Leaving Kaufbeuern on the left hand--Crossing the Wardach and the
Lech--A welcome ferry-boat--The town of Weilheim--A long and
exhausting march--The soporific of fatigue--The ferry over the
river Inn--Frightened at a soldier--A false alarm--Crossing the
river--The town of Reichenhall--Our approach to the Bavarian
frontiers--The increase of dangers--Passing barriers with
success--A supposition that we were in the Austrian dominions--A
woeful miscalculation and a narrow escape from its fatal
consequences--An unexpected demand for passports--An evasion--The
Bavarian and Austrian confines--Our extreme danger--Anticipating
the galleys--A track through a wood at the foot of a mountain--A
flight--The boundary passed, and the fugitives in the Emperor’s
dominions--Soldiers in ambush--The fugitives captured--Feigning to
be Americans from Altona--Rage of the Bavarian guard at being
outwitted.
It was on the 8th of October (1808) that we took leave of our
consumptive and inquisitive landlord, and left Kaufbeuern on the left
hand in passing. If his lungs, throughout life, had been as actively
employed in asking questions as they had been whilst we were with him,
the only wonder is that they had lasted him so long. We crossed the
Wardach, and directed our course towards Schöngau. At about six in the
evening it began to snow so very hard that we took shelter in an
adjacent village for the night. It was small, and suited us very well.
At the public-house there was a shoemaker at work for the family, and
they had the kindness to allow him to repair our shoes.
The next morning we proceeded on our journey, though the weather was
very severe, snowing, and blowing right in our faces. Barklimore was
much better, and we did not deem it prudent to remain long in one place.
At noon, finding an excellent halting-house, in consequence of the
severity of the weather, and being wet to the skin, we stopped at it:
this little public-house supplied us with a large blazing fire. We dried
our clothes, got refreshed, and went to bed early. At daybreak we
recommenced our journey; and, at about eleven, we saw Schöngau, which
appeared to be a very strong place, and consequently to us a place of
danger. We could discover no possibility of crossing the Lech without
passing close by, if not through it. We consulted what was best to be
done, and, without hesitation, decided upon turning to the left and
keeping on the banks of that river, until we could find some other place
to cross over. We accordingly continued to the northward about eight
miles, when we perceived a ploughman at work with some strong horses in
an adjacent field. It immediately struck me that, by mounting, we might
be able to swim over the river on the back of the horses. I accordingly
made the proposal to the ploughman, and endeavoured to strike a bargain.
The stupid lout took all as a joke, and laughed me to scorn; but when he
found that I was really in earnest, he considered me little less than
mad to entertain such an idea. At last, after incessantly repeating the
word _schiff_, he pointed to a ferry-boat on the opposite side. On this
we came close down to the river; and, after waving and making signals
for some time, we had the satisfaction of seeing a man put off in a
boat. Notwithstanding that, from the late heavy falls of rain, the
flood was very strong, he conducted himself across in a very masterly
style, and then ferried us over in a manner equally satisfactory. We
joyfully paid him his usual fare, which was about one penny, and by
eight at night we had retraced our steps on the opposite bank by a
distance of eight miles, for the purpose of regaining the high road.
Weilheim was the next large town in our route, but we halted at a small
village. We were dreadfully knocked up, and having obtained refreshment,
we went to bed, and found that the best soporific on earth was fatigue.
Not all “the drowsy syrups of the world” could “medicine us to a more
sweet sleep” than the long and dreary march we had taken.
In the morning we proceeded on our journey, and by ten we made a circuit
round Weilheim, with its castle, crossed the Amper, and directed our
course for Tötz. At night we sought shelter in a peasant’s hut, at the
foot of the lofty range of mountains that separate Bavaria from the
Tyrol.
At eleven the next morning we discovered the town of Tötz, in a valley
on the Amper. In general, the sight of a town is gratifying to a
traveller, and gratifying in proportion to its size. In our case the
reverse was the fact; and every town was an object of alarm, and
especially if it were of any considerable magnitude or population. Tötz
appeared a place difficult to pass. We turned to the southward, and
after marching many a dreary league over mountains, and through forests
and morasses, we luckily discovered a bridge, which we crossed without
any interruption. I observed on the river a number of floats and rafts
which were admirably constructed, and they were adroitly steered with
the stream, which was excessively rapid. Even this semblance of an
approach to nautical affairs filled my mind with thoughts of my
profession, and gave gladness to my heart. Having passed the bridge, we
were enticed to enter a public-house, where we procured some fish,
bread, and beer for dinner. There were a number of both sexes
intoxicated in this house; they all appeared to be employed in
conducting the timber down the river, and reminded me of Billingsgate
and Wapping ballast-heavers. Although it rained excessively hard, we
were under the necessity of proceeding. Barklimore got a lift in a
waggon for three or four miles, and the waggoner declined receiving
payment for it. I must, in justice to continental inhabitants, observe
that this feature of disinterestedness is frequent on the Continent; how
far it may be common in our own country I leave to every man’s
experience.
On the 12th, at daylight, we recommenced our route towards Neubeuern,
and in the evening, at eight, we stopped for the night at a small
village, where the inn was very decent, and we were well entertained. In
the morning we parted from these good folks, but who were apparently not
very partial to the French.
At eleven we espied Neubeuern. It is a fort, situated on the side of a
hill, on a branch of the river Inn; we were on the opposite side to it,
and were very much confused and at a loss how to get across. There
appeared a small town also, which I suppose bore the same name. We
approached the banks of the river, and discovered a ferry-boat on the
opposite side. On each bank sheers were erected, with a stay or rope
from one side to the other, to which the ferry-boat was made fast with a
long rope and traveller to traverse upon the stay. It was constructed
in such a manner, that (let the current be however rapid) one man was
sufficient to conduct the ferry-boat across. There was, on our side, a
shed with seats for passengers to rest themselves, and wait for their
conveyance. In this place we found an old man, who, from his garb and
apron, we supposed to be either a hatter or dyer. He spoke no other
language than German; he lived (as he made us understand) in the
opposite village, and was actually a hatter by trade. He informed us
that the ferryman was getting his dinner, and would not attend until
after one o’clock. We inquired whether the fortress was strong,
although, whether strong or weak, it was evidently strong enough to
capture us, and to keep us in durance vile. The answer was, that it
contained “only a few veterans,” a species of force we particularly
objected to; for, although we could get to windward of raw recruits, it
was not easy to impose upon old campaigners. This hatter seemed to
measure the inside of our heads, and his inquisitive disposition was
very far from agreeable to us, under our awkward circumstances. He at
last asked us if we were going to Saltzburg. This was a convenient
question, for our answering in the affirmative gave us the plausible
opportunity of inquiring how far Saltzburg was off. “Fifteen leagues”
was the reply, and I need not say that not one of us felt his heart
rebound at the news that he was so far from this point towards his
journey’s end.
We dreaded lest there should be an examination of travellers, and an
inspection of passports, so near to the frontier garrison; but in vain
did we sound the hatter on the subject.
One o’clock arrived; the ferryman approached, but he was accompanied by
a soldier, with an immense feather, which waved so terrifically in the
air that it seemed ominous of our capture and subsequent fate. We dared
not ask the hatter another question, lest it should create suspicions,
and although we had time to make any escape, we reflected that we had no
other means of crossing the river. In fact, we were unsettled. We
considered and reconsidered, resolved and abandoned our resolution.
Consternation certainly prevailed over our councils, which ended in our
agreeing to wander in the fields, and watch what might be the object of
the soldier with his immense feather. The poet[29] has the line,
Pleased with a feather, tickled with a straw,
but never were men less pleased with a feather than I and my companions.
We agreed that if this man made towards us, we were to separate in
different directions, and thus try to baffle him; if he took the common
high road, we were to conclude that he had not come across the river for
our capture. We were in a great state of alarm. At length the boat
touched the shore. The son of Mars, with the feather in his cocked-hat,
jumped out of the boat. Every eye was upon him, and each of us had one
leg in advance ready to fly his approach, when, to our inexpressible
joy, he did not condescend to look upon us, but pursued his course
towards the high road. Never was contempt more welcome to the
disregarded or despised. We got into the ferry-boat with the hatter, and
landed on the opposite banks.
The fare was a mere trifle. We had to change a florin, and, although we
would willingly have paid five times the sum, if we could have afforded
it, to get clear off, we waited to have our change regularly made out,
which took some time, as the pieces were so difficult to be
comprehended, and the ferry-man had to borrow a part from the hatter.
But we dreaded, if we had not been thus particular, they might have
suspected that all was not right, and given information at the garrison.
Matters being arranged, we continued our route carelessly, until we were
out of sight of the fortress; then we pushed on as fast as we possibly
could, to make up for the delay of the ferry.
About seven o’clock in the evening we halted at a very convenient house
on the roadside; got beds and supper; and at daylight recommenced our
walk. We were now on the high road to Reichenhall, the last Bavarian
town we should have to pass. Each of us was in excellent spirits, and
almost confident of getting clear, from the success that had lately
attended us. We exerted all our force to get as soon as possible into
the Austrian territories, and walked at least twelve leagues this day,
till, being very much fatigued, we agreed to proceed to a village on the
borders of the lake of Kempsee, and to stop there for the night. We soon
made out a public-house; got supper, and retired to bed. The people were
civil, and not at all inquisitive.
We rose early and pursued our journey. We met several people, but none,
to our joy, seemed to possess the slightest spirit of curiosity. We
found out that we were still three leagues from Reichenhall. We advanced
apace, but with precaution, knowing how particular they generally are on
the frontiers. We also agreed, if we could get immediately safe into
Austria, to avoid Saltzburg altogether, and make directly for Trieste.
Barklimore was becoming exhausted. The roads were rough and dreary, and
not a village or human dwelling was to be seen, even to the utmost verge
of the horizon. As we drew near to Reichenhall, we overtook two waggons,
and prevailed upon one of the waggoners to give a lift to our lame and
disabled companion. Never was an arrangement more fortunate, for no
sooner had he got accommodated in the waggon than two Bavarian
_gendarmes_ came in view. Hewson and myself sought concealment on the
other side of the road, and thus did we escape detection.
For several days past I had observed that all the notices and directions
on the roadside were both in German and in French. The road we were
travelling was quite new, and it appeared that it had been made since
the battle of Austerlitz, in order to facilitate the future entry of the
French into the Austrian dominions. It was on a magnificent scale, and
must have cost immense sums, being cut through stupendous rocks and
mountains. It was the finest military road I had ever beheld, and
evinced the gigantic project that Napoleon must have had in
contemplation.[30]
We were apparently within two miles of the town, and we begged the
waggoner to let our friend descend. The too good-natured fellow offered
to carry him into the town, and we were obliged to pretend that we had
some idea of stopping at a friend’s house in the neighbourhood. A
friend’s house in the neighbourhood!--never were poor beings more
friendless or more unacquainted with a neighbourhood.
We were now at our wits’ ends, and it was too late to even attempt to
make a circuit of the town, in order to smuggle ourselves into the
Austrian territories, which must be at least four or five miles off. The
surrounding mountains seemed calculated to baffle the most experienced
traveller in any effort to get through their passes by night, or even by
day; and what could be done by poor ignorant and forlorn fugitives like
us?
All matters having been deliberately weighed and considered, we resolved
to take our abode in a public-house, at a little distance on the
roadside; and this, we trusted, would be our last night in Bavaria. We
accordingly entered it, and found several decent people. I made our host
understand that our comrade had been taken suddenly ill, that I wished
to get him to bed as soon as we could, and that we preferred remaining
with him to going into town, as it was then late. He politely told us we
should be instantly accommodated.
At about half-past eight we were shown to bed, and were in great
spirits. The next morning would decide our destiny, and we were very
sanguine. We knew it was necessary to be cautious also in Austria, but
considered that the great point would be attained when we should be out
of the power of the Confederation of the Rhine. I confess I sometimes
thought how unfortunate we should be if arrested in the vicinity of the
last Bavarian town, and again conducted back to the horrible _Mansion of
Tears_. I frankly declare, I would have preferred death as the
alternative.
At the dawn of day on the 17th of October we rose, ordered a cup of
coffee each, and pushed forward with great circumspection for the town
of Reichenhall, and saw very few people moving. Everything, we
imagined, favoured us; but the next moment we discovered a bridge,
which we inevitably must pass; at the end of it was a turnpike and the
Bavarian colours, blue and white, which we were tolerably well
acquainted with. There were two men who appeared at a short distance
from the turnpike. We were on the bridge. The two men entered a house
close to the turnpike. We advanced rapidly. Supposing it to be a most
favourable opportunity, we passed the turnpike very fortunately, and
turned short round to the right, which led us directly as we wished, and
also clear of the town. We then passed another barrier, where there was
not a house to be seen, and being so near to that we just passed, we
conjectured that both were superintended by the same people.
Having anticipated all aggravations of difficulties as we approached the
frontier, we were overjoyed at finding the system of police not so
strict as we expected: we now considered ourselves safe. We advanced a
mile, and thought ourselves in the Austrian territories. Our happiness
was inconceivable. Our dangers, we thought, were over, and we were now
in a country which, though not in alliance with England, had been
subsidised on former occasions to the extent of so many millions by her,
and had so common a cause with us in putting down the general enemy. We
felt almost as if we were at home. So secure were we that we began to be
less attentive to dangers of any sort.
The road became excessively heavy; and, although I had passed through by
far worse roads under more difficult circumstances, my prospects of
triumph made me fastidious or sportive. A cut, or pathway, appeared to
lead through fields in one direction, and I chose to take it, as I
thought it would shorten our distance, while Hewson pursued the
high-road in preference. On looking back, I found that Barklimore was
following my steps a good way behind, though in a short time I entirely
lost sight of Hewson. I had made an obtuse angle, and saved some
distance, and I soon got into the road again; but, to my great
uneasiness, in vain did I look for my friend. I conjectured that,
although he had the longest route, he must have walked so very fast as
to more than make up for the difference; and that, consequently, he was
ahead of me. Presently, to my great astonishment and utter dismay, I
made the woeful discovery that we were still in the Bavarian
territories; for I perceived close to me a turnpike, with the adjacent
house bearing the Bavarian arms. Fortunately, the door was shut, and I
passed it with a palpitating heart, thanking Heaven for my hair-breadth
escape. I then quickened my pace; and, looking back with great anxiety,
to my unspeakable joy I found that Barklimore had passed with equal
success.
I now became exceedingly alarmed for the safety of our friend Hewson,
and concluded that, under the idea that he was in the Austrian
dominions, he might have incautiously approached the barrier we had just
escaped, and have been captured. I stopped to wait Barklimore’s coming
up, that we might counsel what was best to be done. In the midst of our
perplexity and distress, to my unspeakable joy I perceived Hewson a long
way ahead of us, and making towards us with precipitation. How he could
have got so far in advance was to me inexplicable. I hastened towards
him, and expressed my astonishment at his separating from us at such a
critical moment. He briefly retaliated, and said, that as we had cut off
such a large angle by crossing the fields, he naturally concluded that
we were further advanced than himself. But there was no time to be lost
in recriminations; for our danger was extreme. Hewson, with much
trepidation, told us that we were still on Bavarian ground, and that a
short way in advance he had come to the line of demarcation between the
two countries, and at the nearest point of which there was a barrier,
with a guard; and he added, “The Austrian officer had stopped me, and
demanded my passport. With all the presence of mind I could assume,”
said Hewson, “I told him that my companions, who were following me, had
all our papers, and he desired me to wait until you arrived, but I
contrived to elude his vigilance, and have hastened to acquaint you with
our danger.”
We received this woeful intelligence with pallid faces and knit brows,
but our alarm was increased when Hewson continued, “I met the wife of
the man who looks out at yon Bavarian gate, or turnpike, and she asked
me if I had shown my passport and papers to her husband; of course I
answered that I had.”
Here, then, we were in as desperate a situation as any we had ever been
in. Never had we had to contend with dangers more numerous or extreme.
It appeared but too evident to us, that, when the woman told her husband
of what Hewson had stated to her, a pursuit of us would be commenced,
and a hue and cry raised for our apprehension. If the Austrian officer
had refused to let Hewson pass without a passport when he was
unsuspected, it was evident that he would not let us go through when the
Bavarian soldiers were in chase of us. It was hopeless to go directly to
the Austrian guard, confess who and what we were, and surrender
ourselves as prisoners, on the confidence of the amity which had
formerly existed between England and Austria, and of the good feelings
which the Austrians ought to entertain towards the English. Whichever
way we turned, new difficulties presented themselves, and we were
distracted with the thought of being taken after having overcome so many
dangers, travelled so many hundred miles, and arrived at a point at
which even a few yards over an imaginary line of separation might save
us.
I instantly proposed that we should try to elude and pass the Austrian
guard by avoiding the barrier, and crossing the boundary how we could,
at any other point; and then, if we were taken, our last resource would
be to claim the protection of the Austrian officer, as English subjects,
and formerly, though not now, the allies of the emperor. At any risk,
even at the cost of our lives, we were to avoid falling into the hands
of the Bavarians, for then our inevitable fate would be a journey in
chains back to the Mansion of Tears, a trial at Metz, and a sentence to
the galleys.
Not a moment was lost. I surveyed the country, and espied a narrow
pathway that led into a thick wood at the foot of an immense mountain.
Into this by-path we immediately struck, and proceeded as rapidly as the
nature of the track would admit of our using our legs. We expected to be
pursued by the Austrian troops; and our only hope was to get so far into
their territory, that, when captured, they would not think of returning
us to the dreaded Bavarians.
We pursued the route with all possible speed, running, climbing,
crawling, and scrambling, as the nature of the ground admitted or
required, until at length we stopped, out of breath, in the middle of
the wood, and, to our great joy, heard not the sound of a human voice
or footstep in pursuit.
We took breath, and again proceeded. It was impossible to clamber the
immense mountain, for its sides were perfectly inaccessible, and often
to a great height perpendicular; and yet we cast a longing, lingering
look upon its rugged steeps, and thought that if we could only gain one
of its caves or fastnesses, our security would be perfect.
We kept the path through the wood, and in a short time we got a sight of
the high-road; and, to the joy of exhausted lungs and palpitating
hearts, we found that we were full a mile in the rear of the Austrian
barrier. This was indeed happiness: happiness so great, so unexpected,
and so much in contrast with all the circumstances of our previous
position, that we distrusted even our senses that so plainly assured us
of the fact.
We now set firm foot upon the spacious high-road, and were about to
proceed with the elated feelings that made us think we could defy the
world, and laugh at the book of fate or the tricks of the treacherous
and fickle goddess, when, at our first step, a hoarse voice called on us
to surrender, and up sprung four German soldiers from their
hiding-place, behind a rock on the verge of the wood, and each presented
a rifle at our heads. We concluded they were bandits, and had little to
apprehend from them, as we had no property to lose, and knew that such
gentry were not desirous of taking life, when there was no advantage to
be derived from shedding blood. But we were soon undeceived, for whilst
three of the fellows kept the muzzles of their pieces at our heads, the
foremost of them very politely took off his hat to us. This was very
like the scene in _Gil Blas_, when the beggar piteously implored the
traveller, in the name of the Holy Virgin, to drop a marvadie in his
cap, whilst he kept his carbine aimed at his head, as a broad hint of
what he was to suffer if he was uncharitable. But the cases were not in
point, and these turned out to be Austrian soldiers, and the leader
civilly asked us for our passports. I showed him an old pocket-book, and
pretended to look for mine, and which of course I could not find; but I
showed him some envelopes in the German character, which I had provided
for such an emergency. The phlegmatic German sergeant defeated all my
excuses, by simply declaring that he was not a judge in such difficult
cases, not a scholar (in fact, he could not read), and that his duty was
to take us before his officer, pointing to the direction in which we
knew the Austrian barrier lay. “Will you surrender?” said he; and what
option of an answer was left to us in any case, when each had a rifle
presented to his head? “Most willingly,” I replied, “but are we not in
the Emperor’s dominions in _Kaisersland_?” How my heart beat with joy
when he answered the “Yes, Sir,”--_Ya Mynheer_. Never did the sun behold
more willing prisoners. We accompanied our captors to the officer. He
was a young man, and spoke no other language than the German. However,
we comprehended perfectly that he was displeased at our attempting to
elude him and the guard. He examined us, and we made him understand as
well as we could, “That we were Americans, who had escaped from the
Danes at Altona, and were making the best of our way to Trieste, where
we expected to procure a passage to our native country.” He desired one
of his soldiers to go and inform the Bavarian at the next barrier that
he wanted him. This circumstance occasioned me much uneasiness. I
endeavoured to learn from him if he intended to send us to Salzburg. He
said we should be conveyed to that city immediately. We were much
pleased at this intelligence, as we dreaded being given up to the
Bavarian, who now had arrived, and was astonished when the officer told
him that he had let us pass without examining or interrogating us. Our
_friend_ from the barrier was excessively nettled at the information,
and, had we been handed over to his tender mercies, he would have amply
revenged himself for the manner in which our success had exposed him to
the taunts of the officer of the rival nation.