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

London, October 28, 1864

Our life in the country[1] has at last settled down into very profound repose. I have perambulated the whole neighborhood, visited every spot that I could remember, and come to the conclusion that my range must have been very limited in my boyhood. The old school house is down and every trace of it, even to the old trees in the playground, is effaced. Last Sunday I went to the old parish church, which looked ugly enough when I attended it as a boy, but which now appeared more so than I had fancied it. There was nothing pleasant associated with it. As the school was large, only a portion of the boys attended at one time, and as I was among the small ones, our turn was generally in the afternoon, when nobody else was there, and the service was much more coldly and mechanically performed than it is now. Indeed I may say that all my school experience here comes back to me with a dreary sort of chill. I find Dr. Nicholas, the head of it, dimly remembered as an indifferent scholar and rather an animal man. Indeed there were stories about him current among the boys at the time, which were not over creditable. He had however quite a family of daughters who were intimate at our house. I do not find a trace of a single one of them. Fifty years make a pretty big hole even in the oldest established society. General Clitheroe remains to be sure, but whether the same who in 1816 was a colonel is dubious. Anyhow the name continues, which is something in the midst of the vacuum. Change is over the whole surface. . . .

[1] Hanger Hill House, Ealing.

Henry Adams, private secretary of the US Minister to the UK, to his brother, Charles.

London, October 21, 1864

Our news this week stops with unusual abruptness what promised to be a very remarkable episode. Grant moves like the iron wall in Poe’s story. You expect something tremendous, and it’s only a step after all. Of course the process is all the more sure from its methodical slowness, but it alters the nature of the drama. Here am I puzzling myself to understand why it is that Petersburg does not fall, and when Grant means to take it. For it seems to me that he might now compel its abandonment in several ways. And yet Lee prefers to see us creep nearer and nearer our point, and does not accept what to an outsider seems the necessity of his position. Jeff. Davis’s speech at Macon gives more light on the question than anything else. Of course there may be some inaccuracy in reporting, but his explanations are very reasonable, and his statement about Early’s campaign shows how much he expected from it. That failing to draw Grant away, there seems nothing left but to draw out their resistance to the last moment. But how Lee can cover Meade on three sides, and protect Richmond and the connecting railway too, I can’t quite see. . . .

Charles Francis Adams, Jr., to Henry Adams

H.Q. 5th Mass. Cav’y
Point Lookout, Md., October 15, 1864

I wrote to the Minister yesterday, but this morning I received this batch of photographs, so I forward them in the hope of amusing you, and, at the same time, write a few additional lines. The photograph of the mortar, which I send you, is of course the most generally interesting one of all. It gives a better idea of real military operations than any one picture I ever saw. Here you see no fuss and feathers, no empty show; all is hard work by working men. In point of appearance and bearing the soldiers in this picture are fair specimens of men in the work of the field. The man in dark trousers and waistcoat is evidently an officer, though officers actually wear their coats and insignia of rank, and the rest are the crew of the gun — rough, wiry, intelligent looking men. The pictures of my camp will be more interesting to you, but these require no comment. . . .

So old Taney is at last dead. The result of last Tuesday as a day seems tolerably significant. The election would seem to secure to us for the future the Executive and the Legislative departments of the Government. Taney’s death, on the same day, gives us control of the Judiciary, and already the Army, as that day’s vote showed, was in harmony with the Government. And so the result works out. These fatal ides of November bid fair to see the Executive, Legislative, Judiciary and Army of this country working in one harmonious whole like the four strands of a cable. It is a pleasant vision. I, at least, feel confident it will be realised. However that election may result, one thing is settled: the darling wish of Taney’s last days is doomed not to be realised. It was not reserved for him to put the veto of the Law on the Proclamation of Emancipation. I suppose Chase will succeed him and I do not know that we have any better man. If he does, he will have a great future before him in the moulding of our new constitutional law.

Speaking of the elections I have got a new glimpse at Grant’s plans; whether correct or not, you will soon know. A heavy naval expedition is fitting out at Fortress Monroe against Wilmington, and the 22d is named as the date of its departure. Whether a land force will accompany it or not I am not informed, but I hear that the 6th Corps is returning from Sheridan to join Grant, and I am told (unreliable) that a cooperative force to act with Sheridan is moving from Tennessee against Lynchburg. This is my last budget of rumors. If reliable, you need not expect any momentous news from these parts until after the 22d. Between that and election day things bid fair to be lively. If a land force co-operates against Wilmington I shall expect to hear of its capture, if a dashing General is in command — say Warren. In Wright I should feel no confidence. Whether true or not, this rumor accounts for Grant’s not now pushing against Richmond. He wishes to get Wilmington first. If Lee were to leave Richmond before Grant secures that place, he would himself garrison it, and it would be a second Richmond to us. If however Grant can secure it before he drives Lee out of Richmond, I do not see where Lee could go, as the line of the Roanoke would be turned and Lee would apparently be forced out of North Carolina. Things grow absorbing. I shall not hope much from a pure naval attack on Wilmington, but on the issue of the coming struggle depends the question whether the November election is still to be a struggle, or whether Lincoln is to be swept in on an irresistible wave of success. Thank Heaven! all doubt will in a short three weeks be over and once more we can settle down on some assured policy, checkered only by the variable fortunes of war. . . .

London, October 7, 1864

I told you last week that I was going down to Shropshire to visit my friend Gaskell. I only returned last night at eight o’clock, and am off again tomorrow to Derbyshire. My visit to Wenlock was very enjoyable. God only knows how old the Abbot’s House is, in which they are as it were picnicing before going to their Yorkshire place for the winter. Such a curious edifice I never saw, and the winds of Heaven permeated freely the roof, not to speak of the leaden windows. We three, Mrs. Gaskell, Gaskell and I, dined in a room where the Abbot or the Prior used to feast his guests; a hall on whose timber roof and great oak rafters, the wood fire threw a red shadow forty feet above our heads. I slept in a room whose walls were all stone, three feet thick, with barred, square Gothic windows and diamond panes; and at my head a small oak door opened upon a winding staircase in the wall, long since closed up at the bottom, and whose purpose is lost. The daws in the early morning woke me up by their infernal chattering around the ruins, and in the evening we sat in the dusk in the Abbot’s own room of state, and there I held forth in grand after-dinner eloquence, all my social, religious and philosophical theories, even in the very holy-of-holies of what was once the heart of a religious community.

Wherever we stepped out of the house, we were at once among the ruins of the Abbey. We dug in the cloisters and we hammered in the cellars. We excavated tiles bearing coats of arms five hundred years old, and we laid bare the passages and floors that had been three centuries underground. Then we rambled over the Shropshire hills, looking in on farmers in their old kitchens, with flitches of bacon hanging from the roof, and seats in the chimney corners, and clean brick floors, and an ancient blunderbuss by the fire-place. And we drove through the most fascinating parks and long ancient avenues, with the sun shining on the deer and the pheasants, and the “rabbit fondling his own harmless face.” And we picnicked at the old Roman city of Uriconium, in the ruins of what was once the baths; and eat partridge and drank Château Leoville, where once a great city flourished, of which not one line of record remains, but with which a civilisation perished in this country.

Henry Adams, private secretary of the US Minister to the UK, to his brother, Charles.

London, September 30, 1864

When I study Sherman’s campaign, I shudder to think what a close thing it was, and how nearly desperate that superb final march was, in the sense of its being a last expedient. As you know, I had frequently despaired. How could I reckon on the mere personal genius of one man? Now that it is over, I feel almost incredulous, and do not wonder at all at the persistent conviction of the southern press that we should be defeated. If they were unable to hold that place, I cannot see where they look for the place they will hold; and if they could not in the whole Confederacy raise more than ten thousand men to reinforce Hood at the most excruciating pinch, where can they get men to meet our new levies? The courage of the rebs has been marvellous, but human nature has its limits and unless the sun shines a little, the devil himself would lose heart in such a case.

Meanwhile quiet still reigns supreme on this side. We hear nothing of any consequence. Your friend Mr. Y[eatman] has gone back to Richmond and Mr. S[cott] R[ussell] says he suspects his hand to be in various articles in Richmond papers looking peace-ward. There is a great financial crisis down in the City, all due to our war and the fall in cotton consequent on the peace panic. The rebel cotton-loan has fallen twenty per cent from its high estate, and brought down with it a flock of lame ducks on the stock-exchange. Old Mr. Bates meanwhile is dead and buried. You remember the gloomy magnificence of our call there, and how the poor old man sat in that sombre vastness and waited for death. I have seen few sights more rich in comments on human vanities than the picture of the good old gentleman dying; for of all England, and in spite of all the years he had lived here, and fed and entertained all the world, not an Englishman except his partners seems to have cared whether he lived or died. After all, his mourners are Americans, although he has probably founded an English family. . . .

Charles Francis Adams, U.S. Minister to the U.K., to his son, Charles.

London, September 23, 1864

We were sufficiently edified by your report of the conferences with the various parties in authority. I am not much surprised by it. Human patience is not great. When I reflect that mine gives way so easily to the few applications, comparatively, that are made here to me, I can make allowances for those which spring out of an organisation dealing with men by the hundreds of thousands. It is an excellent thing to cultivate good manners as a habit, for thus comes an artificial rein on the passions that benefits all parties almost equally. I have constantly felt great sympathy with Mr. Stanton. Nobody has had a harder place. The responsibility for failures of all kinds is sure to come upon him, whilst the credit of success is apt to be monopolised by those immediately concerned in the operations. It was for this reason that I was rather glad to read the high compliment which Mr. Seward paid him in his admirable speech at Auburn. If he has been nervous and irritable, he has not been without plenty to make him so. What a set of military officers he has had to deal with; how many to set aside for incompetency, or vice, or crime; how many have failed to acquit themselves successfully of the trust reposed in them; how many unreasonable, complaining, exacting and faultfinding, either as agents or as advisers! This is the hard lot of every Minister who is destined to carry on a great war. . . .

H.Q. 5th Mom Cav’y
Point Lookout, Md., September 18, 1864

The week has n’t been very exciting here; in fact, they rarely are. I am in command of the Regiment and very busy and so keep contented. I am organising now and, while I see things all around daily growing and improving, I am quiet and satisfied. The officers know their duty and are well disposed and zealous. I see here none of that bickering and eternal family discord which was ever the bane of the 1st. As for the “nigs” they are angelic — in all respects. I am now convinced the race is superior to the whites. Their whole philosophy of life is sounder in that it is more attainable. You never saw such fellows to eat and sleep! Send a Corporal to take charge of a working party and go down in ten minutes to see how they’re coming on, you’ll find them all asleep and the Corporal leading the snore. Now whites have n’t that degree of philosophy. Then they’re built so much better than white men. Their feet — you never saw such feet! Some of them love to walk in the fields round here, as the road fences are too close together. And their heads! All brain. A white man’s head is flat, but they — sometimes when they uncover in the sacred precincts of my quarters I think that the highest pinnacle of their sugar loaf craniums will never be exposed! I assure you, in their presence I am lost in wonder and overwhelmed with humility! Jesting apart, however, my first impression of this poor, humiliated, down-trodden race is both favorable and kindly. They lack the pride, spirit and intellectual energy of the whites, partly from education and yet more by organisation; but they are sensitive to praise or blame, and yet more so to ridicule. They are diffident and eager to learn; they are docile and naturally polite, and in them, I think, I see immeasurable capacity for improvement. My first impressions are of little value and it would not be well for me to make them the basis of my continued action; but these impressions incline me to the opinion that they must as a race be approached by their affections. The rugged discipline which improves whites is too much for them. It is easy to crush them into slaves, but very difficult by kindness and patience to approach them to our own standard. So far, you see, my impressions are not encouraging either for my success individually or for theirs as a race. Patience, kindness and self-control have not been my characteristics as an officer, any more than they have been characteristics of ourselves as a dominant race. I fear I shall often find myself pursuing towards them a course in which I have no faith, and I have little hope for them in their eternal contact with a race like ours. However, closer acquaintance will lead to increased knowledge.

Meanwhile I last week again went up to Washington. My first inquiry was for a paper and I eagerly looked for returns from Maine. So far all is well. I found our friends in Washington more quiet and confident than jubilant. They seemed to think that what with President and Vice President, platform, letters and records, the opposition was just where they wanted to have them, and that nothing but terrible disaster on the field could now defeat Lincoln. This is as we would have it. My information from before Petersburg is that Grant has, within twenty days, received for the corps now there, 40,000 recruits besides many thousand convalescents, and that that Army is now stronger than when it took the field in the spring. This is reliable. General Lee does not seem to be aware of the fact, as the whole thing has been done very quietly. As Sherman has nothing now fit to be called an army in his front, Petersburg would seem to be the point of danger. Of disaster there I feel no apprehension, but I do shudder at the thought of the fighting and slaughter which must soon take place there. I am very sanguine of the result. I have seen Grant and feel as if I knew him. He has of late so thoroughly deserved success and been so often defeated by accident, that mere luck if nothing else must turn and ultimately he can hardly fail.

In Washington I saw John M. Forbes and Governor Andrew, dining with them and having a very long conversation with the Governor. I made a dead set at him to induce him to go down to the army and urge upon Grant the expediency of forming a colored Corps. I came within an ace of success. Mr. Forbes and all his staff joined me and the Governor half promised; but next morning the draft was ordered for the 19th and he had to go home to see to that. So the draft, you see, put my pipe out, and I hope that at least Peter and Shep., Willie and Sidney will be drawn if only as a sweet recompense. . .

Charles Francis Adams, Jr., to his father

H.Q. 5th Mass. Cav’y
Pt. Lookout, Md., September 10, 1864

In the case of the last assault on Petersburg the troops behaved badly — that all confess; but I doubt if the world ever saw fiercer or more determined assaults than will be recorded in this war. There are limits to training, as to everything else, and when the fighting qualities of enemies are nearly equal and their strength not entirely disproportionate, the defensive will furnish advantages which no possible vigor, or determination, or training, unaided by skill or its equivalent luck, can enable an assaulting party to overcome. In such a case, where skill is nearly equal and luck alone decides, the chances are ten to one against the assailant. Probably the most famous assault in history was that of McDonald’s column at Wagram (I think). I doubt if it was more determined or better deserved success than Longstreet’s at Gettysburg. Read the campaigns of Frederick of Prussia. See how rarely he by direct assault carried positions — never when opposed by Daun, except once and then by pure luck when the day was lost. Look at Napoleon at Borodino. Marlborough was more successful. Malplaquet, in respect to defensive preparations and advantages of position, was more like our battles here than any old world action that I can call to mind; yet Marlborough carried it much as Grant carried Spottsylvania. It was a nominal victory. The same of the Crimea. The Malakoff was carried not by training but by skill and good fortune, and the English never carried the Redan at all. In Italy the same. Magenta and Solferino were not decisive victories, not more so than Antietam. You must bear in mind in reading our battles that the system of entrenching was never carried to such an extent and perfection as in this war. It is no longer an assault, like Waterloo, but we defend and attack fortified camps, using and meeting every improved weapon of modern warfare. I do not believe that training can do anything more for our troops. The question is now one of pure skill and endurance.

However, to drop the abstract and descend to the particular. What do the English think of Farragut? Of course, Semmes is their model; but is n’t Farragut in some essentials — such as skill and pluck — a trifle like Nelson and some of their naval heroes of the antiquated school? Semmes is a good man, and Paul Jones was a better, for Paul’s ship did n’t sink until after he had taken his adversaries. But on the whole I think I still rather prefer the Blake and Farragut school. Do our English friends see any merit in the reduction of the Mobile forts? If not, what do they say of the fall of Atlanta? How superbly Sherman — Sherman “the unlucky” — has handled that Army! It almost brings the tears into my eyes to read of the boldness, the caution, the skill, the judgment, the profound military experience and knowledge of that movement, all resulting in its brilliant success and condensed in that one immortal line, “So Atlanta is ours and fairly won.” Who shall say that to the enemy belongs all the skill? Why should not Sherman rank only second to Gustavus, Frederick and Napoleon? I send you herewith the Army and Navy Journal that you may read its criticisms upon that campaign. Unquestionably it is the campaign of this war; not more brilliant or so complete as that of Vicksburg, but, viewed as a whole, with its unheard lines of supply and unceasing opposition, it rolls along like a sonorous epic. The enemy swarms on his flank and rear like mosquitos; they do not turn him back a day. They stand across his path, he rolls around them and forces them back. At rest he brings them to bay and when all observers shout “a deadlock,” lo! his cannon thunder in their rear and, astonished and demoralised, outgeneraled and outfought, they save themselves in confessed defeat. It is superb! Of the results, whether great or small, which will follow this fall of Atlanta, I don’t pretend to form any opinion. I only look at the campaign in an artistic point of view, as a poem. So viewed, to my mind it is perfect. I hope you will send me some English criticisms, particularly Russell’s in his “Army and Navy.” I am most curious to see how the English will view it. That they will try to give the palm to Hood, as they did to Semmes, I do not doubt, but I want to see how they go to work.

I can no longer give you any news of the Army of the Potomac. I have ceased to belong to it. I got here Thursday last and took command Friday evening. I have been received with a cordiality which has been most gratifying. Considering that I was commissioned over every one here, I somewhat expected at first some slight jealousy and coolness; but, on the contrary, my reception has borne every mark of gratification at my arrival. . . .

Charles Francis Adams, Jr., to his mother

H.Q. Cav’y Escort, A. of P.
Before Petersburg, Va., September 3, 1864

They say that we are receiving convalescents, recruits, etc. from the rear at the rate of about a thousand a day. If this be so we must, I should say, be just about holding our own in numbers, what with loss in battle, by expiration of service and sickness. This is unfortunate, for now I imagine reinforcements could be used with telling effect and 20,000 fresh troops would end the struggle in Virginia. However, we have taken Fort Morgan, which fact, I presume, has exercised a depressing effect upon the rebel cotton loan; and General Grant, I am told, declares that Sherman “is now engaged in executing the most daring move ever made in this or any other country,” having thrown his whole immense army off of its base of supplies, with a view of marching round to the rear of Atlanta, with rations for twenty days, and, during that twenty days, doing that to Hood which a year ago Grant did to Pemberton. So we may now look for news of decisive movement, for now Sherman’s guns will discuss most eloquent arguments in the Presidential issue, and, as the sound of his cannon advances or recedes, so will the hopes of Lincolnite and McClellanite rise and fall. Well, I cannot foresee results, or predict the fate of battles or the issues of campaigns. One thing only I know, and that is, I agree with Henry in his hope that this issue may result either wholly for us, or wholly against us. The country may yet be saved, I believe, whether in the hands of peace-men or war-men. It at least has a chance. But I can see only defeat and ruin impending if a close election leaves peace-men power to impede the course of war, or war-men power to prevent a peace. My next from Lookout.