July 4, 1866
Letter from Alfred Jones in ? to Matthew Williams in Quebec
Dear Mattie,
I must start this letter, as I so often must, with apologies. Unfortunately, I owe you such a list of apologies that I do not know where to begin. I shall start, then, with matters of business before matters of the heart. I was shocked and indeed quite furious for both our sakes to hear of the repeal of the Reciprocity Treaty. Though it does little good to say so now, I would like you to know that such a reversal was not my idea nor an idea I would have favored, had I known about it beforehand.
I must express similar dismay over news of raids on British forts along our border made by some of my own discontent Irish Catholics. I know you must grow tired of hearing this from me, but I assure you that these radicals do not represent my own sentiments. While I will tell you plainly that all thoughts of Arthur leave a bitter taste in my mouth, I harbour no vitriol for you or your countrymen. I have not been in Washington in some time, but knowing Congress as I left it, I am sure there have been one or two Senators saying outlandish and alarming things regarding you and I. I hope you will not listen to them.
I must also extend my apologies for how you were treated when you visited me in '62. I admit I remember very little of the encounter. Even the parts in which I was present remain hazy in my memory, and cut off quite sharply in a moment of panic when I realized that Andrew (I do know if anyone had ever told you the identity of my alter-ego, that is, the Confederacy) was going to take control. I was only told days later of how he attacked you, though I was much heartened to hear that you escaped unscathed. I cannot possibly impart to you the depth of my enduring embarrassment, shame, and regret over the entire affair, and hope that you may forgive me for such tresspasses. The fact that you visited me at all speaks volumes to your kindness, and your presence that night was appreciated in ways I cannot express. I know you understand what it is like to return from the void alone; I had never been so grateful to see your face.
Finally, it is with similar hope, though perhaps a naive hope, that I ask you to accept my sincerest apologies for not writing to you for so long. I do not know what news you've had from Washington. Shortly after Andrew Johnson's hasty inauguration last spring (I was not even present for the event, something I find more insulting the longer I think of it), I left Washington. I have not been back since. Thankfully, I was able to stop by my home on Jenkins Hill and, among other things, collect the mail you've sent to me over the years. I cannot communicate to you how touched I was by your letters, in particular by the gifts you sent me from Chicago in '64. The huckleberry sweets were delicious. I wish I had saved them for longer, but you know I haven't the self control. I've kept all your kind words with me even as I travel (which I have been doing quite a lot) and have been happy to reread them on dark days. I regret that it has taken over an entire calendar year for me to work up the courage to write back to you. It is perhaps a sign of my own weakness, in both heart and mind. So much has transpired in the last year alone, let alone the last ten, even now I do not know precisely what to say about it all. I can only apologize once again for the grief I know I've inflicted upon you, it was never my intent.
I wish I could tell you exactly where I am, but I have it on good authority that all of Washington is determined to find me and haul me back to the Capital so that I may help Johnson with his terrible plan for Reconstruction. To avoid this fate, I must maintain a certain level of secrecy which I'm sure you'll find irritating. I cannot find it within myself to return. The Capital feels no longer like a home, but a cage. Though I've left that wretched tomb-cell behind, still there is no shortage of congressmen—and now, even a President—who would poke at me as if from behind bars, goading me to go this way or that, to snap or cower to the tune of their whims. It is stifling beyond comparison. I have been caught up in the politics of the East for too long. The wounds on the hills of Virginia are still fresh, the burns of Georgia not yet healed. I need time away like I need air to breathe. It has been too many years since I've had leave to fully connect with my people, with my land.
Out here, I can breathe freely. The sky is wide and never-ending, and at night the field of stars is so thick that the land itself fades away. It makes me feel as though I belong not to the Earth, but to the heavens themselves, where I can float in a sea of starlight and look down at our continent from a distance too far to see any remnants of war. Perhaps this sounds fanciful to you, but I think not; I remember when we used to stargaze along the banks of the Ontario, when we were both small. Do you remember how we would go out when the wind was still, so the water made a perfect mirror of the stars? We would set paper ships out to sail and watch them ripple across the constellations, pretending they were flying to the moon. I hope you remember the feeling of those nights, for it is how I feel now. Even as my body still suffers (some days I wonder if these festering wounds will ever fully heal), open air, solitude, and time with my own people—people who've lived their lives far removed from the war—is clearing out the cobwebs of the last five years.
Perhaps I will return East soon, to deal with the inevitable failures of Johnson's plans. Perhaps I will wander even further. Either way, I hope to resume my old habit of writing to you. I will not be staying in any city that you know, nor at any of my properties. Instead, I've enclosed the address of an inn where I at times stop by to collect news and mail. I implore you to keep this location a secret from all people, especially anyone from Washington (or Quebec, for that matter). I am addressing this letter to your house near Quebec. I do not know if you are there or elsewhere—there's been little Canadian news in the papers since before the war, and you can imagine that journalists here are slightly preoccupied with our own problems.
Should this letter reach you at all, I hope that it finds you well in mind, body, and soul, and not too put upon by Arthur. He asks much of you, and you have always been far too good to him. I imagine he is plenty occupied by his Empire and, perhaps, making warships for the enemies of other trading partners. Should you see him, I hope you'll pass along the message that this war didn't kill me. In fact, you may pass along the message to anyone who asks. Today, I celebrate my 90th birthday as a Republic. I survived Arthur, I survived the Confederacy, I'll outlive slavery and Reconstruction and whatever else the world throws at me, God willing. It will take a lot more than this Civil War to kill me and keep me there. I will celebrate my centennial next decade, and then I will celebrate my second centennial, and my third. I am determined not to fade from this earth, even as my body aches and groans with the trials of these recent days.
It is all but a passing moment, and here under the open skies, I am finally remembering the strength that has made me who I am today. I know you have the same strength hidden in the depths of your quiet resolve, and am grateful to endure the ages with your companionship even from afar.
Your loving and very-much-alive brother,
Alfred Jones
Historical Notes:
1. The Reciprocity Treaty between the USA and Canada (also called the Elgin–Marcy Treaty) was signed in 1854, but was terminated by the United States in 1866. The American motivation behind ending the treaty was partially because the trade benefits of the treaty were lopsided in Canada's favor, and partially out of anger over Britain (and by extension, Canada's) Confederate-sympathetic role in the Civil War. For purposes of narrative, I have been severely sugar-coating or outright ignoring American sentiments that were hostile to Canada at this time, but postwar America was not overly fond of their northern neighbors for the Empire's tacit support of the CSA.
2. The raids mentioned to British forts along the border was actually the first of the Fenian raids, which went on for some years. They were armed raids made by the Fenian Brotherhood, who were and Irish Republican organization. Ostensibly, the purpose of the raids was to pressure the British Empire to relinquish its grip on Ireland. Although unrelated to the Civil War and not sanctioned by the USA, the Fenian Raids were largely ignored by Washington and local officials until after they happened. Many believe the US turned a blind eye to the raids because of the sour relationship with the Empire at this time.
3. Regarding senators saying "outlandish" things, this is actually a specific reference to an event that would happen a few years after Alfred wrote this letter. In 1869, during negotiations of the 'Alabama Claims', that is, the United States' demand for war reparations from Great Britain in repayment for their manufacture of warships for the Confederate Navy, Sen. Charles Sumner, then the chair of the Senate Foreign Relations Committee, suggested that if Britain could not make the suggested payment of $2 billion (Now worth about $38.3 billion today!) in cash, they should instead hand over the entirety of Canada to the United States. This, of course, never happened. After international arbitration, Britain did pay reparations (of about $15.5 million, which is worth about $330.6 million today). So when I say that people were afraid the U.S. was going to find a way to annex Canada, I'm not kidding.
4. 'Jenkins Hill' is actually Capitol Hill. This is one of the older neighborhoods in D.C., and though it is called Capitol Hill now (and likely was in 1866) was originally called Jenkins Hill, named for the family that owned the land prior to the incorporation of the new U.S. Capital. Alfred here is reverting back to its original name, perhaps out of habit.
5. Although Alfred does not specify where he is, in my head I like to think he's roaming around the frontier towns of the Dakota Territory.