Chapter V: Part 5

The Pretender himself succeeded in reaching the bridge of Montrose with his army, and embarked secretly with the Earl of Mar and a few other gentlemen, and thus abandoned his faithful mountaineers to all the violence of an infuriated government, as if, in his anxiety for his own safety, he had quite forgotten the unhappy creatures who had imperilled their liberty and their lives for his sake. This departure was, indeed, less of an escape than a dishonourable flight, and no sort of interest attaches to it. In this it differed altogether from the escape, at a future period, of his son, Prince Charles Edward, of which we propose to give an account.

_CHARLES EDWARD._

1746.

After the battle of Culloden, which proved the ruin of his hopes, Charles Edward was obliged to fly, to escape the government of George II. A price was put on his head, and a reward of £30,000 sterling was offered for his discovery and capture. “One would have supposed,” says Scott, “that in a country so poor as the highlands of Scotland, where laws concerning property are almost unknown, and among a people whose propensities to pillage had almost passed into a proverb, a reward far less considerable would have sufficed to awake the cupidity of some traitor, and to have ruined the Pretender. That was not, however, the case; and the escape of this prince, so long retarded by the agents of the victorious power, and effected with so much difficulty and amid a thousand obstacles, must be cited to the honour of Scotland, as a striking and brilliant example of good faith.”

During the battle of Culloden, Charles Edward had exposed himself to considerable danger. He was several times covered with earth thrown up by the bullets; he made repeated attempts to rally his troops, and according to the testimony of most of those who witnessed his conduct, he showed himself a brave and efficient commander. On quitting the field of battle he dismissed, under various pretexts, the greater number of the gentlemen who followed him--doubting, possibly, their fidelity--and kept with him only a few Irish officers, on whom he thought he could count. He directed his flight at first towards the residence of Lord Lovat, thinking, perhaps, that this person, who was renowned for his sagacity, could advise him as to his future course, and, perhaps, even give him some material help; for his son, the Master of Lovat, and Cluny MacPherson, another relative, had both raised considerable reinforcements, and they were on the march to join the prince’s army, when the battle took place. Charles and Lovat met for the first and last time, both of them a prey to the fears and embarrassments of a desperate situation. Charles spoke only of the distress into which Scotland was plunged, Lovat occupied himself solely with his personal dangers. The prince soon perceived that he had neither advice nor help to expect from his host, and he went away after hastily taking some refreshment. The place was dangerous, on account of the proximity of the victorious army; and, perhaps, even the fidelity of Lovat was to be suspected. Charles next halted at Invergarry--a castle belonging to the laird of Glengarry, where he was served with an excellent repast of fresh-caught salmon. As a punishment for this isolated act of hospitality, the English soldiers shortly afterwards pillaged and sacked the castle.

From Invergarry the fugitive made his way to a village in the western mountains, near the place where he had disembarked on coming from France. He there resolved to abandon his enterprise, and he accordingly sent a message to the chiefs and the soldiers assembled at Ruthven, thanking them for their services, and urging them to provide for their own safety, since no other course was left to him but to try to make his escape to France. His partisans in vain implored him to suffer them to expose themselves to new dangers for his sake. Charles saw too clearly that all was lost, and he refused to be the means of sacrificing the lives of brave men, who he knew were only taking counsel of their own devotion and despair.

Separated from his faithful supporters and friends, Charles wandered about the Hebrides in the hope of finding a ship for France. But the very elements seemed to have declared against him; no ship appeared; and his daily life was fast becoming almost purposeless. He at length arrived at the spot where he had formerly disembarked. He was met by Clanronald, who had been the first to declare for him, and who remained faithful to him in this his dire distress. The prince was lodged in a miserable hut belonging to a woodcutter named Corradale, and situated upon the rugged mountain which bears the same name.

Meanwhile the agents of the English government were making a keen search for the fugitive in every place that seemed to offer him the possibility of an asylum. General Campbell went to the very extremity of the isle of St. Kilda, which might be termed the boundary of the habitable world, and from thence passing to the other extremity of the Hebrides, he found the chiefs of Skye and of MacLeod engaged in a similar search. Two thousand men in all were employed in this undertaking, while the coasts of the island were constantly watched by ships of war. It seemed absolutely impossible for the prince to escape; yet he was saved by the courage of a woman.

That woman was Flora Macdonald, and her name is still honoured in the land of her birth. She was a relative of Clanronald, and she was at the time visiting that chief. Her father-in-law, who was of the clan of Sir Alexander MacDonald, was consequently an enemy of the Pretender, and he commanded the militia of the name of MacDonald, which was then exploring South Uist.

Having hastily formed a plan for saving the prince, Flora had sufficient address to obtain from her father-in-law permission to engage a male attendant and a servant girl, whom she named Betty Burke. The part of Betty was to be played by the prince dressed as a woman. Charles did in fact assume this disguise, and after having been several times in danger of capture, he arrived at Kilbride, in the Isle of Skye. But he was still in Sir Alexander MacDonald’s county, and he ran almost as great risks as before. Here, however, the courage and presence of mind of Flora were displayed anew in favour of the man thus so strangely placed under the protection of a young girl. She resolved to confide her secret to Lady Margaret MacDonald, wife of Sir Alexander, and to trust to the natural compassion of the sex, and to that enthusiasm for the Jacobite cause then common among nearly all the women of the Highlands.

This undertaking was the more dangerous, as the husband of Lady Margaret was already suspected of having at first offered his services to the prince. Lady Margaret was alarmed at Flora’s revelation. Her husband was absent, and her house was full of officers of militia. She could think of no other way of providing for the safety of the prince than to confide him to the care of MacDonald of Kingsburgh, a brave and intelligent man, who acted as agent or steward to Sir Alexander. Flora undertook to conduct the prince to MacDonald’s house; and the prince was fortunate enough to avoid recognition on the road, although the awkwardness of his air, dressed as he was like a woman, more than once excited suspicion.

From Kingsburgh he went to Raasay, where he was in the greatest distress; the isle having been pillaged because the laird had taken part in the insurrection. During this period of his flight he passed for the servant of his guide. He then took refuge for a time in the country of the laird of MacKinnon; but notwithstanding all the efforts of this chief in his favour, he could find neither rest nor safety in that part of the Isle of Skye, and was obliged to return once more to the mainland of Scotland, on the borders of Loch Nevis. He was there exposed to new dangers, and was very nearly taken. A great number of soldiers were overrunning the district which was the cradle of the insurrection, the country of Lochiel, of Keppoch, of Glengarry, and of other Jacobite chiefs. The prince and his guide soon found themselves in the midst of a circle of sentinels, and were scarcely able to move for fear of detection. After having passed two days surrounded by enemies, and without daring to light a fire to cook their food, they at length avoided the threatened danger by passing through a narrow defile, which separated the posts of two sentinels. Living thus in misery and nakedness, often without food, without fire, and without shelter, the unfortunate prince, sustained alone by the hope of learning that some French vessel was approaching the coast, arrived at length at the mountains of Strath-glass; And with Glen Allandale, who was then his only companion, was obliged to take shelter in a cavern which was shared by seven robbers. These men, however, were not ordinary outcasts; but like Charles himself, they had been obliged to hide because they had taken part in the insurrection. They willingly granted shelter to the fugitive, and recognising the prince for whom they had so often exposed their lives, they renewed to him their oaths of devotion. Among his most obedient and attached subjects, Charles Edward never found more zeal, fidelity, and effective help, than he met with at the hands of these men who had become the enemies of the world and of its laws. Wishing to give him all the assistance in their power, they undertook to procure him a suit of clothes, a change of linen, some provisions, and news. They executed their design with a strange mixture of that simplicity and ferocity which then formed the basis of the Highland character. Two of them lay in ambush for the servant of an officer who was going to Fort Augustine with his master’s baggage, and killed him. This was the means of furnishing the prince with clothes. Then another, in disguise, ventured to enter Fort Augustine, managed to obtain valuable information as to the movement of troops, and wishing to fulfil his mission of aid in all its integrity, brought away for the unfortunate prince a small piece of spiced bread of the value of a halfpenny. Charles Edward passed more than three weeks in this cave, and it was with great reluctance that his hosts suffered him to depart. “Stay with us,” they said. “The mountains of gold which the government has promised for your head will perhaps lead some gentleman to betray you; for it will be easy for him to go in a distant land, and live upon the price of his infamy. But we are under no such temptation. We know no other language but our own; we cannot live in any other country; and if we were to harm a hair of your head, our own mountains would fall upon us and crush us.” Another remarkable example of enthusiasm and devotion aided at about this time the escape of the prince. The son of a goldsmith of Edinburgh, named Robert Mackenzie, who had been an officer in the Jacobite army, was then hidden in the country of Glen Moriston. He was of about the same height as Charles, and he resembled him very much, both in face and figure. He was discovered by a party of soldiers, and attacked. He defended himself bravely; and wishing by a last effort of heroism to render his death useful to the cause he had served, he cried as he fell mortally wounded, “Oh, wretches, you have killed your prince!” His generous plan succeeded. He was taken for Charles Edward, and his head was sent to London. Some time elapsed before the deception was discovered; and as most persons believed that the real prince was killed, the government began to relax the rigour of its search. Profiting by this momentary respite, Charles Edward sought an interview with Lochiel, Cluny MacPherson, and some others of his faithful partisans said to be hidden in a neighbouring district. He therefore bid farewell to his faithful banditti, two of whom, however, he kept with him to serve as guides and as an escort. He at length succeeded in reaching Lochiel and MacPherson, though not without running very great risks. They lived for some time in a hut called the cage, sheltered by a very thick copse on the slope of the mountain Benalder. But they were in the midst of abundance; and for the first time since his flight the prince had enough to eat.

Towards the middle of September, Charles Edward learned that two French frigates had arrived at Loch Lannagh to convey him to France. He embarked on the twentieth, with a hundred of his partisans, and touched the coast of Brittany on the twenty-ninth, at a spot near Morlaix. For five months he had wandered a fugitive; leading a precarious life in the midst of fatigues and of dangers surpassing anything recorded in history. During this time his secret had been confided to hundreds of persons of both sexes, of all ages, and of all conditions, without one of them, even among the thieves who lived at the risk of their lives, having for a moment thought of enriching himself with the wages of the informer.

_STANISLAUS LECZINSKI._

1734.

Stanislaus Leczinski was besieged by the Russians in the city of Dantzic, and having no hope of relief, and knowing that the enemy wished to capture him rather than the city, the unfortunate king of Poland resolved to subserve the interests of his country in providing for his own safety. Several means of escape were presented to him. Some wished him to place himself at the head of a hundred determined men, and to pierce the Russian lines, but the project was too impracticable to be entertained. He then adopted the plan of the ambassador of France--that, namely, of flying in the disguise of a peasant.

“I left the house of the ambassador,” says the king, “in partial disguise. I had not gone far when I wished to return to reassure him, for he was greatly alarmed for my safety, and to dry the tears which I had seen him shed. I therefore walked up again to his apartments and tapped at the door, which he had gently closed. I found him prostrate on the ground, and offering up fervent prayers to God to guide me in my dangerous journey. ‘I come,’ said I, ‘to embrace you once more, and to beg of you to resign yourself, as I do, to Providence.’”

Accompanied by General Steinflycht, disguised like himself as a peasant, and by another officer who was engaged to assist him, the king crossed the ditch in a boat, intending to enter Prussia, but he was obliged to pass a post commanded by a serjeant, who interrogated the party so closely that they judged it most prudent to declare themselves. The serjeant then made a profound salute to the king, and allowed him to pass. The king’s guides did not belong to the most honourable portion of society, two of them being mere vagabonds; but that was of no great moment as they were perfectly acquainted with the roads, and were above all faithful. They began, however, by detaining the unfortunate king all one night and the following day in a miserable cabin in the midst of a marsh, about a quarter of a league from Dantzic. They assured him this was necessary for his safety, and Stanislaus soon discovered that the trusty fellows thought too little of his rank to make it worth his while to expostulate with them. On the following night they took to their boat, and rowed slowly and with difficulty along a sluggish river covered with weeds. Towards midnight the guides separated in two parties, one of which led the general by the road bordering the river, while the other continued with the king in the boat. At daybreak they again hid themselves in a peasant’s hut, and the king slept on a truss of straw. He had not lain there long when some Cossacks entered with a great uproar, and he gave himself up for lost till he discovered that they had merely come in to breakfast. They remained at table two mortal hours, but at last they went away, and the peasant’s wife came to reassure Stanislaus with the news, though she was wholly unable to understand why he wished to avoid the Cossacks instead of drinking with them. At nightfall they again took to the boat, and passed over a great tract of country which had been flooded, and then after a long and fatiguing march arrived at a house, the owner of which uttered a loud cry at seeing the king. “He is merely one of our comrades,” said the guides; “what has alarmed you?” “No, I am not deceived,” said the peasant; “it is the king, Stanislaus.” “Yes, my friend,” said the king firmly and confidently; “it is myself; but you are too honest a man to refuse me help in the condition in which you see me.” The king’s confidence was not misplaced; the man promised to take him across the Vistula, and he kept his word.

This part of the journey, however, was not effected without the king being exposed to very great dangers. The Cossacks had possession of the roads, and they examined every person with the greatest care whose appearance resembled that of the king. The fugitives were often seen, and on one occasion the guides were preparing to abandon Stanislaus, telling him that they did not wish to be hanged without having the least chance of saving his life. But he made them remain by threatening that if they left him he would at once call the Cossacks, although they all perished together. At another time he had to reanimate their courage by a liberal supply of beer and of brandy. He had already learned that Steinflycht had been misled and probably taken. At length they reached the shores of the Vistula, and the peasant, hiding the king in some bushes, went to look for a boat. When he was ready to embark, the king wished to recompense the brave fellow by a present of a considerable sum of money, but he could only induce him to accept two ducats, which the worthy man said he would regard “As a souvenir of the happiness he had known in seeing and knowing his sovereign.” “He took the ducats out of my hand,” says Stanislaus, “in a manner and with expressions not easily to be described.”

All danger was not at an end even when they had passed the Vistula. On one occasion one of the two vagabonds who had guided the king, got drunk, and in the midst of a village openly demanded the price of services he had rendered at the risk of his life. The chief guide had happily the presence of mind to ridicule him before the villagers, and to represent him as a kind of madman, who whenever he had too much to drink mistook every one around him for a prince. Stanislaus at length succeeded in passing the Nogat, and got rid at the same time of his fears and of his vagabond companions, who though they had not betrayed him, had added no little by their indiscretions to the discomforts and miseries of his journey.

_BARON TRENCK._

1746-1763.

Frederic Baron Trenck, born at Königsberg in 1726, was the son of a superior officer in the Prussian army, and cousin-german of the famous Trenck, colonel of the Pandours in the service of Maria Theresa. At the age of eighteen he became an officer in the body-guard of Frederic II., and he was high in the favour of that prince. But the intelligence, the bravery, and the brilliant exploits to which he owed that favour had also procured him many enemies, who knew how to take advantage of the indiscretions of a high-spirited young man. Trenck was presumptuous enough to aspire to the regard of the Princess Amelia, sister of the king; and this was undoubtedly the main cause of his disgrace, though not the only one. In the campaign of 1744 the enemy’s foragers captured the young officer’s groom, with two of his horses. The king at once supplied him with another horse from the royal stables; but the next morning the groom and the captured horses were brought back again by a trumpeter of the enemy, who, on returning them to Trenck, placed in his hands the following letter from the chief of the Pandours:--

“Trenck the Austrian is not at war with his cousin Trenck the Prussian. He is delighted to have been able to get the two horses out of the clutches of his hussars, and to return them to his cousin, to whom they belong.”

The young officer at once took the letter to the king, who, regarding him with a frown, said: “Since your cousin has sent back your horses, you have no need of mine.”

Some months passed, and Trenck seemed perfectly restored to the favour of his sovereign, when, the blow with which the king had long menaced him fell suddenly upon his head.

Some time previously, Trenck had been imprudent enough to write to his cousin in the Austrian service; and, though his letter contained only general expressions of compliment and regard, it was none the less a grave breach of discipline. The affair of the captured horses had afterwards happened, and Trenck had very nearly forgotten his letter, when he one day received what purported to be a reply to it, though there is every reason to believe that it was the work of some person in the Prussian service plotting his ruin. Trenck was, however, arrested, with the letter in his possession, and was taken to the castle of Glatz, where he was placed in one of the rooms allotted to the officers of the guard, and allowed the liberty of the fortress. He committed the error of writing a very haughty letter to Frederic, which gave great offence. He had remained five months in confinement; the king had vouchsafed no reply to his demand to be brought before a military tribunal; peace had been made; his post in the guards had been given to another; it was then that he began to think of making his escape.

During his imprisonment at Glatz he had made many friends among the officers who had charge of him, by freely supplying them with money, with which he was well provided. Two of these officers volunteered to aid him in his escape, and to accompany him; and in addition to this they all three undertook, from feelings of pity, to deliver another officer, who had been condemned to ten years’ imprisonment in the same fortress. After he had learned all their plans, this wretch, whom Trenck had loaded with benefits, betrayed them, and earned his own liberty as the reward of his treachery. One of the confederates, warned in time, was enabled to save himself; the other, thanks to Trenck, who had bribed his judge, escaped with a year’s imprisonment. But Trenck himself was from that day watched more closely than before. Some years after, the wretch who had so basely sold him received his reward: Trenck met him at Warsaw, insulted him publicly, and killed him in a duel.

The king was greatly incensed at this attempted escape, the more so as he had already promised, at the earnest entreaty of Trenck’s mother, to release him in a year. But Trenck had, unfortunately, been kept in ignorance of this latter circumstance. He was not long, however, before he made another effort to recover his liberty, of which he gives an account in the following terms:--

“My window looked towards the city, and was ninety feet from the ground, in the tower of the citadel, out of which I dared not get before finding a place of refuge in the city. This an officer undertook to procure me, and prevailed on an honest soap-boiler to grant me a hiding-place. I then notched my penknife and sawed through three iron bars; but this mode was too tedious, it being necessary to file away eight bars from my window before I could pass through. Another officer, therefore, procured me a file, which I was obliged to use with caution, lest I should be overheard by the sentinels.

“Having ended this labour, I cut my leather portmanteau into thongs, sewed them end to end, added the sheets of my bed, and descended safely from this tremendous height.

“It rained, the night was dark, and all seemed fortunate; but I had to wade through moats full of mud before I could enter the city--a circumstance I had never once considered. I sank up to the knees, and after long struggling and incredible efforts to extricate myself, I was obliged to call the sentinel and desire him to go and tell the governor Trenck was stuck fast in the moat.

“My misfortune was the greater on this occasion as General Fouquet was then governor of Glatz. He was one of the cruellest of men. He had been wounded by my father in a duel, and the Austrian Trenck had taken his baggage in 1744, and had also laid the country of Glatz under contribution. He was, therefore, an enemy to the very name of Trenck; nor did he lose any opportunity of giving proofs of his sentiments, and especially on the present occasion, when he left me standing in the mire till noon, the sport of the soldiers. I was then drawn out, half dead, only to be again imprisoned and shut up the whole day, without water to wash myself. No one can imagine how I looked--exhausted and dirty, my long hair having fallen into the mud, with which, by my struggling, it was loaded. I remained in this condition till the next day, when two fellow-prisoners were sent to assist and clean me.

“My imprisonment now became intolerable. I had still eighty louis d’ors in my purse, which had not been taken from me at my removal into another dungeon, and these afterwards did me good service.

“Eight days had not elapsed since my last fruitless attempt to escape when an event happened which would appear incredible were I, the principal actor in the scene, not alive to attest its truth, and might not all Glatz and the Prussian garrison be produced as eye and ear-witnesses. This incident will prove that adventurous and even rash daring will render the most improbable undertakings possible, and that desperate attempts may often make a general more fortunate and famous than the wisest and best concerted plans.

“Major Doo came to visit me, accompanied by an officer of the guard and an adjutant. After examining every corner of my chamber, he addressed me, taxing me with a second crime in endeavouring to obtain my liberty, adding that this must certainly increase the anger of the king.

“My blood boiled at the word crime; he talked of patience, I asked how long the king had condemned me to imprisonment. He answered, a traitor to his country who has correspondence with the enemy, cannot be condemned for a certain time, but must depend for grace and pardon on the king.

“At that instant I snatched his sword from his side, on which my eyes had been some time fixed, sprang out of the door, tumbled the sentinel from the top to the bottom of the stairs, passed the men who happened to be drawn up before the prison door to relieve the guard, attacked them sword in hand, threw them suddenly into surprise by the manner in which I laid about me, wounded four of them, made way through the rest, sprang over the breastwork of the ramparts, and with the sword drawn in my hand immediately leaped this astonishing height without receiving the least injury; I leaped the second wall with equal safety and good fortune. None of their pieces were loaded; no one durst leap after me, and in order to pursue, they must go round through the tower and gate of the citadel, so that I had the start full half an hour.

“A sentinel, however, in a narrow passage endeavoured to oppose my flight, but I parried his fixed bayonet and wounded him in the face. A second sentinel, meantime, ran from the outworks to seize me behind, and I, to avoid him, I made a spring at the palisades; unluckily my foot got stuck, and the sentinel seized it and held me by it till his comrades came up, who beat me with the butt end of their muskets, and dragged me back to prison, while I struggled and defended myself like a man grown desperate.

“Certain it is, had I more carefully jumped the palisades, and despatched the sentinel who opposed me I might have escaped, and gained the mountains. Thus might I have fled to Bohemia, after having, at noon day, broken from the fortress at Glatz, sprung past all its sentinels, over all its walls, and passed with impunity, in spite of the guard, who were under arms, ready to oppose me. I should not, with a sword in my hand, have feared any single opponent, and was able to contend with the swiftest runners. That good fortune which had so far attended me, forsook me at the palisades, where hope was at an end.

“The severities of imprisonment were increased, two sentinels and an under officer were locked in with me, and were themselves guarded by sentinels without. I was beaten and wounded by the butt ends of their muskets, my right foot was sprained. I spit blood, and my wounds were not cured in less than a month.

“I was now informed for the first time that the king had only condemned me to a year’s imprisonment to learn whether his suspicions were well founded. My mother had petitioned for me, and was answered, ‘Your son must remain a year imprisoned as a punishment for his rash correspondence.’ Of this I was ignorant, and it was reported in Glatz, that my imprisonment was for life. I had only three weeks longer to repine for the loss of liberty, when I made this rash attempt. What must the king think? Was he not obliged to act with this severity? How could prudence excuse my

impatience, thus to risk a confiscation, when I was certain of receiving freedom, justification, and honour in three weeks. But such was my adverse fate, circumstances all tended to injure and persecute me, till at length I gave everyone reason to suppose I was a traitor, notwithstanding the purity of my intentions.

“Once more then I was in a dungeon, and no sooner was I there than I formed new projects of flight. I first gained the intimacy of my guards. I had money, and this, with the compassion I had inspired, might effect anything among discontented Prussian soldiers. Soon I had gained thirty-two men who were ready to execute, on the first signal, whatever I should command. Two or three excepted, they were unacquainted with each other, they consequently could not all betray me at once. One Nicholai, a subaltern, was chosen as the leader.

“The garrison consisted only of one hundred and twenty men from the garrison regiment--the rest being dispersed in the county of Glatz--and four officers their commanders, three of whom were in my interest. Everything was prepared, swords and pistols were concealed in the oven, which was in my prison. We intended to give liberty to all the prisoners, and retire with drums beating, into Bohemia.

“Unfortunately, an Austrian deserter, to whom Nicholai had imparted our design revealed our conspiracy. The governor instantly sent his adjutant to the citadel with orders that the officer on guard should arrest Nicholai, and with his men take possession of the casement.

“Nicholai was on the guard, and the lieutenant was my friend, and being in the secret gave the signal that all was discovered. Nicholai only knew all the conspirators, several of whom that day were on guard. He instantly formed his resolution, leaped into the casement, crying, ‘Comrades, to arms! we are betrayed;’ all followed to the guard-house, where they seized on the cartridges. The officer having only eight men, and threatening to fire on whoever should offer resistance, came to deliver me from prison, but the iron door was too strong and the time too short for that to be demolished. Nicholai, calling to me, bid me aid them, but in vain; and perceiving nothing more could be done for me, this brave man, heading nineteen others, marched to the gate of the citadel, where there was a sub-officer and ten soldiers, obliged these to accompany him, and thus arrived safely at Braunau, in Bohemia, for before the news was spread through the city, and men were collected for the pursuit, they were nearly half way on their journey.

“Two years after I met with this extraordinary man at Ofenburg, where he was a writer; he entered immediately into my service, and became my friend, but died some months after of a burning fever at my quarters in Hungary, at which I was deeply grieved, for his memory will ever be dear to me.

“Now was I exposed to all the storms of ill fortune; a prosecution was entered against me as a conspirator, who wanted to corrupt the officers and soldiers of the King. They commanded me to name the remaining conspirators; but to these questions I made no answer except by steadfastly declaring I was an innocent prisoner, an officer unjustly broken, because I had never been brought to trial,--that consequently I was released from all my engagements.

“A lieutenant, whose name was Bach, a Dane, mounted guard every fourth day, and was the terror of the whole garrison; for being a perfect master of arms, he was incessantly involved in quarrels, and generally left his marks behind him. He had served in two regiments, neither of which would associate with him for this reason, and he had been sent to the garrison regiment at Glatz as a punishment.

“Bach, one day sitting beside me, related how the evening before he had wounded a lieutenant, of the name of Schell in the arm. I replied, laughing, ‘Had I my liberty, I believe you would find some trouble in wounding me, for I have some skill in the sword.’ The blood instantly flew into his face. We split off a kind of a pair of foils from an old door, which had served me as a table, and at the first lunge I hit him on the breast.

“His rage became ungovernable, and he left the prison. What was my astonishment when, a moment after, I saw him return with two soldier’s swords, which he had concealed under his coat. ‘Now then, boaster, prove,’ said he, giving me one of them, ‘what thou art able to do.’ I endeavoured to pacify him, by representing the danger; but ineffectually. He attacked me with the utmost fury, and I wounded him in the arm.

“Throwing his sword down, he fell upon my neck, kissed me, and wept. At length, after some convulsive emotions of pleasure, he said, ‘Friend, thou art my master, and thou must, thou shalt, by my aid, obtain thy liberty, as certainly as my name is Bach.’ We bound up his arm as well as we could. He left me, and secretly went to a surgeon to have it properly dressed, and at night returned.

“Lieutenant Schell was just come from the garrison at Habelschwert, to the citadel of Glatz, and in two days was to mount guard over me, till which time our attempt was suspended. I had received no more supplies, and my purse only contained some six pistoles. It was therefore resolved that Bach should go to Schweidnitz, and obtain money of a sure friend of his in that city.

“It must be borne in mind that at this period the officers and I all understood each other, Captain Roder alone excepted, who was exact, rigid, and gave trouble on every possible occasion. Major Quaadt was my kinsman by my mother’s side, a good friendly man, and ardently desirous I should escape, seeing my calamities were so much increased. The four lieutenants, who successively mounted guard over me, were Bach, Schroeder, Lunitz, and Schell. The first was the grand projector, and made all preparations. Schell was to desert with me, and Schroeder and Lunitz, three days after, were to follow. No one ought to be surprised that officers of garrison regiments should be so ready to desert; they are in general either men of violent passions, quarrelsome, overwhelmed with debts, or unfit for service. They are usually sent to garrison as a punishment, and are called the refuse of the army. Dissatisfied with their situation, their pay much reduced, and despised by the troops, such men, expecting advantage, may be brought to engage in the most desperate undertaking; for none of them can hope for their discharge. They all hoped by my means to better their fortune, I always having had money enough, and with money, nothing is more easy than to find friends in places where each individual is desirous of escaping from slavery.

“The governor had in the meantime been informed how familiar I had become with the officers, and, growing alarmed at this circumstance, he sent orders that my door should no more be opened, but that I should receive my food through a small window that had been made for the purpose. The care of the prison was committed to the major, and he was forbidden to eat with me under pain of being broken.

“His precautions were ineffectual. The officers procured a false key, and remained with me half the day and night.

“A Captain Damnitz was imprisoned in an apartment by the side of mine. This man had deserted from the Prussian service, with the money belonging to his company, to Austria, where he obtained a commission in his cousin’s regiment. This cousin having prevailed on him to serve as a spy during the campaign of 1744, he was taken in the Prussian territories, recognised, and condemned to be hanged.

“Some Swedish volunteers who were then in the army interested themselves in his behalf, and his sentence was changed to perpetual imprisonment, with a sentence of infamy.

“This wretch, who two years afterwards, by the aid of his protectors, not only obtained his liberty, but a lieutenant-colonel’s commission, was the secret spy of the major over the prisoners, and he remarked that notwithstanding the express prohibition laid on the officers, they still passed the greater part of their time in my company.

“The 24th of December came, and Schell mounted guard. He entered my prison immediately, where he continued a long time, and we made our arrangements for flight when he should next mount guard.

“Meantime Lieut. Schroeder, who was in the secret, had no doubt but that we were betrayed, knowing that the spy Damnitz had informed the governor that Schell was then in my chamber. Schroeder, therefore, full of terror, came running to the citadel, and said to Schell: ‘Save thyself, friend; all is discovered, and thou wilt instantly be put under arrest.’

“Schell might easily have provided for his own safety, by flying singly, Schroeder having prepared horses on one of which he himself offered to accompany him into Bohemia.

“How did this worthy man, in a moment so dangerous, act towards his friend? Running suddenly into my prison, he drew a corporal’s sabre from under his coat, and said, ‘My friend, we are betrayed; follow me, only do not allow me to fall alive into the hands of my enemies.’

“I would have spoken, but interrupting me, and taking me by the hand, he added, ‘Follow me, we have not a moment to lose.’ I therefore slipped on my coat and boots, without having time to take the little money I had left; and as we went out of the prison, Schell said to the sentinel, ‘I am taking the prisoner into the officer’s apartment; stand where you are.’

“Into this room we really went, but passed out at the other door. The design of Schell was to go under the arsenal, which was not far off, to gain the covered way, leap the palisadoes, and afterwards escape the best manner we might.

“We had hardly gone a hundred paces before we met the Adjutant and Major Quaadt. Schell started back, sprang upon the rampart, and leaped from the wall, which was at that part not very high. I followed, and alighted unhurt, except having grazed my shoulder. My poor friend was not so fortunate, having put out his ankle. He immediately drew his sword, presented it to me, and begged me to despatch him and fly. He was a small, weak man; but, far from complying with his request, I took him in my arms, threw him over the palisadoes, afterwards got him on my back, and began to run, without knowing very well which way I went.

“It may not be unnecessary to notice the fortunate circumstances that favoured our enterprise.

“The sun had just set as we took to flight, and a hoar frost came on. No one would run the risk that we had done, by making so dangerous a leap. We heard a terrible noise behind us. Everybody knew us, but before they could go round the citadel, and run through the town, in order to pursue us, we had got a full half-league.

“The alarm guns were fired before we were a hundred paces distant, at which my friend was very much terrified, knowing that in such cases it was generally impossible to escape from Glatz unless the fugitives had got a start of full two hours; the passes being immediately all stopped by the peasants and hussars, who are exceedingly vigilant. No sooner is a prisoner missed than the gunner runs from the guard house and fires the cannon on the three sides of the fortress, which are kept loaded day and night for that purpose.

“We were not five hundred paces from the wall when all before us and behind us were in motion. It was daylight when we leaped, yet was our attempt as fortunate as it was wonderful; this I attributed to my presence of mind, and the reputation I had already gained, which made it thought a service of danger for two or three men to attack me.

“It was, besides, imagined we were well provided with arms for our defence, and it was little suspected that Schell had only his sword, and I an old corporal’s sabre.

“Scarcely had I borne my friend three hundred paces, before I set him down, and I looked round me; but darkness came on so fast, that I could see neither town nor citadel, consequently, we ourselves could not be seen.

“My presence of mind did not forsake me; death or freedom was my determination. ‘Where are we, Schell?’ said I to my friend. ‘Where does Bohemia lie? On which side is the river Neiss.’ The worthy man could make no answer; his mind was all confusion, and he despaired of our escape. He still, however, entreated I would not let him be taken alive, and affirmed my labour was all in vain. After having promised, by all that was sacred, I would save him from an infamous death, if no other means were left, and thus raised his spirits, he looked round, and knew, by some trees, we were not far from the city gates.

“I asked him, ‘Where is the Neiss?’ He pointed sideways. ‘All Glatz has seen us fly towards the Bohemian mountains. It is impossible we should avoid the hussars, the passes being all guarded, and we beset with enemies.’ So saying, I took him on my shoulders, and carried him to the Neiss. Here we distinctly heard the alarm sounded in the villages, and the peasants, who likewise were to form the line of desertion, were everywhere in motion and spreading the alarm. I came to the Neiss, which was a little frozen, entered it with my friend, and carried him as long as I could wade; and when I could not feel the bottom, which did not continue for a space of eighteen feet, he clung round me, and thus we got safely to the other shore. The reader will easily suppose swimming in the midst of December, and remaining afterwards in the open air eighteen hours, was a severe hardship.

“About seven o’clock, the hoar frost was succeeded by frost and moonlight. The carrying of my friend kept me warm, it is true; but I began to be tired, while he suffered everything that frost, the pain of a dislocated foot (which I in vain endeavoured to reset), and the danger of death from a thousand hands could inflict.

“We were somewhat tranquil, however, since nobody would pursue us to Silesia. I followed the course of the river for half an hour, and having once passed the first villages that formed the line of desertion, with which Schell was perfectly acquainted, we in a lucky moment found a fisherman’s boat moored to the shore. Into this we leaped, crossed the river again, and soon gained the mountains. Here being come, we sat ourselves down on the snow. Hope revived in our hearts, and we held council concerning how it was best to act. I cut a stick to assist Schell in hopping forward as well as he could when I was tired of carrying him; and thus we continued our route, the difficulties of which were increased by the mountain snows.

“Thus passed the night, during which, up to the middle in snow, we made but little way. There were no paths to be traced in the mountains, and they were in many places impassable.

“Day at length appeared. We thought ourselves near the frontiers, which are twenty English miles from Glatz, when we suddenly, to our terror, heard the city clock strike. Overwhelmed as we were by hunger, cold, pain, and fatigue, it was impossible we should hold out during the day. After some consideration, and another half-hour’s labour, we came to a village at the foot of the mountain, on the side of which, about three hundred paces from us, we perceived two separate houses, and the sight inspired us with a stratagem that was successful.

“We lost our hats in leaping the ramparts, but Schell had preserved his scarf and gorget, which would give him authority among the peasants.

“I then cut my finger, rubbed the blood over my face, my shirt, and my coat, and bound up my head, to give myself the appearance of a man dangerously wounded. In this condition, I carried Schell to the end of the wood, not far from these houses. Here he tied my hands behind my back, but so that I could easily disengage them in time of need, and hobbled after me by aid of his staff, calling for help.

“Two old peasants appeared, and Schell commanded them to run to the village and tell a magistrate to come immediately with a cart. ‘I have seized this knave,’ added he, ‘who has killed my horse, and in the struggle I have put out my ankle. However, I have wounded him and bound him. Fly quickly; bring a cart, lest he should die before he is hanged.’

“As for me, I suffered myself to be led, as if half dead, into the house. A peasant was dispatched to the village.

“An old woman and a pretty girl seemed to take great pity on me, and gave me some bread and milk; but how great was our astonishment when the aged peasant called Schell by his name, and told him he well knew we were deserters, he having the night before been at a neighbouring alehouse, where the officer in pursuit of us came, named and described us, and related the whole history of our flight. The peasant knew Schell, because his son served in his company, and had often spoken of him when he was quartered at Habelschwert.

“Presence of mind and resolution were all that were now left. I instantly ran to the stable, while Schell detained the peasant in the chamber. He, however, was a worthy man, and directed him to the road towards Bohemia. We were still about seven miles from Glatz, having lost ourselves among the mountains, where we had wandered many miles. The daughter followed me. I found three horses in the stable but no bridles. I conjured her in the most passionate manner possible to assist me. She was affected, seemed half willing to follow me, and gave me two bridles. I led the horses to the door, called Schell, and helped him, with his lame leg, on horseback. The old peasant then began to weep, and begged I would not take his horses; but he luckily wanted courage, and perhaps the will to impede us, for with nothing more than a dung fork, in our then feeble condition, he might have stopped us long enough to have called in assistance from the village.

“And now behold us on horseback, without hats or saddles--Schell with his uniform scarf and gorget, and I in my red regimental coat. Still we were in danger of seeing all our hopes vanish, for my horse would not stir from the stable. However, at last, good horseman-like, I made him move. Schell led the way, and we had scarcely gone a hundred paces before we perceived the peasants coming in crowds from the village. As kind fortune would have it, the people were all at church, it being a festival. It was nine in the morning, and had the peasants been at home we had been lost without redemption. We were obliged to take the road to Wunshelburg, and pass through the town where Schell had been quartered a month before, and in which he was known by everybody. Our dress, without hats or saddles, sufficiently proclaimed we were deserters; our horses, however, continued to go tolerably well, and we had the good luck to get through the town, although there was a garrison of one hundred and eighty infantry and twelve horse purposely to arrest deserters. Schell knew the road to Brummen, where we arrived at eleven o’clock, and from thence we went to Braunau, where we were safe.”

During the first few months following his escape, Trenck

wandered about miserably, pursued everywhere by the vengeance of Frederick, and being obliged sometimes to resist sword in hand persons sent in pursuit of him. Proscribed in his own country, he had taken service with Austria. At length, after a series of adventures, of which he gives an account in his “Memoirs” that bears all the impress of sincerity, notwithstanding the extraordinary events to which it refers, he found himself at Dantzic, where he was delivered up to the King of Prussia by the treachery of the imperial resident and the authorities of the city. He was then taken to Magdeburg, and imprisoned in the citadel.