Donat Henchy O'Brien

The banks of the Rhine—Contemplations of crossing the river irregularly—Difficulties of finding a legal passage—Mistaking two armed officers for two harmless fishermen—An appeal to feelings, and a national assurance of patriotism—Cattle crossing the bridge of Kehl—An intermixture with the cattle, and a passage over the Rhine—Joy of being out of France—A progress towards Friburg—Contrast between a warm feather bed and bivouacing in the mud—An innocent landlord clever at a guess—An escape round Friburg—A night’s rest—En route to Constance—A village inn—A countryman for a waiter, and a long gossip upon personal histories, and native places—The inconsistencies of superstition and hunger—My approach to Constance—Effects on the mind produced by its magnificent scenery, and beautiful lake—Crossing a branch of the Lake Constance—Leaving the kingdom of Wirtemberg, and entering the kingdom of Bavaria—A night’s rest in a Bavarian village—La route to Lindau—Outmarching an enemy—The gate to Lindau—Successfully passing the sentinels—Elation of spirits—An awkward querist—Unsuccessful invention—A capture—Examination and imprisonment—Bitter reflections upon my cruel destiny.

It was on Sunday, the 22nd day of November (the eighth day since I had escaped), that all my sufferings and perils were so amply rewarded, by my reaching the margin of this majestic stream, where I arrived at about one in the afternoon, but was distressed at not being able to discover the fishermen’s huts that had been described to me by my friend. My anxiety was extreme. This part of the bank of the river was entirely covered with trees and very high grass. I had traversed the bank in various directions without success, when I at last espied a small punt hauled into a creek, without sculls or paddles, and fastened by a lock and chain to a tree. This I thought might be a resource for escape, if no better means could be found; but the thought originated in despair, for the river was excessively rapid, and interspersed with shoals and islands, and as I was not more than three or four miles above the bridge of Kehl, I might be drifted to nearly that distance were I to endeavour to cross it by myself, and thus, in all probability, fall into the hands of my enemies.

I therefore hesitated, and concealed myself in a thick covert, and rested on the grass, contemplating the course and windings of this celebrated and noble river, much perplexed as to what further steps I should take. However, I resorted to my old plan of refreshing myself by a suitable quantity of turnips; and, having found an abundance of them in the neighbourhood of the city, I was not very sparing of my vegetable diet. After a short time, I recommenced my search; and, in a little boat at a small distance, I observed two men pulling down a narrow creek. I was quite elated at this discovery, as I made sure they were fishermen; and I therefore advanced towards them without any hesitation whatever. I then called to them. On discovering me, they instantly made towards the bank on which I was standing. I need not say how happy I felt at that moment, expecting in a few minutes to be on the German side. But, my God! what was my astonishment, when, as these men approached, I discovered they were armed with muskets and sabres! It was too late to attempt a retreat; and, as I had called them, I imagined that might, in a great measure, do away with suspicion on their part. I therefore waited the result of this rencontre.

One of them immediately jumped out of the boat, and came towards me. I appeared quite pleased; and, although I plainly saw he was going to interrogate me, I showed him a six franc piece, and very deliberately asked him if he would give me a passage across in his boat? He could not answer me, as he did not understand a word of French; but the man in the boat heard me, and replied, “We cannot, but we are much at your service.” I perceived he was a real Frenchman; and having said thus much, he jumped out also.

“I suppose, sir,” added he, “that you have a passport, and proper papers to entitle you to quit this country?” I made answer, “Certainly. But who authorised you,” I asked, “to demand so impertinent a question?” “I am authorised by the mayor of Strasbourg; and, unless you can produce them, I shall be under the necessity of conducting you into his presence as a prisoner.” I told him I was very willing to go with him, though it would be certainly a little inconvenient. “I have friends on the opposite side, whom I promised to visit this evening; it would have been too late if I had taken the round by the bridge; and that was my motive for wishing to get across from where I now am.”

This man appeared to be a very acute sort of fellow. “I suspect,” added he, “that you are a deserter from the army, and I must conduct you to Strasbourg.” I showed him my dress, and the quality of the cloth I wore (though a little the worse for the late usage, it was superfine), and I asked him “when he had seen a French soldier wear anything to be compared to it?” “Ay, ay,” cried he, “French soldiers know how to disguise themselves in a superior style; so you will have the goodness to come along with us.” I remonstrated on the hardship of being thus prevented from going to see my friends. He stamped, and said, “Come along!” The German, more cool and phlegmatic, appeared to mutter something to the other. I embraced this opportunity of altering my tone and plan altogether; and I addressed the Frenchman nearly in the same words I had done my late Russian guide in the morning, with respect to my opinion of his honesty, goodness of heart, etc., but differed widely in regard to my native place.

I was now come from Wirtemberg, not far from the banks of the Rhine, and had been educated at Paris, where I had relations. At an early age I had been removed to Hanover, where a friend of mine had obtained for me an ensigncy in the King of England’s service. At the time the French took that place, I escaped into Prussia, where I got a lieutenancy, and had been made prisoner at the late battle of Jena. I had recently received an account of the death of my parents, who had left me a tolerably good property, and I felt anxious to revisit my native country, from which I had been so long absent. Being closely confined at Chalons (our depot), I had made my escape, and had now no obstacle to surmount but what he could easily remedy (meaning the river). I concluded, by requesting him for a moment to consider himself in my situation, and to judge of mine by an appeal to his own feelings. I saw that this reasoning began to work powerfully. I then produced the six livres I had already offered the German, and requested they would accept of them, and put me across. It was a mere trifle, but I was not in a condition to afford more. The Frenchman spoke very feelingly; declared that it was utterly impossible for them to put me over, as they ran a risk of being arrested on the opposite side, and punished for landing anybody clandestinely. They then desired that I would hold up my hand, and declare solemnly that I had committed no crime against the state. To this I could have no objection, and promptly did so. They were satisfied, ordered me to be off, and advised me to conceal myself in the wood, saying, “Get over how you can; we will not molest you.” I insisted upon their taking the piece of money. They embarked; and I hurried into the wood, not a little pleased at this narrow escape.

After I got secured in an excellent hiding-place, the whole scene appeared as a dream; nor could I help ejaculating to myself several times, “What a fortunate fellow! What a miraculous escape!” I remained concealed until dark, and then turned my steps towards the city, hoping that I might be more successful in finding a boat; but in this hope I was miserably disappointed. My case seemed desperate.

At daybreak on Monday, 23rd November, I discovered myself nearly at the entrance of Kehl bridge. This bridge was thronged with oxen, and their bellowing, with the cracking of whips, and the whistling, shouting, swearing, and disputing of the drovers, made a hideous noise, and created a great scene of confusion. It struck me suddenly that I might take advantage of the disorder, intermix with the cattle, and pass the bridge, eluding the vigilance of the sentinels. I was harassed, worn out, and weary of being kept in such a state of suspense, as well as of being perpetually agitated by the conflicts of hope and fear. I felt that I was too much exhausted to continue longer living on my diet of raw vegetables, and without shelter, as the season was getting far advanced, and the weather becoming worse and worse every day. Full of these and similar reflections, I addressed myself to the all-seeing and beneficent Providence for protection, and I proceeded to seize the opportunity without delay.

I advanced briskly on the bridge; and, getting amongst the cattle, in a very few minutes I had passed the major part of them, as well as the two French sentinels that were muffled up in their sentry-boxes at the foot of the bridge. My enterprise, thanks to the oxen, succeeded astonishingly. In a quarter of an hour, to my heartfelt satisfaction, I found myself safe on the German side of the Rhine, having passed, amidst the cattle, I suppose eight or nine French and German sentinels, without being challenged or noticed by one of them. Thank God, I was now out of France. I may have been partly indebted to the weather for my escape; for the morning was extremely raw and cold, and the sentries kept so well within their boxes, that, amidst the noise, the jostling, and confusion of the cattle, they had but little opportunity of seeing me.

With a light and most thankful heart, I passed on without interruption, leaving Kehl to the left; and, suddenly turning to the right, I soon got on the high road to Friburg. The effect of this escape upon my spirits seemed to give ease and elasticity to my steps, and strength to my whole body. My entire animal frame seemed invigorated; and, as I cast my eye over the broad expanse of the noble river, and saw France, the land of my persecution, on the other side, I gave way to reflections that I may as well not repeat.

After walking as rapidly as, in my state, I could, nearly three leagues, I stopped in a small village on the high road to refresh myself, having for nearly nine days lived entirely on raw vegetables. I was determined now to pass for a Frenchman, for I was no longer tormented with fears of French gendarmes. At the public-house I went into, without suspicious looks or alarming inquiries, I got readily supplied with plenty of bread and cheese, and a pint of wine, which, though of a very inferior quality, surpassed at that moment anything I had ever tasted. Danger and sufferings, excessive fatigue and hunger, would make the worst of food seem good and delicious.

After my refreshing meal, and my comfortable rest by the side of the fire, at about two o’clock I took my leave, and proceeded on my journey fearlessly, keeping the high road to Friburg. To a man who feels himself free, the very air of Heaven seems sweeter and more refreshing than to the bondsman, and I felt myself in freedom, compared at least to what I long had been.

Owing to the state of my feet, my progress was but slow. At night I began to be perplexed as to how I should act, for I dreaded that the laws of Baden and Wirtemberg, with respect to travellers, might be similar to those of France, and that every landlord or host might be required to demand the passport of his guest, and to exhibit it at the Municipality, before being allowed to supply him with a bed. After deliberating a long time, I came to the resolution to enter a small poor-looking village then before me. A place of that description appeared the best to try the experiment in. At about half-past seven, I got directed to a public-house; everything appeared to favour me, so I entered, and asked if I could be provided with a bed? The landlord answered in very good French, in the affirmative, and added supper also if I wished. After making a hearty meal, I insisted on his taking some wine with me, and then expressed a wish to go to bed, observing that I was a little fatigued. He ordered the servant to light me to my room, nor did he trouble me with any inquiries. The servant, after giving me a nightcap, retired, and I then secured my chamber door. My feet were in a most shocking condition; not a bit of skin was on the greater part of them; it literally had stuck to the upper leathers of my shoes, and I was under the necessity of moistening them with water, before I could get them off. I then tore a couple of strips from my shirt (which by the bye was now greatly reduced), put some candle-grease on, and applied the strips to the sore places. My feet being thus dressed, although in a very imperfect manner, I took off my clothes and went to bed. I found it a very good one, though peculiar in its form, which was strange to me, it being the custom of this country to sleep between two feather-beds, the largest in general uppermost; but I had sheets and a counterpane, as in other countries.

Notwithstanding the excruciating pain of my feet, I never in my life felt so happy as at that moment. It is true that the sensations I felt in the morning after passing the bridge at Kehl were ecstatic, and of a nature that no pen can ever describe, but I really thought that my present feelings exceeded them. I found myself lying in a bed softer to me than down, with a mind tolerably at peace, and Heaven knows that to be possessed of peace of mind had lately been but very seldom my lot. I need not say, that, after humbly offering up my most sincere and grateful thanks to the Almighty God for His goodness and protection, I fell into a most profound sleep, nor did I once open my eyes until daylight the next morning, when, though greatly refreshed, I found my legs exceedingly stiff, and my feet sore in the extreme.

It was impossible for me to walk, and a hard job even to get my shoes on. At last, I even accomplished this, though with great pain and difficulty, and I at length descended and ordered breakfast. Reflecting on the past, the idea of ordering breakfast—the very sounds of the words made me to laugh.

The landlord was obliging and civil, and I found it convenient, to a certain extent, to be communicative. I observed to him, I was very stiff in all my limbs and joints, for I had never been much accustomed to walking, and I had taken it into my head to perform my journey from Frankfort, this last time, on foot. I added that I was going to Basle in Switzerland, and wanted to get to Friburg that evening, and would therefore be much obliged to him if he could procure me a conveyance.

The man seemed to harbour no suspicions, and, having sent to inquire if I could be accommodated, he added, “I can guess what you are.” I must confess I thought this was coming to rather too close quarters. The position became critical, but I was obliged to humour the moment, and I asked him to guess. To my joy and surprise he replied, “You are a cloth merchant, travelling to procure customers.” I told him that I admired his penetration, and he seemed very much pleased at his cleverness in discovering, not only what I was, but why and wherefore I was travelling. I paid him my bill, which was rather moderate. He provided the cloth merchant with a kind of voiture, which could, he said, carry me only six leagues. This was excellent fortune—exactly what I wished, as there was no place on the road of any consequence within that short distance. Had I been obliged to take it on to Friburg, I intended to have made an excuse, and to have stopped at some village short of that town.

We soon agreed about the price, and I got into this substitute for a carriage; the proprietor was postilion; it was an open machine made of twigs woven together, and forming a rude wicker-work. The morning was thick, with a drizzling rain. I borrowed a greatcoat from the landlord, and off we set—a great change was this in my mode of travelling! I had several turnpikes to pay, and I confess I was alarmed that the gatekeepers might ask for my passport at some of these barriÈres; but I was agreeably disappointed, my honest driver observing to them that I was, ein Franschose, going to Basle, which proved sufficient for them and very gratifying to me.

At about six o’clock in the evening we stopped at a very respectable-looking village; my conductor made me understand he was going to leave me there, and that I was but three leagues from Friburg. I discharged him, and went to a genteel tavern. They sent for a man who could speak French, to inform them what I wished to have. A very gentleman-like person made his appearance, and I apprehended in the beginning it might be the mayor, but my fears were without foundation. Owing to this gentleman’s goodness in explaining matters, I got a private apartment and a good supper, and went to bed, very happy and comfortable at not having been asked any question. In the morning I arose betimes and ordered breakfast. The genteel interpreter evidently took me for a gentleman, for he came to ask me if, after breakfast, I would want a carriage. I could not help smiling at the question, when I reflected on my scampering amongst the cattle over Kehl bridge only two mornings before. I merely replied that, as I had but three leagues to go, I preferred walking. What would I not have given for a carriage, or even for “a lift” on a donkey’s back, or in a dog-cart, if it were strong enough, in the throbbing and aching state of my lacerated feet! But I reflected that it might not be easy, either with my finances, or with my travelling character, to pass through such a town as Friburg in a carriage; and Heaven knows that, at that moment, I would have been most happy to have compromised matters by a certainty of passing through it on foot, or of getting round it in any manner, in the style I had been accustomed to on the other side of the Rhine.

My breakfast was now ready, and when I saw coffee, toast, and eggs on the table-cloth, and thought of my cabbage-stalks and turnips and the mud of only three days ago, my head, I fancied, began to turn, and myself to suspect that what I had read in the Arabian Nights’ Entertainments might, after all, have something of truth in it. To me it had long been a novelty to have anything before me that a human being not actually starving could eat.

My gentlemanly interpreter kept me in conversation the whole time, and the part I had to play was to reveal as little—as little of truth, at least—as possible, and to receive as much information as I could, taking very good care to separate the chaff from the wheat. The dialogue sometimes kept me on the tenter-hooks of alarm.

“That is a kind of breakfast, sir, which Englishmen in general like.”

This word, Englishmen, never sounded so unpleasantly in my ears. I thought the fellow was either pumping me, or that he was giving me a hint that he knew or suspected that all was not right; or that he, in fact, had discovered my false colours.

A large piece of toast in my mouth at once gratified appetite and was an excuse for not answering.

“Englishmen,” continued my tormentor, “only differ from you in dipping their toast in their coffee.”

I laconically replied, by an indisputable general principle, “I believe people of all nations like what is good.”

The conversation, to my happiness, ended; I paid my bill, which was moderate, took leave of my German host, and of his genteel interpreter, and with a well-satisfied appetite and dry clothes, I set out for Friburg.

After all, as I went along, I very frequently repented that I had not confided to my talkative friend, “the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth,” in order that he might either have put me in the way of procuring a passport, or at least have told me what the laws of the country really were with respect to travelling. My ignorance on the subject was most distressing, and occasioned me a great deal of unnecessary difficulty and fatigue.

About noon I discovered the high spire of the church of Friburg. It very much resembled that of Strasbourg, and although not on so grand a scale, it appeared more interesting, because I was no longer under the dangers that had made me insensible to such objects of grandeur, beauty, and veneration. I advanced towards the town, still preserving every precaution, and especially, painful as was the effort, doing my utmost to avoid the appearance of being lame.

Notwithstanding the success and encouragement I had met with on this side of the Rhine, the recollections of all I had endured on the other made me cautious of entering, or even approaching a great town; and yet I was obliged to walk directly, and in open day, towards Friburg, since, from the miserable state of my feet, a circuitous course was to me impossible.

I reconnoitred the place in every point of view, and at last, timidly and cautiously, I approached the western gate. Being very uncertain how to proceed, I did not think it prudent to enter, and the appearance of a huge grenadier at the gate, walking up and down at his post, made me turn short on my heel, and relinquish every idea of passing that way. I walked back nearly half a mile; and fortunately discovered a path leading round by the northern side of the wall, or rather ruins, as there are few vestiges of the former wall to be seen. Advancing, I suddenly came into an old square, where a small number of recruits were exercising, and in a few minutes I was on the outside of the eastern gate. I had still a sentinel and a guard-house to pass. However, I accomplished that without experiencing any difficulty; they supposed, no doubt, that I came out of the town. I felt now peculiarly happy, since I found that another great obstacle to me was surmounted. I now took my direction for Constance, a town of Suabia, seated on the lake of the same name. The little map I had gave only the names of the larger places, which perplexed me very much; and after leaving Friburg, Constance was the next town which appeared on the line that I wished to take. I found the road very mountainous and irregular. I met several waggons. As I got warm, my feet became more easy and supple, and I advanced apace. At about eight o’clock in the evening I discovered a mill on the roadside, and to my great joy a contiguous dwelling-house. I made out a sign also, projecting over the door—rapped, and received admittance. I made the people understand that I wanted a bed, and they bade me sit down. I thought this a good omen. I wished for something to eat very much, and they brought me a dish of boiled milk with bread broken into it, and seasoned highly with pepper. This they styled milk-soup, and it was all the house afforded.

Not having tasted anything since my English breakfast in the morning, about seven o’clock, I was not very nice. I was shown to bed, and was agreeably surprised; for it was a much better one than I had any reason to expect in such a place. In the morning I had some of the same kind of soup, and my bill, as it ought to be, was very reasonable. I was informed that Constance was nineteen leagues distant, and away I limped, although at first my feet were very sore and stiff. About six in the evening, the weather became very inclement; and, finding myself close to a small village, I purposed taking up my abode in it for the night.

I according went into a public-house, and was shown upstairs into the coffee-room: in these places the public sitting-room is generally on the first floor. There I found a number of people drinking, and a respectable-looking priest at their head. I made my entrÉe À la FranÇaise, as near as I was able, and asked, “If I could have a bed?” I could get no answer; but the landlady called aloud for her domestic, Peter, who, she said, was a Frenchman, to explain. He at length appeared; and asked, in very good French, “What I wished to have?” I asked if “I could be accommodated with a bed and something for supper?” He replied, “Certainly,” and added, “I shall take care that you are well attended upon.” This poor fellow was really very attentive and kind. I supped heartily on soup and bouilli, after which I insisted upon his giving me his history, which he did without any hesitation. It was as follows:—

“I was born, sir, in Nancy, in Lorraine, and it is now eleven years since I quitted my native place.”

Here I thought fit to interrupt him, in order the better to preserve the disguise which I had assumed. I told him “that I had observed, the moment he began to speak, a vast difference between his accent and mine, and I had consequently conjectured that he had been a long time absent from Lorraine;” and I added “that the Lorraine accent was very different from that of other parts of France.” This interruption was fortunate and well-timed; for the man, by way of rejoinder, said—

“I have forgotten a great deal of my mother tongue; and I can tell you that I was going to make the same remark with respect to your accent that you have made upon mine; but now you have saved me the trouble, by accounting for the difference. But, to continue my narrative, I assure you, sir, all that has befallen me has been the consequence of my having been drawn for a conscript; for it went against my nature to serve Buonaparte. I was by trade a weaver, and I knew that I could get a living in any country; and, painful as it was to part from my family and friends, I one morning took French leave, crossed the Rhine, and have been eight years with my present landlord. He keeps a kind of manufactory, in which I have worked until very lately; but wishing to have a trusty person in the auberge, he has made me drop my old trade of weaver, and attend here in my present capacity.”

I now asked him if he had ever been in Normandy, which, I said, was my part of France.

He emphatically said “Never,” and expressed a wish to know what trade I belonged to. Here my invention was put to the stretch; but, with as much readiness as I could command, I told him that I was a marchand de drap, travelling to Constance to receive orders. As a weaver, this honest fellow must have known much more of cloths than I did, and a further conversation would have exposed my ignorance; so allowing no time for another interrogatory, I added, “I am exceedingly weary, and wish to retire to bed;” and upon this he civilly conducted me to my chamber, and took his leave without another word, except the usual good-night. My bed was very comfortable, and I slept very sound, enjoying my good quarters, and reaping all the benefits of refreshment from repose. In the morning I settled with my pretended countryman, shook hands, and parted from him.

I proceeded on the high-road until two o’clock, when, greatly to my alarm, I met with an armed man in a very retired part of the road. I conjectured that he was a police-officer; but, to my surprise, he asked me no questions, and I joyfully pursued my way.

At the close of the evening I discovered at a distance what I took to be a number of houses, and I was highly elated, as I imagined them to be a village. Under this pleasing illusion I trudged on with increased spirits; but, on arriving at my object, what was my astonishment to find that the buildings, instead of being the humble dwellings of simple villagers, were the numerous out-offices of the splendid mansion of a nobleman! One of the liveried servants, however, very civilly answered all my questions, and, with much kindness of manner, directed me to a village, but at such a distance that it was very late before I arrived at it. However, late as it was, I contrived to procure a bed and a supper. My host and hostess were, unfortunately for hungry stomachs and ravenous appetites, a little prone to the bane of life called superstition; and, as it was Friday, they absolutely refused to let me have any meat; but still the keen edge of hunger enabled me to enjoy a supper of eggs and milk, and their faith did not compel their consciences to limit me in quantity.

In the morning I quitted them, and walked towards Constance. I had not gone above a league when I descried the beautiful lake of that name. The town of ZÜrich was in view.[13] The high mountains of Switzerland, the summits of which were covered with snow, the variegated, beautiful plains at the bottom, interspersed with corn-fields, vineyards, wood, and herbage, struck the eye with admiration, and afforded a prospect truly magnificent. At about five in the afternoon I was close to the town of Constance. It appeared large: a number of buildings, representing monasteries and steeples, presented themselves to view, and seemed to be memorials of its ancient splendour; but its present state indicated that it had been a long time neglected. The lake looked very beautiful, and was a little agitated, as there was rather a strong wind.

Lindau, at the lower end of the lake, was the next large town in my direction. I was deliberating on the best mode of acting for the night,—whether I had better take up my abode in the vicinity of the town, or proceed farther towards Lindau,—when I met with two young men, genteelly dressed. I saluted them, which they returned very politely. Both spoke French. I inquired what distance I was from Lindau. They informed me, fourteen leagues, and that I should have to cross a branch of the lake.[14] Of this latter necessity I had been totally ignorant; for the map by which I guided myself through these, to me, unknown regions was too small and imperfect to afford very accurate information. As the wind became very strong, the strangers advised me not to venture upon the passage until the next day. They little knew my motives for rapidity. Of course, I concealed my ignorance of this impediment, or rather pretended that I was aware of it; and I added, “that I had such particular business at Lindau that I must endeavour to get there that night, and should cross the passage if possible.” They rather earnestly tried to dissuade me, and then politely took their leave.

My difficulties in crossing the water arose from a source very different from what they had imagined. My formidable obstacles and dangers were not the elements, but my fellow-men. I had now to learn whether I could cross this branch without a passport, and without giving—what of all things was the most inconvenient for me to give—some account of myself. However, the necessity of decision, firm and immediate, was absolute; and I entered a public-house close to the water, in order to learn what I should have to undergo.

Here, to my annoyance, was a concourse of people, some of whom appeared to be waiting for the boat. I mixed with the crowd with all the seeming carelessness and nonchalance I could assume, and called for a small measure of wine, as I saw others do; and, in fact, I settled down amongst the multifarious assemblage as if I was “quite at home.” I had the eyes of Argus; and whilst I listened to every sound, I was as little communicative as possible. I felt that I was at a crisis of my fate. At last two watermen entered, and announced that the boat was ready. I was obliged to assume a courage, and to obey the summons as if it were a matter of course; and to my joy I found that although I was leaving WÜrtemberg and entering into the territory of Bavaria,[15] not a passenger was required to produce a passport or to give any account of himself.

When we were about to embark, I observed that all the passengers paid one half-florin each, while the boatmen demanded two florins of me. Never was a man more willing to submit to imposition and extortion than I was at that moment; but my funds were quickly ebbing to neap-tide, if not to low-water, and it struck me that my best policy was to resist anything that separated or distinguished me from the general mass.

I therefore objected to the imposition so stoutly that the boatmen resolved to detain me until they called their master, or the owner of the boat.

He was a very little and old hump-backed man, that might have passed for Obi among the negroes. The old hunchback, with the utmost civility that a rogue could put on when about to cheat a fellow-creature in distress, addressed me as follows:—“Monsieur, if you do not choose to pay, you may act as you please, and you can remain where you are.” This was absurd logic to my ears, and very inconvenient reasoning to my pocket; but whilst I was pondering for a politic and cautious reply, the tormentor resumed his license of speech, and said, “Monsieur, you are a Frenchman; and as your friend and master, Buonaparte, robs and plunders everybody, I hold it to be all fair that I make you Frenchmen pay what I please.”

I must confess that this identification of me with a Frenchman gave me an assurance that my real character was not suspected; and although my purse was nearly at low-water mark, I paid the cross-grained, old curmudgeon his four hundred per cent profit upon ferrying over a Frenchman.

Our Liliputian voyage was only about four miles, and yet, in the midst of it, I had nearly exposed or betrayed myself; for a sudden puff of wind or slight squall, coming off the land, would have upset the boat, had I not snatched the sheet (of the sail) from the hand of the clumsy fellow that managed it. This was “the ruling passion” strong in everything. The boatmen seemed astonished: they stared at each other, but said nothing. In fact, I had acted imprudently. A Frenchmen is seldom or never considered to be a sailor; and every Englishman is viewed by a foreigner as a man naturally familiar with all nautical affairs; and our boatmen, I apprehended, began to suspect that “I was no Frenchman.”

We now reached the opposite shore, and entered the territory of Bavaria.[16] We were about to land at a small fortified town; and ramparts, embrasures, and bristling guns presented to my mind strong ideas of examining passports, and of even searching persons, with the inevitable result of chains, handcuffs, and a dungeon.

The sound of drums saluted my ears in all directions, and I feared it was for the shutting of the gates. Being landed, I continued with the others, passing through the street, and inquired, without causing suspicion, “What time the gates would be closed?” They replied, “In three-quarters of an hour.” To my unspeakable joy, no person appeared to inspect papers. My fellow-passengers went to an inn, and I asked for the nearest way out of the town on the Lindau road. Having received the required information, I proceeded, and, to my great delight, finding the gate open, I very soon passed it.

I proceeded about two leagues without falling in with a living creature or seeing anything like a habitation. I at length saw lights, and soon arrived in a small village.[17] Necessity urged me on, and I went into a public-house and got a bed and supper. Several people were drinking in the room where I was; they laughed heartily at my Frenchified bows and scrapes, and wished me to drink with them, but which I declined. I slept tolerably well, and felt happy at having amused those fellows, at the same time that my grimaces answered my own purpose.

At daybreak, on Sunday, 29th November, I got some breakfast, and proceeded towards Lindau. My feet were getting better, and I advanced with great glee. After passing through several picturesque villages on the banks of the lake, at about five o’clock of the afternoon I saw the town of Lindau, and calculated that it was between four and five miles off. I halted at a small village[18] to refresh myself, as well as because I conjectured that it was too early, though it was apparently at a respectable distance, to pass by the town, more especially as it appeared large, and as it, moreover, struck me that, being Sunday, I should have to meet many people in the environs. I therefore entered a public-house, and found in it two women and a man eating their dinner, or rather supper. From the landlady, who was an old woman, I got some wine, bread, and sausages, and I contrived to amuse away, or rather to spin out, the time until it was nearly seven o’clock. I now judged it proper to proceed; and paying the old dame, I set out, full of hope, not unmixed with care and anxiety, but still little suspecting the extent of the evil that was to befall me.

I had not proceeded many hundred yards when I discovered that several soldiers were walking very fast behind me. I thought that they might be in pursuit of me. I next conjectured that if they were not in chase, they were making speed, in order not to be shut out of the town for the night. Either calculation was a sufficient motive for me to move in double-quick march. I continued at this pace for about three-quarters of a league, until, upon turning suddenly an angle on the road, I discovered that I was close to the gate that led to the town. I likewise saw the town itself, at a considerable distance, on an island, and found that this was the gate of the bridge which connected that island with the mainland.

The soldiers were close in the rear; I therefore did not think it prudent to turn back; and I flattered myself that there was no necessity, as I perceived that my road led to the left, after passing the gate on my right hand. I thought that our course might be in opposite directions. In this hope I proceeded—passed the gate and sentinel—not a question was asked me, or a look bestowed upon me—my heart rebounded with joy—I was safe—my sufferings were rewarded, and a glorious triumph filled my imagination, even to ecstasy. Lameness was forgotton; and I was, if I may use the term, tripping along full of visions of the little I should have to undergo, of the little time that would elapse, ere I should be again upon England’s element, under her glorious flag, and in the exercise of all my duties of a naval officer.

Alas! how frail are all human hopes! In this state of mind I was suddenly stopped by an elderly man, who, it appeared, had followed me from the gate. He very civilly asked in German if I had a passport. As a ruse de guerre, I replied in French, “That I did not understand his language.” To my surprise and alarm, he readily met my reply, and, in excellent French, politely expressed his desire to see my passport. I wished him and his question in a worse place than limbo or the river Styx; but, as my invention had so often been put to extremities, I was not at a loss to parry his unpleasant interrogatories. I assured the old gentleman that I had lost the whole of my papers, and, I added, what was worse, almost all my money, with several little articles of property, whilst I was crossing the lake on the preceding evening. In fact, I said that my pocket-book had dropped out of my pocket, and sank to rise no more, as the money it contained had, unfortunately, made it too heavy to float.

The old gentleman seemed so thoroughly to believe me, that I also added that I was going to InnsprÜck, where I had some friends, and as the journey would last only two or three days, I thought I could proceed without any interruption. At all events, I intended to make the experiment.

At this moment several soldiers advanced from the gate towards me; and as I had, to all appearances, so perfectly satisfied the old gentleman, I thought that they came only out of curiosity, or even politeness.

At last the keeper of the gate, with a kindness which I most willingly could have excused, assured me that InnsprÜck was farther off than I imagined; that it would be inconvenient for me to continue my journey without papers; and he reminded me that it was now getting very late.

I told him that I was accustomed to late hours, and quite indifferent to inconveniences, and that it did not suit me to delay my journey.

My jesuitical tormentor took me up on my own grounds, and replied, that to a man so accustomed to late hours, and so indifferent to inconveniences, it could be of little concern to be detained only one night, especially as the delay would be so amply compensated by the increased facilities of travelling which I would enjoy from the new papers that the commandant of Lindau would give me on the following morning. No logic could be more sound, but never did reasoning fall more unpleasantly upon a human ear.

I thanked this gate-keeper and all around me for their kind intentions, and assuring them that I preferred following my own course, I made them many polite bows, and turned my back in the act of pursuing my journey. Upon this the polite old gentleman gave me to understand, what I had long understood, that the plain English of all his politeness was, that he meant to detain me, although he was willing to do it as civilly as possible. Suiting the action to the word, he called a body of soldiers to enforce his politeness.

I was obliged to command my countenance, and to control all emotions, bitter as they were. With the utmost appearance of calmness, I replied, “You need no assistance, my good friend; I am ready to accompany you wherever you please, although it is putting me a little out of my way, and subjecting me to not a little inconvenience.” Would to Heaven that the inconvenience had been little!

I accompanied my captor with an aching heart. I commanded my feelings sufficiently, however, to reflect that my only hope of escape rested upon my making out a plausible story for the commandant, and I spun the web of an ingenious fiction as I proceeded under my escort.

At about half-past eight we arrived at the commandant’s quarters, and I was ushered into an extensive vestibule. In a few minutes the great man made his appearance. He was magnificently dressed, wore his sword, and, as I was given to understand, was on the point of going to the Opera. He seemed vexed at so vulgar a cause of detention from his amusement; and I am sure that I was equally vexed, or rather by far more vexed, at inconveniencing so august a personage.

This commandant could not speak French, and was obliged to wait for his secretary and interpreter, who no sooner arrived than he called for pen, ink, and paper, placed himself at a table, and with a great deal of ridiculous consequence ordered me to advance and answer the questions he should put to me. He then proceeded in the following manner:—“What countryman are you, pray?” “A Frenchman.” “What part of France were you born in?” “At Rouen, in Normandy.” “Proceed and give an account of yourself.” “My name is Louis Gallique” (the cook’s name of our late frigate Hussar). “My father was a surgeon in Rouen, where I have got a brother (of the same profession) and two sisters. My parents have been dead some time. I got my reform, or discharge from the army, through my brother’s interest. I am going to InnsprÜck to see some friends; thence I intend to proceed to Vienna, where I expect to be employed as a clerk in a counting-house.” “How did you lose your pocket-book and papers?” “In crossing a branch of the lake, a puff of wind was near oversetting the boat; my pocket-book must have dropped out as I was leaning over. I cannot account for losing it in any other manner. It was a very great misfortune, as I lost all my money, with the exception of a few loose pieces which I kept in my pocket, and also my letters of recommendation, passport, papers, etc.” “What are your German friends’ names?” I gave him French names, and told him they were all of French extraction. He then began to explain the whole to the commandant; and after some minutes’ consideration he informed me, “That I appeared to be a very suspicious character, and they must send me to the guard-house for the night. In the morning I should be lodged in gaol, until I could be identified by the French Government, or, in the meantime, by my friends at InnsprÜck or Vienna.” I exposed the cruelty of such conduct to a subject of the great Napoleon, who was their ally, and the protector of the Confederation of the Rhine. I added, they might now act as they thought proper, but I had friends who would have their conduct made known. They made no reply, and I was escorted to the guard-house. In an hour after, I was brought back and underwent a similar examination. Then they ordered me to the common gaol, where, they apprised me, I should be very indifferently treated, in consequence of their suspecting me to be a spy. I disdained so opprobrious an epithet; remonstrated with them again upon the cruelty of their conduct; but they were inflexible, and I departed the second time with the guard.

On my way to the gaol I reflected on the horrors of being thrown into prison, perhaps cast into a dungeon amongst malefactors of every denomination, and the certainty, in a few days, of being discovered. I also imagined they might treat me with more kindness if I acknowledged who I was. I therefore, after much of conflicting calculations, desired the chief of my escort to conduct me back to the commandant, which he did. I then told them frankly who and what I was, and how I had escaped. He said he thought I was an Englishman; and brought a list of the description of prisoners of war, which he had lately received from France, and pointed out my name before I mentioned it. He asked me where my comrades were. I now discovered that this description had been drawn up on our first escape from Verdun. I assured him I could not tell where they were—perhaps in England; I had parted with them the first day. I was anxious to know what other signalements he had? He desired me not to be inquisitive; said I should be better used now, but must be confined in the common town prison, where, in a few minutes, I was safely deposited, and all hopes of liberty were at an end, at least for the present;[19] for so strong was the love of liberty, so energetic the desire of free action within me, that, even under this overwhelming flood of baffled efforts, of detection, exposure, and punishment, my mind would whisper to me that I might yet have another chance of escape—a chance I was resolved to take advantage of at all possible hazards.