I Go to London—Am Introduced to a Notable Set—Huxley, Spencer, Mill and
Tyndall—Artemus Ward Comes to Town—The Savage Club
I
The fall of Atlanta after a siege of nearly two months was, in the
opinion of thoughtful people, the sure precursor of the fall of the
doomed Confederacy. I had an affectionate regard for General Hood, but
it was my belief that neither he nor any other soldier could save the
day, and being out of commission and having no mind for what I
conceived aimless campaigning through another winter—especially an
advance into Tennessee upon Nashville—I wrote to an old friend of mine,
who owned the Montgomery Mail, asking for a job. He answered that if I
would come right along and take the editorship of the paper he would
make me a present of half of it—a proposal so opportune and tempting
that forty-eight hours later saw me in the capital of Alabama.
I was accompanied by my fidus Achates, Albert Roberts. The morning
after our arrival, by chance I came across a printed line which
advertised a room and board for two “single gentlemen,” with the
curious affix for those times, “references will be given and required.”
This latter caught me. When I rang the visitors’ bell of a pretty
dwelling upon one of the nearby streets a distinguished gentleman in
uniform came to the door, and, acquainted with my business, he said,
“Ah, that is an affair of my wife,” and invited me within.
He was obviously English. Presently there appeared a beautiful lady,
likewise English and as obviously a gentlewoman, and an hour later my
friend Roberts and I moved in. The incident proved in many ways
fateful. The military gentleman proved to be Doctor Scott, the post
surgeon. He was, when we came to know him, the most interesting of men,
a son of that Captain Scott who commanded Byron’s flagship at
Missolonghi in 1823; had as a lad attended the poet and he in his last
illness and been in at the death, seeing the club foot when the body
was prepared for burial. His wife was adorable. There were two girls
and two boys. To make a long story short, Albert Roberts married one of
the daughters, his brother the other; the lads growing up to be
successful and distinguished men—one a naval admiral, the other a
railway president. When, just after the war, I was going abroad, Mrs.
Scott said: “I have a brother living in London to whom I will be glad
to give you a letter.”