Adams Family Civil War letters; US Minister to the UK and his sons.

Henry Adams to Charles Francis Adams, Jr.

[London] July 17, 1863

We are in receipt of all your sanguinary letters, as well as of news down to the 4th, telling of Cyclopean battles, like the struggles of Saturn and Terra and Hyperion for their empire, lasting through sunrise after sunrise, in an agony such as heralds the extinction of systems. It’s a pity that we ‘re civilized. What a grand thing Homer would have made of it; while in our day, men only conceive of a battle as of two lines of men shooting at each other till one or the other gives way. At this distance, though, even now it’s very grand and inspiring. There’s a magnificence about the pertinacity of the struggle, lasting so many days, and closing, so far as we know on the eve of our single national anniversary, with the whole nation bending over it, that makes even these English cubs silent. Dreadful I suppose it is, and God knows I feel anxious and miserable enough at times, but I doubt whether any of us will ever be able to live contented again in times of peace and laziness. Our generation has been stirred up from its lowest layers and there is that in its history which will stamp every member of it until we are all in our graves. We cannot be commonplace. The great burden that has fallen on us must inevitably stamp its character on us. I have hopes for us all, as we go on with the work. . . .

The peculiar attraction of our position is one that is too subtle to put one’s hand upon, and yet that we shall be sure to miss extremely when we leave it. The atmosphere is exciting. One does every day and without a second thought, what at another time would be the event of a year, perhaps of a life. For instance, the other day we were asked out to a little garden party by the old Duchess of Sutherland at Chiswick, one of the famous nobleman’s places in England. Dukes and Duchesses, Lords and Ladies, Howards and Russells, Grosvenors and Gowers, Cavendishes, Stuarts, Douglases, Campbells, Montagues, half the best blood in England was there, and were cutting through country dances and turning somersets and playing leap-frog in a way that knocked into a heap all my preconceived ideas of their manners. To be sure it was only a family party, with a few friends. You may be certain that I took no share in it. A stranger had better not assume to be one of the Gods.

Or again! I have just returned from breakfasting with Mr. Evarts, and we had Cyrus Field, Mr. Blatchford and his wife, and Mr. Cobden at table. The conversation was not remarkable to me; so little so that I should probably make only a bare note of it. But Cobden gave a vigorous and amusing account of Roebuck, whom he covered with epithets, and whose treatment of himself he described, going over some scenes in Parliament when Sir Robert Peel was alive. He sketched to us Gladstone’s “uneasy conscience” which is always doubting and hesitating and trying to construct new theories. Cyrus Field rattled ahead about his telegraph and told again the story of his experiences. Mr. Evarts talked about England and the policy of the country, for he goes home today, and indeed left us only to fire a parting shot into Gladstone. We discussed the war news and Bancroft Davis came in, arguing that Lee’s ammunition must be exhausted. Cobden was very anxious about the battles, and varied his talk, by discussing a movement he proposes to make in Parliament before it rises. He rather regrets that they did n’t force Roebuck’s motion to a division, and wants to get in a few words before the close.

So we go on, you see, and how much of this sort of thing could one do at Boston! And the camp could only make up for it in times of action. Even the strangely hostile tone of society here has its peculiar advantage. It wakes us up and keeps our minds on a continual strain to meet and check the tendency. To appear confident in times of doubt, steady in times of disaster, cool and quiet at all times, and unshaken under any pressure, requires a continual wakefulness and actually has an effect to make a man that which he represents himself to be. Mr. Evarts is grand in these trials, and from him and Mr. Seward and the Chief, one learns to value properly the power of momentum.

All this to you seems, I suppose, curious talk, to one who has just got through with the disgusts of one campaign and is recruiting for another, as I suppose you are doing now. We are very anxious about you as you may suppose, but trust that your regiment is too much used up to fight much more without rest. Besides, in the confusion and excitement of the great struggle, we are glad to counteract anxiety by hope. And though our good friends down town do persist in regarding the news as favorable to the South, we on the whole are inclined to hope, and to feel a certain confidence that friend Lee has got his swing. There is also the usual rumor of the fall of Vicksburg, as the very last telegram by the steamer, but we do not put much confidence in stories of that sort. Meade’s despatch at eight o’clock on the evening of the 3d is all the news that I put any faith in. And with that I am patient. . . .

Politically we are trying to get everything in trim in order to have all clear during the next three months when England is without a Government and drifts. There is only one serious danger, and against that we are doing our best to guard. If you could win a few victories, it would be the best guaranty for good behavior, and I am free to say that England has remained quiet as long as we could reasonably expect, knowing her opinions, without solid guaranties of ultimate success on our part. . . .

I shall send you your friend W. H. Russell’s Gazette if he has as blackguard a notice of us in it as he usually does.

Charles Francis Adams to His Son

London, July 17, 1863

At the time I wrote you last week, our benevolent English friends had made up their minds that General Lee had insulated Washington and taken possession of the Capitol. Our friend Mason with portentous gravity had announced at a dinner table filled with sympathisers, that at the moment he was speaking he had no doubt that such was the fact. There was a general anxiety and looking out for the next news. On Monday evening, at Lady Derby’s reception, both his Lordship and Lord Granville, chieftains of opposite parties, hailed me with equal eagerness to know when I expected later advises. On that same evening, poor Mr. Roebuck, who had prepared his original motion with some reference to a grand “coup de theatre,” was obliged to abandon it, because nothing had turned out as he expected, and the audience would not consent to wait any longer. At last came the intelligence, but, lo! it did not answer the highly wrought expectation. It did not look as if Lee had made much progress to the desired point. The best that could be said was that the issue was not decisive. On the whole it was judged most prudent to wait for further news. . . .

Charles Francis Adams, Jr., to brother, John Quincy Adams

Camp of 1st Mass. Cav.
near St. James College, Md.
July 12, 1863

One more line to be forwarded to London to tell you I am still safe, well and sound. Once more we are with the cavalry and in the front and under the command of the damndest fool I ever saw or read of, one ——. For two days we have been skirmishing gently with trifling casualties, but I think our share of the fighting for this bout is pretty much over and now the infantry will walk in for a few field days of slaughter and then “tomorrow to new fields and pastures new” over in Virginia. Of course you know well enough that your newspapers tell you nothing but lies and that “the cavalry” as depicted by them is all a figment of the poet’s brain. If you don’t I tell you so now and know it in future. We have done our work decently, but Pleasonton is, next to Hooker, the greatest humbug of the war, and Kilpatrick is a brave injudicious boy, much given to blowing and who will surely come to grief. The army has done nobly and is in fine condition, but as to Lee’s being routed, he has lots of fight left and this war is not over yet, and there will still be many shrewd blows. Though not elated I am confident and most happy in that novel sensation. All is going well and day, I believe, breaks at last. . . .

I tell you the Army of the Potomac is a magnificent army, but what shall we say of the great State of Pennsylvania? They left that army to fight it out, and win or lose with Lee, without the aid of a man or a musket, and before the battle devoted their energies to running away, or buying immunity for their precious goods by giving aid and comfort to the enemy and, after the battle, turned to with all their souls to make money out of their defenders by selling soldiers bread at twenty-five cents a loaf and milk at fifteen cents a canteen — in one case charging a hospital $19.00 for forty loaves of bread. Facts, John, facts. They are a great people! .. .

Henry Adams to Charles Francis Adams, Jr.

July 3, 1863

We too have had our excitements this week, as it was the time of the regular annual motion for recognition by the English copper-heads. There was a hot debate in Parliament, but the Southern spokesman succeeded in tripping himself up, and inflicting upon himself and his party a vigorous punishment that they will remember as long as they live. He has triumphantly seated himself as umpire over a dusky chaos in which Napoleon, the English Government, our own country and the rest of the world, are promiscuously calling each other to account for something somebody said or did n’t say, or did, or did n’t do. Mr. Roebuck’s decisions certainly do more embroil the fray. What is however or more consequence to us is that he has drawn public attention entirely from the question of intervention, and substituted a question of veracity between himself and the Emperor, a question of dignity between Parliament and the Emperor, a question of honor between the Ministry and the Emperor, and any quantity of other side questions, upon which public curiosity is greatly excited. But so far as our affair is concerned, Mr. Roebuck has done us more good than all our friends. . . .

I think unless the American news is highly disastrous, we shall again sink into placid rest here. The Alexandra is postponed till Autumn and will probably have to come before the House of Lords as final appeal next year. Parliament will adjourn by the end of this month, it is supposed. Everybody is to leave town on the 15th and we expect to get away as soon as Parliament does. Lord Palmerston is ill with gout, and, as I think, breaking up. I doubt if he’ll have strength to stand another session. Everything promises unusual political quiet for the autumn, but the elements of confusion on the continent are so awkward that I rather expect trouble next year. . . .

Charles Francis Adams to His Son

London, July 3, 1863

Matters go on here in the usual way. There has been a new discussion of our affairs in Parliament, which has ended by no means to our disadvantage. Mr. Roebuck has chosen to speak in very plain English what he thinks and feels about us. Other people who really agree with him in their hearts are ashamed to acknowledge it as he does, and so they retreat into silence. Mr. Roebuck moreover has assumed the post of representative of the French Emperor, and has talked to the House of Commons in a French sense. This is a pretty sure way to set the genuine sons of John Bull against every thing he may say. Moreover, Mr. Roebuck has had the bad luck to be practically disavowed by the sovereign whom he was assuming to serve, which exposes him to ridicule and contempt. The end is, to spoil his game. The rebel cause cannot be restored this season by any action had in its favor on this side of the water. It may yet be helped by events on the other, should their last desperate enterprise be crowned with any success. . . .

Charles Francis Adams to His Son

London, June 26, 1863

We are gradually working through the season here, which, owing to the marriage of the Prince of Wales at so early a date, has made itself as long as two ordinary ones. I am sure I wish it over, particularly as the feeling toward America in the highest circles is growing more and more unequivocal. Even the accounts of our successes do not have any good effect. They call it very bad news. I suppose we must all make up our minds to bear everything during the remainder of our stay, for the sake of the country. Personally, I cannot say that I have experienced any discomfort. At Court last week I was received with rather marked civility. But it is not pleasant to have the feeling that there is this ill-will to your country all around you. I suppose this to be an incident of diplomatic life everywhere and I now see it here in other cases than my own. Neither Russia nor Prussia is much more relished than the United States. Indeed there is a prevailing feeling of distrust as if we were on the eve of great troubles in Europe. Stocks are falling and active preparations in arming are going on. Napoleon is suspected of schemes eastward and westward, whilst England is not unlikely to be dragged into a war against her will, simply because there is no party strong enough to hold its own against the popular passions. In the midst of all this I cannot sometimes but cherish the wish that our arms would move a little faster. We are still in suspense about Vicksburgh and Port Hudson. . . .

Henry Adams to Charles Francis Adams, Jr.

June 25, 1863

As I have regularly announced, the season of calm has again given way in this region to the new period of squally weather. I have looked forward to this time so long that “impavidum ferient ruinae “; I am prepared in mind for everything.

The prosecution, by means of which the two countries have been kept quiet so long, has come to an end. Not only has the decision gone against us, but the ruling of the venerable and obtuse Jamblichus who has slumbered upon the bench for many years and has not a conception of what has been vulgarly called the spirit of progressive civilization in jurisprudence; the ruling, as I was proceeding to observe, has triumphantly over-set the little law that has ever been established on this matter and leaves us all at sea, with a cheerful view of an almighty rocky lee shore. What will be the result of yesterday’s work I can’t say, but I can guess. Our present position is this. There is no law in England which forbids hostile enterprises against friendly nations. The Government has no power to interfere with them. Any number of Alabama’s may now be built, equipped, manned and despatched from British ports, openly for belligerent purposes and provided they take their guns on board after they’ve left the harbor, and not while in dock, they are pursuing a legitimate errand.

Of course this is crowner’s quest law; crazy as the British constitution; and would get England soon into war with every nation on the sea. The question now is whether the Government will mend it. Mr. Cobden told me last night that he thought they would. I amuse myself by telling all the English people who speak to me on the subject, that considering that their maritime interests are the greatest in the world, they seem to me to have been peculiarly successful in creating a system of international law which will facilitate in the highest possible degree their destruction, and reduce to a mathematical certainty their complete and rapid ruin. And I draw their attention to the unhappy, the lamentable, the much-to-be-deprecated, but inevitable result of yesterday’s verdict, that you could n’t rake up on the American continent twelve citizens of the United States, who could be induced by any possible consideration to condemn a vessel which they had the slightest hope of seeing turned into a pirate against British commerce. I think these arguments are far the most effective we can use. And I think the people here will soon be keenly alive to these results.

Meanwhile what is the effect of all this upon us? It brings stormy weather certainly, but our position is in one respect rather strengthened by it. Public opinion abroad and here must gravitate strongly in our favor. This Government is placed in a position in which it will be very difficult for it to ignore its obligations. With the question between the English Government and its Courts, we have nothing to do. Our demands are on the Government alone, and if the English laws are not adequate to enable her to maintain her international obligations, Cant pis pour elle. She’s bound to make new ones.

But there is another source of anxiety to us of late, though not so serious. A gentleman who is regarded by all parties here as rather more than three-quarters mad, a Mr. Roebuck, has undertaken the Confederate cause, and brought a motion in Parliament which is to be discussed in a few days. Not finding his position here sufficiently strong, he has gone over to Paris and has seen the Emperor who, he says, told him he was willing and earnest to press the question of mediation, if England would join him. So Mr. Roebuck has come back, big with the fate of nations, and we shall see whatever there is to see.

The truth is, all depends on the progress of our armies. Evidently there is a crisis coming at home, and events here will follow, not lead, those at home. If we can take Vicksburg — so! If not, then — so! .. .

Charles Francis Adams, Jr., to brother, John Quincy Adams

Aldie, Va., June 25, 1863

• • • •

BUT what is coming? I fear that universal lack of confidence in every one, from the President through general Hooker downwards, is the distinguishing feature of the army now. Things are certainly much changed for the worse since our regiments first arrived in Virginia ten months ago. Lack of confidence has steadily grown upon us. In Hooker not one soul in the army that I meet puts the slightest, though it may be that I meet only one class. All whom I do see seem only to sadly enquire of themselves how much disaster and slaughter this poor army must go through before the Government will consider the public mind ripe for another change. Meade or Reynolds seems to be the favorite for the rising man and either is respectable and would be a great improvement on the drunk-murdering-arson dynasty now prevailing, of Hooker, Sickles and Butterfield. Meanwhile the golden moments are flying and we are lying here doing nothing. . . .

Charles Francis Adams, Jr., to John Quincy Adams, his brother.

Middleburg, Va., 10 A.M. Friday, June 19, 1863

We were engaged at Aldie’s Gap day before yesterday and very roughly used. I went into action with ninety four men in my squadron and fifty seven in my Company and came out with between thirty and forty in my squadron and just twenty five in my Company. My Company lost thirty two out of fifty seven — nine killed, twelve wounded and eleven missing; the squadron loss was sixty one out of ninety four. All the killed were of my Company. My poor men were just slaughtered and all we could do was to stand still and be shot down, while the other squadrons rallied behind us. The men fell right and left and the horses were shot through and through, and no man turned his back, but they only called on me to charge. I could n’t charge, except across a ditch, up a hill and over two high stone walls, from behind which the enemy were slaying us; so I held my men there until, what with men shot down and horses wounded and plunging, my ranks were disordered and then I fell slowly back to some woods. Here I was ordered to dismount my men to fight on foot in the woods. I gave the order and the men were just off their horses and all in confusion, when the 4th N.Y. on our right gave way without a fight or an instant’s resistance, and in a second the rebs were riding yelling and slashing among us. Of course, resistance was impossible and I had just dismounted my squadron and given it to the enemy. For an instant I felt desperate and did n’t care whether I was captured or escaped, but finally I turned my horse and followed Curtis and Chamberlain in a stampede to the rear. Here I lost my missing men, for almost all my men were captured, though some afterwards escaped. In twenty minutes and without fault on our part I lost thirty two as good men and horses as can be found in the cavalry corps. They seemed to pick out my best and truest men, my pets and favorites. How and why I escaped I can’t say, for my men fell all around me; but neither I nor my horses was touched, nor were any of my officers or their horses. . . .