Part 10

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.