It was about five o’clock, on the 30th of September, that we were halted at the town of Hirson. The town is without a gaol, but it possessed a little damp, subterranean cell, or dungeon, just capable of containing the four of us. We were thrust into this cachot, or dungeon, and, a little straw being contemptuously thrown upon us, the heavy door was closed, and we were left to the choice of meditation or slumber. We preferred the latter, but vexation made us irritable; when luckily a brigadier of the gendarmerie—who, with two gendarmes, constituted the police of the village—showed his face at the little hole in the door of the dungeon, and informed us that the gaoler’s wife would procure us some sort of refreshment, provided we would pay her, and pay her in advance. This we not only agreed to immediately, but we found our hearts bounding at the intelligence, and we most humbly and gratefully thanked this brigadier for his excessive goodness and condescension. We were soon informed that there was a kind of repast prepared for us, and that we should have permission to go out into the gaoler’s house during the few minutes necessary to refresh ourselves. This intelligence threw us into great confusion, as we had been unaccustomed to such an indulgence, and, in consequence, had neglected to conceal in some secret hole a number of small articles, such as files and gimlets, which we fortunately had hitherto kept in our possession. The moment they were about to open our door, one preferred keeping what tools he had about him, another slipped his in amongst the straw, and in this perplexed state the dungeon was opened and we were ordered out. At this instant I flung from me, over a high garden wall, two small files which I had concealed in my hand when the dungeon door was opened. I protest I thought the things left in the straw were best secured, as the place was excessively dark. We were now seated at table with some soup and bouilli, in great consternation, surrounded by the gendarmes and gaoler. In a few minutes the latter procured a candle and lanthorn, and informed the brigadier he was ready to attend him. He accordingly rose, and they proceeded to the miserable abode we had just quitted. An opinion of our feelings at that moment can only be formed by those unfortunate people who have experienced similar sufferings and anxiety. I can only say that our relish for the soup was not very great; we were well assured that everything left in the straw would inevitably be discovered, which most certainly would lead to a general search of our persons. The brigadier’s generosity was now sufficiently accounted for: he and his companion returned; and, as we expected, they had found every single tool, together with the stock of a double-barrelled pistol—of which I had given charge to Essel, keeping the barrels in my own possession, and another of the same description, with its barrels also. They made very diligent search for the barrels of Essel’s pistol-stock, but without effect. We assured them that we threw the barrels away prior to our quitting Verdun; and that we had taken the stock and lock to use occasionally instead of a tinder-box, which we had no possibility of providing. They began to search us now separately: a few things were found upon my comrades; but, fortunately for me, they did not discover upon my person my pistol, which was more complete than that which they had found, nor the barrels belonging to Essel’s pistol-stock, nor, in fact, anything whatever. Poor Ashworth was less fortunate, for out of the seams of his greatcoat they took two files. They next cut open every covered button, thinking one or all of them might contain some coin; but in this, I have no doubt, they were most mortified and chagrined to be mistaken. The brigadier could hardly convince himself that my walking-stick, which I purchased after leaving Boulogne, did not conceal a sword or dagger. He kept twisting it about and tugging at it, all in vain, and yet so suspicious was he that he chose to keep it for the night. We were reconducted to our den in a state of feeling which can scarcely be conceived. In a few minutes we endeavoured to take what repose we could.
Awaking about midnight, I began to deliberate upon the consequence of having so dangerous a “tinder-box” about me, with all its necessary materials, i.e. ammunition; and, having found what I thought was a convenient place—a hole in the dungeon wall—I deposited the barrels of Essel’s pistol therein, keeping about me still my own complete. The night went off without further disturbance.
At daylight we were again put en route—chained, handcuffed, and closely, even maliciously, watched. The day was very rainy, the roads very bad and heavy; our march was long and fatiguing; and I cannot say that our minds were in the best possible state to cheer us through our sufferings.
It was on the 1st of October, about six in the evening, that we arrived at Maubert Fontaine. Never were poor prisoners in a more miserable plight. We were saturated with rain, and covered with mud. We found that a new dungeon had been built in this village, and into it we were rudely thrust. What the old dungeon might have been, I do not know, but our domicile proved to me that the French could not have made much progress in the art of constructing dungeons. It was a wretched place. A boy, of about ten years old, had been confined in it for six or seven days; he belonged to the neighbouring town of Lille, and was imprisoned for having strolled from home without a passport. The poor little fellow informed us that his food had been nothing but black bread and water; and he stated, not much to my satisfaction, that our arrival had been expected for two or three days, and that we were to be searched most strictly. This boy was of the greatest service to me, and, with his assistance, I contrived to conceal my double-barrelled pistol, or, as I termed it, my tinder-box. I unscrewed the barrels, and, thrusting them into the fingers of my gloves, I kept the glove on, with the fingers bent towards the wrist, so that the pistol-barrels were mistaken for my fingers straight out. The boy helped me to conceal the stock, just as the guard entered to search us. We had nothing else about us now, except our money, which had hitherto been respected, and a small gold watch which I wore, and which they fortunately did not discover. I purchased this watch at Verdun, and wear it even to the present day. We were searched with great strictness and severity; and such were the feelings against us that the guard deprived us of all our money, and, upon our remonstrating, they replied that they would pay out of it all our expenses to Verdun, and account for the balance to General Wirion, at that depot. The reader may easily imagine with what sort of good faith the account was kept, and the amount that remained to be paid to the General. However, this night the guard provided for us, out of our money, what they called a supper; and they procured for us some straw and blankets, which were our only beds. The poor French boy felt himself perfectly happy in having, as he termed it, “something good” to eat. We gave the poor little fellow an ample share of everything that was brought to us; and if he felt the luxury of the unexpected repast, we likewise felt “the greater luxury of doing good.” The guards gaped and stared at the unusual scene; and, after muttering their parbleus and sacrés, they shrugged up their shoulders and expressed their astonishment at our generosity. I only wished that generosity was contagious, and that our rapacious, stone-hearted temporary keepers might imbibe our feelings.
The guard visited us every hour during the night; notwithstanding which, I contrived to find an opportunity of getting rid of all the materials of my dangerous “tinder-box,” excepting the barrels.
At daybreak, 2nd October, we were handcuffed and chained to a cart, the roads having become too heavy to admit of our proceeding on foot; and here I got rid of the barrels, by wrapping a little straw round each and dropping them through the cart in the mud.
In the evening we arrived at Mezières gaol, and were put into the yard, after being strictly searched; nor could we procure even a dungeon until we had agreed to pay a most exorbitant price which the gaoler charged for some refreshments that he had procured for us. He very laconically observed, “I know the gendarmes have plenty of money which they took from you. You may as well let me have part, as let them have all. You will not stand in need of any in a few days;” thus intimating that we were to be shot as spies, which was the general opinion everywhere.
Our treatment was pretty nearly the same throughout all the way to Verdun, where we arrived at the latter end of October. I was then separated from my companions, being considered as the chef du complot, and was thrown into a miserable dungeon, in which was another prisoner, supposed to have been a spy, and who expected to be brought to trial in a few days, and with no great confidence of being tried with a superfluous regard to justice or mercy. The universal impression that we were to be shot, with which our ears had been dinned at every resting-place upon the road, seemed confirmed by the companion with whom they placed me in this dungeon. I was certain that if only one of the party was to suffer death, that victim would be myself—not only because it is the custom in France to infer that the oldest of a party or gang is the ringleader, or chef du complot, but my conscience told me that I had really been the chief instigator to all that we had done. I made my mind up to bear the execution with a fortitude and dignity that should not disgrace the naval service or national character of my country; I trusted in God that my death would satiate French vengeance, and that my brave companions would be allowed to escape; and finally, in the perfect resignation which I felt to my approaching fate, I was consoled by my conscience telling me that I had committed no crime that merited so sanguinary and ignominious a punishment. I laid my hand upon my heart, and felt that I had done nothing to tarnish the honour of a naval officer and a gentleman.
At daybreak a guard came to conduct me to the place of examination. Here I found Lieutenant Demangeoit, of the gendarmerie, a scrivener, and Mr. Galliers, interpreter. This Lieutenant Demangeoit was afterwards dismissed from the Emperor’s service. My examination continued two or three hours; every question and answer was noted down, and as much form and solemnity as possible were given to the proceedings. I was minutely cross-examined with respect to the pistol-stock, and was sifted over and over again, with both earnestness and cunning, as to where I had been on the days Buonaparte had passed through Verdun. I was interrogated as to what company I had been in, with whom I had breakfasted; and numberless other questions were put to me, without my being able to form the slightest idea of what they suspected or at what object they were aiming. However, it was clear that I was suspected of some offence in relation to the Emperor, and it was certain that there was a determination, if possible, to implicate me in it. Our companion Essel had on that morning given a public breakfast to several of his friends at his lodgings, which happened to be situated immediately in the thoroughfare, or most public part of the town, La Place St. Croix, and close to the windows of which Napoleon and suite must of necessity have passed. Of this circumstance I was ignorant, consequently had no invitation, which at this moment, for me, proved a fortunate event, and evidently explained the cause of this strict and scrutinising examination.
M. le Lieutenant Demangeoit appeared also particularly anxious to ascertain whether my pistols had been purchased previous or subsequent to the breakfast on the day of Buonaparte passing through Verdun. This was evidently done with the intention of, if possible, fixing upon us—but more especially upon me, to whom the articles in question belonged—the atrocious and abominable stigma of a conspiracy and premeditated design to assassinate their Emperor: for whom, however formidable my dislike might have been to the chief of the avowed foes of my country, I entertained not the slightest feeling of personal vindictive animosity. They very much wanted to be informed by whom we had been supplied with ropes, and who had assisted us in descending the ramparts. I replied, “That, by degrees, we had procured sufficient rope for the purpose of horse-collars, and of course twice the length that would have been necessary had we had a friend to assist us in descending by holding it fast; but we had to place the bight over a rock which I knew stood near the place, and then went down by the double part; after which we hauled it to us, cut it to pieces, and threw it into the Meuse.”