‘I can see the lesson in politeness,’ said the Comte de Witt, ‘but I fail to see the lesson in German.’
‘I am coming to it. A few days later, my “father” booked our passage for Stockholm, but contrary winds delayed our departure. In the night of the 2nd April 1802, we were suddenly awakened by the noise of a well-sustained bombardment. Naturally, we all got out of bed and went on deck to make inquiries. The slowly-coming dawn confirmed our uncertainty. The whole of the English fleet, under the command of Admirals Parker and Nelson, and favoured by the wind and tide, had defied the batteries of Kronenburg and forced the passage of the Sound, an enterprise hitherto deemed impossible. The formidable squadron, perfectly visible from the city which it could shatter to pieces, came to summon Denmark to give up her fleet or to dissolve there and then her treaty with Sweden and Russia.
‘Consternation became general among us; it only wanted a sign from the English admiral to capture or to sink us. Nelson scorned such a cheap victory, and during the pourparlers sloops were sent to tug in the merchant craft. A few moments later we were in port, and immediately afterwards the naval engagement began. If the attack was headlong and well-directed, the defence was not less heroic. Every inhabitant rushed to arms to repulse the odious aggression; all ranks commingled; there seemed no difference between noble and artisan, merchant and ordinary burgher. They were full of zeal; their hats displayed the motto: “All for one; one for all.” The royal prince showed the greatest courage during this bloody struggle, a struggle so little expected by him. A descendant in a direct line from the English sovereign, his capital and fleet were suddenly threatened by the orders of his uncle without there having been anything hostile to lead up to this catastrophe. As far as the peace of states is concerned, there does not seem much to be gained by family alliances and ties of blood.
‘It would have been dangerous not to take part in this enthusiastic resistance, and the moment we had regained our inn I asked my “father” to let me have my share of the fighting, to which proposal he offered not the slightest objection. Armed with a sword which might well have dated from the period of King Knut, which had been lent to me by our hostess, I repaired to the jetty. It was from that point I beheld a naval battle in port, the most horrible spectacle, I should say, the imagination could conceive.
‘Never had Denmark been engaged in such a murderous struggle; never, perhaps, had the Danes an occasion to display their national courage more nobly. Ardent and indefatigable, to judge by the enthusiasm that animated them, they might easily have been mistaken for a population of heroes. As for me, standing stock-still at the far end of the jetty, my long sword, which might well have served as a lance, balanced on my shoulder, I felt that I was doing outpost duty. No one seemed surprised. Younger lads than I contended for the honour of being entrusted with such perilous positions.
‘The city was in flames; it rained shells everywhere. The Danish war-sloops answered bravely to the fire of the English vessels. Suddenly a shell struck the Danish craft Indfoedstretten, and blew it up. A horrid, lurid light illuminated the sky, and immediately both the sea and the shore were covered with human and different wreckage, the blood of the former tinging the green waves. Had the explosion occurred a few moments earlier we also should have been victims of it, for while they were towing our Dutch vessel into port, we had been compelled to go on board the Indfoedstretten to have our passports examined.
‘Meanwhile, the fighting became more terrible and relentless, and I, scarcely more than a lad, stood looking on, rooted to the spot and spell-bound, when suddenly some one tapped me on the shoulder, addressing me in German at the same time. I looked round and beheld the prince royal, who, in the confusion of the moment, had got separated from his suite. He still had his grey dress on. When he recognised me, he addressed me in French. “What are you doing here?” he asked. “I am trying to acquit part of my debt, monseigneur,” I answered. “Very well,” he retorted; “try to get this paper to Captain Albert Turach. Look, follow my finger. He is standing there on the shore, ready to take the command of a floating battery. Run as fast as you can, and remember the word Augenblicklich.”
‘“How did you say it, prince?”’
‘“Augenblicklich. It signifies instanter. You’ll simply tell him the word, and hand him my order.”’
‘I was already on the run. Turach received the order, and flung himself into a skiff whose men were only waiting for a leader to push off. When I came back to my former vantage-point, the prince royal was gone. I noticed him on a floating battery, whence he contemplated the action and animated by his presence and example the proud and generous populace ready to give their lives under his eyes. To me personally, the sight of this young and valiant prince was practically a second expiation of my mocking laughter in the park of Fredericksborg.