Mr. Motley was very sensitive, very high-spirited, very impulsive, very patriotic, and singularly truthful.  The letter of Mr. Seward to such a man was like a buffet on the cheek of an unarmed officer.  It stung like the thrust of a stiletto.  It roused a resentment that could not find any words to give it expression.  He could not wait to turn the insult over in his mind, to weigh the exact amount of affront in each question, to take counsel, to sleep over it, and reply to it with diplomatic measure and suavity.  One hour had scarcely elapsed before his answer was written.  As to his feelings as an American, he appeals to his record.  This might have shown that if he erred it was on the side of enthusiasm and extravagant expressions of reverence for the American people during the heroic years just passed.  He denounces the accusations as pitiful fabrications and vile calumny.  He blushes that such charges could have been uttered; he is deeply wounded that Mr. Seward could have listened to such falsehood.  He does not hesitate to say what his opinions are with reference to home questions, and especially to that of reconstruction.

“These opinions,” he says, “in the privacy of my own household, and to occasional American visitors, I have not concealed.  The great question now presenting itself for solution demands the conscientious scrutiny of every American who loves his country and believes in the human progress of which that country is one of the foremost representatives.  I have never thought, during my residence at Vienna, that because I have the honor of being a public servant of the American people I am deprived of the right of discussing within my own walls the gravest subjects that can interest freemen.  A minister of the United States does not cease to be a citizen of the United States, as deeply interested as others in all that relates to the welfare of his country.”

Among the “occasional American visitors” spoken of above must have been some of those self-appointed or hired agents called “interviewers,” who do for the American public what the Venetian spies did for the Council of Ten, what the familiars of the Inquisition did for the priesthood, who invade every public man’s privacy, who listen at every key-hole, who tamper with every guardian of secrets; purveyors to the insatiable appetite of a public which must have a slain reputation to devour with its breakfast, as the monster of antiquity called regularly for his tribute of a spotless virgin.

The “interviewer” has his use, undoubtedly, and often instructs and amuses his public with gossip they could not otherwise listen to.  He serves the politician by repeating the artless and unstudied remarks which fall from his lips in a conversation which the reporter has been invited to take notes of.  He tickles the author’s vanity by showing him off as he sits in his library unconsciously uttering the engaging items of self-portraiture which, as he