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firmly that it must be done through the United States Consul at Venice。
I could only report to him from time to time the unyielding attitude of
the Civil Tribunal； and at last he consented； as he wrote； 〃to act
officiously； not officially； in the matter；〃 and the hapless claimant got
what was left of his estate。
I had a glimpse of the historian afterwards in Boston； but it was only
for a moment； just before his appointment to England； where he was made
to suffer for Sumner in his quarrel with Grant。 That injustice crowned
the injuries his country had done a most faithful patriot and high…
spirited gentleman； whose fame as an historian once filled the ear of the
English…speaking world。 His books seemed to have been written in a
spirit already no longer modern； and I did not find the greatest of them
so moving as I expected when I came to it with all the ardor of my
admiration for the historian。 William the Silent seemed to me； by his
worshipper's own showing； scarcely level with the popular movement which
he did not so much direct as follow； but it is a good deal for a prince
to be able even to follow his people； and it cannot be said that Motley
does not fully recognize the greatness of the Dutch people； though he may
see the Prince of Orange too large。 The study of their character made at
least a theoretical democrat of a scholar whose instincts were not
perhaps democratic； and his sympathy with that brave little republic
between the dikes strengthened him in his fealty to the great
commonwealth between the oceans。 I believe that so far as he was of any
political tradition； he was of the old Boston Whig tradition； but when I
met him at Venice he was in the glow of a generous pride in our war as a
war against slavery。 He spoke of the negroes and their simple…hearted；
single…minded devotion to the Union cause in terms that an original
abolitionist might have used； at a time when original abolitionists were
not so many as they have since become。
For the rest； I fancy it was very well for us to be represented at Vienna
in those days by an ideal democrat who was also a real swell； and who was
not likely to discredit us socially when we so much needed to be well
thought of in every way。
At a court where the family of Count Schmerling； the Prime Minister；
could not be received for want of the requisite descents； it was well to
have a minister who would not commit the mistake of inviting the First
Society to meet the Second Society； as a former Envoy Extraordinary had
done； with the effect of finding himself left entirely to the Second
Society during the rest of his stay in Vienna。
II。
One of my consular colleagues under Motley was another historian； of no
such popularity； indeed； nor even of such success； but perhaps not of
inferior powers。 This was Richard Hildreth； at Trieste； the author of
one of the sincerest if not the truest histories of the United States；
according to the testimony both of his liking and his misliking critics。
I have never read his history； and I speak of it only at second hand； but
I had read； before I met him； his novel of 'Archy Moore； or The White
Slave'； which left an indelible impression of his imaginative verity upon
me。 The impression is still so deep that after the lapse of nearly forty
years since I saw the book； I have no misgiving in speaking of it as a
powerful piece of realism。 It treated passionately； intensely； though
with a superficial coldness； of wrongs now so remote from us in the
abolition of slavery that it is useless to hope it will ever beg
generally read hereafter； but it can safely be praised to any one who
wishes to study that bygone condition； and the literature which grew out
of it。 I fancy it did not lack recognition in its time； altogether； for
I used to see it in Italian and French translations on the bookstalls。
I believe neither his history nor his novel brought the author more gain
than fame。 He had worn himself out on a newspaper when he got his
appointment at Trieste； and I saw him in the shadow of the cloud that was
wholly to darken him before he died。 He was a tall thin man； absent；
silent： already a phantom of himself； but with a scholarly serenity and
dignity amidst the ruin； when the worst came。
I first saw him at the pretty villa where he lived in the suburbs of
Trieste； and where I passed several days； and I remember him always
reading； reading； reading。 He could with difficulty be roused from his
book by some strenuous appeal from his family to his conscience as a
host。 The last night he sat with Paradise Lost in his hand； and nothing
could win him from it till he had finished it。 Then he rose to go to
bed。 Would not he bid his parting guest good…bye？ The idea of farewell
perhaps dimly penetrated to him。 He responded without looking round；
〃They； hand in hand； with wandering steps and slow；
Through Eden took their solitary way；〃
and so left the room。
I had earlier had some dealings with him as a fellow…consul concerning a
deserter from an American ship whom I inherited from my predecessor at
Venice。 The man had already been four or five months in prison； and he
was in a fair way to end his life there； for it is our law that a
deserting sailor must be kept in the consul's custody till some vessel of
our flag arrives； when the consul can oblige the master to take the
deserter and let him work his passage home。 Such a vessel rarely came to
Venice even in times of peace； and in times of war there was no hope of
any。 So I got leave of the consul at Trieste to transfer my captive to
that port； where now and then an American ship did touch。 The flag
determines the nationality of the sailor； and this unhappy wretch was
theoretically our fellow…citizen； but when he got to Trieste he made a
clean breast of it to the consul。 He confessed that when he shipped
under our flag he was a deserter from a British regiment at Malta； and he
begged piteously not to be sent home to America； where he had never been
in his life； nor ever wished to be。 He wished to be sent back to his
regiment at Malta； and to whatever fate awaited him there。 The case
certainly had its embarrassments； but the American consul contrived to
let our presumptive compatriot slip into the keeping of the British
consul； who promptly shipped him to Malta。 In view of the strained
relations between England and America at that time this was a piece of
masterly diplomacy。
Besides my old Ohio…time friend Moncure D。 Conway； who paid us a visit；
and in his immediate relations with literary Boston seemed to bring the
mountain to Mahomet； I saw no one else more literary than Henry Ward
Beecher。 He was passing through Venice on his way to those efforts in
England in behalf of the Union which had a certain great effect at the
time； and in the tiny parlor of our apartment on the Grand Canal； I can
still see him sitting athletic； almost pugilistic； of presence； with his
strong face； but kind； framed in long hair that swept above his massive
forehead； and fell to the level of his humorously smiling mouth。 His
eyes quaintly gleamed at the things we told him of our life in the
strange place； but he only partly relaxed from his strenuous pose； and
the hands that lay upon his knees were clinched。 Afterwards； as he
passed our balcony in a gondola； he lifted the brave red fez he was
wearing （many people wore the fez for one caprice or another） and saluted
our eagle and us： we were often on the balcony behind the shield to
attest the authenticity of the American eagle。
III。
Before I left Venice； however； there came a turn in my literary luck； and
from the hand I could most have wished to reverse the adverse wheel of
fortune。 I had labored out with great pains a paper on recent Italian
comedy； which I sent to Lowell； then with his friend Professor Norton
jointly editor of the North American Review； and he took it and wrote me
one of his loveliest letters about it； consoling me in an instant for all
the defeat I had undergone； and making it sweet and worthy to have lived
through that misery。 It is one of the hard conditions of this