A thread about freedom of travel reminded me of this piece of Civil War propaganda:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Man_Without_a_CountryPlot summary
The protagonist of the story is a (fictional) young United States Army lieutenant named Philip Nolan, who developed a friendship with the visiting Aaron Burr. When Burr is tried for treason (as he actually was in 1807), Nolan was tried as an accomplice. During his testimony, Nolan bitterly renounced his nation, angrily shouting "D--n the United States! I wish I may never hear of the United States again!" (When the novel was first published, the word "damn" was considered too obscene for publication.) Upon conviction, the judge icily granted Nolan his wish: he was to spend the rest of his life on warships of the United States Navy, in exile, with no right to ever again set foot on U.S. soil, and with no mention ever again made to him about his country.
http://www.bartleby.com/310/6/1.htmlThe Man without a Country
I SUPPOSE that very few casual readers of the “New York Herald” of August 13, 1863, observed, in an obscure corner, among the “Deaths,” the announcement,—
“NOLAN. Died, on board U. S. Corvette ‘Levant,’ Lat. 2°
11' S., Long. 131° W., on the 11th of May, PHILIP NOLAN.”
1
I happened to observe it, because I was stranded at the old Mission House in Mackinaw, waiting for a Lake Superior steamer which did not choose to come, and I was devouring to the very stubble all the current literature I could get hold of, even down to the deaths and marriages in the “Herald.” My memory for names and people is good, and the reader will see, as he goes on, that I had reason enough to remember Philip Nolan. There are hundreds of readers who would have paused at that announcement, if the officer of the “Levant” who reported it had chosen to make it thus: “Died, May 11, THE MAN WITHOUT A COUNTRY.” For it was as “The Man without a Country” that poor Philip Nolan had generally been known by the officers who had him in charge during some fifty years, as, indeed, by all the men who sailed under them. I dare say there is many a man who has taken wine with him once a fortnight, in a three years’ cruise, who never knew that his name was “Nolan,” or whether the poor wretch had any name at all. 2
There can now be no possible harm in telling this poor creature’s story. Reason enough there has been till now, ever since Madison’s administration went out in 1817, for very strict secrecy, the secrecy of honor itself, among the gentlemen of the navy who have had Nolan in successive charge. And certainly it speaks well for the esprit de corps of the profession, and the personal honor of its members, that to the press this man’s story has been wholly unknown,—and, I think, to the country at large also. I have reason to think, from some investigations I made in the Naval Archives when I was attached to the Bureau of Construction, that every official report relating to him was burned when Ross burned the public buildings at Washington. One of the Tuckers, or possibly one of the Watsons, had Nolan in charge at the end of the war; and when, on returning from his cruise, he reported at Washington to one of the Crowninshields,—who was in the Navy Department when he came home,—he found that the Department ignored the whole business. Whether they really knew nothing about it, or whether it was a “Non mi ricordo,” determined on as a piece of policy, I do not know. But this I do know, that since 1817, and possibly before, no naval officer has mentioned Nolan in his report of a cruise. 3
But, as I say, there is no need for secrecy any longer. And now the poor creature is dead, it seems to me worth while to tell a little of his story, by way of showing young Americans of to-day what it is to be A MAN WITHOUT A COUNTRY.
--snip--