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.