so much improved, and that you are able to read as much as you like.

Fortunately you have it in your power to see all the new books, whereas we are obliged very much to do without them. Vienna is probably the city in the world where the least reading is done in proportion to the population, and the most dancing. Yet, strange to say, in the upper society there are but very few balls this carnival. Lily wrote you an account of ours, and on the following week there was a ball at the French ambassador's, the Duc de Gramont.

The society is so small that this seems to suffice. I shall add but little concerning our festivity. It was a tremendous undertaking in the prospect, and Mary excited my special wonder by the energy and completeness with which she superintended the arrangements. Our head servant, being an incapable donkey, was an obstruction rather than a help, and the only real lieutenant that she had was ———, who was all energy and intelligence. Lily, who thoroughly understands the society of Vienna, was, of course, all in all in regard to the actual business of the ball, and we had an excellent and amiable ally in young Prince Metternich, who was the managing director. Well, at least we are rewarded for the trouble and expense by success, for I cannot doubt, so much we have heard about it, that it gave very great satisfaction to the said upper three hundred, that noble Spartan band who so heroically defend the sacred precincts of fashion against the million outsiders who in vail assail it. I have said more about this trifling matter than you may think interesting. But to say the truth, I preferred that exactly in this state of our affairs the house of the American minister should be one whose doors were occasionally open, rather than to be known as a transatlantic family who went everywhere but who were never known to invite a soul within their walls. For me personally it is harder work than writing a dozen despatches.

There is, I think, but little of stirring intelligence to be expected from the United States before March or April, but I have settled down into a comfortable faith that this current year 1864 is to be the last of military operations on a large scale. To judge from the history of the past two and a half years, it will not take another twelvemonth for our forces to get possession of what remains of rebel cities and territory, or, at any rate, to vanquish the armed resistance to such an extent that what remains of the insurrection will be reduced to narrow and manageable compass. In another year or two, I am now convinced, there will be neither slaveholders nor rebels — which terms are synonymous. The future will be more really prosperous than the past has ever been, for the volcano above which we have been living in a fool's paradise of forty years, dancing and singing, and imagining ourselves going ahead, will have done its worst, and spent itself, I trust forever. In Europe affairs are looking very squally. The war has almost begun, and the first can non-shot, I suppose, will be heard on the Eider before the middle of February. At least, from the best information I can gather from German, Danish, and other sources, the conflict has become inevitable. If diplomacy does succeed in patching up matters in the next fortnight, it will show better skill in joiner's work than it has manifested of late years on any other occasion. We have at least the advantage of being comparatively secure from interference.

SOURCE: George William Curtis, editor, The Correspondence of John Lothrop Motley, Volume III, p. 2-4 

John L. Motley to Anna Lothrop Motley, January 31, 1864

January 31. I shall bring the "United Netherlands" to an end by the end of this year. But how I shall feel when I come out of that mine where I have been delving so many years I can scarcely imagine. I shall feel like a man who has worked out his twenty years in the penitentiary, and who would on the whole prefer to remain. Good-by, my dearest mother, and, with my most earnest prayers for your health and happiness,

I am your affectionate son,

J. L. M.

SOURCE: George William Curtis, editor, The Correspondence of John Lothrop Motley, Volume III, p. 4 

John L. Motley to Anna Lothrop Motley, December 29, 1863

December 29, 1863.

My Dearest Mother: We wish you all a merry Christmas and a happy New Year. We are very well satisfied with recent American news. In a military point of view, thank Heaven, the “coming man,” for whom we have so long been waiting, seems really to have come. So far as I can understand the subject, Ulysses Grant is at least equal to any general now living in any part of the world, and by far the first that our war has produced on either side. I expect that when the Vicksburg and Tennessee campaigns come to be written, many years hence, it will appear that they are masterpieces of military art. A correspondent of a widely circulated German newspaper (the "Augsburg Gazette"), very far from friendly to America, writing from the seat of war in Tennessee, speaks of the battle of Chattanooga as an action which, both for scientific combination and bravery in execution, is equal to any battle of modern times from the days of Frederick the Great downward. I am also much pleased with the Message, and my respect for the character and ability of the President increases every day. It was an immense good fortune for us in this emergency to have a man in his responsible place whose integrity has never been impeached, so far as I know, by friend or foe. The ferment in Europe does not subside, and I cannot understand how the German-Danish quarrel can be quietly settled. I rather expect to see a popular outbreak in Copenhagen, to be suppressed, perhaps, by foreign powers; but that Denmark will be dismembered seems to me very probable. However, I have no intention of prophesying as to events to be expected during the coming year.

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. 351-2

John L. Motley to Anna Lothrop Motley, December 16, 1863

Vienna,           

December 16, 1863.

My Dearest Mother: I received your letter of 25th November a few days ago, and am delighted to find you giving a good account of your health. As you say that you can find satisfaction in my stupid letters, I send you to-day another little note. Pray don't think it affected on my part when I say that I have literally nothing to write about.

We had the pleasure of a brief visit last week of a couple of charming bridal pairs — Irving Grinnell (son of my excellent friend Moses Grinnell) and his pretty, sweet little wife, who was, I believe, a Howland; and Fred d'Hauteville and his bride, a daughter of Hamilton Fish of New York — very elegant, high-bred, and handsome.

It was almost a painful pleasure to us to see Fred, for it brought more vividly to our memories his beautiful and most interesting mother, whose life was ended so sadly, just as it might have been gladdened by such a daughter. Still, although our regrets for his mother were reawakened, we were most happy to see the son, and to find how manly and high-spirited, and at the same time modest and agreeable, he seemed to be. Ah, this war is a tremendous schoolmistress, but she does turn our boys into men. And if all this campaigning has caused many tears to flow, it seems to me I had rather my son had died in the field, fighting for the loftiest and purest cause, than that he had remained in the sloth and the frivolity which form the life of too many who stay at home. I am determined to say nothing of political matters save to repeat my conviction, firm as the everlasting hills, that the only possible issue of the war is the reconstruction of the Union and the entire abolition of slavery, and such a glorious consummation is as sure as that the sun will rise to-morrow. We are all well, and send much love to the governor and yourself and all the family. The little Schleswig-Holstein fuss is in a fair way of being settled.

Ever your most affectionate son,

J. L. M.

SOURCE: George William Curtis, editor, The Correspondence of John Lothrop Motley in Two Volumes, Library Edition, Volume 2, p. 350-1

John L. Motley to Anna Lothrop Motley, November 17, 1863

November 17, 1863.

My Dearest Mother: . . . I shall say nothing of our home affairs save that I am overjoyed at the results of the elections in Ohio, Pennsylvania, and New York, without being at all surprised. As to Massachusetts, of course I should as soon have thought of the sun's forgetting to rise as of her joining the pro-slavery Copperheads. The result of the elections in Missouri and Maryland has not yet reached me, but I entertain a strong hope that the latter State has elected an emancipation legislature, and that before next summer the accursed institution will be wiped out of "my Maryland."

The elections I consider of far more consequence than the battles, or rather the success of the antislavery party and its steadily increasing strength make it a mathematical certainty that, however the tide of battle may ebb and flow with varying results, the progress of the war is steadily in one direction. The peculiar institution will be washed away, and with it the only possible dissolvent of the Union.

We are in a great mess in Europe. The Emperor of the French, whom the littleness of his contemporaries has converted into a species of great man, which will much amuse posterity, is proceeding in his self-appointed capacity of European dictator. His last dodge is to call a Congress of Sovereigns, without telling them what they are to do when they have obeyed his summons. All sorts of tremendous things are anticipated, for when you have a professional conspirator on the most important throne in Christendom, there is no dark intrigue that doesn't seem possible. Our poor people in Vienna are in an awful fidget, and the telegraph-wires between London, St. Petersburg, and Paris are quivering hourly with the distracted messages which are speeding to and fro, and people go about telling each other the most insane stories. If Austria doesn't go to the Congress out of deference to England, then France, Russia, Prussia, and Italy are to meet together and make a new map of Europe. France is to take the provinces of the Rhine from Prussia, and give her in exchange the kingdom of Hanover, the duchy of Brunswick, and other little bits of property to round off her estate. Austria is to be deprived of Venice, which is to be given to Victor Emmanuel. Russia is to set up Poland as a kind of kingdom in leading-strings, when she has finished her Warsaw massacres, and is to take possession of the Danubian Principalities in exchange. These schemes are absolutely broached and believed in. Meantime the Schleswig-Holstein question, which has been whisking its long tail about through the European system, and shaking war from its horrid hair till the guns were ready to fire, has suddenly taken a new turn. Day before yesterday the King of Denmark, in the most melodramatic manner, died unexpectedly, just as he was about to sign the new constitution, which made war with the Germanic Confederation certain. Then everybody breathed again. The new king would wait, would turn out all the old ministers, would repudiate the new constitution, would shake hands with the German Bund, and be at peace, when, lo! just as the innocent bigwigs were making sure of this consummation so devoutly wished, comes a telegram that his new Majesty has sworn to the new constitution and kept in the old ministers.

Our weather has become gray, sullen, and wintry, but not cold. There has hardly been a frost yet, but the days are short and fires indispensable. The festivities will begin before long. Thus far I have been able to work steadily and get on pretty well.

Ever your most affectionate son,

J. L. M.

SOURCE: George William Curtis, editor, The Correspondence of John Lothrop Motley in Two Volumes, Library Edition, Volume 2, p. 348-50

John L. Motley to Dr. Oliver Wendell Holmes, September 22, 1863

Vienna,           

September 22, 1863.

My Dear Holmes: I am perfectly aware that I do not deserve to receive any letters or anything else from you. You heap coals on my head, and all I can say is that I hope you have several chaldrons on hand for me of the same sort. Pour on. I will endure with much gratitude and without shame. Your last letter was not to me, but to two young women under my roof, and gave them infinite delight, as you may well suppose, as well as to Mary and myself. I shall, however, leave the answering of that letter to them. The youngest of the two is not the less welcome to us after her long absence from the domestic hen-coop; she has so much to say of you and yours, and of all the kindness you heaped upon her, and of all the thousand matters belonging to you all. Your last letter to me bears date June 7. It is much occupied with Wendell's wound at Fredericksburg, and I thank you for assuming so frankly that nothing could be more interesting to us than the details which you send us. I trust sincerely that he has now fully recovered. Colonel Holmes has most nobly won his spurs and his advancement. I am always fond of citing and daguerreotyping him as a specimen of the mob of mercenaries and outcasts of which the Union army is composed. You may be sure I do him full justice, and even if I allow it to be supposed that there are within our ranks five hundred as good as he, it is an inference which can do the idiots no harm who suppose the slave-holding rebels to be all Sidneys and Bayards.

When you wrote me last, you said on general matters this: “In a few days we shall get the news of the success or failure of the attacks on Port Hudson and Vicksburg. If both are successful, many will say that the whole matter is about settled.” You may suppose that when I got the great news I shook hands warmly with you in the spirit across the Atlantic. Day by day for so long we had been hoping to hear the fall of Vicksburg. At last, when that little concentrated telegram came announcing Vicksburg and Gettysburg on the same day and in two lines, I found myself alone. Mary and Lily had gone to the baths of Schwalbach to pick up the stray chicken with whom you are acquainted. There was nobody in the house to join in my huzzas but my youngest infant. And my conduct very much resembled that of the excellent Philip II. when he heard of the fall of Antwerp, for I went to Susie's door, screeching through the keyhole, “Vicksburg is ours!”' just as that other pere de famille, more potent, but I trust not more respectable than I, conveyed the news to his Infanta (vide for the incident an American work on the Netherlands, I., p. 329, and the authorities there cited). It is contemptible on my part to speak thus frivolously of events which stand out in such golden letters as long as America has a history. But I wanted to illustrate the yearning for sympathy which I felt. You who were among people grim and self-contained usually, who I trust were falling on each other's necks in the public streets and shouting with tears in their eyes and triumph in their hearts, can picture my isolation. I have never faltered in my faith, and in the darkest hours, when misfortunes seemed thronging most thickly upon us, I have never felt the want of anything to lean against; but I own I did feel like shaking hands with a few hundred people when I heard of our Fourth of July, 1863, work, and should like to have heard and joined in an American cheer or two. Well, there is no need of my descanting longer on this magnificent theme. Some things in this world may be better left unsaid. You and I at least know how we both feel about Gettysburg, Vicksburg, Port Hudson, and I shall at least not try to add to the eloquence of these three words, which are destined to so eternal an echo. I wonder whether you or I half a dozen years ago were sufficiently up in geography to find all the three places on the map.

And now let me thank you a thousand times for your oration. It would have been better for me to write on the first impulse, perhaps, when I had first read it, but on the whole I think not. I felt no doubt that I should like it better and better after each reading, and so after devouring it in the very mistily printed journal which you sent, and next day in the clearer type of the respectable daily, I waited till the neat pamphlet which I knew was coming should arrive. Well, I have read it carefully several times, and I am perfectly satisfied. This I consider very high praise, because I had intense expectations both from the hour and the man. If I had had the good luck to be among the hearers — for I know how admirably you speak, and the gift you have of holding your audience in hand by the grace and fervor of your elocution as apart from the substance of your speech — I know how enthusiastic I should have been. There would have been no louder applause than mine at all the many telling and touching points. The whole strain of the address is one in which I entirely sympathize, and I think it an honor to Boston that such noble and eloquent sentiments should have resounded in ears into which so much venom has from time to time been instilled, and met with appreciation and applause.

Unless I were to write you a letter as long itself as an oration, I could not say half what I would like to say, and this is exactly one of the unsatisfactory attributes of letter-writing. It is no substitute for the loose, disjointed talk. I should like nothing better than to discuss your address with you all day long, for, like all effusions of genius, it is as rich in what it suggests as in what it conveys. What I liked as well as anything was the hopeful, helpful way in which you at starting lift your audience with you into the regions of faith, and rebuke the “languid thinkers” for their forlorn belief, and the large general views which after that ascent you take of the whole mighty controversy, than which none in human history is more important to mankind. Then I especially admire the whole passage referring to the Saracenic conflict in Christian civilization. Will you allow me to say that I have often and often before reading your oration fallen into the same view of moralizing, and that when the news of the battle of Gettysburg reached me I instantly began to hope it might prove more decisively our battle of Tours than I fear, magnificent victory as it was, it has proved? Your paragraphs about the Moors are brilliant and dashing sketches.

I must confess, however, that you seem to me far too complimentary about the slaveholders. Perhaps it may be my ignorance, but I have always been skeptical as to what you call “the social elegances and personal graces of their best circles.” Is it not a popular delusion to extend the external charms of a few individuals, or possibly a very small number of families, over a whole class? I ask in ignorance merely. It has been my lot to see a good deal of European aristocracies, and, without abating a jot of my reverence for and belief in the American people, I have never hesitated to say that a conservatory of tropical fruit and flowers is a very brilliant, fragrant, and luxurious concern. Whether it be worth while to turn a few million freehold farms into one such conservatory is a question of political arithmetic which I hope will always be answered in one way on our side of the water. Non equidem invideo, miror magis. Another passage which especially delighted me was your showing up of neutrals. Again you will pardon me if I have often thought of Dante's cattivo coro in this connection. You will not object to this sympathetic coincidence, I hope. But I must pause, because, as I said before, I could go on talking of the oration for an hour. You can have no doubt whatever that it is triumphantly successful and worthy to take its place among your collected works. Do you wish higher praise? How is it, I often ask, that people, although they may differ from you in opinion on such grave matters as you have thus publicly discussed, can be otherwise than respectful to your sentiments?

I have not much to say of matters here to interest you. We have had an intensely hot, historically hot, and very long and very dry summer. I never knew before what a drought meant. In Hungary the suffering is great, and the people are killing the sheep to feed the pigs with the mutton. Here about Vienna the trees have been almost stripped of foliage ever since the end of August. There is no glory in the grass nor verdure in anything. In fact, we have nothing green here but the Archduke Maximilian, who firmly believes that he is going forth to Mexico to establish an American empire, and that it is his divine mission to destroy the dragon of democracy and reestablish the true Church, the Right Divine, and all sorts of games. Poor young man!

Ever sincerely yours,

J. L. M.

SOURCE: George William Curtis, editor, The Correspondence of John Lothrop Motley in Two Volumes, Library Edition, Volume 2, p. 342-8

Judge Ebenezer R. Hoar to Governor John A. Andrew, May 1861

Saturday afternoon.

My Dear Fellow: I came to seize you and take you down to dine at our club — where we expect Motley — for your soul's salvation or body's, at least. Send that foolish Council away till Monday. A man who has no respect for Saturday afternoon, has but one step to take, to join in abolishing the 4th of July. “The Court, having considered your case, do adjudge,” that you come — if you can't come now, come down half an hour hence — to Parker's.

Yours,

E. R. Hoar.

SOURCE: Henry Greenleaf Pearson, The Life of John A. Andrew: Governor of Massachusetts, 1861-1865, Volume 1, p. 261

John L. Motley to Anna Lothrop Motley, September 22, 1863

Vienna,           

September 22, 1863.

My dearest Mother: Here in this capital the great interest just now is about the new Mexican emperor. The Archduke Maximilian is next brother to the Emperor of Austria, and about thirty years of age. He has been a kind of Lord High Admiral, an office which, in the present condition of the imperial navy, may be supposed to be not a very onerous occupation. He was Governor-General of Lombardy until that kingdom was ceded to Victor Emmanuel, and he is considered a somewhat restless and ambitious youth. He has literary pretensions, too, and has printed, without publishing, several volumes of travels in various parts of the world. The matter is not yet decided. It is, I believe, unquestionable that the archduke is most desirous to go forth on the adventure. It is equally certain that the step is exceedingly unpopular in Austria. That a prince of the house of Hapsburg should become the satrap of the Bonaparte dynasty, and should sit on an American throne which could not exist a moment but for French bayonets and French ships, is most galling to all classes of Austrians. The intrigue is a most embarrassing one to the government. If the fatal gift is refused, Louis Napoleon of course takes it highly in dudgeon. If it is accepted, Austria takes a kind of millstone around her neck in the shape of gratitude for something she didn't want, and some day she will be expected to pay for it in something she had rather not give. The deputation of the so-called notables is expected here this week, and then the conditions will be laid down on which Maximilian will consent to live in the bed of roses of Montezuma and Iturbide. I still entertain a faint hope that the negotiations may be protracted, and that something may interrupt them before they are concluded. The matter is a very serious and menacing one to us.

Fortunately our President is as honest and upright a man as ever lived, and there is no Minister of Foreign Affairs living to compare in ability with Seward. I think he will steer us clear of war, and a foreign war is the only thing which can save the rebellion from extermination. No paper published of late has given me such unalloyed pleasure as the President's letter to the Illinois Republican Committee. The transparent honesty and unsophisticated manliness of his character breathe through every line. Happy the people who can have so homely and honest a chief, when others live under Louis Napoleons and Jeff Davises!

Good-by, my dearest mother. All send best love to father and yourself and all the family, and I remain

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. 341-2

John L. Motley Mary Benjamin Motley, July 24, 1863

Vienna,

July 24, 1863.

Dearest Mary: I wrote yesterday and said that I would write again to-day, thinking you would like to listen to the words of wisdom after I had had time to digest a little of the magnificent news we have just received. But, after all, I haven't much to say. For the details are entirely wanting. The papers only reach to 8th from Boston and 7th from New York; the later is of course by telegraph. We must wait a week to know exactly what has happened, and how large the success is. But isn't it one of the most striking and picturesque things imaginable that Lee's great invading army, after being thoroughly thrashed on the 2d and 3d July, should have moved off in rapid retreat on the 4th July, and that, on the same famous anniversary, Vicksburg, the great fortress and stronghold of the Mississippi, should have surrendered to the United States troops?

Suppose that Lee at the present moment has got 70,000 men at Hagerstown, where we know that he has fortified himself, — and that is the very utmost that one can even imagine him to have, — why, Meade by this time must have at least 150,000, after deducting all his losses in the battles. And the militia are streaming in by thousands a day. Government can send him (and I believe has sent him) every soldier they can dispose of from Washington, Baltimore, Fort Monroe, and the Peninsula. Our resources of food and ammunition are boundless, and I don't see how Meade can help cutting off the enemy's supplies. I pore over the map, and I don't see how Lee can help being in a trap. I will say no more, especially as about the time when you read this you will be getting the telegram to the 15th, which may prove that I have made an ass of myself. I send Sumner's letter, written apparently before hearing of any of these great victories. I also send Holmes's oration, which I haven't yet had time to read. No doubt it is magnificent, and I prefer to read it at leisure. I have another copy in the daily. He sent me this one. I also send a paper or two, which please preserve, as I file them. I went to the D'Ayllons' yesterday and brought home Susie. Love to Mrs. Cleveland and Lillie and my chickens.

Ever lovingly yours,

J. L. M.

SOURCE: George William Curtis, editor, The Correspondence of John Lothrop Motley in Two Volumes, Library Edition, Volume 2, p. 339-41

John L. Motley Mary Benjamin Motley,* July 20, 1863

Monday, July 20, 1863.

My Dearest Mary: Hurray! I have just got the telegram. Vicksburg surrendered on the glorious Fourth. “Good,” as Turner Sargent says. The details are, of course, wanting. We shall not receive the papers containing the Gettysburg battle history until Thursday. There can be no doubt, however, that Lee has been tremendously licked. Meade occupied his headquarters after the battle, and has since been pursuing him for sixty miles.

Meade seems to me to be a trump, the man we have been looking for ever since the war began. What a tremendous responsibility it was for him to be placed at the head of the army at the eleventh hour, in the very face of the chief rebel general and their best army! So far as we can yet judge, he has acted with immense nerve, rapidity, skill, and I think has achieved a very great success. To us who know the country the telegram says simply, “Lee, after losing 30,000 men [probably 15,000], is trying to get off into Virginia as fast as he can. He may offer battle if he can't get across the Potomac before Meade catches him. If not, not, and if not, why not?” I have never felt so sanguine about our affairs since the very beginning. To be sure, I never believed, as you know, in the fudge about Baltimore and Washington, but one could n't help the fidgets when all the world in Europe was sounding the rebel trumpets in such a stunning way.

Now, if Lee is able to do us much damage, all I can say is that I shall be very much astonished. I suppose he will get back to Winchester, and so to the Rappahannock, with a good deal of bacon and other provender, and then claim a great victory. There is no meaning at all in that bit in the telegram about Buford and Kilpatrick's cavalry being repulsed. Obviously they were only reconnoitering in force to find out where the enemy was, and it could only have been an insignificant skirmish, such as happens daily. If there is any truth in the story about “Vice-President” Stephens wishing to come to Washington, it must have been something about negro troops. Now that we must have taken in Pennsylvania and Vicksburg at least 20,000 prisoners, I do hope the President will issue an unmistakable edict about that hanging officers of black troops. There couldn't be a better time.

Devotedly and affectionately,

J. L. M.

_______________

* During a short absence to meet their second daughter on her return from America. See p. 344.

SOURCE: George William Curtis, editor, The Correspondence of John Lothrop Motley in Two Volumes, Library Edition, Volume 2, p. 338-9

John L. Motley to Anna Lothrop Motley, July 27, 1863

Vienna, July 7, 1863.

My Dearest Mother: . . . Lily is my assistant secretary of legation, and does an immense deal for me, being able, by her thorough knowledge of languages, to accomplish more work than most young gentlemen of her age would be competent to. The daughter of the French ambassador is about Susie's age, and the two daughters of the Spanish minister are also her contemporaries, and the four are very intimate and see each other perpetually. Not a week passes but Susie passes the day with the Gramonts, or they come and play in our garden. The little D'Ayllons have now gone to Voslau (where we were last year),but I think that Susie will soon make them a visit. Meantime they exchange letters, I should think, every day. What they find to put in them is difficult to imagine. . . . Everything is calm just now. Almost all Vienna has turned itself out of town, and we are left blooming alone.

To-day we all four go out to dine with the Bloomfields, who have a pleasant villa for the summer about an hour's drive from here. It is very pleasant for us, when the relations between our government and those of England and France are so threatening and disagreeable, that our personal intercourse with the English and French ambassadors and their families can be so agreeably maintained. Nothing can be more amiable and genial than both Lord Bloomfield and the Duc de Gramont, and nothing but kind words and offices have ever passed between us.

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. 337

John L. Motley to Anna Lothrop Motley, June 16, 1863

Vienna, June 16, 1863.

My Dearest Mother: Now that Mary is gone, you will not hear regularly through her once a week that we are all well and going on as usual. If her arrangements were carried out, she must now be six days out from Boston, and will be due in Liverpool in six days more, so that next week we shall be anxiously looking for the telegram announcing the steamer's arrival.

We have awful weather. A dry, cold, pitiless, howling whirlwind has been sweeping over Vienna for the last four or five days. To say that our June is a severe March would be to slander that blustering month unjustly. I never knew such hideous weather. If it would rain, I shouldn't mind, but it rarely rains here. The Vienna climate has much resemblance to that of Boston, particularly in the matter of wind. The winter is not half as severe, but, en revanche, I never knew such glacial weather in mid-June at home. Five such days as we have passed through, with the prospects of five more, are more savage than six months of the worst east wind that ever swept up Boston Bay.

You see I am weak-minded enough to find nothing to talk about but the weather. We have just had the pleasure of having Mrs. Parkman and her children and Edward Twisleton here for a few days. They were with us to dinner or in the evening nearly every day, and it was a great satisfaction, so rarely do we have any old friends in this out-of-the-way place. She, you know, is a woman of remarkable intelligence and character, and her children are uncommonly well educated and well mannered. Poor Twisleton we had not seen since his wife's death, whom we saw much in England and liked exceedingly. He is saddened much, but not changed; it was very agreeable to talk with him about American matters, for he is as good an American as I am, and thoroughly understands the subject, besides being a man of talent and great attainments. They are gone now. He is on his way to England. She will join Mrs. Cleveland in Schwalbach, so that if Mary and Lily keep to their present plan of going to that place to meet Mary and bring her back, while Susie and I keep house at home, they will meet again in a few weeks. The Clevelands are expected in Schwalbach July 18.

Ever your most affectionate son,

J. L. M.

SOURCE: George William Curtis, editor, The Correspondence of John Lothrop Motley in Two Volumes, Library Edition, Volume 2, p. 335-6

John L. Motley to Lady William Russell, May 31, 1863

Vienna,

May 31, 1863.

Dear Lady william: If I have not written of late, it is simply and purely because I am so very stupid. I don't know whether you ever read a very favorite author of mine — Charles Lamb. He says somewhere, “I have lived to find myself a disreputable character.”' Now, I don't know (nor very much care) whether I am disreputable or not, but I am conscious of being a bore, both to myself and others. It has been growing steadily upon me. I always had a natural tendency that way, and the development in the Vienna atmosphere has been rapid. As I know you hate bores worse than anything else human (if they are human), I have been disposed to suppress myself. What can I say to you about Vienna? I don't wish to say anything against people who have civilly entreated me, who are kindly in manner, and are certainly as well dressed, as well bred, as good-looking as could be desired. A Vienna salon, with its Comtessen Zimmer adjoining, full of young beauties, with their worshipers buzzing about them like great golden humblebees, is as good a specimen of the human tropical-conservatory sort of thing as exists. But I must look at it all objectively, not subjectively. The society is very small in number. As you know, one soon gets to know every one — gets a radiant smile from the fair women and a pressure of the hand from the brave men; exchanges a heartfelt word or two about the Prater, or the last piece at the Burg; groans aloud over the badness of the opera and the prevalence of the dust, und damit Punktum.

Your friend Prince Paul is better of late. But he has been shut up all the winter. A few nights ago we saw him at the Opera. You are at the headquarters of intelligence, so you know better than I do whether you are going to war about Poland. I take it for granted that no sharper instrument than the pen will be used by the two “great powers,” and that they will shed nothing more precious than ink this year, which can be manufactured very cheap in all countries. At any rate, people talk very pacifically here, except in the newspapers. The Duc de Gramont has gone to Karlsbad to drink the waters for six weeks; the first secretary of his embassy is absent; Lord Bloomfield has gone into the country; Count Rechberg has been ailing for some weeks; and meantime we are informed this morning by telegraph that engineer officers in London and Paris have arranged the plan of the campaign. Finland is at once to be occupied, a great battle is to be fought, in which the Allies are to be victorious, after which St. Petersburg is to be immediately captured — simple comme bonjour. The newspapers give you this telegram, all of them exactly as I state it. Ah, if campaigning in the field were only as easy and bloodless as in the newspapers! But the poor Poles are shedding something warmer than ink, and I can't say it seems very fair to encourage them to go on, if you are going to help them with nothing harder than fine phrases, which have small effect on Cossacks; for what is called in the jargon of the day “moral influence” (whatever it may be) is no doubt a very valuable dispensation, but gunpowder carries nearer to the mark.

There seems something very grand in this occult power, called the Committee of Public Safety, at Warsaw, a new vehmgericht. I am told that General Berg, on being asked the other day by Grand Duke Constantine if he had made any discoveries yet as to the people who composed the Committee, replied in the affirmative. “Who are they?” said the grand duke. “Let me first tell you who don't belong to it,” said the general. “I don't, for one; your Imperial Highness does not, I think, for another; but for all the rest of Warsaw I can't say.” A comfortable situation for a grand duke! This invisible Committee send as far as Vienna for recruits, and men start off without a murmur, go and get themselves shot, or come back again, as the case may be, and nobody knows who sent for them or how. I have heard of several instances of this occurring in high and well-known families. I am just now much interested in watching the set-to between crown and Parliament in Berlin. By the way, Bismarck-Schonhausen is one of my oldest and most intimate friends.

We lived together almost in the same rooms for two years, — some ages ago, when we were both juvenes imberbes, — and have renewed our friendship since. He is a man of great talent and most undaunted courage. We have got a little parliament here, which we call the Beichsrath, and are as proud as Punch of it. It has worked two years admirably well, only the opposition members, who make up two thirds of it, never come, which makes it easier for the administration. My wife and daughters join me in warmest regards and most fervent wishes for your happiness and restoration to health, and I remain

Most sincerely and devotedly yours,

Varius Variorum.

SOURCE: George William Curtis, editor, The Correspondence of John Lothrop Motley in Two Volumes, Library Edition, Volume 2, p. 332-5

John L. Motley to Ann Lothrop Motley, May 12, 1863

Vienna, May 12, 1863.

My Dearest Mother: Since Easter brought an end to the Lenten entertainments which succeeded the carnival, there has been absolutely nothing going on in the social world. To-morrow there is a ceremony at the chapel of the imperial palace, the presentation of the cardinal's hat by the emperor to our colleague here, the internuncio, who has just been cardinalized by the Pope. I wish it had taken place yesterday, for then I might have a topic for my letter, besides having got through the bore of witnessing it.

There is much talk about war in Europe, but I can hardly believe it will come to blows. I don't exactly see how France or England is to get any benefit from the war. The Crimean War was different. Without it, it is probable that Russia would have got Constantinople, which England, of course, can never stand. France would like to fight Prussia and get the Rhine provinces, but England couldn't stand that, nor Austria either, much as she hates Prussia. So it would seem difficult to get up a war. As for Austria's going into such a shindy, the idea is ridiculous. To go to war to gain a province is conceivable; to do so expressly to lose one is not the disinterested fashion of European potentates. As for the Poles, nothing will satisfy them but complete independence, and in this object I don't believe that France or England means to aid them. So there will be guerrilla fighting all summer. Blood will flow in Poland, and ink in all the European cabinets very profusely, and the result will be that Russia will end by reducing the Poles to submission. At least this is the way things look now; but “on the other hand,” as Editor Clapp used to say, there is such a thing as drift, and kings and politicians don't govern the world, but move with the current, so that the war may really come before the summer is over, for the political question (to use the diplomatic jargon) is quite insoluble, as the diplomatic correspondence has already proved. There, I have given you politics enough for this little letter, and now I have only to say how much love we all send to you and the governor. I hope this summer will bring warmth and comfort and health to you. Give my love to my little Mary. Our news from America is to April 29, and things look bright on the Mississippi. I hope to hear good accounts from Hooker, but Virginia seems a fatal place for us.

Good-by, my dearest mother.

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. 330-2