December 10, 1861
Letter from Matthew Williams in Quebec to Alfred Jones in Washington, D.C.
My Dearest Brother,
Please accept my sincerest apologies for my unsteady handwriting. My hand is cramped from copying out this letter so many times, but I know not what else I can do to ensure that it arrives to you safely. I have not had any word of you in nearly a year, and no one seems to know where you are, even those to whom you've written. Some speculate that you are in Washington, others claim you are fighting in the South. Just last week, one of my ministers thought he saw you on a train in New Hampshire. I am sending a copy of this letter to each of your addresses that I know, in the hopes that one of them might make it to your desk so that you may read it and reply.
Please know, brother, that I would never go to such lengths to reach you but for my deep and fervent care for you. I do not do so out of frustration, or anger, or whatever other emotions you think Arthur Kirkland has told me to feel towards you. More than anything, I worry for you and your wellbeing, and being without word from you for so long after a previous stretch of unbroken correspondence has infected my heart with such worry I have not known since you rebelled against the Crown. Isn't it funny how time flies so quickly? I was so much smaller than you, then. I know I'll probably be a little smaller than you always, but I hope you'll hear me as something of an equal when I ask you to please, tell me how you are and how you are managing in this dreadful war.
I write to you now out of selfish affection, but I would be remiss if I did not mention the recent Events which have, I heard, triggered significant distress between yourself and Arthur. I understand from him that you have apologized over the matter of the HMS Trent, and I will thank you for it on his behalf. I know Arthur seems unaffected by your letter—he spent several lines lauding its pristine composition, by the way—but please know that he was deeply touched by the gesture. The only reason he holds his tongue to you is because of the humans. The matter is now between his Prime Minister, your President, and their ambassadors. I have not yet met Mr. Lincoln, but I do hope he's a nicer man than Lord Palmerston. Arthur doesn't much like Palmerston either, though of course he can't say it. You mustn't tell Arthur I told you so. Palmerston is fond of this Confederacy against which you war in the South. I can tell that Arthur, despite all his attempts to sound neutral in his letters, is not.
You mustn't tell Arthur I told you any of that, either.
I know you must agonize over the British response to this war, to our apparent support of the Confederate rebels. I know also that you must've had word that the border has been fortified on my side by order of Her Majesty. However, in the midst of these bizarre times between us, it is my only and dearest wish for you to remember that Canada is, while British in law, quite resolved to make up its own mind. The British may tilt their hand towards the South, but my colonies' support of the Union is overwhelming and resolute. I urge you therefore to not view me or my people with hostility even as London makes such sluggish reassurances from afar. Do not read my pleas with the hardened eyes of a diplomat. Forgive Arthur for his missteps, if you are able. I love you, Alfred, and it is my dearest wish to avoid conflict with you. You and I have shared enough scuffles to satisfy me for another many centuries. My armies answer to European whims because they must, but out here alone on our side of the ocean, I cannot imagine going to war with you, not again.
If I know you (and I do), by now you are probably rolling your eyes to heaven upon reading such sentimentality pouring off of my pen. Under normal stars I would not blame you, but hopefully my uncharacteristic saccharinity communicates how deeply your silence continues to affect me. Wintertime in Quebec is dark, and the nights offer me nothing but time to imagine what has become of you in this last hellish year. I pray only that you are well, and staying alive as often as you are able.
Amid the dozen or so letters I'm scattering about your states, to your townhome in Washington I am also including two small tokens of my affection. The maple candy is tapped from my homestead some miles outside of Quebec (you visited once, I think, just after the turn of the century. I've expanded it quite a bit since then! You should come visit.) The star mold seemed appropriate for you, and I hope you will enjoy. Share one with Lincoln, if you get the chance, and do let me know how he likes it. The book, L'influence d'un livre, is not entirely new (it's been nearly twenty-five years since it was published), but I don't think it's yet caught on on your side of the border. It is a lovely little piece of satire about gold, alchemy, and romance: all things I thought might appeal to you. I've been trying to get Arthur to read it for years, now, but you know how he is with French. Tu n'apprends pas à un vieux singe à faire des grimaces, et Arthur est le plus âgé de tous.
I hope you will receive these gifts before Christmas, or else whenever next you visit Washington. Whenever that may be, I hope they find you well. Happy Christmas, Alfred. I miss you and your exuberant way of writing more than I can say.
Your Overly-Sentimental and Steadfast Brother,
Matthew Williams
Historical / Language Notes:
1. As has been discussed, the Trent Affair created massive tensions between the U.S. and the British Empire for the better part of a year (mid 1861 to early 1862). During this time, Britain more or less indicated that it was liable to side with the Confederacy, a threat which the U.S. made very clear would spark a war between the U.S. and Britain. During the height of these tensions (Late 1861) there were very serious fears that, should war break out between Britain and the U.S., the Union would surge north and annex Canada. In this context, Matthew's desire to see Alfred and Arthur reconciled to each other is not just a brotherly concern, but a very serious matter of personal safety.
2. L'influence d'un livre, or The Influence of a Book, is a 1837 novel by Philippe Aubert de Gaspé, Jr. It is regarded as the first French Canadian novel, and is generally regarded as a satire of spiritual poverty in Québec. It retells the story of Charles Amand's quest for gold, his attempts at alchemy, magic, and other things.
3. Tu n'apprends pas à un vieux singe à faire des grimaces, et Arthur est le plus âgé de tous. Translates to "You don't teach an old monkey to make faces, and Arthur is the oldest of them all". ("Teach an old monkey to make faces" is the literal translation of a French idiom bearing the same meaning as the English "You can't teach an old dog new tricks").