London, December 28, 1861
The difficulty of our position here consists first in the fact that the South are in London a nation, and in Washington no nation; and second, that Seward will not submit to this fact as an evil of which the least said the better. No doubt you have read his state papers and see what I mean. They are admirable works; they show great ability; but they want tact. He shaves closer to the teeth of the lion than he ought. No one has a right to risk so much for a mere point of form.
It is a mere point of form. The Nashville business can have only one of two results: one, the recognition of the belligerent rights of the South by our Government; the other, a suspension of relations, either preceding or following measures of force, as threatened in the despatch I spoke of to you, now published.
Again, about the Trent affair. Our lawyers have shown a strange want of close logic. The seizure of the commissioners can only be justified in one of two ways. If Seward sticks to his rebel theory, he must claim a right to do that which is most repugnant to our whole history and sense of right. He must defend a violation of the right of asylum.
If he claims them as contraband, setting aside other legal objections, he acknowledges the South as belligerents, by the act. From every word he has written I am bound to believe that he will not do the latter. But if he adheres to his old view, I can see no means of preserving our relations with this Court in either the Nashville or the Trent difficulties.
For these reasons I think that our stay here is at an end. But I do not believe in war. I have written at some length on this in my letter to the Times this evening, and from that you can judge whether there will be war or no. Lord Lyons’ departure will not make ours necessary unless Seward wishes it.
For my own part I am tired of this life. Every attempt I have made to be of use has failed more or less completely. I stand no stronger than the first day I arrived. I cannot find that I have effected a lodgment anywhere, in spite of many exertions. I am now at a loss again to what new point to turn, having been beaten back everywhere; and hope for an idea.
You are going into the army. I do not think it my duty to express any regrets at the act, or at the necessity for it. They are understood, and I do not mean to make the thing any harder for either you or myself, by mourning or maundering about it. About my own fortunes I am becoming more and more callous and indifferent; but about yours, I feel differently, and if it were not for the strange madness of the times, which has left no longer any chance of settled lives and Christian careers, I should be vehement against your throwing yourself away like this. As it is, I can only tell you to do what you think best, and I shall be always ready to stand by you with what aid I can give.
Inclosed is my quarterly draft on Raymond. With this and what money of mine you have now in your hands, there ought to be something more than two hundred dollars. I want you to use this on your outfit, to buy a horse, or equipments, or to fit out your company. It is my contribution to the war and to your start in pride, pomp and circumstance. . . .
Thurlow Weed is still here, very active indeed. I have tried to be of what use to him I could, but without much result. He’s a large man; a very tall man indeed; and a good deal taller than I am. So I can only watch and admire at a distance.
