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

London, January 10, 1862

Captain Wilkes has not positively shipwrecked us, but he has come as near to it without succeeding as he could. Thus far the country has been at least saved the danger of setting up military idols. This reconciles me a little to the slowness of our operations. Another consideration is the crushing nature of our expenditure which must stop this war, if something effective does not follow soon. It is idle to talk of putting down the rebellion whilst our power is resisted successfully within a dozen miles of the capital. This idea prevails so much here that it will undoubtedly become the basis of a movement for recognition before long. . . .

The first effect of the surrender of Messrs. Mason and Slidell has been extraordinary. The current which ran against us with such extreme violence six weeks ago now seems to be going with equal fury in our favor. The reaction in the city was very great yesterday, and even the most violent of the presses, the Times and the Post, are for the moment a little tamed. Possibly, if nothing else should intervene to break its force, this favoring gale may carry us through the first half of the session of Parliament, in other words, until the first of May. If by that time we shall have made no decided progress towards a result, we may as well make up our minds to disbelieve in our power to do it at all. Foreign nations will come to that conclusion if we do not. . . .

New York, January 3, 1862

Here I am in barracks in New York and under orders for Port Royal, with the thermometer about zero and a small pandemonium all around me. I went out to camp about eight days ago in the dead of winter, and when the strong north wind blew. Sunday we struck our camp and moved for the South. It was n’t a pleasant day, for the Blue Hills looked cold and dreary and snow packed on the deserted camp ground; and while the earth was covered with ice the sky was grey and uncompromising and the wind rough and cold. It was dismal enough I assure you and I was glad enough when we were hurried into the cars. John was the only person to see me off, much to my relief, for I was in the cross and hungry rather than the sentimental mood.

Then came a chapter of accidents. Our Major got drunk before we left and has continued so ever since, and the battalion has taken care of itself. That officer has now disappeared, we hope forever, and at last we have got ourselves comfortably quartered. We are barracked in a German amusement building and grove on 64th street, and our horses are stabled in large sheds not far off, and the room in which I am writing is the parlor and sleeping room of the officers and the headquarters of the battalion. The weather is beastly cold and very windy, and the horses suffer though the men are comfortable. As for me I never was better in my life. The exposure has been pretty severe and the change of life great; but I am always well in the open air and jolly among a crowd of fellows, so no sympathy need be wasted on me. I like it and like it better than I expected. I fall into the life very easily and find my spring experience at the fort of inestimable service. Already I feel as much at home in charge of the guard or the company stables as I ever did in my office. I ‘m sure if I like it so far I shall continue to do so, for we’ve had a pretty rough time, and Caspar Crowninshield says the most disgusting he ever had. But I certainly like it so far and expect to continue to do so.

We are off soon — probably within ten days — for Port Royal. We like the idea fairly, though we would prefer to go to other places. For myself I should prefer to winter at Annapolis, and next to that to be sent to Texas, but as for being cooped up on Hilton Head all winter, I don’t relish the idea much, though as regards climate it will be a pleasant change. As for active service, it’s just impossible. You could n’t get our horses within a mile of firearms, and the drilling task before us is something terrible to contemplate. We are all green, officers, men and horses, and long practice is absolutely necessary. But we can do, I imagine, picket and camp duty. My wants (?) will probably be found on board ship.

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.

London, December 27, 1861

We watch the progress of events in America by the lurid glare of the passions that burn on this side of the ocean. The last news we have brings the Europa to Cape Race. The next will probably shew us your countenances on receiving the details. I have been so often deceived in my calculations of late that I do not pretend to foresee what the picture will be. You took the affair of the Nashville so amiably that perhaps you will laugh now. I have never before met with an instance so striking of provoking simplicity in a nation. You do not even resort to the most ordinary habit of judging of others by yourselves. Here is all Europe from end to end arrayed in opinion against you, and not a shade of suspicion that you may not be right yet rests upon your brows. Lord Stowell carries the day as if he were your legitimate ruler by the grace of God. It is unlucky for me that I was bred up in declared hostility to the arbitrary dogmas against neutral rights of that impersonation of Anglican egotism, so that I have never partaken of your security. A day or two will show whether the government will prove true to its ancient well-established principles, or whether under the paltry inducement of personal pique it will strike into a new path that will lead it neither to glory nor success. My own convictions still are that it will determine right. Thus far it has not shown a false color as I feared under the first popular impulse that it might. Yet I confess I dread the effect of the pressure to which it may be subjected. The result will soon be upon us. . . .

Apropos of this let me say a word about the notion you still seem to entertain that Mr. Seward means to bring on a war. Thus far I have always maintained that this was a mistake founded on a bad joke of his to the Duke of Newcastle at Governor Morgan’s dinner to the Prince of Wales. The Duke has however succeeded in making everybody in authority here believe it. Lord Lyons and Mr. Sumner have helped on the delusion at home. Yet I have no hesitation in my opinion, neither do I find that Mr. Thurlow Weed, with whom I compare notes, entertains any other. Be it as it may, now will be his chance. He can have a war, if he wants one. He has but to do what the Duke says he told him he meant to do, i.e. insult the British government in his answer, and he will have it to his heart’s content. In my opinion he will do no such thing. But if I am right, I trust that from that time no more reliance will be placed upon a poor pleasantry uttered after a hospitable entertainment, to a mischief-making guest. . . .

The people of Great Britain are just beginning to think that the Queen’s husband, though a German, was something of a person, after all. I am inclined to believe that they have not seen a royal personage equal to him since the days of William the Third. Had he lived the country would have felt more and more the influence of his presence. For parties are in process of disintegration, and personal qualities are growing more important. The old Whig dynasty will die out with Lord Palmerston, and the Tories will scarcely outlive Lord Derby. New issues will take the place of the old ones, just as they have done with us, but I hope for their sakes not to be attended with a similar convulsion. Yet just that is the thing they in their inmost hearts dread, and the poor people fancy they are going to avoid it by means of our calamities.

London, December 20, 1861

The great event of the past week on this side is the death of the Prince Consort. From the time of my arrival I had formed a very favorable opinion of the man. Having a most difficult part to play he seemed to me to acquit himself most creditably. A feeble person would have fallen into contempt. A vicious one would have created discord. An intriguing one would have filled the Court with animosities and sharpened all the rivalries of parties. He was neither. His capacity and his acquirements commanded the respect of the most powerful subject. His moral character set at defiance all malevolence. And his prudence preserved his neutrality from the assaults of contending factions. Yet he can scarcely be said to have been popular in any class, and least of all among the nobility. He was reserved and shy, little versed in the arts which recommend a man to others. Few were disposed to give him much credit until they lost him. Now they are beginning to open their eyes to a sense of his value. They discover that much of their political quietude has been due to the judicious exercise of his influence over the Queen and the Court, and they do not conceal their uneasiness as to the future without him. The young Prince is just coming of age, with a character by no means formed. The younger children are coming forward with a strong curb removed. The Queen herself has no guide or adviser so well fitted to perform his part without danger of political complications to disturb her. There is no strength in any purely party organization that will keep the government steady. War with the United States seems imminent. It may spread itself all over Europe. Where is the master to direct this storm, if he cannot arrest it? Is it Lord Palmerston or Earl Russell? I trow not. Let any thing happen to Napoleon, and you will see. He is their buckler and their shield.

As to us I fancy you can understand the pleasantness of the position we are occupying in the mean time. The leading newspapers roll out as much fiery lava as Vesuvius is doing, daily. The clubs and the army and the navy and the people in the streets generally are raving for war. On the other side are the religious people and a large number of stock jobbers and traders, together with the radical following of Messrs. Cobden and Bright. The impression is general that Mr. Seward is resolved to insult England until she makes a war. He is the bête noir, that frightens them out of all their proprieties. It is of no use to deny it and appeal to facts. They quote what he said to the Duke of Newcastle about insulting England as the only sure passport to popular favor in America, and a part of a speech in which he talked of annexing Canada as an offset to the loss of the slave states. This is the evidence that Mr. Seward is an ogre fully resolved to eat all Englishmen raw. Pitiful as is all this nonsense, it is of no trifling consequence in its political effect. Even our friend Mr. Thurlow Weed with all his sagacity is baffled in every attempt to counteract it. And if war finally happens, it will trace to this source one of its most prominent causes.

Of course I feel most anxiously the position of my country, and of those who are enlisted in its cause. So far as I now see the field it is much less alarming than it looked some weeks ago. Many of the causes of apprehension are removed. The government has not authorised the act of Captain Wilkes, neither has it adopted it, as yet. So far, so good. But the British government will not rest satisfied with that position. The policy must be disavowed and the men replaced. Such is my understanding of the substance no matter how gently the sense may be conveyed. Shall we do either? For my part I think justice to our former professions demands it of us. I care not about quibbles concerning Sir William Scott’s law, against which I was bred in a mortal aversion. He is no idol of mine, and I care not how soon both nations join to knock his image off its pedestal. But what my opinion may be is one thing. What the delusion of my countrymen is, is another and very different one. They may regard Messrs. Mason and Slidell as more precious than all their worldly possessions. May be so. For my part I would part with them at a cent apiece.