My adventures during the late war

by Donat Henchy O'Brien

I now asked him if he had ever been in Normandy, which, I said, was my part of France.

He emphatically said “Never,” and expressed a wish to know what trade I belonged to. Here my invention was put to the stretch; but, with as much readiness as I could command, I told him that I was a marchand de drap, travelling to Constance to receive orders. As a weaver, this honest fellow must have known much more of cloths than I did, and a further conversation would have exposed my ignorance; so allowing no time for another interrogatory, I added, “I am exceedingly weary, and wish to retire to bed;” and upon this he civilly conducted me to my chamber, and took his leave without another word, except the usual good-night. My bed was very comfortable, and I slept very sound, enjoying my good quarters, and reaping all the benefits of refreshment from repose. In the morning I settled with my pretended countryman, shook hands, and parted from him.

I proceeded on the high-road until two o’clock, when, greatly to my alarm, I met with an armed man in a very retired part of the road. I conjectured that he was a police-officer; but, to my surprise, he asked me no questions, and I joyfully pursued my way.

At the close of the evening I discovered at a distance what I took to be a number of houses, and I was highly elated, as I imagined them to be a village. Under this pleasing illusion I trudged on with increased spirits; but, on arriving at my object, what was my astonishment to find that the buildings, instead of being the humble dwellings of simple villagers, were the numerous out-offices of the splendid mansion of a nobleman! One of the liveried servants, however, very civilly answered all my questions, and, with much kindness of manner, directed me to a village, but at such a distance that it was very late before I arrived at it. However, late as it was, I contrived to procure a bed and a supper. My host and hostess were, unfortunately for hungry stomachs and ravenous appetites, a little prone to the bane of life called superstition; and, as it was Friday, they absolutely refused to let me have any meat; but still the keen edge of hunger enabled me to enjoy a supper of eggs and milk, and their faith did not compel their consciences to limit me in quantity.

In the morning I quitted them, and walked towards Constance. I had not gone above a league when I descried the beautiful lake of that name. The town of Zürich was in view.[13] The high mountains of Switzerland, the summits of which were covered with snow, the variegated, beautiful plains at the bottom, interspersed with corn-fields, vineyards, wood, and herbage, struck the eye with admiration, and afforded a prospect truly magnificent. At about five in the afternoon I was close to the town of Constance. It appeared large: a number of buildings, representing monasteries and steeples, presented themselves to view, and seemed to be memorials of its ancient splendour; but its present state indicated that it had been a long time neglected. The lake looked very beautiful, and was a little agitated, as there was rather a strong wind.

Lindau, at the lower end of the lake, was the next large town in my direction. I was deliberating on the best mode of acting for the night,—whether I had better take up my abode in the vicinity of the town, or proceed farther towards Lindau,—when I met with two young men, genteelly dressed. I saluted them, which they returned very politely. Both spoke French. I inquired what distance I was from Lindau. They informed me, fourteen leagues, and that I should have to cross a branch of the lake.[14] Of this latter necessity I had been totally ignorant; for the map by which I guided myself through these, to me, unknown regions was too small and imperfect to afford very accurate information. As the wind became very strong, the strangers advised me not to venture upon the passage until the next day. They little knew my motives for rapidity. Of course, I concealed my ignorance of this impediment, or rather pretended that I was aware of it; and I added, “that I had such particular business at Lindau that I must endeavour to get there that night, and should cross the passage if possible.” They rather earnestly tried to dissuade me, and then politely took their leave.

My difficulties in crossing the water arose from a source very different from what they had imagined. My formidable obstacles and dangers were not the elements, but my fellow-men. I had now to learn whether I could cross this branch without a passport, and without giving—what of all things was the most inconvenient for me to give—some account of myself. However, the necessity of decision, firm and immediate, was absolute; and I entered a public-house close to the water, in order to learn what I should have to undergo.

Here, to my annoyance, was a concourse of people, some of whom appeared to be waiting for the boat. I mixed with the crowd with all the seeming carelessness and nonchalance I could assume, and called for a small measure of wine, as I saw others do; and, in fact, I settled down amongst the multifarious assemblage as if I was “quite at home.” I had the eyes of Argus; and whilst I listened to every sound, I was as little communicative as possible. I felt that I was at a crisis of my fate. At last two watermen entered, and announced that the boat was ready. I was obliged to assume a courage, and to obey the summons as if it were a matter of course; and to my joy I found that although I was leaving Würtemberg and entering into the territory of Bavaria,[15] not a passenger was required to produce a passport or to give any account of himself.

When we were about to embark, I observed that all the passengers paid one half-florin each, while the boatmen demanded two florins of me. Never was a man more willing to submit to imposition and extortion than I was at that moment; but my funds were quickly ebbing to neap-tide, if not to low-water, and it struck me that my best policy was to resist anything that separated or distinguished me from the general mass.

I therefore objected to the imposition so stoutly that the boatmen resolved to detain me until they called their master, or the owner of the boat.