Nevertheless, he was glad to be in his native land, and suffer
bitter criticism here,--if that were all that could be granted,--rather
than to remain an unmolested exile.
An article which he contributed to the "Atlantic Monthly" in July, 1862,
gives a faint inkling of his state of mind at this time; but nothing
illustrates more clearly, either, the reserve which he always claimed
lay behind his seemingly most frank expressions in print. For he there
gives the idea of something like coldness in his attitude touching the
whole great tragedy. But those who saw him daily, and knew his real
mood, have remembered how deeply his heart was shaken by it.
Fortunately, there are one or two epistolary proofs of the degree in
which his sympathy with his own side of the struggle sometimes mastered
him. He used to say that he only regretted that his son was too young
and himself too old to admit of either of them entering the army; and
just after the first battle of Bull Run he wrote to Mr. Lowell, at
Cambridge, declining an invitation:--
THE WAYSIDE, CONCORD, July 23, 1861.
DEAR LOWELL:--I am to start, in two or three days, on an excursion
with----, who has something the matter with him, and seems to need
sea-air and change. If I alone were concerned, ... I would most gladly
put off my trip till after your dinner; but, as the case stands, I am
compelled to decline. Speaking of dinner, last evening's news will dull
the edge of many a Northern appetite; but if it puts all of us into the
same grim and bloody humor that it does me, the South had better have
suffered ten defeats than won this victory.
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