The exposition buildings were located on a level spot on a hilltop overlooking the river Douro, at an elevation, I judged, of about 200 feet. They wished to surround them with a greensward. Between the heat and the light soil, the grass could be made to grow only by continual watering, and this is the way they did it. About 400 women and children brought up water from the river in vessels on their heads. All day long this procession was moving up and down the hill, pouring the water on the ground, performing the work of a steam-pump and a 2-inch pipe.
I went to Portugal without a passport. Our financial partner told me it would be quite unnecessary. He himself had just returned from Oporto, where he went without a passport, and found that half a crown given the custom-house inspector on his arrival and departure was all he needed. I understood the intimation that if I got a passport, the fee of, I believe, a guinea would not be allowed me. So, although I went from London and could very conveniently have obtained a passport at the United States legation, I omitted to do it.
On landing at Oporto the two-and-sixpenny piece opened the kingdom of Portugal to me quite readily. Getting out, the process was different. I found that the steamer on which I had come from London would not return for a week or more after the opening of the exposition, and I was impatient to get back. A line between Liverpool and Buenos Ayres made Lisbon a port of call, and a steamer was expected en route to Liverpool in the course of three or four days after the opening; so I determined to come by that. The morning after the opening I was awakened early by a telegram informing me that the steamer had arrived at Lisbon during the preceding night, having made an unexpectedly quick run across the South Atlantic, and would sail for Liverpool that evening. The railroad ran only two trains a day, and my only way to get to Lisbon in time was to take the nine-o’clock train from Oporto. The station was on a hill on the opposite side of the Douro. There was only one bridge across the river, and that was half a mile up the stream from the hotel and from the station. Oporto boasted no public conveyance. So I hired a couple of boys to take my trunk down to the river, row me and it across, and carry it up the hill to the station. I got off with two minutes to spare.
On applying at the steamship office in Lisbon for a passage ticket, I was informed by the very gentlemanly English clerk that they were forbidden to sell a ticket to any one without a passport. “However,” he added, “this will cause you no inconvenience. The United States legation is on the second block below here. I will direct you to it, and you can obtain a passport without any trouble.” By the way, how did he recognize me as an American, and how was it that I was always recognized as an American? I never could explain that puzzle.
On knocking at the door of the legation, it was opened by a colored man, who informed me that this was a fête day, and that the minister was attending a reception at the palace (this was the first time I ever heard of a royal reception in the forenoon), but if I would call again at three o’clock the passport would be ready for me. So, leaving with him my address, I left, to amuse myself as best I could till three o’clock.
On presenting myself at that hour I was informed by the same darkey that the minister would not give me a passport; that he had bidden him tell me he knew nothing about me; I might be an American or I might not: at any rate, he was not going to certify that I was. I had got into the country without a passport, and I would have to get out without one for all him. I inquired if the minister were at home. “Yes, sir,” replied the darkey, “he is at home, but he will not see you; he told me to tell you so,” and with that he bowed me out and shut the door.
I went back to the steamship office and reported my failure to my friend the clerk. He drew a long whistle. “Not see you! What’s he here for? He must be drunk; that’s it, he’s drunk.” After a minute’s reflection he added: “We must see the Secretary of State; I am well acquainted with him, and he will get you out of this mess directly. If you will kindly wait till I have finished my correspondence, which will occupy me for about half an hour, I will take you to his office. You can amuse yourself with this copy of the Times,” handing it to me.
When we reached the office of the Secretary of State we found the door locked. “Oh,” said he, “I had forgotten, this is a saint’s day, and the public offices are closed. We must go to his house.” We found the Secretary at home. I was introduced, and the Englishman told my case, of course in Portuguese. As he proceeded I saw the official brow darken. I woke up to the enormity of my offense. Little kingdom, big dignity. I had defied their laws and corrupted their official. The case looked serious. The Secretary, in fact, found it so serious that he did not feel like taking the sole responsibility of its decision, but sent out for two others of His Majesty’s advisers to consult with him. The assembling of this court caused a delay of half an hour, during which I had time to conjure up all sorts of visions, including an indefinite immurement in a castle and a diplomatic correspondence, while the deuce would be to pay with my business at home.
Finally the officials sent for arrived. The instant they entered the room I was recognized by one of them. He had accompanied the King to the opening of the exposition the day before, which the pressure of public business or some game or other had prevented the Secretary of State from doing. In fact, he had headed the procession behind their Majesties and so had seen the graciousness of the King’s favor to me.
He spoke a few words to the Secretary of State, when, presto, everything was changed. The court did not convene, but instead cordial handshaking with the man on whom the beams of royal favor had shone.