THE CORRESPONDENCE OF JOHN LOTHROP MOTLEY.*
THE literature of America has fairly kept pace with that of England during the last half-century. But Mr. Motley must have smiled, we think, when Washington Irving called the American Press, " That rising tribunal before which the whole world is to be summoned, its history to be revised and rewritten, and the judgment of past ages to be cancelled or confirmed." Englishmen will welcome heartily such a con- summation when it comes, and will, while they vigorously strive to establish a Court of Appeal from that tribunal, feel not a jot of envy towards their pro tempore suc- cessful rivals. But there are no signs of this consum- mation coming quickly. Tennyson and Browning hold their own with Longfellow and his brother-bards ; Macaulay and Carlyle hold their own with Prescott and Motley ; and the latter goes a little too far when he places the Autocrat of the Breakfast-Table on a level with Lamb and Montaigne. But in the main, as we have said, the last half-century shows that American writers are pressing the Rite of English writers pretty closely, and we are glad indeed to think that our countrymen will wish nothing worse to their coming con- querors than more power to the elbow. In the two handsome and beautifully printed volumes before us, one of the greatest of America's historians has proved that the epistolary Muse of English literature dare not give her Transatlantic sister odds. There is a portrait of Mr. Motley in the first of these volumes, and the book accurately fulfils the promise of his captivating countenance. A better example of the trust that may be placed in the good looks which have been described as better than any other letters of introduction, is not often met with ; and in view of the strong affection which existed between Bismarck and Motley, a comparison of their portraits is one that should gratify attentive curiosity. Mr. Motley's lineaments are as pleasing as they are manly, and his letters are as manly as they are pleasing. We shall use no further words in praise or in criticism of these delightful epistles, and shall content ourselves by quoting a few passages which will serve, or we are much mistaken, to whet the appetite of all true lovers of epistolary cates for the splendid banquet which here lies spread for them. And we must begin with Mr. Motley's intercourse with Bismarck, because there is so much of sterling interest in this part of the correspondence, that we should be loth to have to sacrifice it to the exigencies of space. And although by taking this course we may have to sacrifice more than we would willingly sacrifice of the other good things in these volumes, yet our sole object in this notice is to make it clear to all whom it concerns that Mr. Motley's correspondence is a boon to book- lovers, and is as well worth purchasing as it is beyond all question well worth reading.
Mr. Motley was born in 1814, and Bismarck, as most men know, on All Fools' Day in 1815. They were college friends at Gottingen and Berlin, and their friendship lasted undimmed till the former's death in 1877. "Undimmed," though, is hardly the proper word, for, owing to the fact that each married a wife whose price was above rubies, it was a friendship which brightened and strengthened with the suns. Bismarck's re- collections of his friend's scarlet slippers and songs are clearly improved by time, and Mr. Motley, though he early recognised • The Correspondence of John Lotheop Motley, D.C.L. Edited by Oeorge William Curtis. 2 vols., with Portrait. London : John Murray. 1885.
his friend to be " the cleverest man in Germany," unmistakably liked him for his splendid qualities of heart and brain, and took a very fair view of the success which has shed a halo round those qualities. His letters about their celebrated possessor do Mr. Motley infinite credit, and it is a pleasant bull to say, and truly say, that they do Bismarck more. Here is a portion of the evidence that we could produce in proof of this assertion. It is from letters written at Varzin in 1873 :-
" The manner of living is most unsophisticated, as you will think when I tell you that we were marched straight from the carriage into the dining-room (after a dusty, hot journey by rail and carriage of ten hours) and made to sit down and go on with the dinner, as we did not arrive until an hour after we were ex- pected. After dinner, Bismarck and I had a long walk in the woods, he talking all the time in the simplest and funniest and most interesting manner about all sorts of things that had happened in those tremendous years, but talking of them as every-day people talk of every-day matters—without any affecta- tion. The truth is, he is so entirely simple, so full of laissez-alter•,
that one is obliged to be saying to oneself all the This is the great Bismarck, the greatest living man, and one of the greatest historical characters that ever lived.' When one lives familiarly with Brobdignags, it seems for the moment that every one was a Brobdignag too, that it is the regular thing to be : one forgets for the moment one's own comparatively diminutive stature. In the evening we sat about most promiscuously—some drinking tea, some beer, some seltzer-water; Bismarck smoking a pipe. When I last saw him he never stopped smoking the strongest cigars. Now he tells me he couldn't for his life smoke a single cigar. He
has a disgust for them He said that he used when younger to think himself a clever fellow enough, but now he is convinced that nobody had any control over events, that nobody was really powerful or great, and it made him laugh when he heard himself complimented as wise, foreseeing, and exercising great influence over the world. A man in the situation in which he had been placed was obliged, while outsiders, for example, were speculating whether to-morrow it would be rain or sunshine, to decide promptly, it will rain, or it will be fine, and to act accordingly with all the forces at his command. If he guessed right, all the world said, What sagacity, what prophetic power ; if wrong, all the old women would have beaten me with broom- sticks. If he had learned nothing else, he said he had learned modesty. Certainly a more unaffected mortal never breathed, nor a more genial one. He looks like a Colossus, but his health is some- what shattered. He can never sleep until 4 or 5 in the morning."
Bismarck's " silver wedding " was celebrated while Motley was at Varzin, and he had to propose "the toast to papa," at his daughter's request. " It was a masterly effort," he pleasantly says, " in the German tongue, lasted twenty-five seconds, and ended with much clicking of glasses and hip, hip, hooraying. After dinner, Bismarck made some little speeches to the villagers and the musicians. In the evening, a mighty bowl of punch was made, and we smoked and made merry until past midnight. The way of life at Varzin was very simple, but the irregularity of the hours very great." Mr. Motley came downstairs between 9 and 10 o'clock. Bis- marck came down about 11. After breakfast, a long walk fol- lowed, during which the host was always talking, " generally about events of the French war." "But it would be foolish," Mr. Motley adds, " to send any more small bricks as a specimen of the house. The nominal dinner-hour was 3, but we rarely sat down earlier than a quarter to 4. No dinner dressing, nor evening costume. Dinner always good and simple ; wine excellent." Ccenes deem, and no mistake ; Maecenas sipping cheap Sabine wine with Horace cuts an indifferent figare beside this happier pair of brother-mortals.
But apart from the light which they throw on Bismarck, these volumes are, as we have said, well worth buying as well as reading. They illustrate vividly the course and causes of the great American Civil War, as well as of the consolidation of Germany. And, in addition to interesting and• valuable letters from correspondents of the calibre of Bright and Lowell, they abound in descriptions of the cream of English society. And these descriptions, written for the amusement of Mr. Motley's wife, will charm a large circle of readers who may care comparatively little for the more solid ingredients of his correspondence. In a word, this correspondence may be not untruly said to be a most valuable addition to a most pleasant department of literature, and as such it deserves all the success which we most confidently anticipate for it.
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