The door was immediately opened, and we were readily shown upstairs into the public-room. We could willingly have dispensed with publicity, and have put up with “a room in private”; but, happily, the appearance of the guests inspired us with confidence. We called for supper, and desired they would prepare our beds. They complied, and without asking a single question, or betraying the least signs of suspicion or inquisitiveness.
Our friend Barklimore had been very much indisposed all day, but the inn was not the best calculated in the world for a sick man’s slumbers; for, as we demanded our beds, the family of the innkeeper and all his guests began to dance. The music was what the Germans call a “doodle-sack”—a species of that harsh and discordant instrument that we call a Scotch bagpipe. Waltzing was introduced. The scene became animated. The doctor forgot his illness, engaged a pretty partner, and began to dance with great glee. This company all observed, “What a lively, merry people you Frenchmen are!” I could not help smiling at the remark, nor could I refrain from reflecting upon the vast difference between waltzing at night with a pretty German partner, and sleeping in the mud in the open air, or in the still worse dungeons of Bitche. My other companion, Hewson, caught the spirit of the scene, and joined the dance. I, however, remained an exception to the general company, and never moved from the table until the dance was over, and then we all retired to bed.
On the 23rd, in the morning, our invalid friend was not the better for the inspirations of Terpsichore. He was scarcely able to move. I then found the benefit of having remained quiet, whilst they had been displaying their agility on the light fantastic toe. However, weak as the doctor was, we paid our bill and pursued our route. Early in the afternoon, having fallen in with a small village, we halted, refreshed ourselves, and went to bed very early. The doctor was extremely ill, and sorry for having so strenuously supported the French character.
24th.—We departed as early as usual, and passed round several towns, and at eight in the evening stopped at a small village, and got refreshed. The people were particularly attentive, speaking often in praise of the French nation: they had very frequently some of our countrymen billeted on them. We left Rothweil upon the right, and were told we should be early the next day at Tütlingen, where I was in hopes of being favourably received. We were in great spirits, passed the evening pleasantly, and imagined that our principal difficulties had been surmounted.
On Sunday, the 25th, we breakfasted, and passed on towards the much-wished-for town. At eleven we were in sight of it. I proposed to my companions to remain concealed in an adjacent wood, while I went into the town to try what could be done; they agreed to it; and we only regretted not having our companion Batley with us.
I entered the town about noon, and went where I expected some assistance, from my former knowledge of the place when conducted thither by the Bavarians, and the hopes then held out to me; but, to my great mortification, I could obtain none. I returned with these doleful tidings to my companions, assured them there was no danger, and went back again to use every effort to procure passports.
The second time I met with some people who promised to assist as much as they could in promoting my wishes. They got my companions into the town, and placed them upstairs in a friend’s tavern; there, in daily expectation of being supplied with what we wanted, we remained concealed until Tuesday, 4th October, a period of eight days, when, with depressed spirits, gloomy faces, and light purses, we were conducted before daybreak on the direct road to Memmingen, as we had determined to take that course to Saltzburg. We had been regularly deceived by some of those who had promised me assistance in the event of my ever coming again that way, and had only to thank our stars that we had not been betrayed.
During our stay in this place we procured an old German map, which we found of very material service to us. About noon we passed Mosskirch, keeping about two miles to the right of it. After nightfall we crossed the river Andalspach, and determined to stop at the first safe place we could find. We soon discovered a house on the roadside, and it appeared to be an inn. We entered, and called for bread and wine, which we found was all the provision that the miserable place afforded. This was good enough for us; but a light-horseman acted as waiter, and he spoke French, which created many unpleasant apprehensions in my mind. We asked for beds, and they declared they had not any; but the light-horseman told us that there was clean straw in the stable, to which we were welcome. We quitted the place, although we had been informed that the next village was more than a league distant, for I was not at all pleased with my military waiter. He was too kind and inquisitive.
We pursued our route at least a league through the centre of a forest. The road was very good. At last we heard a prodigious shouting ahead, and could not account for such a noise at so late an hour; however, it announced the proximity of a village—perhaps the one that had been described to us. We advanced apace. The shouting, singing, and confusion of noises still continued. We shortly discovered an immense concourse of people, of both sexes, on the road, coming towards us. They passed us decorated with ribands and cockades, from which we concluded it was a festival or wedding. We now saw the village very plainly, and soon arrived at it. We went to the first public-house we could discover, but it was so thronged that they could not receive us. By a great deal of persuasion we prevailed on them to direct us to another, where we got beds and refreshments. There were a great number of police-officers and soldiers in the first house, but they were so much elated and amused that they could not attend to make any observations upon us.
We paid excessively dear here for everything; and in the morning we quitted it, and proceeded towards Waldsee, a town of Suabia, with a castle. At about six in the evening we passed it, leaving it at a respectable distance on the right. At eight we stopped at a small village, where we got beds and supper. At daylight we recommenced our journey, and about four in the afternoon we discovered the river Iler, which we had to cross. We were quitting the territory of Würtemberg, and entering Bavaria. We saw a bridge, but imagined also that we could distinguish a look-out house or turnpike on it, which alarmed us not a little; so we concealed ourselves in a wood until dusk, and then advanced, and crossed the bridge without any difficulty. There were several houses on each side, but, fortunately, we saw no police-officer, or any person that could cause the least apprehension. We continued our route above a league, when we came to a tavern thronged with waggoners; but we got a private room and went very early to bed.