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

Charles Francis Adams to his son

St. Leonards, November 25, 1863

Your filial disposition has led you to accord to me much more of glory than I deserve, for the events that have taken place on this side. The people of the United States have done the work here as well as at home. It is impossible for foreign countries to help respecting a nation which respects itself. The war has done us much good. It has cured us of much of the spirit of vaunting and braggadocio which peace and prosperity had pampered, and has left us moderate but firm. The prejudices and distrust that prevailed here at the outset against every act of the Administration are slowly yielding to the conviction that it deserves confidence. All the little that I have contributed to this result has been to nourish by a steady and uniform bearing, as well under adverse as under favorable circumstances, the growth of this opinion in the British Cabinet. I believe that now it is firmly planted there. If our arms favor us in any moderate degree for the future, I think we may hope to steer clear of farther trouble in this kingdom. . . .

Charles Francis Adams, Jr., to his father

Picket near Warrenton, Va.
November 22, 1863

I infer from this letter that you do not know how we are brigaded, but imagine that this regiment is, or may be, independent, and that outpost duty is done by regiments specially designated therefor. If this is so you are in error. The whole cavalry of this Army belongs in one Corps, which consists of three Divisions and we belong to the 2d, or Gregg’s Division. We are in the 1st Brigade of that Division, and the theory of our cavalry is to cover up the Army on its front and flanks. As a rule Gregg covers the right flank and all regiments do picket duty in turn, the rule generally being a three days tour of duty once in nine days. As another rule, when Gregg is engaged we are, but as for looking for this regiment in the papers — God forbid you should find it! Certain regiments are always in the papers. Such are always very green or make up in lying what they lack in character. We have been much amused lately by meeting tall stories of the 2d Penn. Cavalry, notoriously the greenest regiment in the Division. People at home believe these yarns, but we who know what the work is quietly laugh at the blow-hards. For myself I do not care ever to see my regiment’s or my own name mentioned outside of the official documents of the Army.

I said I was on picket today. You will find us by looking on the map for the turnpike from Warrenton to Sulphur Springs, about two miles from Warrenton. We appear to be picketing against Mosby — at least he is round like a hornet, both within and without our lines. It is laughable the way he dodges round and annoys us, now pouncing here and there worrying us everywhere. Every night there is firing along the line and I count that night lucky which passes without an alarm. Long custom has fortunately made us old hands at it, and we do not lose much sleep however often we are turned out. I go back happy after every tour, in that I have lost no men. I like the work and enjoy its excitement, but three days at a time are quite enough, for, as I am always now in command when I am on duty, by the third day I generally feel as if I had been on the anxious seat long enough. . . .

Meade still seems to be near Culpeper, and yet Burnside is in danger! I cannot express how it weighs on me to see us in this false position. We cannot help Burnside here. Lee knows it and Meade knows it, and Lee knows that Meade knows it. We must cover Washington and we must threaten Richmond; so we rush to the Rapidan and actually hear Lee laugh from the heights beyond. If once the President would shove us onto the south bank of the James Lee would stop laughing. As it is he looks down at us tugging at impossibilities, accepts the issue as we offer it, meets three of us with one of his and sends the rest to crush Burnside. Be assured this Army would be made more efficient if it went down to Norfolk shorn of 25,000 men left for the defense of Washington. What was left could play a bigger part in the great game than the whole does here. . . .

Henry Adams to Charles Francis Adams, Jr.

London, November 20, 1863

Of all things here abroad nothing has caused us more gentle slumbers since the seizure of the iron-clads than the delicious state of tangle Europe has now arrived at. Nothing but panic in every direction and the strongest combination of cross-purposes you can conceive. The King of Denmark has just died with a clearly perverse purpose of increasing the confusion, and any day may see a Danish war. Russia expects war and France acts ,as though it were unavoidable. Meanwhile England hulks about and makes faces at all the other nations. Our affairs are quite in the back-ground, thank the Lord.

Charles Francis Adams, Jr., to Henry Adams

Boston, November 14, 1864

I am disposed to believe that I have just witnessed the most sublime moral spectacle of all time. As you know I got home in time to throw my vote and found myself one of some 5000 superfluous majority in the solid city of Boston. Think of it! The state of Massachusetts, as the result of four years of war and bloodshed and taxes and paper money, reviews her action and declares it good, and reordains the ministers of that action by a majority hitherto unknown in her annals. I never saw a more orderly election. I never saw people after an election settle down to its results with so little discussion, exultation or noise. All seemed to breathe more freely when the result was known, but there was a sober serious tinge in the general feeling not usually noticed. We exult very much over Massachusetts and her verdict. She has not left treason a hiding place in her limits. I cannot but attribute the unanimity of that result to Mr. Everett’s manly and decided course. For the influences which led to it do not seem to have gone beyond the State, and the most surprising changes are to be found in the strongholds of the old Bell-Everett party. He seems to have carried with him the bulk of his party, and left to the opposition only its stock leaders and organ. I delight and triumph over some of the dead in this struggle, e.g. R. C. Winthrop. During the last fifteen years our old Commonwealth has been not infrequently sorely tried. Few of her children were silent when Sumner was assailed, and fewer still when Sumter surrendered. One of these few was Winthrop. In our moments of anger and sorrow and exultation he could not find his voice, or even make a sign; but at last, when the traitors within struck hands with the traitors without, and it seemed possible that the nation might soon cashier its own good name, then, at last, Winthrop found his voice and his strength, and spoke forth in company with Rynders and Wood; he made haste, to affiliate himself with traitors, and, verily, he has his reward.

Thus you see we are very gay over the election, and make out to count the living and the dead. We do not see that it has left us anything to be desired. We have the popular majority, two-thirds and over of Congress, and not one single State Executive, except New Jersey, that is not in harmony with the Administration. I do not see why now the rebellion should not be crushed out. This election has relieved us of the fire in the rear and now we can devote an undivided attention to the remnants of the Confederacy. As for you and for most of us, it is a new and not unnecessary lesson. Here we have for months been deploring this election. We have regarded it as an indisputable misfortune and considered its occurrence now as an incident from which much evil might ensue and no good could. The clouds we so much dread have in this case indeed been big with mercy. This election has ratified our course at its most doubtful stage and it has crushed domestic treason as no other power could have. It is very pleasant to us to think how cheering these tidings will be to you. Abroad this election can hardly fail to produce a greater effect than any victory in the field or military movement. It is not only a great moral spectacle but a decisive moral victory, and the world, I should say, could hardly fail to admire the people who have achieved it. . . .

Charles Francis Adams to his son, Charles

London, November 13, 1863

In the meanwhile the interest centres around Chattanooga. Mr. Jeff. Davis tells us the possession of that point is a vital question. So last year, he announced that the possession of Vicksburg was equally vital. Yet he now tells us that the state of his affairs is better now than it was a year ago, in spite of the loss of Vicksburg in the interval. Should he fail in recovering Chattanooga, he may find that his condition has after all been equally improved by that loss. There is nothing like keeping up a good heart. All hopes of the division of the Free States are gone. All hope of recognition from Europe is gone. All hope of any restoration of the currency is gone. All hope of ruling through the agency of King Cotton is gone. Yet Mr. Davis persists in believing his affairs improved. Well, if that be the kind of encouragement he wants, I only wish that he may continue to enjoy it in large measure. . . .

The only movement that has roused attention has been the speech of the Emperor of the French, proposing a fresh Congress to be held at Paris, for the purpose of devising some new arrangement of the balance of power that may prevent a war in the spring. In reality, he has got himself mounted on so high a horse that he finds he cannot get down, and he fears he may be thrown. If his friends will only build him a ladder he will try to change his seat to a smaller and more manageable pony. This seems to be the substance of the case. We now wait to see what answer he will get. It is pretty plain that the British Lion will not put out a paw to help, if it can be avoided. Neither will the Russian bear move far from his lair, unless he can see something to be gained by it. The German race seem to think it all means mischief, particularly to themselves. Thus stands the matter at this moment. Yet there may be a Congress in Paris after all. . . .

Charles Francis Adams, Jr., to his mother.

Camp of 1st Mass. Cav’y
Near Warrenton, Va., November 4, 1863

Contrary to my expectations in my last we are daily expecting a movement of some kind, though what, we are at a loss to imagine. I look for it with mixed emotions. I know that we ought to move and by offensive operations keep a portion of the burden of the war from the shoulders of our armies in Tennessee, and I am in so far willing to be sacrificed; but every man in this army to whom bitter experience has taught the first principles of strategy, feels that it will be all sacrifice, that of ourselves we can effect nothing. We know now that every movement or raid to Richmond is foredoomed to disappointment; that Washington cannot be covered and Richmond taken at the same time. Our situation is that of a man fighting for his life, with one hand tied behind his back. Of course this condition of affairs bears more heavily on the Cavalry than on any other arm of the service. We are fairly used up, knocked off our legs. Marches, scouts, reconnoissances and battles have done their honest work and not much more can be gotten out of the Cavalry Corps this year. To show results let me state my own experience in a few words. In June I commanded two companies and had one hundred and ten men in the field. I now command three and have about forty effectives, not twenty of whom would be left at the end of four days hard service. The men are well enough, but the horses! Such a collection of crow’s bait the eye of man never saw. Solomon’s song of the war-horse was the most bitter satire ever conceived. He may have been wise in his day and generation, but he evidently never saw field-service, and they did n’t know everything down in Judee. . .

Charles Francis Adams to his son

St. Leonards, November 4, 1863

On this side we are now enjoying a period of repose. The only question of interest to us is that connected with the outfit of war vessels for the rebels. The appeal from the decision of Baron Pollock in the case of the Alexandra is just now coming on. Singularly enough the Baron shows symptoms of change of mind in regard to his own charge, the practical effect of which is to embarrass the proceeding, and perhaps to lead to the necessity of a new trial. I do not know whether this is to be regarded as a favorable result or otherwise. My theory heretofore has been that delay is a very good thing. But I am not sure that the Court of Exchequer is not now prepared to act upon the subject in a right spirit; which, if it were so, would put an end to farther question. Barring this, I know not that there is at present any cause of serious difficulty between the two countries. . . .

Charles Francis Adams, Jr., to his father

Foxville near Warrenton, Va.
On Picket, October 31, 1863

I write on a bread-box and in a grove, through which the wind blows freely; while about a hundred and fifty yards from here a squad of rebels are philosophically watching a squad of my men separated by the Rappahannock, here about three feet deep and thirty broad. I first picketed this ford the 31st of May last, and since then have done so frequently. Three weeks ago Monday a detachment of mine, under Captain Thayer and Ned Flint, were chizzled out of it by the enemy in a most surprising and amusing way, receiving their first announcement of danger in the form of a volley from the rear; and here I had the satisfaction of skirmishing half the night. It is a pretty, pleasant place, but I should not weep not to see it again. By the way Mamma wanted to know who Ned Flint is. He is n’t Mrs. Shiverick’s brother, but a son of Dr. Flint of Boston. He graduated two years before John, has wandered far and got but little but experience to show for it, and has now turned up as an officer in this regiment. In figure he is my height, fat and tough. In disposition he is energetic and lazy, shrewd and slow, brave, good natured and enduring, extremely temperate, thick skinned physically and morally as a rhinoceros, and withal the man of the most amusing and immovable self-poise I ever saw in my life. He is a very valuable and reliable officer and I really don’t see what I should have done without him this summer. Ned Flint reformed, made money and was lost on the Golden Gate in the Pacific.

Since I was last here my experiences have been multifarious. I see you always think our regiment is out of the way in action unless its name is mentioned. This regiment never is and never will be mentioned in reports: first, because we do not come from Pennsylvania or New York; and secondly, because we do not know any newspaper correspondents. But I do assure you we have done our share and been as frequently in action and suffered more heavily than most of the regiments you see mentioned so frequently.

Now I think the campaign is about over and things will remain, here and in the West, pretty much as they are until next spring — the Mississippi and Eastern Tennessee being the great results of the summer’s campaign. Is it not enough? In Virginia we have not made any progress for reasons obvious to every thinking man and painfully stamped on the heart and history of this fine army; but again we have foiled and held in check the confederates’ finest army and ablest generals. As for them they have nowhere, at best, done more than hold their own and, on the whole theatre of war, have lost ground enormously. That the crowning success was withheld from this summer’s campaign was a bitter disappointment to me, but, on second thought, seems right and good, for I see we are not ripe for it. The one good to result from this war must be the freedom and regeneration of the African race. Without that it will be barren of results. That can only be wrought out through the agency of the army — the black soldiers. They are coming but they are not here yet. Every disaster and every delay brings them on and the necessity and difficulty of raising more troops only forces their development. I want to see 200,000 black soldiers in the field, and then I shall think it time to have peace. The African question might yet take a step backward in the face of a final success won by white soldiers, but it never will after that success to which 200,000 armed blacks have contributed. . . .

Henry Adams to Charles Francis Adams, Jr.

London, October 23, 1863

I write and read, and read and write. Two years ago I began on history, our own time. I labored at financial theories, and branched out upon Political Economy and J. S. Mill. Mr. Mill’s works, thoroughly studied, led me to the examination of philosophy and the great French thinkers of our own time; they in their turn passed me over to others whose very names are now known only as terms of reproach by the vulgar; the monarchist, Hobbes, the atheist Spinoza and so on. Where I shall end, das weiss der liebe Gott! Probably my career will be brought up at the treadmill of the bar some day, for which, believe me, philosophy is as little adapted as war. Who will lead us back to the pleasant pastures and show us again the rich grain of the lawyer’s office! Verily I say unto you, the time cometh and even now is when neither in these mountains nor in Jerusalem ye shall worship the idols of your childhood.

Did you ever read Arthur Clough’s Poems? the man that wrote that pastoral with the unpronounceable name, the Bothie of Toper-na-Vuolich. If you have not, I would like to send them to you. Young England, young Europe, of which I am by tastes and education a part; the young world, I believe, in every live country, are reflected in Clough’s poems very clearly. Strange to say, even Oxford, that most Catholic of conservative places, has become strongly tinged with the ideas of the new school. John Stuart Mill ranks even there rather higher than the authorities of the place itself, with which he is waging internecine war. Whether this gentle simmering will ever boil anything, who can say?

Meanwhile we wait still for the result of your military evolutions. I cannot imagine that Lee means to attack you, and yet I am equally unable to comprehend how he can maintain himself. I don’t think his report on the Gettysburg campaign has raised his reputation here. There is such a thing as too candid confession of defeat, and he certainly does n’t conceal his blunders.