Harper's New Monthly Magazine, Vol. V, No. XXV, June, 1852Various
General
Harper's New Monthly Magazine, Vol. V, No. XXV, June, 1852
Various
American literature -- Periodicals; Civilization -- Periodicals; Culture -- Periodicals
seditious document of which it was not possible that I could have been
the author, and at once committed me to prison. I was kept in waiting
while some other pretended examinations were gone through, and then, in
company with three more unfortunates, was driven off to the Luxembourg,
where, at about two o'clock in the morning, I was bundled into a cell
furnished with a straw _paillasse_ and rug, a deal table and a single
chair, and lighted by a small lamp suspended aloft out of my reach.
When I could find time to reflect upon the sudden calamity which had
overtaken me, I could come to no other conclusion than that I had been
made the victim of the cupidity of some villain or villains who had
contrived to incarcerate me out of the way, while they made a plunder
of my property. The imputation of seditious correspondence, which I
knew to be nothing but a pretense, bore me out in this conjecture;
and upon thinking the matter over again and again, I came to the
conviction at last, that, bad as the matter was, it might have been
much worse. I thought I saw that there was little chance of my being
brought up for trial, as it would be more for the interest of my
enemies, whoever they were, to keep me out of the way, than to bring
me before a tribunal which might or might not condemn me to death, but
which could hardly fail of discovering the motive of my abduction and
imprisonment. Thus I got rid of the fear of the guillotine, and I soon
found another cause for gratulation in the fact that I had not been
searched. I had a considerable sum of money in my pocket-book, and, by
a piece of good fortune, the book containing my banking-account was in
the breast-pocket of my overcoat, which I had put on on the previous
evening in consequence of a sudden storm, and which, on hearing the
pattering rain, I had instinctively seized upon coming away. Before I
lay down upon my miserable couch I contrived effectually to secrete my
valuables, in the fear that they might be abstracted in case I should
be so fortunate as to sleep. I had been locked in by the jailer, and I
imagined that the ten square feet which limited my view would confine
all my motions during the term of my imprisonment. In spite of all my
anxieties and the disagreeable novelty of my position, I fell off to
slumber about sunrise, and into a pleasant dream of home in England,
and the sunny fields of childhood.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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