London, January 10, 1862
The news of the surrender of the unhung arrived yesterday, and gave us much satisfaction. It was particularly grateful to me because the ground taken is that which the Chief recommended in an early despatch to the Government, in which he quoted Madison’s words. The effect here is good and will help us, but I have little hope that we shall be able to maintain ourselves here much longer. I fear that the meeting of Parliament will be the signal for a grand battle, and March will see us en route for somewhere.
Still there is great activity among our friends here in preparing for the struggle, and Thurlow Weed is organising our forces effectively. We shall die hard I think, and England will have little to be proud of. The blockade is the place where the shoe pinches, and the blockade is now very perfect, I should judge. We shall see what they mean to do. . . .
Financially we are dished. There is but one resort, and that is severe direct taxation. It is in this way alone that the expenses of all modern wars in Europe have been borne, and we must come to it at last, or repudiate. The latter is out of the question, but the Lord knows.
The Legation is tolerably quiet just now, with little doing. Government has behaved well in the Nashville business, and that vessel is now under our guns and without increased armament. Meanwhile the Sumter has turned up and is making trouble in Spain. I wish to God the Tuscarora could catch her and sink her.
Today I find myself in a scrape that is by no manner of means agreeable. The Courier in putting my name to my “Diary” has completely used me up. To my immense astonishment and dismay I found myself this morning sarsed through a whole column of the Times, and am laughed at by all England. You can imagine my sensations. Unless something occurs to make me forgotten, my bed is not likely to be one of roses for some time to come. There is nothing to be done but to grin and bear it. But for the present I shall cease my other writings as I am in agonies for fear they should be exposed. I wish I could get at Raymond, as I don’t want to write myself, for fear my letter should get out. Could n’t you write to him and explain, without mentioning names, why his London correspondent has stopped for a time. My connection with him must on no account be known. The Chief as yet bears this vexation very good-naturedly, but another would be my ruin for a long time. I don’t want him ever to know about it. . . .
