Donat Henchy O'Brien

Our departure from Verdun for Bitche—Mars-la-Tour, Metz, and Sarrelouis—I receive a very useful present from Mr. Brown—Sarreguemines—A last chance—A mounted guard—Thoughts of an escape—Calculations upon a chase in a wood between horse-soldiers and prisoners on foot—Attempt resolved upon—Signal given—Flight from the prison caravan to the wood—French pursuit—A prisoner recaptured—My escape from the wood into another—My companions, I fear, less fortunate—My concealment—A swampy bed, and a stormy sky, with a torrent of rain, for a canopy—A prospective flight of nearly 800 miles—The misery of a fruitless search for lost companions—Feeding on haws, and herding with quadrupeds and vermin—A hut discovered—Hunger compels me to enter—A compromise, a bribe, female advocacy, and an escape—On the road to the Rhine—A preparation to sell life dearly—A narrow escape—Living on cabbage-stalks and raw turnips—Bad feet and worse health—A lonely house near a wood—Strong temptations to enter—A brutal host, extreme danger, and a narrow escape—Bad specimens of human nature.

On the morning of our departure we were joined by eight culprits at twilight, and were placed in a large waggon, under a very strong escort of gendarmerie, with a brigadier to command it. We were confined the first night in a most miserable dungeon, in a village called Mars-la-Tour. It was so very small, and there were so many of us, that we could scarcely breathe. Our allowance of straw, a pound and a half each, was given us to lie on: this straw was so short that it had exactly the appearance of so many bundles of toothpicks. The following night we were lodged in Metz gaol. We remained here several days. At last an order came for half our number to proceed towards our destination: two others, with us four, were accordingly commanded to get ready. We were now in the hope of having another chance of getting out of the clutches of our keepers, but were much mistaken; our guard watched us closely, and we were so well secured with handcuffs and with chains that it was impossible to attempt it. We were therefore safely lodged in Sarrelouis gaol. This was a depot for captured seamen, and one of punishment for officers who might transgress prison rules; but it was many degrees superior to Bitche. Several of our countrymen obtained permission to see us; and from one (Mr. Brown, master of H.M. gun-brig Mallard, lately wrecked on the coast) I received a small map of Germany, torn out of an old book of geography, which I carefully stitched in the lining of my waistcoat. We were now joined by those left in Metz prison, and were soon again on the march towards our destined habitation. The same precautions were taken for securing us, and but little or no hopes were left of our escaping. We arrived at Sarreguemines, only six or seven leagues from Bitche, and were secured, as usual, in the gaol. The next day, at about four in the afternoon, we expected to arrive at our horrible abode. In the morning our guards came with a large waggon, in which we were placed, and, to my great astonishment and delight, we were not chained. I considered this as a most wonderful circumstance, and as a favourable opportunity of escape that ought to be embraced, particularly as there could be no hopes of any other chance; indeed, it appeared an interposition of Divine Providence in our favour. I communicated my intentions to my companions; and, after we had got out of the town, we descended from our waggon, observing to the guards that we preferred walking a little. Mr. Essel remained in the waggon. Messrs. Ashworth and Tuthill, and Baker, of the merchant service, with myself, were walking ahead of the waggon. We had not got more than two or three miles when I discovered a wood at about one hundred and fifty yards from the road: our guards were about fifty yards behind us, and were on horseback. In so unequal a chase, a chase between man and horse, we might be overtaken in our run to the wood; but if we could once reach that point, we were safe, for, although there were no leaves on the trees, we were certain that our mounted guards could not pursue us without a great deal of difficulty, owing to the branches and underwood; and, should they dismount, accoutred as they were, and with their heavy boots, we knew that we could outrun them with the greatest ease.

At length the most interesting and anxious moment arrived. We were on the spot where the attempt could be made better than at any other. I gave my friends the signal—a loud cheer. Away we ran: the startled guards dug their spurs into their horses, and galloped at our heels with the utmost speed. The ground was very heavy, a ploughed field being the space between the road and wood. Poor Baker fell, and was instantly seized and conducted back to the waggon with a sabre over him, and a pistol ready to do its office, should he attempt again to escape. We were more fortunate. We got into the wood, dodging the gendarmes through brier, brake, and

entanglement. I and my companions crossed each other several times, out of breath, and I could barely cry to them to keep behind trees and avoid pistol-shots; for the guards were leaping, plunging, and riding in all directions, roaring out, in the greatest rage, the words, “ArrÉtez, coquins!” etc. These not very agreeable epithets, in hoarse French, assailed our ears from every point. At length my pursuers gave up the chase of me to follow my companions; and, fortunately, finding a good tree between me and the foe, I sat down to catch my breath and consider what I should do. The moment I lost sight of the gendarmes, I bounded towards the side of the wood opposite to the direction they had taken, and I perceived an extensive plain, terminating in one direction in a wood, which seemed not much more than a mile off. Without any more deliberation I darted into the plain; its extent was about a mile; and by the time I had reached the middle I was so out of breath that I was obliged to stop a few minutes, and I therefore fell flat on my face, with my mouth open, and close to the earth; and the relief was astonishing. I lay close to the ground, that I might not be discovered. However, another run brought me to the wood. Having thus far so providentially escaped, I began to consider what steps I had better take next; and, after resting a few minutes again to recover my exhausted strength, I determined on quitting this wood, and at the extremity opposite to that at which I calculated my pursuers might be looking out for me, as I thought they would naturally take that direction, when a diligent search had convinced them that I was not in the wood into which we had first entered. Besides, I saw that the first wood was now entirely surrounded by the peasantry; for, it being Sunday, all had been idle, and men, women, and children caught the alarm, and hurried like wolves to the chase. The French Government at this time gave a reward of fifty livres, or £2. 1s. 8d., to any person who should recapture a prisoner of war that had escaped from prison or from an escort, and this brought out such a prodigious concourse of eager people, as to leave me but very little hope of remaining in safety in any place where it could be even suspected that a man might be concealed.

On quitting this wood I conjectured that I was about three or four miles from the road from which I had at first escaped. Immense plains, stubble ground, meadows, fields fallow and ploughed, presented themselves to my view, with the river Sarre close to the southward of me, but extremely rapid, and no part of it fordable. My case appeared desperate; and, to avoid suspicion, I thought the best method would be to walk deliberately across those plains, taking a different direction from that of every other person in them, but without appearing to avoid any. I put a night-cap on, which I had in my pocket, instead of the beaver-cap I usually wore—the night-cap being a common dress with the peasantry of Lorraine. I passed several of them at very short distances, stopping frequently, and seeming to walk very carelessly. At length I found myself in a small vale, through which ran two small rivulets, forming a little kind of island, that was covered with one hawthorn-bush, briers, etc., sufficiently large to conceal one man. This I considered admirably well calculated for a hiding-place; for, as it was so excessively small and wet, I was of opinion nobody would even think of searching it. I entered it, and was so completely covered as to be scarcely able to discern the part through which I had first penetrated. I found it in one sense very uncomfortable—I mean with respect to the mud, wet, and dirt that I was obliged to wallow in; but otherwise it was a perfect paradise to me; and all I regretted was not having my poor comrades somewhere near me, although I comforted myself in feeling assured that they must all have escaped, even those who did not run in the beginning, as they were left with only the waggoner, the guards having gone in pursuit of us. I was, indeed, some time afterwards informed that not one of the remaining eight ever attempted to quit the waggoner, but were quietly conducted to Bitche, where, as the reader will find, I was again compelled to rejoin them.[12]

This was Sunday, 15th November 1807, and I lay cold and quietly enough in my wet and muddy bed, anxiously wishing night to arrive, and dispel part of my apprehensions. I was obliged frequently to shift from one side to the other, the cold and moisture becoming extremely severe and distressing. In a short time I was wet through in every part of my body, and found the cold intense, for when I lay down in the mud I was in a profuse state of perspiration. It did not relieve my miseries to hear either the alarm-bells ringing in the adjacent villages, or the whistling, howling, and shouting of the peasantry: what was still worse, I was frequently startled by voices close to me.

But now the much-desired moment of darkness drew near: the sun was descending; but, to my great discomfiture and mortification, with every appearance of bad weather. It already began to rain very hard, which obscured the moon, then about eight or nine days old. Reflecting on my present state, I found it truly pitiable. I had only the small old map I have already mentioned, to direct my course; and I was without compass, guide, clothes, meat, drink, or companion, and the dreary month of November was setting in with more than its usual inclemency. The nearest friendly town was Salzburg, in Austria, and that was between seven and eight hundred miles distant. This was enough to chill the ardour and paralyse the exertions of the most dauntless; nevertheless, my having escaped from the grasp of tyrants, and become my own master, more than compensated, in my estimation, for a thousand hardships, sufferings, and dangers.

About half-past seven I ventured out, shook, cleaned, and washed the mud off my clothes as well as I could, and recommending myself to a merciful Creator, by whose bountiful clemency I had been this day so miraculously protected, I proceeded with great caution towards the wood in which I had separated from my companions, for I supposed that they would keep in it, or perhaps return there to meet me. It rained very hard, and everything was profoundly silent. I traversed the woods for three or four miles in different directions; but all to no purpose. Now and then I ventured to whistle, which was the signal formerly established amongst us, but all without success. I remained alone, dispirited, hungry, cold, fatigued, and drenched with rain. The risk was too great to venture on the high-road; and yet I was so nearly perishing with cold and wet that it was impossible to remain in my place of concealment. I therefore kept running and walking onward during the night, frequently impeded by the course of the Sarre, which confused me greatly. At length, being very much fatigued, and finding a convenient wood, though destitute of leaves, I got into it, and concealed myself in a tolerably good part, a little before daylight. I never recollect feeling or suffering so much from cold: it had rained incessantly all this day. The whole of this day (the 16th) I was surrounded by moles, rats, and other small animals somewhat like squirrels; the rats often approached so near as to lick my shoes. Their tricks and advances rather amused me, and abated in some measure the lowness and disquietude of my mind. At the close of the evening a swineherd passed by, conducting his hogs near my hiding-place. I saw him very distinctly. One of the pigs took flight exactly towards me: he sent his dog in pursuit of it; which, providentially, turned it back, otherwise it would have absolutely run over me.

About eight o’clock I quitted my retreat. The night was again very bad. It kept blowing and raining very hard, and I was at a loss to know what direction to take; for never did darker and thicker clouds obscure the light of heaven. About nine o’clock I discovered a small hut, and I imagined that I had an opportunity of endeavouring to procure a morsel of food of some kind. I reconnoitred it with a trembling earnestness, and at last most cautiously approached the door. The struggle between my eager desire to procure some sustenance, without which I must perish, and the dread of being arrested in the attempt, may be conceived, but cannot be described. After deliberating some length of time, hunger preponderated over even the dread of my being again led to my dungeon; and, with a trembling hand, I at length knocked at the door. It was opened by a woman. I humbly asked for some bread in German, which is the language spoken by the peasantry of Lorraine. She made signs for me to enter, which I did.

There were three men and another woman in the house. An elderly man, who was the only one of the party that could speak French, instantly told me, “He was certain that I was one of the English prisoners who had escaped from the guard on the preceding day.” He added, “That one of the guard had just quitted the hut: he had been in search of the fugitives all day, and had called on his way home to give the present company information.” I did not dispute who or what I was. The fellow proceeded to dwell on the reward of fifty livres which the Government gave for arresting a prisoner of war. “Fifty livres,” he added, “was an object to poor people like them.” I perfectly understood his drift, and merely observed, “That, although the Government promised the reward, they were not certain when it might be paid.” I afterwards appealed to his honour and feelings, and asked him, “What honest man, for so paltry a recompense or amount, would prevent a poor prisoner of war, who had been guilty of no crime whatever, from revisiting his wife, and everything that was dear to him, after a close imprisonment for four or five years?” He explained all that I had said to the others; and I found that the women took my views of the subject, and were advocates for me. Upon this, I addressed the old man again, and said, “As you appear to me to be very worthy, honest people, accept of this trifle amongst you;” and I gave him a louis d’or. I next presented the women with six livres, as a mark of my respect for them, and they received the money very graciously. I saw that matters now bore, or were beginning to bear, a favourable aspect, and I accordingly took the first favourable opportunity to assure them how very sorry I was that I had not more money to give them. I next requested that they would show me the nearest way to Bitche, as I had friends there who would supply me with a little cash to enable me to proceed on my long journey. After a long discussion in German, during which I perfectly discovered their uneasiness at not having received more than thirty livres, the old man observed, “As there is but one of them, it is of no great consequence; but if they all were here, it would have been well worth while.” I could not help thinking to myself that if we had all been present we should have been such an over-match for them as to prevent their making the attempt, and I might have kept my money in my pocket. I again repeated my wish to be directed towards Bitche. I knew that there was a direct road from Bitche to the Rhine, and this was my reason for wishing to go that way. The women again pleaded in my favour, and at length the two young men got up and offered their services. I accepted the offer, and they equipped themselves, and announced that they were ready. I took a most joyful leave of the women and old man, and followed my guides, inexpressibly rejoiced at getting out of this danger; though I did not consider myself perfectly safe whilst I remained with these men.

My suspicions and alarm grew stronger and stronger; for they conducted me through very narrow, intricate ways, through deserted places, and over heaths and commons; and they generally kept behind me; while I observed they were always whispering together. I had, at the best, no great opinion of them; and these circumstances were so suspicious that I feigned occasion to remain behind a little while; and this time I occupied in concealing my watch, money, and the small map, all of which had hitherto been in a pocket of my pantaloons. This being done, I advanced, assumed a light and satisfied air, but took good care not again to take the lead of them. About midnight the men left me, on a pathway to the road to Bitche, and took their leave. I felt much pleased at so happy a deliverance, and continued in that direction until about three o’clock; when, supposing myself near enough to that unhappy mansion (Bitche), I directed my course (as I thought) towards the Rhine. Some time before daylight it ceased raining; the stars showed themselves, and I had the mortification of discovering that I had been going diametrically opposite to my proper course.

In this unhappy dilemma I kept advancing, being confident that I had passed no secure retreat. At length, some time after daylight, I discovered a very thin wood on the side of a hill, which I immediately betook myself to, and there I remained until night. Here I managed to get a dry shave. My gold watch, hung upon a bush, was my only looking-glass; but the razor was a tolerably good one. There was a drizzling rain the whole of the day, and the cold was extreme.

At night, about the usual time, I commenced my journey, and took the direction back, going over the ground which I had followed the preceding morning; and I confess, notwithstanding my disappointment, I felt some consolation in knowing I was at length in the right track. During the whole of this night, my escapes from being dashed to pieces by repeated falls down precipices, which the darkness concealed, were quite incredible. About eleven I felt very much harassed, from crossing fields, morasses, gullies, and ditches; and happening to hit the high-road, I resolved to follow it for some time, especially as I thought it my direct way, but could not be certain, as the moon and stars were still obscured. I supposed it was too late for travellers to interrupt me. However, after quitting a wood on the side of the road, whence I had to crawl up a sort of gravel-pit to get on it, imagine my astonishment!—I had no sooner stepped on the road than I was challenged—“Qui vive?” (“Who goes there!”) in an audible voice, by a gendarme on horseback. I made but one jump down the gravel-pit, and crawled thence back into the wood; where I remained for some time to gather strength, being sadly exhausted. I then proceeded along the wood, without having any idea where I was going, the night still very dark, wet, and inclement. I fortunately fell in with a cabbage-garden, close to a cottage near the wood, and ate plentifully, and I stowed a good supply in my pockets for the ensuing day. Afterwards I re-entered the wood, in which I remained all day. After dark I recommenced my journey. This was the most severe night, if possible, I had yet experienced: the roads, pathways, and fields were deep and heavy from the constant rains; rivulets had become dangerous rivers, and I had to wade through several. I had an opportunity again this night of feasting upon cabbage-stalks, leaves, and turnips, and filled my pockets plentifully.

My feet now began to blister and to get very sore; and I was likewise becoming emaciated and very weak—it being my fifth day of living upon cabbage leaves, stalks, and raw turnips. In my first attempt at flight our food used to be occasionally nuts, apples, and grapes; now turnips and cabbages were my only resource.

About half-past two in the morning I perceived a small lonely house on the side of the wood. My necessities induced me to imagine that I might approach it without danger, and endeavour to procure some refreshment. I saw a light in the window, got close to the door, peeped through the keyhole and window alternately, and at last saw a woman spinning by a rousing fire. The effect was electrical. What could be more thrilling to a man in my deplorable state than to behold the cleanly hearth, the blazing fire, and happy industry, amidst the comforts and simple ornaments of the cottage? Oh, how anxiously did I wish to be seated by that brilliant fire! The physical wants of drooping nature prevailed, and seizing the knocker, my astonished ears heard its sound. The door was opened by a man, who surveyed me from top to toe. I was covered all over with mud, nor was there a thread about me that was not saturated with rain. He could clearly perceive from my miserable appearance and woeful aspect that I had been for a long time secluded from my fellow-creatures, and had been doomed to associate, or rather herd, with the animals that inhabit the caves and forests. Whilst the fellow remained with his eyes riveted upon me, I assured him in French that I was thirsty, and asked him if he would have the kindness to give me something to drink. He could not speak French, but he made me understand that he had nothing whatever to give me. I discovered a pail of water, and pointing to it with a supplicating gesture, the churl brought me a ladleful of it. I then took the liberty of sitting down by the fire, though the inhospitable boor or wife never asked me. I as little liked the appearance of the place as I did that of its brutal owner; and as it presented to my view not a single thing, except the fire, that could be of the slightest service to me, I resolved to take my departure. I asked him the road to Strasbourg, and the reply was that it was close by. I was about to quit the fireside, when a tailor arrived to work for the family. He also began to survey me closely, and having examined me from head to foot, I heard him whisper to the man of the house, and clearly distinguished the words EnglÄnder and Bitche. In fact, the uncharitable varlet had revealed the truth, that I was an Englishman escaping from Bitche. He then addressed me, and asked if I were a person authorised to travel?—whether I had a passport?—with several other questions of the same tendency.

Exhausted as I was, I saw that boldness in this case was my only buckler; so turning fiercely upon him, I replied that he must be a very impudent fellow to take the liberty of asking such questions,—that I should not condescend to answer an inquisitive gossiping rascal of his description; and I wished to know by what authority he could presume to interrogate me in so unhandsome a manner. The fellow pretended to smile; but he had not expected a retort so vigorous, as I saw evidently that he was disconcerted, if not frightened. I next observed to the landlord that the extreme inclemency of the weather alone had occasioned my stopping at his house, particularly as I had seen neither town, village, nor public-house contiguous to it. I added that as there were no hopes of the weather clearing up, I should continue my road to Strasbourg, which the fellow assured me was twelve leagues off, whilst Bitche was only three. At this information I was distressed and mortified to find what little progress I had made in so many days, or rather nights. The whole party sat down to breakfast without asking the weather-beaten, way-bewildered stranger to partake of their meal; so he, of course, took his leave of these selfish and unfeeling specimens of human nature; and exchanging the blazing fire for the unpitying elements, he pursued his solitary journey, disgusted that aught so base as what he had witnessed could be found under the human form.