HOMEWARD BOUND.
Now that this personal narrative is drawing rapidly to its close, there
is one point to which I must needs allude, at the risk of sinning
egotistically. While under lock and key, I never ventured to grapple
with the subject. Even now--sitting in a pleasant room, with windows
opening down on a trim lawn studded with flower-jewels and girdled with
the mottled belts of velvet-green that are the glory of Devonion
shrub-land, beyond which Tobray shimmers broad and blue under the breezy
summer weather--I shrink from it with a strange reluctance that I
cannot, shake off, though it shames me.
I speak of the effect--moral, intellectual, and physical--produced by
those eight weeks of imprisonment.
I do not wish to intimate that there were any actual hardships beyond
the prevention of free air and exercise to be endured. More than this: I
am ready and willing to allow, that certain privileges were conceded to
me that I had no right to claim, which were granted to few, if any, of
my fellows in misfortune. The Corporal of the Keys was a clerk in the
house of Ticknor & Field, the great Boston publishers, before he became
a soldier; and was disposed to show every consideration and indulgence
to one whom he was pleased to consider a brother of the Literate Guild.
The under-superintendent--Donnelly by name--treated one with a
benevolence quite paternal. The monotony of my solitary confinement was
often broken by his rambling chat and reminiscences of a gambler's life
in the Far West; for he liked nothing better than lingering in my cell
for an hour or so, when his day's work was done. After the prison doors
were opened, I lingered for ten minutes within them, to exchange a
farewell hand-grip with that quaint, kind old man. There was a stringent
curfew-order, enjoining the extinguishment of all lights at nine, P. M.;
but on condition of vailing my window with a horse-rug, so as not to
establish a bad precedent, I was allowed to keep mine burning at
discretion. Now some readers of these pages may think that a
confinement, such as I have described, wherein, there was to be obtained
a sufficiency of meat, drink, tobacco, and light literature, is not,
after all, a _peine forte et dure_; and that it is both weak and
unreasonable thereanent to make one's moan. So, in bygone days, when a
lazy fit was strong upon me, have I thought myself. I am not malicious
enough to wish that the most contemptuously skeptical of such critics
may be undeceived, at the price which I paid for the learning. It is
possible that a person of settled sedentary habits, endowed not only
with powerful resources within himself, but also with the ornament of a
meek and quiet spirit, might hold out well enough for awhile, more
especially if supported by the reflection that he was suffering for his
country's good or for his own private advantage. But take the converse
example of a man unsupported by any consolations of patriotism or
peculation, of a temperament somewhat impatient, and prone to anger,
accustomed, too, from youth upwards, to constant habits of strong
out-door exercise, with such an one I fancy it will fare--very much as
it fared with me. It is an established fact, that a few months'
confinement within four walls, without stint of food or aggravation of
punishment, will bring an athletic Red Indian to the extreme of bodily
prostration, if not to mortal sickness.
It is humiliating to confess, but I fear unhappily true, that in despite
of all advantages of a civilized education, some of us, under like
circumstances, will go down as helplessly as the noble savage.
Would you like to hear of the process? It is not pleasant to look upon,
or to tell.
The first few days are spent in an uneasy, irritable expectation that
every hour will bring some news--good or bad--from the world without,
bearing on your own especial case; then comes the frame of mind wherein
you allow that there must be certain official delays, and begin to
calculate, wearily, how far the wire-drawn formalities will be
protracted, making a liberal margin for unexpected contingencies: this
phase soon passes away: then comes the bitter, up-hill fight of hoping
against hope; how long this may endure depends much on temperament--more
on bodily health; but in most cases it is soon over, and is succeeded by
the last state, ten thousand times worse than the first: slowly, but
very surely, the dense black cloud of utter listlessness settles down,
never broken thereafter save by brief flashes of a futile, irrational
ferocity. All your ideas move round like tired mill-horses, in the
narrowest circle, with an unhappy Ipse Ego for its centre: all the
passing events of the outward world seem unnaturally dwarfed and
distant, as if seen through an inverted telescope: the struggles of
stranger nations move you no more than the battles on an ant-hill; the
only question of civil or religious liberty in which you feel the
faintest interest is the unimportant one involving your own personal
freedom. And throughout you are shamefully conscious that this
indifference is not philosophical, but simply selfish.
So much for the _morale_. Does the _physique_ fare better.
When you enter the gaol, there is probably laid up in your lungs a
certain store of fresh, free air, which takes some time to exhaust
itself; but soon you begin to draw your breath more and more slowly, and
to feel that the atmosphere inhaled no longer refreshes you; no
wonder--it is laden with compressed animal life. Then a dull, hot weight
closes round your brows, as if a heavy, fever-stricken hand was always
clasping them; there it lies--at night, when the drowsiness which is
_not_ sleep overcomes you--in the morning, when you wake, with damp
linen and dank hair: plunge your forehead in ice-cold water; before the
drops have dried there it is burning--burning again. The distaste for
all food grows upon you, till it becomes a loathing not to be driven
away by bitters or quinine: there is no savor in the smoke of
Kinnekinnick, nor any flavor in the still waters of Monongahela.
Physical prostration of necessity speedily ensues. Let me mention one
fact--not in vaunting, but in proof that I do not speak idly. When we
were trying those athletics at Greenland, the day after my capture, I
could rend a broad linen band fastened tightly round my upper arm by
bending the _biceps_: when I had been a month in Carroll place I had to
halt, at least once, from absolute breathlessness and debility, on the
stairs leading from the yard to the third story; my pulse was almost
imperceptible. By this time my sight had become so seriously affected
that I was absolutely unable to read the clearest print; even now, a
month after my enfranchisement, though keen Atlantic breezes and home
comforts have worked wonders, I cannot write five consecutive sentences
without a respite.
I am forced to quote my own experience; but I know that it could be
matched, if not exceeded, by very many cases of equal or worse
suffering.
Long confinement falls, of course, intensely harder on a stranger than
on a native. The latter, I suppose, can never quite divest himself of an
interest in passing events, which the former, at the best of times, can
but faintly share: besides which, most Americans--not purely political
prisoners--have either a definite term of captivity to look forward to,
or are, in one way or other, subject to the chances of exchange.
If the Federal Government had avowed at once, that it was their
sovereign pleasure to keep an Englishman in durance for a _certain_
period, without attempting to excuse the arbitrary stretch of authority,
one would have chafed, I suppose, under the injustice, but still
submitted, as it is the duty of manhood to submit to any inevitable
necessity. It was the doubt and indefiniteness of the whole affair that
made it so inexpressibly exasperating. It was bad enough to have no
palpable adversary to grapple with: it was worse to have no specific
charge. As I had contravened a general order by crossing the Federal
lines without a pass, the Legation did not apply for my unconditional
release: it merely pressed for the inquiry and trial that, in most
civilized countries, a criminal can claim as a right. I was never
confronted with any judicial authority from the moment that I entered
the prison doors till they opened to let me go free: I never received
any official intimation of the reasons for my prolonged detention; and
Lord Lyons' repeated applications were at last only met by a vague
assertion that they "had reason to believe that an aide-de-camp's
commission, signed by General Lee, had reached me at Baltimore." There
was not, of course, the faintest scintilla of evidence to establish
anything of the sort. While in America I received no communication
whatever--written or verbal--from any person connected with the
Confederate Government or army.
I do honestly affirm that, in dilating on the several hardships of my
own especial case, I have no idea of enlisting any sympathy, public or
private. I simply wish to show what arbitrary oppression can be
exercised upon British subjects with perfect impunity by a Government
which will maintain quasi-friendly relations with our own just so long
as it conforms the standing-ground of a tottering Cabinet. Perhaps, some
day or other, as a last peace-offering to the Republican hydra, MM.
Seward and Stanton will burn a bishop, and so bring our pacific Foreign
Office to bay.
Physical causes prevented my feeling very exhilarated or exultant during
my earliest hours of freedom. It was pleasant though to meet an English
face at the hotel where I meant to sleep. I had not seen Mr. Austin
since we were contemporaries at Oxford; but on the 2d June I had
received from him a very kind and courteous note, offering a visit, if
it should be acceptable. I need scarcely say how welcome it would have
been; but he did not get my written reply till the following Monday--not
bad time, either, for the Old Capitol post-office. I dined with Mr.
Austin, and at the same table sat General Martindale, military commander
at Washington, and Senator Sumner. The former certainly recognized my
identity; but he was not the less amicable for that. It was odd to find
myself receiving suggestions as to my route, in case I visited Niagara,
from the same man who three days before had granted a pass to my friend
for his proposed prison visit. I sat some time after dinner in talk with
Mr. Sumner. His face is much aged and careworn since I first saw it,
some years ago, in England: but his manner retains the polished
geniality which made him so great a favorite in most European _salons_.
The rest of the evening I spent at Percy Anderson's. I much regretted
that I could not see Lord Lyons, to express my sense of his unwearied
exertions in my behalf; but he was dining out; and it was judged better
that I should not risk an apparent infringement of my parole by
lingering in Washington an unnecessary hour the next morning, so I was
forced to trust my thanks to writing.
I can never forget, while I live, the welcomes which waited me in
Baltimore; welcomes much too cordial to be wasted on a discomfited
adventurer. Still I was glad to find that those whose opinion was well
worth having gave one credit for having deserved success. I was very,
very loth to leave my kind friends, though we may perchance forgather
again should I outlive my parole, and be enabled to carry out certain
half-formed plans of hunting in the Far West. It was only the sternest
sense of duty that impelled me to sacrifice to Niagara sixty hours that
intervened before June the 13th, when the Inman steamer started, in
which I had secured a berth by telegraph.
Twenty-two hours of unbroken rail-travel--partly through the beautiful
Susquehannah Valley; partly through the best cultivated lands (about
Troy and Elmira) that I saw in the States, whose trim, loose stone walls
reminded one of part of the Heythrop and Cotswold countries--brought us
to Buffalo. The Company had here so contrived matters that it was
absolutely impossible for the traveler to proceed farther that night, or
to get at any luggage beyond what he carries in his hand: from Elmira it
travels by a route of its own, to which your through-ticket does not
apply: the baggage-agent hands it over to you at Niagara the next
morning, with a cheerfully placid face, as if rather proud of the
satisfactory correctness of the whole arrangement.
I will not add a stone to the descriptive cairn heaped up by generations
of tourists in honor of the King-Cataract; simply because it is
presumption in any man to pass judgment on that famous scene till he has
studied it for more days than I could spare hours. I do not think, the
eye is disappointed, even at first sight: after being fully prepared by
Church's vivid picture--a very triumph of transparent coloring--you
still stand dumb in honest admiration of that one miracle in the midst
of wonders--the central curve of the Horse-shoe--where the main current
plunges over the verge, without a ripple to break the grandeur of the
clear, smooth chrysoprase, flashing back the sunlight through a filmy
lace-work of foam. But the ear is certainly dissatisfied: perhaps my
acoustics were out of order, as well as other cephalic organs; but it
struck me that Niagara hardly _made any noise at all_. Yet I penetrated
under the Fall as far as there is practicable foothold; and listened at
all sorts of distances for a _deafening_ roar, which never came.
I started eastward again by that same night's express. I cannot let
this, my last experience, pass, without recording my vote on the
much-mooted question of American railway travel. The natives, of course,
extol the whole system as one of the greatest of their institutions; but
I cannot understand any difference of opinion among strangers. The
baggage arrangement--except when the Company suffers under an aberration
of intellect, such as I have mentioned on the Niagara route--is really
convenient, and the _commissionaires_ attached to every train relieve
you of all responsibility at your journey's end, by collecting your
effects and transporting them to any given direction; but this solitary
advantage does not counterbalance other _désagrémens_. When the weather
is such as to allow a true current of air to circulate through the car,
the atmosphere is barely endurable; but with stoves at work, and all
apertures closed, it soon becomes dangerously oppressive. The German
element prevails strongly throughout Yankee-land: perhaps this accounts
for the natives' dread of fresh air. Your only chance of escaping from
semi-suffocation is to secure a seat next to a window, and keep it open,
hardening your heart against all the grumbling of your neighbors, who
run through a whole gamut of complaints, in the hope of softening or
shaming the Hyperborean. Sometimes you will have to encounter menaces;
but, in such a cause, it is surely worth while to do battle to the
death; revolver and bowie-knife lose their terrors in the presence of
imminent asphyxia. The advocates of the system chiefly insist on the
sleeping-cars, and the advantage of passing from one end of the train to
the other at your pleasure. On the first of these points, let me say,
that few aliens, after one trusting experiment of those stifling berths,
will be inclined to repeat it: the atmosphere of a crowded steamboat
cabin is pure and fresh by comparison. As for the vaunted promenade--the
man who would avail himself thereof, would, probably waltz with grace
and comfort to himself on the deck of the Lively Sally in a sea-way: it
requires some practice even to stand upright without holding on; the
jolting and oscillation are such that I think you take rather more
involuntary exercise than on the back of a cantering cover-hack. The
pace is not such as to make much amends: from twenty to twenty-five
miles an hour is the outside speed even of expresses: and on many lines
you ought to calculate the probabilities of arrival by anything rather
than the time-tables. Collisions, however, are certainly rare; the most
common accident is when the train breaks through one of the crazy wooden
bridges, or, obeying the direction of some playfully eccentric
pointsman, plunges headlong over an embankment into some peaceful valley
below. The steam-signals are very peculiar; the engine never whistles,
but indulges in a prolonged bellow, very like the hideous sounds emitted
by that hideous semi-brute, yclept the Gong-Donkey, who used to haunt
our race-courses some years ago--making weak-minded men start, and
strong-minded women scream with his unearthly roaring. When I first
heard the hoarse warning-note boom through the night, a shudder of
reminiscence came over me, for I used to shrink from that awful creature
with a repugnance such as I never felt for any other living thing.
All the weariness of the long night-journey will not prevent a traveler
from appreciating the superb Hudson, along whose banks the last part of
the road, from Albany, is carried. You are seldom out of sight of the
Caatskill range--blue in the distance or dark in the foreground--but the
crowning glory of the river are the old cliffs, where the rock soars up
sheer from the water's edge, with no more vegetation on its face than
will grow in the crevices of ancient walls.
I had scarcely twenty-four hours left for the Imperial City before the
Edinburgh sailed. This time I abode at the New York Hotel, where a
Baltimorean had already secured quarters. This much, at least, must be
conceded to the Yankee capital. In no other town that I know of can a
traveler so thoroughly take his ease in his inn. These magnificent
_caravanserais_ cast far into the shade the best managed establishments
of London, Paris, or Vienna, simply because luxuries enough to satiate
any moderate desires, are furnished at fixed prices that need not alarm
the most economical traveler. The _cuisine_ at the New York Hotel is
really artistic, and the attendance quite perfect. Also is found there a
certain Château Margaux of '48: after savoring that rich liquid velvet,
you wilt not wonder that the house has long been a favorite with the
Southern Sybarites. Things are changed, of course, now, and many of Mr.
Cranston's old patrons must now exercise their critical tastes on
mountain whisky and ration beef; but the tone of feeling in the
establishment remains the same. An out-spoken Republican or Abolitionist
would not meet a cordial welcome from the present frequenters of the New
York, nor, I think, from its jovial host. Likewise the Empress City can
boast that her barbers and iced drinks do actually "beat all creation."
After a long journey you are thoroughly disposed to appreciate these
scientific tonsors, whose delicacy of manipulation is unequaled in
Europe. Only the pen of that eloquent writer, who told the "Times" how
he "thirsted in the desert," could do justice to the high-art triumphs
of the cunning barkeeper.
"Joe"--of the mirthful eye, and agile hand, and ready repartee--long may
you flourish, mitigating the fierce summer thirst of many a parched
palate; stimulating withered appetites till they hunger anew for the
flesh-pots; warming the heart-cockles of departing voyagers till they
laugh the keen breezes of the bay to scorn. With me, at least, gratitude
for repeated refreshment shall long keep your memory green--green as the
mint-sprays that, when your last "julep" is mingled, should surely be
strewn, unsparingly, on your grave.
I never felt quite clear of Federaldom till I set my foot firm on the
deck of the good ship Edinburgh. I did not indulge in a soliloquy even
then; so I certainly shall not inflict on _you_ any rhapsodies about
freedom; but, in good truth, the sensation was too agreeable to be
easily forgotten.
The homeward voyage was as great a "success," as unbroken fine weather,
favorable winds, and company both pleasant and fair, could make it. On
the thirteenth day, towards evening, I found myself in the familiar
Adelphi, at Liverpool, savoring some "clear" turtle, not with a less
relish because, in the accurately pale face of the waiter who brought in
the lordly dish, there was not the faintest yellow tinge nor a ripple of
"wool" in his hair.
All of my personal narrative that could possibly interest the most
indulgent public is told now; if the few words I have left to say should
bore you--O patient reader!--they will at least be free of egotism.