Senator John Sherman to Lieutenant-General William T. Sherman, December 27, 1866

UNITED STATES SENATE CHAMBER,        

WASHINGTON, Dec. 27, 1866.

Dear Brother:

*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *

On the whole I am not sorry that your mission failed, since the French are leaving; my sympathies are rather with Maximilian. The usual factions of Ortega and Juarez will divide the native population, while Maximilian can have the support of the clergy and property. They are a miserable set, and we ought to keep away from them. Here political strife is hushed, and the South have two months more in which to accept the constitutional amendment.¹ What folly they exhibit! To me Johnson and the old encrusted politicians who view everything in the light of thirty years ago seem like blind guides. After the 4th of March they will rally to the amendment, and it will then be too late.

Very truly yours,

JOHN SHERMAN.

_______________

¹ The 14th amendment, then pending before the State Legislatures.

SOURCE: Rachel Sherman Thorndike, Editor, The Sherman Letters: Correspondence Between General and Senator Sherman from 1837 to 1891, p. 286

Senator John Sherman to Lieutenant-General William T. Sherman, December 3, 1866

WASHINGTON, Dec. 3, 1866.

Dear Brother: . . . I was heartily glad you got out of the War Department. The mission to Mexico is a very honorable one, and with your views on "annexation" is a very safe one for the country. We all hope that the French will go out, and that you will keep the United States out. We want as little to do with Mexico politically as possible, and as much trade with her as is profitable. She is terribly in need of a strong government, and if her mixed population would elect you or some other firm military ruler as emperor or king, it would be lucky for her, but a bad business for the elected one. I have never seen the elements of a stable government in Mexico, but she has physical resources that might, under a firm ruler, make her the second power in America. Self-government is out of the question. The worst enemies of Mexico are her own mixed, ignorant population. If Maximilian could have held on, he would have secured them physical prosperity; but sooner or later the pride of our people aroused against European intervention would have got us into a quarrel with him. It is therefore best that he leave. What you can do for or with Mexico we will see. Your military reputation and aptitude with all classes may help to bring order out of chaos. . . .

Your reception at Havana must have been grateful, and the whole Mexican trip will no doubt close agreeably for you a year of trials and ovations. If they don't make you emperor down there, we will welcome you back as the "republicanizer" of the worst anarchy on the globe. If you establish Juarez, come away by all means in hot haste before the next pronunciamiento.

As for domestic matters, Congress meets to-morrow, very much irritated at the President. As for Butler or impeachment, you need not fear we shall follow the one, or attempt the other. Johnson ought to acquiesce in the public judgment, agree to the amendment, and we shall have peace. The personal feeling grows out of the wholesale removal of good Union men from office. Campbell is as responsible for this as any man in Ohio; while I was under a cloud for being friendly to Johnson and absent from the State, they turned out all my special friends and put in Copperheads.

Affectionately,

JOHN SHERMAN.

SOURCE: Rachel Sherman Thorndike, Editor, The Sherman Letters: Correspondence Between General and Senator Sherman from 1837 to 1891, p. 283-4

Lieutenant-General William T. Sherman to Senator John Sherman, November 7, 1866

SANTIAGO, Nov. 7, 1866.

Dear Brother: We have nearly completed the circle without finding Juarez, who is about as far as ever, away up in Chihuahua for no other possible purpose than to be where the devil himself cannot get at him.

I have not the remotest idea of riding on mule back a thousand miles in Mexico to find its chief magistrate, and although the French go away and Maximilian follow, I doubt if Juarez can be made to trust his life and safety to his own countrymen. We found Vera Cruz in possession of the French and Maximilian, and we found Tucapiso in possession of local troops in the interest of Maximilian, but they had not the remotest idea where we should look for Juarez. We have just reached here, and shall to-morrow go up to Matamoras to meet General Escobedo, who can possibly fix some date when Juarez will come within reach of civilization.

The truth is these Mexicans were and are still as unable as children to appreciate the value of time. They shrug their shoulders and exclaim "Quien sabe!" (who knows) and "Poco tiempo" (in a short time), utterly regardless of combinations with others.

Mr. Campbell can deal with none but Juarez and the Republican Government he represents, and that government partakes of the characteristics of Mexicans; viz., indecision and utter want of combination.

I believe the French want to leave, but would like to bring us into the scrape. Their scheme of giving Mexico a stable government has cost them $200,000,000 of gold, and the whole conception was in hostility to us, to be ready to reabsolve the old Louisiana purchase, where, as Napoleon calculated, our Union had failed. But our Union has not failed, and the French are willing to go, but they are scattered and must collect before they can march for the seacoast to embark. By reason of the everlasting contest between the rival factions of Mexico, the property-holders desire some sort of stable government, and these favor Maximilian. He may attempt to remain after the French go, but I think would soon be forced to go. Then Mexico must of necessity settle her own difficulties. Some think she can, some that she cannot without our aid. This cannot be done without Congress, and on that point I am no advocate. All I can say is that Mexico does not belong to our system. All its northern part is very barren and costly. Its southern part is very good tropical country, but not suited to our people or pursuits. Its inhabitants are a mixture of Indians, negroes, and Spanish, that can never be tortured into good citizens, and would have to be exterminated before the country could be made available to us. I am obeying orders and not carrying out a project of my own, and it is well you should understand it, though I cannot impart it to others.

I don't know what policy the Administration has adopted, but I should deplore anything that would make us assume Mexico in any shape—its territory, its government, or its people. Still the French occupation designed in hostility to us should be made to terminate.

Affectionately,

W. T. SHERMAN.

SOURCE: Rachel Sherman Thorndike, Editor, The Sherman Letters: Correspondence Between General and Senator Sherman from 1837 to 1891, p. 284-6

Diary of Gideon Welles: Friday, July 14, 1865

But little of importance at the Cabinet. Seward read a letter from Bigelow, Minister at Paris, representing that indications were that Maximilian would soon leave Mexico, — had sent to Austria considerable amounts of money, etc. Also read extracts from a private letter of Prince de Joinville of similar purport. All of this, I well understood, was intended to counteract a speech of Montgomery Blair, delivered last Tuesday at Hagerstown, in which he makes an onslaught on Seward and Stanton, as well as France.

Before we left, and after all other matters were disposed of, the President brought from the other room a letter from General Sheridan to General Grant, strongly indorsed by the latter and both letter and indorsement strongly hostile to the French and Maximilian. Seward was astounded. McCulloch at once declared that the Treasury and the country could not stand this nor meet the exigency which another war would produce. Harlan in a few words sustained McCulloch. Seward was garrulous. Said if we got in war and drove out the French, we could not get out ourselves. Went over our war with Mexico. Dennison inquired why the Monroe Doctrine could not be asserted. Seward said if we made the threat we must be prepared to maintain it. Dennison thought we might. “How, then,” says Seward, “will you get your own troops out of the country after driving out the French?” “Why, march them out,” said Dennison. “Then,” said S., “the French will return." "We will then,” said D., “expel them again.” I remarked the country was exhausted, as McCulloch stated, but the popular sentiment was strongly averse to French occupancy. If the Mexicans wanted an imperial government, no one would interfere to prevent them, though we might and would regret it, but this conduct of the French in imposing an Austrian prince upon our neighbors was very revolting. I hoped, however, we should not be compelled to take the military view of this question.

Thurlow Weed passed into the White House as I came upon the portico this morning. I had seen a person, without recognizing that it was Weed, hurrying forward, as if to be in advance of me. Following him immediately, I saw who it was and was surprised to see him, instead of going direct to the stairs, turn square round the bulkhead and wait until I had passed.

SOURCE: Gideon Welles, Diary of Gideon Welles, Secretary of the Navy Under Lincoln and Johnson, Vol. 2: April 1, 1864 — December 31, 1866, p. 332-3

Diary of Gideon Welles: Friday, June 16, 1865

At Cabinet-meeting General Grant came in to press upon the government the importance of taking decisive measures in favor of the republic of Mexico. Thought that Maximilian and the French should be warned to leave. Said the Rebels were crossing the Rio Grande and entering the imperial service. Their purpose would be to provoke differences, create animosity, and precipitate hostilities. Seward was emphatic in opposition to any movement. Said the Empire was rapidly perishing, and, if let alone, Maximilian would leave in less than six months, perhaps in sixty days, whereas, if we interfered, it would prolong his stay and the Empire also. Seward acts from intelligence, Grant from impulse.

Seward submitted a paper drawn up by himself, favorable to the purchase of Ford's Theatre to be devoted to religious purposes. Governor Dennison, who sometimes catches quickly at schemes, expressed his readiness to sign this, but no others concurred, and it was dropped.

SOURCE: Gideon Welles, Diary of Gideon Welles, Secretary of the Navy Under Lincoln and Johnson, Vol. 2: April 1, 1864 — December 31, 1866, p. 317

Diary of John Beauchamp Jones: February 20, 1864

Bright, calm, but still cold—slightly moderating. Roads firm and dusty. Trains of army wagons still go by our house laden with ice.

Brig.-Gen. Wm. Preston has been sent to Mexico, with authority to recognize and treat with the new Emperor Maximilian.

I see, by a "letter from Mr. Benjamin, that he is intrusted by the President with the custody of the “secret service " money.

Late papers from the United States show that they have a money panic, and that gold is rising in price. In Lowell not a spindle is turning, and 30,000 operatives are thrown out of employment

From England we learn that the mass of the population are memorializing government to put an end to the war!

I saw a ham sell to-day for $350; it weighed fifty pounds, at $7 per pound.

SOURCE: John Beauchamp Jones, A Rebel War Clerk's Diary at the Confederate States Capital, Volume 2, p. 153

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.

_______________

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 Ann Lothrop Motley, March 16, 1864

Vienna,

March 16, 1864.

My Dearest Mother: I hardly know what to say likely to amuse you. Vienna has been dull this winter to an unexampled extent, and the spring is still duller, parties and dinners being reduced to a minimum. Week before last Mary and I had the honor of being bidden to dine with the emperor and empress. Perhaps it may amuse you to hear how a dinner at court is managed, although it is much like any other dinner party. The gentlemen go in uniform, of course (military or diplomatic), the ladies in full dress, but fortunately not in trains. We were received in one of the apartments of the palace called the Alexander Rooms, because once inhabited by the Czar Alexander I. There were three other members of the diplomatic corps present, the Portuguese minister and his wife, and the minister of one of the lesser German courts. There were some guests from the Vienna aristocracy, besides some of the high palace functionaries, ladies and gentlemen, in attendance. After the company, about twenty-eight in all, had been a little while assembled, the emperor and empress came in together, and, after exchanging a few words with one or two of the guests, proceeded to the dining-room, followed by the rest of the company. Each of us before reaching the reception-room had received a card from an usher signifying exactly where we were to place ourselves at table. Thus on my card I was told to sit on the left of Viscountess Santa Quiteria, the wife of my Portuguese colleague as aforesaid. Mary was directed to be seated on the right of the Grand Duke of Tuscany. So everybody was enabled to march to their places without any difficulty or embarrassment. The emperor and empress sat side by side in the middle of a long table. On his left was the Portuguese lady; on the empress's right was the Grand Duke of Tuscany.

During dinner the emperor conversed very agreeably with the lady next him and with me on topics such as generally come up at a dinner-table, and he asked many questions about manners and customs in America. He has rather a grave face, but his smile is frank and pleasant, and his manner has much dignity; his figure is uncommonly good, tall, slender, and stately. Mary had much conversation about Florence, the Pitti Palace, and the Gardens of Boboli with the deposed potentate her neighbor. The lady on my left, Countess Konigsegg, the principal mistress of the robes, was very agreeable and is one of the handsomest persons in Vienna; and altogether the dinner passed off very pleasantly. After we had returned to the drawing-room the circle was formed, and the emperor and empress, as usual, went round separately, entering into conversation with each of their guests. He talked a good while with me, and asked many questions about the war with much interest and earnestness, and expressed his admiration at the resources of a country which could sustain for so long a time so vast and energetic a conflict. I replied that we had been very economical for a century, and we were now the better able to pay for a war which had been forced upon us, and which if we had declined we must have ceased to exist as a nation. I ventured to predict, however, that this current year would be the last of the war on any considerable scale.

The empress, as I have often told you before, is a wonder of beauty—tall, beautifully formed, with a profusion of bright brown hair, a low Greek forehead, gentle eyes, very red lips, a sweet smile, a low musical voice, and a manner partly timid, partly gracious. She certainly deserves a better court poet than I am ever likely to become. Both the emperor and empress asked very kindly about the health of the girls, who, as they knew, had been seriously ill. The party lasted about two hours. We arrived at the palace a little before half-past five and were at home again soon after half-past seven. I have written this thinking it might interest you more than if I went into the regions of high politics. Next Sunday (Easter Sunday) the Archduke Maximilian accepts the imperial crown of Mexico, and within two or three months he will have arrived in that country. Then our difficulties in this most unfortunate matter will begin. Thus far the Austrian government on the one side, and the United States government on the other, have agreed to wash their hands of it entirely. But when the new “emperor” shall notify his accession to the Washington government, we shall perhaps be put into an embarrassing position.

I remain ever your affectionate son,

J. L. M.

SOURCE: George William Curtis, editor, The Correspondence of John Lothrop Motley, Volume III, p. 6-9

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

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

Diary of John Beauchamp Jones: July 31, 1863

Hon. E. S. Dargan, member of Congress, writes from Mobile that Mississippi is nearly subdued, and Alabama is almost exhausted, He says our recent disasters, and Lee's failure in Pennsylvania, have nearly ruined us, and the destruction must be complete unless France and England can be induced to interfere in our behalf. He never believed they would intervene unless we agreed to abolish slavery; and he would embrace even that alternative to obtain their aid. He says the people are fast losing all hope of achieving their independence; and a slight change of policy on the part of Lincoln (pretermitting confiscation, I suppose) would put an end to the revolution and the Confederate States Government. Mr. D. has an unhappy disposition.

Mr. L. Q. Washington recommends Gen. Winder to permit Mr. Wm. Matthews, just from California, to leave the country. Gen. W. sends the letter to the Assistant Secretary of War, Judge Campbell, who “allows” it; and the passport is given, without the knowledge of the President or the Secretary of War.

The news from Mexico (by the Northern papers) is refreshing to our people. The “notables” of the new government, under the auspices of the French General, Forey, have proclaimed the States an Empire, and offered the throne to Maximilian of Austria; and if he will not accept, they “implore” the Emperor of France to designate the one who shall be their Emperor. Our people, very many of them, just at this time, would not object to being included in the same Empire.

The President is still scrutinizing Beauregard. The paper read from the general a few days since giving a statement of his forces, and the number of the enemy, being sent to the President by the Secretary of War, was returned to-day with the indorsement, that he hoped “a clearer comprehension of the cause,” in the promised further report of the general, would be given “why the enemy approached Morris Island before being observed.” So, omitting all notice of the defense (so far) of the batteries, etc., the attention of the President seems fixed on what the general omitted to do; or what he might, could, or should have done.

SOURCE: John Beauchamp Jones, A Rebel War Clerk's Diary at the Confederate States Capital, Volume 1, p. 391-2

Diary of Mary Boykin Chesnut: April 15, 1865

What a week it has been — madness, sadness, anxiety, turmoil, ceaseless excitement. The Wigfalls passed through on their way to Texas. We did not see them. Louly told Hood they were bound for the Rio Grande, and intended to shake hands with Maximilian, Emperor of Mexico. Yankees were expected here every minute. Mrs. Davis came. We went down to the cars at daylight to receive her. She dined with me. Lovely Winnie, the baby, came, too. Buck and Hood were here, and that queen of women, Mary Darby. Clay behaved like a trump. He was as devoted to Mrs. Davis in her adversity as if they had never quarreled in her prosperity. People sent me things for Mrs. Davis, as they did in Columbia for Mr. Davis. It was a luncheon or breakfast only she stayed for here. Mrs. Brown prepared a dinner for her at the station. I went down with her. She left here at five o'clock. My heart was like lead, but we did not give way. She was as calm and smiling as ever. It was but a brief glimpse of my dear Mrs. Davis, and under altered skies.

SOURCES: Mary Boykin Chesnut, Edited by Isabella D. Martin and Myrta Lockett Avary, A Diary From Dixie, p. 377-8