London, May 29, 1863
Well! the great blow came! We had to give up our hopes, and I groaned for at least five minutes. But hope springs eternal. On the whole we usually give Hooker the credit of having done the most brilliant thing yet effected by the army of the Potomac under any of its various generals. I am satisfied that the South shook under it to its very centre and will find it hard to bear up against the destruction of its depots, the loss of its ablest general and the crippling of its best army. De l’audace! toujours de l’audace! We want continual, feverish activity, and that is all. Worry them with cavalry raids! Give them all the plagues of Egypt! Let them have no rest, no hope! Revolutionize Louisiana. Lay waste Mississippi! By the time their harvests come, they will have no engines to draw it, no cars to carry it, no tracks to convey it on. And if at last they succeed in getting their independence, it will only be to lie down and die. . . .
As for me, I have passed most of this week up at Cambridge with Mr. Evarts. We went there to see the University and to visit Will Everett, and we chose the Whitsuntide holidays for that purpose. You have met Mr. Evarts and you recollect, no doubt, that he wears his hat so that a plumb line dropped from its centre would fall about twelve inches behind his heels. His speech is Yankee and his whole aspect shouts American with stentorian lungs. Fortunately his conversation and mind make up for his peculiarities of dress and appearance, so that I was always relieved when he took his hat off, and opened his mouth.
Will Everett never appeared so well as when acting the host. . . . He was really extremely polite and obliging and did everything for us he could. He gave us an excellent dinner in his rooms, eight covers, and carried us about most perseveringly. He seems to be well thought of there, and he certainly has a very good set of friends, not very brilliant or noisy, but great scholars and pleasant fellows.
But the most humorous sight was when Mr. Evarts and I went about dining in Hall with the Fellows of the different Colleges. When I found myself the honored guest, sitting among the College dignitaries, I could not help a sort of feeling that I was in somebody else’s place and should soon be found out and expelled. However, it is astonishing what good fellows these gowned individuals may be, and how well they do live. If you could have seen Mr. Evarts and me after dinner at one of the little colleges, conducting a jovial and noisy game of whist, with cigars and brandy and soda-water, and a clergyman and a Fellow of an adjacent College known as Jesus, for our partners, you would have smiled among your sabres and pistols.
The truth is, we were deuced well treated at Cambridge and I enjoyed the visit immensely. We saw everything that was to be seen, and raked up all the dead celebrities, the shades of Milton and Cromwell, as well as the equally solemn shadows of present undergraduates. I wished to become a Fellow, but am afraid it can’t be did. Seriously, I think I have learned enough in the world to be able to employ to much advantage a year or two of retirement. . . .
