Among the royalists then hidden and conspiring in Paris, was an officer named Philippeaux, formerly the fortunate rival of Bonaparte at the military school, and, since that time, his sworn enemy. Certainly without any idea that Sydney Smith and himself would, two years afterwards, be together in the presence of General Bonaparte at St. Jean d’Acre, and without any other motive than that of injuring the republic, Philippeaux determined to deliver the commodore. He associated himself with other royalists, and notably with an opera dancer, named Boisgirard; and he entered into relations with the daughter of one of the Temple gaolers, by whose aid he succeeded in deceiving her father. Disguised as a prison commissary, and accompanied by his accomplices, wearing the uniform of gendarmes—one of whom, Boisgirard, represented a general—Philippeaux went at night to the Temple. Boisgirard, at the gate, showed an order of release, signed by the minister of foreign affairs, and demanded that the prisoner might be given up. Either bribed, or deceived by appearances, the gaolers and director of the prison obeyed, and Sydney Smith was brought out. Playing his part perfectly, he affected great surprise; and on hearing his immediate transfer to another prison spoken of, he vehemently protested against it. Then, feigning obedience, he followed his liberators, and entered a carriage that conveyed him to Rouen, from whence he crossed to Havre. There he succeeded in getting on board an English ship, the Argo, which took him to London. The English captain, Brenton, certifies, in his “History of the Navy,” that he knows, from good authority, that £3000 sterling (75,000 francs), given by the English government, opened the doors of Sydney Smith’s prison, and smoothed all obstacles as far as the coast. He adds that Lord St. Vincent (Jervis) assured him he had seen the order from the Treasury.
PICHEGRU, RAMEL, BARTHELEMY, DELARUE, ETC.
1797.
A short time after the 18th Fructidor, a certain number of those who had taken part in the counter-revolutionary riots were transported to Guiana. They all belonged, more or
less, to the royalist party. Among them were—Pichegru, one of the greatest soldiers and one of the worst citizens France ever produced; Barthélemy, a member of the Directory; Ramel, adjutant-general, commander of the grenadiers of the Corps Législatif; Delarue, a member of the council of the Five Hundred; and generals Aubry and Willot, who had been among the first arrested. To the names of these party-men it is but right to add that of Letellier, Barthélemy’s servant, who having begged, as a favour, that he might be allowed to follow his master to prison, accompanied him in his exile, and died, at last, the victim of his devotion. At Cayenne, and then at Sinnamary, the deputies saw, with sorrow, several of their companions struck down by the influence of the climate; and, to fly from a similar fate, they resolved on escaping and making their way to Dutch Guiana. Of this adventure we have two very different versions—one by Ramel, who, on his return to London, published the journal of his escape; and the other by Delarue, who, long after, under the restoration, wrote a “History of the 18th Fructidor,” where this escape is related. Seen from our point of view, Ramel’s journal is, in all probability, nothing more than a romance; while the narrative of Delarue, far simpler, seems to be the expression of truth. We give both, beginning with the first:—
“We were accustomed to walk,” says Ramel, “on the ramparts along the river. We often contemplated, with deep sighs, the western coast, but saw nothing, either on land or water, that could give us the faintest hope of escape. At the foot of the bastion, outside the fort and on the edge of the river, there was a small boat, used for conveying the guard to and fro. This little boat, with its moorings, was consigned to the care of the sentinel placed near the battlements of the fort, in which the guards were stationed. We had often looked with longing eyes at this boat; but it was only by degrees, and when impelled by despair, that we became accustomed to the idea of venturing out to sea in so frail a skiff. None of us knew how to manage a boat; we had no compass, and should have been obliged to trust ourselves to some Indian or sailor.”
The first attempt proved fruitless. Pichegru having tried to win over an Indian, who sold vegetables to the fort, this latter spread abroad suspicions which the general’s half offer had created in his mind. But this check was only a temporary one. A person at that time in the fort, whom Ramel does not otherwise specify, gave them much information as to the road they should take, and as to the proper means of insuring their flight. They procured passports under supposed names, and ripened their plans, without divulging them to those of their companions who were not in the plot, and several of whom inspired them with a not unfounded mistrust.