Twenty Years' Recollections of an Irish Police Magistrate

by Frank Thorpe Porter

CHAPTER XXIII. THE COUNT OR CONVICT, WHICH?—THE FAWN'S ESCAPE.

I now proceed to the narration of the other case which I received from M. Hubert, the facts of which are far more extraordinary than any of the exuberant fictions presented in the pages of romance.

In the early part of May, 1818, the Place Vendome was occupied by detachments from the garrison of Paris, for the purpose of effecting certain military requirements and arrangements. They were under the command of the Comte de Pontis de Sainte-Helene, colonel of the 72nd Legion. Amidst a brilliant cortege, he appeared, bearing on his breast the insignia of officer of the Legion of Honor, Chevalier de Saint-Louis, and also the Spanish orders of Alcantara and Saint-Wladimir. One of the spectators, meanly attired, and of rather sinister appearance, attempted to approach the distinguished officer, but he was unceremoniously repelled by those to whom the duty of keeping the ground had been assigned. He found no difficulty, however, in ascertaining that the residence of the Comte was in the Rue Basse-Saint-Denis; and when the military duties of the day had been fulfilled, and the gallant nobleman returned to his house, he was apprised that a stranger was waiting in the ante-chamber on some affairs which he declared to be of paramount importance. The Count proceeded to the apartment, and was there accosted in rather familiar terms.

"You must remember me; I am Darios, your former comrade of the chain. I bear you no ill-will, and do not wish to take any advantage of you, but you are rich and I am miserably destitute. Give me your succour, relieve my necessities, and you may depend on my prudence and gratitude."

The Comte de Pontis de Sainte-Helene affected to treat this intruder as an impostor or madman. He summoned his attendants, and had Darios at once expelled from the premises. The latter, in the highest state of exasperation at such treatment, betook himself to the office of the Minister of the Interior, and having eventually succeeded in obtaining an audience of the Duc Decazes, declared to the minister that the Comte de Pontis de Sainte-Helene was no other than Pierre Coignard, who, on the 18th October, 1800, had been condemned by the criminal tribunal of the department of the Seine to fourteen years of hard labor, for various robberies committed by nocturnal housebreaking, and also by means of false keys. That in about five years he had managed to elude the vigilance of the prison authorities of Toulon, and had escaped from the Bagne. The Duc Decazes was completely amazed at this statement, and inasmuch as it was made by one who acknowledged himself to be a convicted criminal, he at first considered it to be false and malicious. Other reasons, of a political nature, made him determine to avoid any personal participation in an inquiry resulting from such averments; and as the imputations were directed against a person in a high military position, he referred the matter to General Despinoy, who commanded the division of the army to which the accused belonged. The co-operation of the police was obtained, and the celebrated Vidocq was brought into requisition. It was fully ascertained that Coignard, after escaping from Toulon, had made his way to Catalonia, in Spain, where he formed an intimate acquaintance with a young female, named Maria Rosa. She constituted the entire domestic establishment of the veritable Comte de Pontis de Sainte-Helene, who was a French emigrant, and of an ancient family belonging to Soissons. He had been in the Spanish service, and had distinguished himself in South America. Having returned to Europe in broken health, he was reduced to great poverty by the inability of the Spanish government to meet the claims of their dependants, or even to make any effectual resistance against the French invasion, which was then in very active progress. Death relieved him from his privations, and Coignard induced Maria Rosa to become his accomplice in assuming the designation of the deceased nobleman. The family papers and pedigree were made available by the spurious Comte and Comtesse, and Coignard proceeded to join the irregular troops or guerilla bands, which were under the orders of Mina, to whom he introduced himself as a French nobleman, exiled as a legitimist, and anxious to combat to the utmost the upstart who had usurped the throne of his country. He either received, or subsequently pretended that he received, the orders of Alcantara and Saint-Wladimir during his time of service under Mina, but he did not remain long in the Spanish ranks, and alleged that ill health rendered his retirement unavoidable. In a short time, however, he presented himself to Soult, and implored to be received into the army of his native country. He continued in a military capacity, fortunate in escaping the casualties of war, and in gradually attaining higher rank, until the departure of Napoleon for Elba, and then, free from all suspicions of his false pretensions, he professed to belong to the ancienne noblesse, and to regard the restoration of the Bourbon dynasty as the vindication of a right and the realization of a blessing. When Napoleon returned, Louis the Eighteenth betook himself to Ghent, and the Comte de Pontis de Sainte-Helene conciliated his confidence and esteem by becoming a participator of his short exile. He was basking in courtly favor, when his former "comrade of the chain" recognised him in the Place Vendome, and when his prudence, nay, even his instinctive caution, so completely deserted him that he effected to treat a statement which he knew to be perfectly true, as the threats of an impostor or the ravings of a lunatic. It is highly probable that a small pension, paid weekly or monthly, to Darios would have ensured his silence.

But in reference to this most extraordinary culprit, it remains to be mentioned that the police discovered and proved before the Cour d'assises de la Seine, on the 10th July, 1819, that Coignard, even after he had attained to rank and opulence, was in communication with several of the most accomplished robbers of Paris, and that he aided them by using the opportunities derived from his intimacy with persons of wealth and proprietors of costly mansions, to ascertain where their money and plate were kept, and at what time the property might be pillaged with the least risk of interruption or detection. When he found the proofs of his past and of his continued delinquencies accumulated beyond any possibility of resisting an adverse judgment, he attempted to escape, and on being arrested, he discharged several pistol shots at the police officers, by which two of them were dangerously wounded and permanently disabled. Amongst the associates of his aristocratic career, there was far less indignation expressed at his robberies or dishonest proclivities, than at his audacious assumption of exalted rank, and his intrusion amongst a class, the members of which would evince greater lenity to the opening of a banker's coffers by means of false keys, than to the attainment of admission to a courtly circle by a pretended title of nobility. Conclusive evidence having been adduced of the identity of Coignard as an escaped convict, and also of his subsequent complicity in several criminal transactions, he was remitted to Toulon, there to be imprisoned for life and kept to hard labor. When he left the Bicetre, on the 24th July, 1819, on the galley chain, an enormous crowd assembled to witness his departure, and his demeanour was remarked as indicating neither despondency nor contrition. In the towns through which he passed, he excited the utmost curiosity. The false Comtesse, Maria Rosa, proceeded to Toulon, and subsisting on whatever she had been able to save from the wreck of her previous fortunes, she continued firmly attached to the wretched Coignard. She visited him whenever permitted, and afforded him every attention that the rules of the prison allowed. She died in 1829, and he survived her only until the succeeding spring.

I think that in laying before my readers the details of this romantic reality, I have given them an instance of fact being far more extraordinary than fiction. The materials in the narrative last related, are not suitable for being woven into one piece in the loom of fiction. Those who would make a Count the hero or principal character of an imaginative production, would shrink from choosing him amongst the galley slaves of Toulon. Those who would make a convict a prominent actor in any ideal drama, would consider it too ridiculous to dignify him with a title immediately after his escape from penal servitude.

As to the memoirs derived from the archives of the Police of Paris, a person disposed to make selections would have two difficulties to encounter; namely, where to commence and where to conclude his extracts. I may mention that there are some which certainly should not be presented for public perusal, and which I would totally abstain from translating; for although I might have no intention of publishing them, I would not leave their details in manuscript. They might vitiate, but could not improve. I could not, in these pages, insert all that I consider amusing or instructive, although perfectly unobjectionable, without extending this publication to an unusual amplitude, and causing the result of my Parisian visit, comparatively to monopolise it. I have translated every incident in the memoirs which I felt confident of being free from impropriety, and perhaps, at a future period, I shall venture to submit them to public consideration. At present I shall content myself by submitting two narratives to my readers, and then, with a few remarks on some of the novels of Alexandre Dumas, and with one or two of my personal recollections, I shall leave Paris for Dublin, until an interval of ten years has elapsed, when my acquaintance with the French capital shall be renewed as satisfactorily, I hope, to my readers as it was to myself.