[TO BE CONTINUED.]
CAPTURED BY COSSACKS.
EXTRACTS FROM LETTERS OF A FRENCH OFFICER IN 1813.[B]
COSSACKS AND FRENCH PRISONERS.
Wismar, Mecklenburg-Schwerin, March 8, 1813.
My Dear Parents: I regret to announce that recent public events have sadly disturbed the relatively comfortable circumstances which favored my convalescence. Since the 26th ult. our lines have been drawn in, and I have accompanied my detachment to this place, where the expected arrival of General Morand from Pomerania will probably be the signal of a hasty retreat. The lamentable fate of our grand army in barbarous Russia is now casting its shadows upon us. It is because so many of our friends remained there that we shall have to move from here. Possibly, a speedy return to the home I left nine years ago may afford some compensation for this inglorious retreat. The cities of Hamburg and Lubeck are in open revolt and ill-treating and driving away the French authorities. If only we had once the Elbe in our rear! The Cossacks are not far off, and the whole country is awaiting them with open arms. Adieu for to-day.
Wismar, 13th March, 1813.
General Morand and his command arrived here at noon to-day. My brothers, Frank and Louis, are with him and in the best of health. Our trio held a council of war an hour ago, and unanimously resolved to remain at the post of honor whatever may betide. I reported in person to the general, who, after viewing my scar from the Hamburg bullet, assured me that my name would appear on the next recommendation for promotions. All the members of our brigade who had been on coast-guard duty in Mecklenburg are being reorganized into a special battalion, in which I retain the rank of first lieutenant. Frank holds a sergeant's commission, while little Louis remains a private fusilier. An order of the day announces that furloughs are out of the question, and that deserters will be dealt with as every one knows how. The latter bit of information is for the special benefit of our Saxon allies, of whom our command embraces twelve hundred. The remainder of it consists of three hundred artillery-men, four hundred marines, two hundred and fifty coast-guards and a squad of civil and military functionaries—all French and well armed and equipped. To-morrow the homeward march begins.
Across the Elbe! Winsen-on-the-Lucke, 18th March.
As the enemy is close upon our heels, we left Wismar in double-quick time. On the 16th, on leaving Moellen, Frank and I visited the grave of the famous German jester Eulenspiegel, but did not take time to drive memorial nails into the surrounding trees, as thousands of pilgrims had done before us.
Not far from there we suddenly came upon a band of Cossacks resting their jaded nags in a marshy meadow. It was something of a mutual surprise. A single glance down our line convinced the hostile commander that we could not consistently give him time to get away. Hence, waving a white streamer at the butt end of a lance, he rode forward and called in passable German for a parlementaire. My anxiety to learn all about this new and singular race of people induced me to request this appointment, which was promptly granted by the commander of our van. No diplomatic chicaneries hampered my mission, which was accomplished in a very few minutes. The result was an unconditional surrender. The poor fellows were the victims of an excess of zeal, having ridden ahead of us while they imagined themselves on our flank. The terms of our future relations being mutually agreed upon, the commander, who had acquired his German in the Prussian service, and was no stranger to Virgil and Horace, offered me a hearty shake of his right hand, while the other, deftly unbuckling a holster, drew forth a sample of genuine Mecklenburger Kuemmel schnapps, which proved not unworthy of cementing a treaty of peace. While the prisoners were being marshalled into custody I had ample opportunity to scan the fifty specimens of exotic humanity before me, but utterly failed to discover in their outward features the proverbial elements of popular terror. Though generally nimble and well-proportioned, they were scarcely above the average French voltigeur in stature, and a bullet or rapier would find the way through their untanned sheepskin jackets just as easily as through any more civilized uniform. Apart from their lances, which they are said to handle with dangerous skill, these scouts carry no weapons worth mentioning. Their rusty horse-pistols are almost harmless toys. A more uncouth-looking soldier than a Cossack on foot can hardly be imagined. Perhaps it is not fair to judge them in this abnormal predicament. When they were informed that they would be treated just like ordinary prisoners, a grin of satisfaction lighted up their countenances with an expression of droll humor not suspected before. In the pockets of their cloaks andportemanteaux were found an amount and variety of pelf somewhat difficult to account for in the possession of warriors who had not yet reached the enemy's country. Among the rest I will only mention gold, silver and copper coins, medals, breastpins, ear- and finger-rings, watches and chains, seals, meerschaum pipes, snuff-boxes, brass buttons, beads, tea-spoons, feminine miniatures, locks of flaxen hair of the same sex, and, last and strangest, bottles of Jean Marie Farina's veritable eau de Cologne! It may be charitably assumed that the latter three suggestive articles were the heart's gifts of patriotic North German maidens to their long-prayed-for liberators. Honni soit qui mal y pense. But it is hardly probable that the original possessors of the more intrinsic valuables had parted with them from equally sentimental motives. Hence our lads wisely discriminated in their disposition of the captured treasures, the coins, jewelry, tea-spoons and meerschaums being temporarily confiscated "until the proper owners could be found." À la guerre comme à la guerre.
In the night of the 16th-17th we reached Bergdorff, where we halted until next afternoon. Just before dusk, at the crossing of a stream, we (the van) were attacked by a partisan column, who relieved us of a dozen prisoners, and in exchange left a few dead upon the field. We are looking for more of this sort of warfare until strongly reinforced. We have to contend not only with the Russians and Prussians, but with all the people on our way, who have raised their hands against the French. Evidently, we have made few friends in this country, which—entre nous—to an unbiassed mind does not seem at all strange. Somehow, even when not personally molested, we are continually losing baggage. I carry only my most indispensable effects on my horse. My large trunk, though far behind me now, is in trusty hands, with your address in case anything serious should befall its owner. Frank's baggage is on the general train, while Louis carries all his worldly possessions in his knapsack, which begins to act as a powerful sudorific upon the dear little fellow.
Bremen, 24th March.
This city has not yet risen in open rebellion, though the faces here are sullen enough. General Carra St. Cyr, with two battalions of cohortes and fifteen hundred coast-guards, has succeeded so far in keeping down the popular temper. But Bremerloe, six leagues from here, is occupied by a formidable band of armed rebels, and at this very moment a detachment is being sent out to attend to them. Among the young recruits of St. Cyr's command I found quite a number of Alsatians, some from my own birthplace, Saverne. They are all in the highest of spirits and eager to go ahead. Considering the sacrifice of precious lives our country has made within the last twenty years, the enthusiasm of these boys is truly wonderful.
25th March.
Bremerloe was captured and the enemy routed. None of your sons were at the fray, but while I write my horse is being saddled and all is getting ready for a return march toward the Elbe. Has a victory improved the situation in our rear, or do some of our retreating brethren need our support? We do not know. The order is to march.
Lüneburg, Braunschweig, 1st April, 10 p. m.
Since our departure from Bremen no bed but the open field or the barest floor has rested my limbs until this evening, when, for the first time in a week, I enjoyed the luxury of a change of clothes. How sweet it is to rest after a hard day's work! This town, surrounded by an old-style ditch and wall, was even this forenoon in possession of the enemy. About eighty Cossacks, eight hundred German recruits and the whole male population, armed with muskets, spears and pitch-forks, defended the place for two hours. But as we had sixteen field-guns, and they none fit for use, we defeated them with inconsiderable loss. The greater part of the civilians, fearing severe punishment, fled with the Cossacks. Our gunners poured in the shot and grape until there is scarcely a whole window in the western half of the town. Two of our companies headed the Saxons in the assault over the wall, while the rest pressed in through the battered-down gates. Louis was in the lead, and landed inside without a scratch. Having lost his knapsack in a skirmish on the road, he had no surplus weight to carry. Frank was close behind me in the rush through the Bardowicker gate. Though this day may never be honored with a line in the annals of the great Napoleonic wars, it was quite as hot for a while as any other of greater fame for those immediately concerned. The street-scenes were ghastly, and forcibly reminded me of certain others of saddest memory, when, a boy of only nine years of age, I followed you, my dear parents, over the dead and mangled bodies of citizens and soldiers out of the town of Saverne, disgraced and blood-stained by a revolutionary mob. With this difference, however, that here the dead and wounded were our inveterate foes, while there they wore the features of our most cherished friends and neighbors.
DON COSSACKS AND BASHKIRS.
In a Village Near Boitzenburg, 4th April.
How quickly the leaf has turned! At the date of my last we were victors: to-day we are not only vanquished, but prisoners.
Do not be alarmed, however, dearest parents. All three of your sons are alive and well, even relatively comfortable. No complaint even from poor Louis, who was caught by the Cossacks, robbed of his coat and purse, then turned over to the citizens, who, after unspeakable insults and brutal treatment, stripped him of everything but his shirt and drawers. My own story is too complex to be related to-day. I will only state in brief what you may have already divined—that on the day following the capture of Lüneburg we were surprised in and around the town by a vastly superior force, and worsted after a resistance which was all the more desperate that we knew what to expect from such an enemy in case of defeat. The ferocity of the German burgher, backed by his liberators in overwhelming strength, literally baffles description. I fell in a melée in front of the eastern gate under a blow from a spear-shaft, which broke the visor clasp of my shako right over my left ear. When I recovered my senses I was in the custody of a young "Death Hussar," of whose generous treatment of me more hereafter.
Same Day, afternoon.
The number of my companions in misfortune now collected here is nearly three hundred. Our departure Russia-ward, which had been fixed for noon to-day, seems to have been countermanded for the present.
Our surprise is mainly attributed to some laxity on the part of our Saxon friends, whose German hearts have naturally mellowed since the French eagles have taken their homeward flight. This forenoon our brave general, mortally wounded in his effort to retrieve the disgrace, was buried with the honors of war at Boitzenburg, half a mile from here. We lost altogether five hundred dead and wounded, but inflicted a severe loss on the enemy, who was the attacking party. As near as I can learn, his force consisted of a large brigade of cavalry, four companies of Russian and three of Prussian infantry, artillery in proportion, besides the few hundred Cossacks and armed citizens we had scared out of Lüneburg on the day before.
Now to return to my story. Perhaps you have not forgotten, my dear parents, my reference, four years ago, to the notorious Schill, chief of a corps of Prussian partisans, a brave and devoted patriot, who gave us no little trouble. Shortly after that time he was pursued by a force of Danes and Hollanders, our allies, all the way to Stralsund, and killed in a brave fight. His brother now commands the "Death Hussars" in the Prussian service. My captor is a Brunswicker of noble birth and character, who speaks very good French, and recognized me by name and face in connection with an incident near Hamburg which had impressed him favorably with my humanity. He seemed to have resolved to do all in his power for my protection except directly favoring my escape. After he had shielded me from the burghers' mob and furnished me with a modest suit of citizen's clothes in order to disguise my rank, I was still encumbered by my regulation hat, which betrayed me to every eye. He proposed to provide me with a skull-cap from a friend's wardrobe, and left me to wait for him in a seemingly deserted lane, a square only from his lodgings. Scarcely, however, had he turned the corner when I was overtaken by an athletic journeyman baker, who, pouncing upon me with frantic yells, attracted two other citizens to the spot, and all now seized hold of me with a vigor conveying the soothing impression that my agony would be brief. Acting upon the old adage, that while there is life there is hope, I protracted my existence by twining my arms around a small linden tree and dealing out such blows with my heavy riding-boots as I could in that awkward position. At the same time I summoned to my aid all the power of a healthy pair of lungs, which my mother often predicted would yet make some noise in the world, and just before my wind gave out under the pressure of the bakerman's thumbs, my strategy resulted in the desired success. Shouting and running at the top of his might, my noble rescuer was soon on the spot with the skull-cap in one hand and his drawn sabre in the other. In a twinkling the flat of his blade had loosened the hold of my executioners, whom he fearlessly berated as cowardly villains for laying hands upon a prisoner already in his power, and whom he pursued with threats that visibly quickened their retreating pace. Thanking Heaven for the favor of permitting him to save my life once more, he now informed me that he had done all for me that his own oath and duty permitted, and hoped I should be able to make the best use of my improved situation. At my urgent request, however, he consented to accompany me to my lodgings, where I had that very morning left my portfolio and a gold watch, not dreaming of the surprise that subverted my fate in the course of the day. My landlord, still gratefully reminiscent of my courteous behavior toward him and his family on the day of our victory, promptly delivered my property, with hearty apologies for his inability to do more for me at present; and, significantly referring to a Prussian captain then at supper in the lower story, he quietly pressed into my hand a shining silver thaler, which I as quietly returned with thanks, for the simple reason that I was even then more able to give than he. "God bless you, my gracious gentleman!" were his last words as I pressed his honest fist and assured him that if ever in my power his kindness should be remembered.
Night had closed around me when I reached the sombre street with my magnanimous protector. After exchanging names, birthplace and the residence of our respective parents in our memorandum-books, I thanked him for all with a fulness of heart to which the moisture of his own thoughtful blue eyes most eloquently responded, and as he rapidly walked away my reflections upon the humanity of war were not such as would have recommended my promotion to the great captain in whose thankless service I am daily exposing my life.
BASHKIR.
Here, then, I was left absolutely friendless in a hostile town in which my life was at the mercy of almost every inhabitant. And my poor brothers, what had become of them? How could I find out? My rescuer had informed me that the prisoners had already been transported into the country, and that the wounded were being cared for at the town-hall. In this dilemma my choice was not difficult. Deliberately walking into a tavern where the Russian staff were engaged in brewing punch, I declared myself a prisoner, hungry, and anxious to join my comrades, whose fate I wished to share. I did not conceal the fact that I hoped to find two brothers among them. To my agreeable surprise, I found these officers kindly-disposed, well-educated men, speaking either French or German fluently. Supper was instantly ordered for me, but, though a fast of fifteen hours was gnawing at my stomach, I could not prevail upon myself to taste anything before having seen our wounded, which I asked and obtained leave to do immediately. An orderly was directed to conduct me to the town-hall across the square. Here I was distressed to find over sixty of our men and officers of all arms more or less severely hurt, but none fatally, the unfortunates of that category, as rumor goes, having been finished by the citizens before the military took charge of them. I anxiously looked into every familiar face, but my brothers were not there. No one could tell me the names of our dead. Frank was seen alive after I fell, just before the close of the fight, but of Louis nothing whatever was known. Still, I breathed more freely. A Prussian surgeon in attendance with our own having called my attention to the contusion over my left ear, which had now swollen to the size of a small egg, I had it bathed and dressed.
During my supper at the tavern two of the Russian officers, taking seats around my table, conversed very freely upon the topics of the day, and, I must confess, with much delicate regard for the feelings of an enemy in my condition. They had seen Napoleon in Moscow, and hoped soon to return his visit in Paris. All Europe was tired of him, his own people not excepted. The Bourbons would be restored and universal peace would follow. This was their favorite theme, to which, I candidly own, your son's heart was not a total stranger. I have long been convinced that Germany could not be permanently subdued, and that French rule was the most unpopular of all. My impression is that this nation will henceforth unite and fight until the foreign yoke is shaken off for ever.
Supper over, I was informed that I could not be conveyed to my fellow-prisoners until morning, and that I might share the mattress of a French sergeant-major confined in an upper room, which turned out to be the garret. Imagine my surprise on recognizing my favorite Delâtre, though his face was black with mud and powder and his elegant form disguised in the linen gown of a Mecklenburger teamster! His sleep was too sweet and precious to be disturbed, and I much enjoyed his wonder when, awaking at the break of day, he beheld the countenance of one whom he had numbered among the dead. Our mutual stories were soon told. Delâtre had made an attempt to escape, but was recaptured, did not tell a very plausible tale, and was held for better identification in the morning. Of my brothers he knew only that they were both alive when I fell. It was supposed by the survivors of the company that if I was not killed by the blow I must have been crushed to death by horses' hoofs and cannon-wheels soon afterward.
My presence in the house proved to be a fortunate coincidence for my friend Delâtre, since it required my written statement and parole of honor to clear him of the suspicion of being a spy. These formalities accomplished, three very slightly wounded fusiliers from the hospital were added to our number, and we were at once conveyed to this hamlet, on the east side of the Elbe, where we found our fellow-sufferers quartered in the spacious outbuildings of a comfortable-looking farm. A deafening shout arose from one corner of the captive throng so soon as our faces could be distinguished; and need I, dear parents, describe the scene which immediately followed when all three of your sons, after a heart's agony of twenty-four hours, once more, alive and well, fell into each other's arms?
Frank, with the exception of a few buttons, was still in possession of his full regimentals, but poor Louis's condition, as already mentioned, was pitiable enough. My vest and overalls and half of my necktie restored him to relative decency, and out of a blanket which I purchased at the farmhouse he is at this moment engaged in planning an elegant-looking Talma cloak.
It is significantly remarked that among the three hundred prisoners—destined to Siberia, I suppose—there is not a single Saxon. There are reasons of state for this discrimination without a doubt.
On a Halt, 5th April, noon.
It was not far from sunset last evening when we began to move under the escort of about sixty Cossacks. Our course lay along the east bank of the Elbe, and we are promised to be taken to Russia by way of Berlin. It was near ten o'clock last night before we reached an enclosed farmyard secure enough to hold so many birds, and we went supperless to bed on a munificent litter of straw. Frank's humorous stories and mimicry of our friends the enemies answered admirably for dessert.
I was one of the first on foot this morning to take a good look at our escort. These semi-barbarians feel so secure in our utter helplessness that scarcely half a dozen of them remained on guard after the break of day. Here they lay stretched in the dew in every conceivable attitude of well-earned repose, snoring in concert almost under the very feet of their ponies, who enjoy in a standing position their equine dreams of home on the distant steppe. The whole barnyard scene, riders, horses and prisoners, composed one of the most striking pictures of which I ever formed a part, and to which my hasty sketches, herewith enclosed, do not aspire to do justice.
These Cossacks, or more properly Bashkirs, seem to belong to a different tribe from the Knights of the Don we captured nearly three weeks ago, and represent mentally and physically a less advanced type. There is no picturing to yourself exactly such faces as these unless you have once seen a specimen, upon which your imagination may then work ad libitum, without fear of exaggeration in the direction of the grotesque. A mythological cross between the fabled satyr and the domestic creature which furnishes the Westphalia ham is the nearest approach I can suggest to this type of humanity. How much of their dusky complexion is due to the sun and how much to the earth could only be determined by an exhaustive experiment with soap and water, the virtue of which, to them, is still an undiscovered blessing. To describe the extent to which the Bashkir carries his contempt for cleanliness in every function of daily life would require pages, and prematurely disgust you with my interesting subject. The atmosphere for half a hundred feet around a middle-aged Bashkir has no parallel in any sensation known to the human nostril. His sheepskin cloak, jacket or vest, as the case may be, teems with animal life, of which the wearer alone seems to be unconscious. In feature these people approach the Tartar type, of which, however, the stiff, wispy, yellow hair and beard, the small piggish eye, flat nose and fleshy Ethiopian lips seem to mark a characteristic variety. Many of them walk clumsily or with a stoop, and show other symptoms of grovelling habits and strong drink. As a rule, the Bashkirs, like the Cossacks, are armed with lances; among our custodians several carry long rifles; and at Lüneburg I even saw a few of these singular warriors with bows and arrows, though perhaps more for show than for use. As fighting soldiers they strike me as greatly overrated: their native instincts seem to qualify them much better for scouts and marauders. Both the Bashkir and Cossack when in action excel in the arts of self-preservation, skilfully manœuvring around the verge of danger, seeking the weak points, and if by force of numbers and long lances now and then succeeding in a charge à fond upon a baggage-train, yet easily persuaded into wholesome prudence by a bristling line of bayonets or a well-directed volley. Their battle-cry is the same as that of the English, "Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah!" only more melodious; and the same may be said of their songs, which fall much more agreeably upon a musical ear than the popular ballads and comical rhymes of our Britannic neighbors. I wish I could speak as favorably of their religious devotions, which combine the most bigoted and ludicrous exercises I ever heard of in a Christian sect. Both the Don and the Bashkir Cossacks belong to the Greek Church, but whether their mode of worship is the orthodox form or adulterated with Bashkir improvements, I am not able to state. It is interesting to note here that the most extravagant professions are indulged in by the older members of the congregation, while the younger seem content to go through the principal motions, and not a few even slyly exchange quizzical glances over the prostrate backs of their seniors in superstition. Perhaps light will dawn some day even on the benighted banks of the Don and the Volga.
CIBULSKY.
Of the most rudimentary education these simple people do not exhibit a trace. Reading and writing appear to them the acme of human science, which the poor Cossack may never hope to reach on this side of the Styx. When a map is spread before them at random, they promptly inquire which is the side of the rising sun, and then turn that very properly to their right, but beyond that their intelligence comes to a halt. Streams, roads and boundary-lines are to them only a labyrinth of confusion. Even as scouts and foragers they would be nearly useless without local guides; hence German officers have been added to their native leaders since they left the Russian border. The commander of this force is a renegade Pole, a Prussian subject, by name Cibulsky, anglicé onion-man—a remarkable coincidence, in view of his favorite diet. Though he treats me with becoming respect, he is not the sort of man to win my affections.
Though intellectually obtuse, the Cossack must not be supposed to lack either sagacity or common sense. On the contrary, the keenness of his instinct and perception, as in the case of most savages, is quite remarkable. Human nature seems to him an open book, and it is instructive to watch his ingenuity in getting the upper hand in a bargain, a bet or a game of chance. This morning I felt anxious to secure a sketch of one of their typical faces, undisfigured by the traditional beard, but coaxing did not succeed. A few silbergroschen which I then displayed—all I claimed to possess—were merrily gobbled up by right of conquest and divided among the group around me. I felt near the end of my wits, when, observing a dirty pack of cards protruding from the pocket of my subject, I asked permission to show him a trick. It was one of those parlor-magic sleights of hand—like Columbus's egg, the simplest trick in the world when you know it. I never saw Bashkirs' eyes look half as large as on that occasion, and half a dozen beards at once were put upon the market at the same price. For want of time, however, I had to decline all except the one I had first selected, which rapidly fell under the dexterous scissors of brother Frank; and opposite is my sketch.
Of military drill there is very little in Cossack training in the French or Prussian sense of the word, although the discipline is much better than might be expected from such irregular troops. Their control of their horses is unsurpassable, and greatly assisted by the natural docility of the animal itself. In size below the standard of our lightest cavalry, these ugly little beasts display uncommon strength and endurance. Possibly a cross between the Arab and the Percheron might, on a larger scale, produce a heavy and yet spirited head like that of the bright-eyed Cossack or Ukraine horse, but to attain an equally fantastic neck and rump some less symmetrical elements would have to be resorted to.
Speaking of horses, I am on foot at present, as you may well suppose, but that only brings me all the nearer to my fellow-sufferers, who, like myself, are in need of all the sympathy within their reach. Our Bashkirs being, upon the whole, a good-natured set of fellows and much the worse for wear, we hope to get along without serious trouble; and for my part I shall keep a sharp lookout once we reach a familiar section of country. It looks as if our route would take us through Dömitz, one of my former posts. If so, patience!
Colis, near Dömitz, Tuesday, 6th April.
Yesterday, at 2 p. m., we halted near a village five miles from here to secure the first decent meal since we broke camp. Our sub-officers and privates received good pickled meat with vegetables, pumpernickel (black bread) and rye whiskey. The officers were taken into the village and billeted on comfortable houses for refreshments. Before I started I cut out of the belt of my drawers six napoleons d'or, which I divided between my brothers, informing them that we were not far from Dömitz. They understood me well, and wished me God-speed, promising to follow my example if any opportunity occurred before they were exchanged. Their last injunction was to report them to you, my dear parents, in good health and spirits and bravely resigned to fate; and it was mainly the hope and desire to treat you to this satisfaction that nerved me to the risk and pain of separation from the dear boys in their deplorable condition. I would have given one half of my remaining life to be able to carry them away in my breeches pockets. It was because they truly felt this that they cheerfully forgave me this desertion. God bless and protect them for ever, for better sons and brothers and truer soldiers never lived!
BASHKIR SHORN AND COMBED.
It was here that I had resolved to attempt my escape, as for many miles around I had, during a protracted occupancy, gained a number of personal friends, whose feelings I hoped to find unaltered by reverse of fortune. By the favor of Heaven I was destined to succeed, so far, beyond expectation. My captain, sub-lieutenant and myself were billeted on one of the last houses on the road leading to Dömitz, and in charge of a single Bashkir, a grizzly, good-humored old fellow, and not the very brightest of the lot. After seeing us comfortably seated around a savory dinner, he squarely established himself in the front-door, where he was soon absorbed in the dissection of a huge plate of fishes steeped in fragrant linseed oil. I should here add that spoons and forks seem unknown to the Bashkir family, except as trophies of war, especially when they happen to be of silver. After replenishing my French stomach by means of a regular Mecklenburger appetite, I left my companions engaged in garnishing their pockets with the remnants of the feast, and stepped out into the yard bareheaded and carelessly picking my teeth. Having secured the good-will of my Bashkir friend by tasting a bite or two of his greasy fish, I proceeded to entertain him with a variety of gymnastic pranks, especially challenging his admiration by balancing his lance on the end of my nose until it looked as flat as his own. This complimentary trick delighted him to such an extent that the corners of his mouth carried the tips of his broom-sedge moustache several inches behind his ears. There was not a human being in the street or yard, the bulk of the population having flocked out to stare at the rest of the prisoners. Pretending to play with the Bashkir's horse, which was despatching its oats near the garden-gate, I passed repeatedly around the corner of the house, gradually increasing the intervals of my reappearance until I had succeeded in fastening the bridle to the fence by the nearest imitation possible of a gordian knot. Then coming into view once more, and beholding my confiding jailer about to seal the fate of his last fish, I again put the corner of the house between him and me, this time to return no more.
My next prank was to leap from the saddle of the Cossack steed over the fence into the garden, and thence over another fence into a shady orchard, without being seen by mortal eye. At the outer end of an adjoining barnyard an old shed with a sunken thatched roof beckoned me into its friendly shelter, and there, between some old hay-ladders and broken wheels, I twisted myself through the rotten straw into a cavity to which I confided my trembling body until dusk. There was of course a moment of critical suspense, but except the faint, hesitative bark of a small dog that rushed past my hiding-place and suddenly turned back as if on a false alarm, there was not a sound or a sign indicating that my movements had been observed or that search was being made for the fugitive. Did not the jolly old hero know the difference between two and three, or had he forgotten me over his fish?
However that may be, the last stroke of the village curfew found me once more in the open air. There were just stars enough peeping out between the fleeting clouds to light my devious path through brush and field to the house of a trusty friend, whom I aroused from his peaceful slumber at eleven o'clock. He is the same forester (Oberförster) of whose attachment for me I mentioned several instances in my last year's correspondence. His delight on recognizing me was unfeigned, and he would have been too happy to shelter me for any length of time but for the fact that the same hostile command that had captured us in Lüneburg was now retreating toward Dömitz, having again been driven across the Elbe by the expected advance of Marshal Davoust's corps. Of course I cannot remain here to compromise my friend, but shall proceed two leagues farther, to the house of a wealthy farmer, where I may be concealed until enabled to reach the South Baltic coast. There, at Christinenfeld, near Klütz, I shall find more friends, my trunk with money, clothes and other effects, if this property has not been betrayed into the enemy's hand.
Eldena, Mecklenburg-Schwerin, 15th April.
Here I am, since the 8th, safely housed with my old friend, the hospitable farmer. Yesterday, in a suitable disguise, I visited a public functionary, son of the county judge (Oberamtmann), with whom I was quartered four years ago, and upon whose discretion I could rely. I broached the subject of a pass under an assumed name and nationality wherewith to reach Klütz, only twenty-four leagues away. Speaking as I do the German language, and even the Plattdeutsch dialect, almost like a native, I had hoped that my friend would not hesitate to assume that risk. But upon his exhibiting to me the stringent orders lately received upon that subject, and mentioning the penalty attached to detection, I did not insist upon my request. I shall undertake the journey as best I can, without a passport, à la garde de Dieu.
Christinenfeld, 17th April.
Yesterday morning, Good Friday, I rode from Eldena to Ludwigslust in company with a gamekeeper well known in this section. Thence I walked to Schwerin, the capital of the duchy, thence took stage to Gravismühlen, and lastly footed it again to Klütz, accomplishing the journey of twenty-four leagues between 3 a .m. and 9 p. m. Here I found the people as kindly disposed as ever, and my trunk unmolested. My dear mother, who never rated me as the wittiest if the most accomplished of her boys, may possibly feel more hopeful upon learning by what ruse de guerre I managed to traverse the capital of Mecklenburg-Schwerin without a passport in such times as these. In addition to the usual civil police, every gate of the city was guarded by a military argus not likely to be caught napping. In Ludwigslust I had read a proclamation offering a reward for every Frenchman captured within the state. While resting on a milestone a short distance out of Schwerin, and wiping the sweat of agony from my brow, I noticed the establishment of a florist on the other side of the road. Thither I stepped at once, and selecting a beautiful early rose in full bloom, I had it potted for transportation. Then dusting off my boots and disarranging my cravat, I placed the flower-pot in my cap, and taking this novel passport upon my left arm, I abstractedly sallied forth toward the redoubtable gate. Very much as I expected, all eyes were turned upon the beautiful early flower, whose carrier passed unobserved. I felt so exultant over the success of my stratagem that I had the audacity to call for half a bottle of French wine, with bread and cheese, at the first inn I came to, and to enjoy my treasonable meal right under the nose of a vociferous Prussian Kürassier-hauptmann expounding the latest news from the seat of war to what I took to be a knot of terrified civil functionaries. The drift of it all was that the beak of the French eagle was once more turned to the East. Inde Iræ.
At a country-seat in Holstein, Danish ground.
My stay near Klütz was of short duration, owing to another proclamation from the ruler of this duchy, ordering the arrest of all straggling Frenchmen, and their delivery to the nearest Russian or Prussian outpost, under penalty of treason. My friends, whom I did not wish to expose any longer, kindly recommended me to this place, where I have been very hospitably received. How long this may last is, however, uncertain, as it is feared Sweden may compel Denmark into an alliance against the French.
Schwanensee, Mecklenburg, 29th May.
I was driven from Danish soil by a false alarm in regard to Swedish movements, and am the guest here of another old friend, Baron Hässeler, with whom I was quartered three years ago. But this is Mecklenburg again, and not safe either for me or my generous host. This Wandering-Jew sort of a life is demoralizing me fast: I cannot hold out much longer.
Castle Bülow, at Gudow, Duchy of Lauenburg, 6th June.
Thank Heaven! Mecklenburg is once more behind me. This is still the enemy's country, but its little sovereign has not yet issued any proclamation thirsting for French blood. After leaving my Danish retreat I spent a few weeks at Klütz under the tile-roof of a henhouse, where I was nearly crazed by the heat and confinement. Dropping crumbs to a family of friendly mice who have not heard of the proclamation was my only pastime. At Schwanensee I made the acquaintance of the Landmarschallin von Bülow, a noble and accomplished lady, who managed to convey me to this manor, her place of residence. She is one of the few in the land who has not yet learned to hate us Frenchmen "as we deserve." She is the mother of two sons, the elder of whom, like all young men of his class, is in the field against us. To the younger, a bright lad of sixteen, I was introduced this morning as his preceptor, Mr. Fr. J. Dierks, a native of Freiburg, Baden. This is my identity for all who may know me here. The lord of this manor, who, for reasons of public business, resides at Ratzeburg, a few miles from here, knows me in no other capacity. He seems to think much of me, and placed a horse and his hunting-ground at my disposal. Even my trunk was sent after me here through the kindness of the countess. But in the midst of all this comfort, right from the Klützer henhouse, I feel restless and unhappy. My place is not here. Had I remained on the Danish side I could now, as things have turned out, pass through Holstein to Hamburg, which is again in possession of Davoust's corps. I may accomplish it yet.
Gudow, 7th July.
I hope soon to be able to forward you my letters, which I have just now finished transcribing from the cipher. Since the middle of last month there reigns some sort of a truce, but up to date I have tried in vain to get off my mail or to slip through the outposts in person. The Cossacks are swarming through this section, and have doubled all the picket-lines. It is part of my duty here to furnish supplies to those stationed within the Landmarschall's domain; and though, in that capacity, I am on the best of terms with our protectors, they have shown no disposition yet to help me across the Stekenitz, a muddy stream which forms the neutral line between the hostile armies. Think of it, my dear parents, only a few miles off I should find the French flag, French uniforms, comrades, friends, almost home once more! It is very trying to hold up my head under a false rôle and to sign my false name daily to a dozen papers. If detected now, so near the lines, no power on earth could save me from the death of a spy, and it is very difficult for me sometimes not to look upon myself as a deserter.
July 10th.
From the countess I learned to-day that the crown-prince of Sweden (ex-Marshal Bernadotte), commanding the invading army, having learned that a French officer or spy was concealed on Baron Hässeler's domain, quartered upon him a squad of hussars, who are making diligent search for me. They may find my trail to this place at any hour. I am on the wing this moment.
Stowe, a country-seat near Ratzeburg, 1st August.
If ever I was in a tight place, it is now. General Tettenborn, a Badener by birth, commanding the Russian forces posted five miles from Gudow, wishes to make the personal acquaintance of his countryman, Mr. Dierks. The Swedish hussars have furnished him my description, and the protégé of the countess von Bülow is suspected to be no other than the mysterious guest of Baron Hässeler. My disguise and concealment here at the house of a most generous friend has successfully baffled detection so far, but the old Landmarschall having joined in the pursuit of me to vindicate his own loyalty, I am not safe here any longer. My devoted host has just devised a plan for my conveyance to Klütz, whence I must absolutely try to reach Holstein and Hamburg without delay.
Klütz, 6th August.
The night of the 2d-3d inst. saw me safely landed here. The place is full of Swedish troops, and several officers are quartered in the house of which my hen-coop is a dependancy. I have but little paper left to write for pastime, but my faithful mice have not forgotten me. Very unlike many human beings, they are gratefully looking up toward the source of their daily bread, and even standing on their hind legs against the wall, as if anxious to pay me a visit.
9th August.
No change yet in the situation within or without. If I could hope that Davoust's corps would push across the Elbe at once and drive the Swedes, Russians and Prussians to where they belong, I would remain here and await his coming. But that is still uncertain, and my position is becoming untenable. I have wished a thousand times I had never left my brothers. Their fate is enviable compared to mine. To-night I shall get a reply to a proposition I made for my transfer to Holstein by water. I have ample funds to accomplish it if all else is favorable. The French advance has reached Lubeck.
Lubeck, 12th August.
Heaven be praised, dearest parents! I am free and once more among my own!
In the night of the 10th-11th my plans culminated at last in my conveyance in a fisherman's boat across the south-west corner of the Baltic to Neustadt, in Danish Holstein, whence I proceeded to this city as fast as the best horse within reach could carry me. I must forbear, from want of time, giving you to-day the particulars of this dangerous and providential escape, which would appear to you almost incredible. I cannot but attribute the special protection of a kind Providence to a recognition of such of my qualities of heart as you, my dear parents, have so religiously cultivated in your children, and which nine years' absence from home and the varied experiences of a cruel and relentless war have never yet obliterated. I believe I have always striven to be faithful to my duty, kind and just to my inferiors and humane to our enemies. It is this consciousness that ever sustained my hope in the darkest hour of peril. It told me that I was too good to die ignominiously at the end of a Mecklenburger pitchfork or hempen rope. Again, thanks and praise to Whom they are due!
Lüneburg, 25th August.
I lost no time in reporting to head-quarters at Lubeck, and was at once ordered here, where I found again united all of our command who fought their way out of this place on the day of my capture. Of our poor prisoners, only one, Sautier, a corporal of artillery, seems to have made his escape. This occurred at Colberg, Prussia, on the Baltic, where our boys were embarked for Russia, Riga being their port of destination. At that time both Frank and Louis enjoyed remarkably good health, and, summer approaching, Russia had lost much of its terror in their minds. The trip by land was performed in short marches and without any unusual hardships. Long before they reached Berlin their escort was replaced by another of exclusively Don Cossacks. Sautier reached Denmark by water from Wismar, where he had travelled in various disguises, principally following the coast. My own escape was not discovered by Captain Cibulsky until next day. It appears that the old Bashkir, on returning my captain and sub-lieutenant to the caravan after dinner, made no report concerning the missing lieutenant, and when the roll-call betrayed my absence next morning the clannish Bashkirs played so adroitly into each other's hands that the commander could not determine whom to hold accountable for the offence, and, after notifying the civil authorities to keep a lookout for me, resumed his march. After that accident, however, the captive officers were not permitted to leave camp for any purpose except under escort equal to their own number—one Cossack one prisoner, one Cossack one prisoner, and so on—which would not leave room for miscounts. I heartily rejoice over the impunity of my old friend of the doorsill, and only regret now not having had the presence of mind to tie a napoleon d'or into that treacherous knot in his bridle. But, qui sait? we may meet again!
27th August.
Yesterday I received my full pay in arrears, and am again blazing forth in complete regimentals after a bourgeois negligé of nearly five months. To-day, when taking my first official round through the town, I suddenly found myself face to face with the journeyman baker who had undertaken to put a stop to my earthly career on the fatal 2d of April. He turned pale as death, and seemed riveted to the ground. Taking hold of his chin, I asked him whether he would think it strange to be sent before a court-martial and shot before next sunrise. The cowardly bully looked so contrite and chapfallen that I pitied him, and the fear that he might be dealt with just as he deserved caused me to dismiss him with an impressive admonition, of which the bystanders of his class may have taken to heart their respective shares. Before night the magnanimity of the French officer was the gossip of the town.
I almost forgot to mention that I have also recovered my horse, which had been appropriated by a civil functionary and smuggled into the country upon the return of our forces. Although I shall not be reassigned to the coast-guard service, I am permitted to retain the animal at my own expense. We learn to-day that Marshal Davoust is advancing rapidly through Mecklenburg, and has already issued a proclamation from Schwerin, where roses count for passports. In a very few days we shall be sufficiently reorganized to follow. Every step will bring me nearer to my brothers. God bless you all, my dear parents and sisters! These leaves at last will be wafted homeward to-day. More in a few days from our eastward line of march.
Note.—Lieutenant Diss Debar served in the corps of Davoust until the departure of Napoleon for Elba. The second invasion found him promoted to a captaincy, and engaged in the defence of Neu Breisach, which closed his military career. After the restoration of the Bourbons the influence of his father's Legitimist friends procured for him a comfortable position in the administration of "Waters and Forests," which he retained through all the political changes up to within a few years of his death, in 1864, in the eighty-fifth year of his age. His brother Frank was exchanged in 1815, and returned to France, but "poor little Louis" was not destined to the same good fortune. He died at Riga in January, 1814, from amputation of his frozen feet, the result of barbarous exposure.