Meanwhile, nobody came near me. Whether it was that the officer, knowing me to be unwell, thought he was rendering me service, or whether he was acting in[in] in conformity with orders, I know not: but he repulsed all who attempted to approach me. This gave rise to a curious circumstance. Our chamber-door led into a corridor, along which we were permitted to walk: having one day proceeded to the end of it, I found, contrary to custom, a little door open, leading to a steep staircase. Curiosity induced me to ascend, and I found myself on the platform of the fort, whence I could command a view of Cape Town and the boundless ocean. Struck with the beauty of the spectacle, I became so wrapped in the meditations to which it gave rise, that two hours elapsed ere I thought of returning. By chance I had come out while my son was taking a walk with our officer. In the interim, the sentinel had been changed, and when I presented myself at the door leading to our apartments, the soldier placed his musket across it, and rudely refused to admit me. The more I insisted on being admitted, the more angrily he expressed his determination to exclude me. This appeared to me odd enough, but I thought it still more droll when I found it necessary to descend the staircase, pass through the court-yards to the outer guardhouse, and obtain entrance to my prison by main force. The officer on duty, alarmed at sight of me, ran furiously to the sentinel who was posted on the outside of our apartments, and a violent altercation ensued between them. The officer severely reprimanded the man, and threatened to have him punished. The soldier, with his eyes starting out of his head, declared that he had discharged his duty; and I, who remained a tranquil spectator, could not forbear smiling at this curious dispute, the cause of which no one could explain but myself. However, peace was soon established at the expense of the captive. I was again placed under confinement, and order was restored in the fort.
The only stranger I saw was Doctor Barry, who frequently visited me. I found his company very agreeable. He constantly recommended me to take care of my health. He said he could guess the seat of my disorder, and regretted that it was out of his power to prescribe any remedy for me. I assured him that the greatest favour he could confer on me would be to procure a person who could read to me and write from my dictation. This I had been vainly soliciting since my arrival, for the state of my eyes precluded all occupation, and my son was strictly enjoined to abstain from all sedentary employment. I therefore laboured under an intolerable depression of spirits, in being thus wholly abandoned to my melancholy thoughts.
The Doctor informed me that the Governor was about to depart, to make a tour over the colony, and that he would be absent about three months. This information precluded the hope of any change in my condition. I determined to make a last attempt, not that I counted on its success, but only because I wished to leave nothing untried; for the horrible and truly discourteous way in which I had been treated astonished me less than it was calculated to do. I was prepared for it. At St. Helena, we had been repeatedly informed that Lord Charles Somerset was our personal enemy, and, on my arrival at the Cape, when I made inquiries respecting his character and the sort of reception I was likely to experience, I was told that nothing but a dog or a horse could claim his attention. Subsequently, in the solitude of my prison, I often thought to myself that, being neither a dog nor a horse, I might despair of obtaining any notice from the Governor. I shall soon show how little Lord Charles Somerset deserved these reflections.
Profiting by a passage in his letter, in which he expressed a wish to render my stay at the Cape as agreeable as possible, I took the opportunity in my next letter candidly to communicate to him my thoughts respecting the treatment I experienced. My letter was as follows:—
“My Lord,—I learn that your Excellency is on the eve of leaving Cape Town, and that you will be absent for a considerable time: this induces me, with extreme repugnance, to enter upon a disagreeable subject, and to call your Excellency’s attention to a few domestic details. I think it my duty to do this, for otherwise, should any public expression of dissatisfaction hereafter escape me, I might justly incur the reproach of having addressed[addressed] no complaint to your Excellency.
“But before I enter on the subject, my Lord, that you may not regard as ridiculous the facts which I am about to state: and also to afford you a just idea of the circumstances in which I am placed, of which I think it very probable your Excellency is ignorant, permit me to observe, with all the embarrassment of one who is obliged to introduce himself, that there is no individual here with whom I may not, and ought not naturally and without reserve to place myself on a level in every respect whatever. Finally, I neither request, nor solicit any indulgence nor favour relative to my personal wants, wishing in this respect to depend entirely on my own resources[resources].
“These two points being fixed and determined, I proceed to that passage in your letter in which you have the goodness to express your wish of rendering my stay here as agreeable as possible. On this subject, I must acquaint your Excellency that I am imprisoned in a kind of dungeon, in which it will be difficult for me much longer to support existence.
“My son and I, who are both unwell, are, in this extremely hot weather, lodged in a very small chamber, where we breathe unwholesome air, and have scarcely room to move, for our beds nearly fill it. The scorching rays of the sun, darting on a window without curtains, compel me to pass the day in bed. There is, it is true, another adjoining apartment of the same kind; but it is a dining room, where two of your officers do the honours of the table. If I occasionally enter this room, I count every moment I spend in it. There is a third room, which is occupied by the officer who is appointed as our guard, and through which I must pass, however unpleasant to me, on every indispensable occasion.
“Whatever may be the hardships and miseries of such a situation, I have been a sailor, I have been a soldier, and what is more, I am a man, and I can in silence endure this and even more. I speak here, only in answer to the obliging paragraph in your letter. There is no fire in our apartments; so that if we should require warm water, on account of my son’s health or any transient wants, we must either do without it, or have recourse to the charity of our neighbours. The Doctor has in vain prescribed the use of the bath for my son; no water can be obtained for this purpose. If I feel a wish to procure any little thing at my own expense, I am informed that your Excellency has ordered every thing to be provided for me; and thus, from motives of delicacy I repress my wish, and abstain from gratifying it.
“I spare your Excellency a multitude of details, which are equally beneath your notice and mine. When the hour of dinner arrives, two officers, who, I feel pleasure in acknowledging, treat me with great politeness and respect, preside at the table. But it is a singular fact, though a very certain one, that even their attentions add to my discomfort, by obliging me to endeavour to return them in a suitable way, though it would be far more natural and desirable for me to allow my thoughts to wander far from the spot in which I am now situated. Besides, our habits and manners are totally different. I find myself under the necessity of sitting for several hours at table, when I should not from choice sit for half an hour. All conversation must be disagreeable to me, unless it be on the subject which now wholly occupies my thoughts. Your Excellency has too much judgment not to perceive that the situation in which I am placed is an absolute torment to me. My melancholy is, doubtless, as irksome to my table companions as their gaiety is annoying to me. Perfect solitude is alone agreeable to me; and, therefore, I have completely withdrawn from the dinner-table, and I take my meals in bed.