Charles Francis Adams to His Son
London, July 24, 1863
The last steamers brought us startling intelligence. Vicksburg fallen! There has been nothing like it since New Orleans. One was the complement of the other. It sounds the knell of the confederation scheme. Great has been the disappointment and consternation here! Just at the moment, too, when they were hoping and believing its complete establishment and recognition at hand. Could anything be more provoking. The Salons of this great metropolis are in tears; tears of anger mixed with grief. They moreover refuse to be comforted. They madly struggle with the event, denying that it was possible. Fate cannot be so cruel!
Mr. Seward was kind enough to send me a special telegram announcing the event, which reached me at breakfast on Sunday morning. I tried to bear up under the intelligence with a suitable degree of moderation. Not having any idea how deeply our English friends would take it to heart, I ventured to indulge a slight sense of satisfaction. Fortunately I went to church in the city, where nobody knew me, and therefore nobody could be scandalised. It would have been hard on them, you know, to be joyful in the midst of their sorrow. Doubtless they would have been as much offended as they showed themselves on reading my famous letter exposing their secret practises. I took care to look resigned. The only persons whom I met were Americans, excepting perhaps Mr. Browning, and to him as to them I disclosed my secret. He, like them, appeared not to be depressed, but rather elated. Luckily, there was nobody at hand to mark the impropriety.
Five days have passed away. Another steamer has brought intelligence quite confirmatory, but not sufficient to overcome the determined incredulity that has succeeded the first shock. I recollect it was very much so with New Orleans. The only difference was that the passions had not then become so deeply enlisted in the struggle. . . .
Parliament is just now coming to an end. This is the third session since the breaking out of our troubles, and its position has not yet been essentially varied towards America. On looking back and remembering how I felt on each return of the body, it seems to me as if we had reason for gratulation that we are yet in peace with this country. The great causes of apprehension have died away. The cotton famine and Lancashire distress have not proved such serious troubles as we had feared. Great Britain has not in her domestic condition any cause to seek for violent or extraordinary remedial measures. The country is highly prosperous. I am well pleased that it should remain so, if it will only consent to indulge its predilections and its lamentations in words addressed to the empty air. Vox, et praeterea nihil!
