“Even to-day no relative will follow your bier!
“Montholon, whom you loved the most among your faithful companions, rendered you the service of a son. He remains faithful to your thoughts, to your last wishes. He has brought to me your last words. He is in prison with me.
“A French vessel, conducted by a noble young man, went to claim your ashes; but it is in vain you would seek upon the deck any one of your kindred—your family were not there.
“In landing upon the soil of France, an electric shock was felt. You raised yourself in your coffin. Your eyes for a moment re-opened, the tricolour flag floated upon the shore; but your eagle was not there. The people press, as in other times upon your passage; they salute you with their acclamations as if you were living; but the great men of the day in rendering you homage, in suppressed voice say, ‘God grant that he may not awake.’ ”
When nearly six years had elapsed, the prince had received letters containing news of the critical state of his father’s health, and accordingly made great efforts to obtain permission to visit him. To this end he wrote several times to the ministers, and even to the king himself, promising on his word of honour to return and place himself at the Government’s disposal, whenever called upon to do so. All his efforts however were unsuccessful. The king was said to favour his release, but the ministers were firm in their refusal. Finding therefore that escape was his only remedy, the prince resolved upon making the attempt. After several long and earnest conferences with his faithful friends, it was decided that the effort should be made in May.
The first thing to be done was to throw the governor off his guard as much as possible; for which purpose letters were written from various persons in Paris to the prisoners, telling them that the Government was shortly about to grant a general amnesty, and congratulating them upon it. These being carefully read by M. Demarle, were of course calculated to make him less apprehensive of any attempt at flight, than from his knowledge of the failure of the prince’s effort to procure permission to visit his father, he would otherwise have been. About this time, too, fortune favoured the plot in a way that the actors in it had scarcely ventured to reckon upon.
The illustrious captive had for years been making representations to the authorities in Paris upon the subject of the dilapidated state of his rooms. Again and again had he begged that something might be done to render the place at least safe and wholesome. The staircase was rickety, and the whole of that part of the building in which he was confined as unsafe as it could possibly be. But a deaf ear had as usual been turned to all his remonstrances, and the matter had been allowed to drop. It was therefore with no small pleasure that one evening the captives learnt from their kind hearted governor, over a game at cards, that the order had come down for the necessary repairs to be done, and that the workmen would set about them in a few days’ time. From this moment it was resolved that the prince should endeavour to leave the place in the disguise of a joiner, and a suitable dress for the purpose was accordingly procured from friends outside. Dr. Conneau, who although the five years of his sentence had expired, still stayed with the others, was now allowed to go in and out occasionally, just as the servant Thelin was, and the two made all necessary arrangements for the flight. The day of departure was originally fixed for Saturday, the 23rd of May, but the unexpected arrival of some English visitors made it necessary to wait until the Monday. With his usual careful attention to details, the prince had ascertained both from his own and reported observations of his friends, the movements of every workman and guard about the place. It was found that the greatest precautions were taken to have the unfrequented parts of the fort well watched. If a workman was seen in any retired spot he was immediately challenged; but beyond the usual measures of causing the men to pass in single file through a serjeant’s guard when they left, there were no extra pains taken to hinder them passing out through the gate. By a strange fatuity all the Government’s anxiety seemed to be centred in preventing people coming into the prison, for there had always been some fear of a possible rescue. The walls were also narrowly watched within and without; but it had not apparently occurred to anybody that the captive might coolly walk through the door and politely wish his gaolers good day, as eventually he did.
As may be imagined, the Sunday before their departure was a very anxious day. The smallest accident might bring failure, and with it all hope of liberty and the certainty of universal ridicule; for people would have all shaken their heads, and said a man must have been destitute of the most common sense to believe he could walk out of prison, through men who had known him for a half a dozen years, in the flimsy disguise of a journeyman carpenter. The friendly ostrich would have been severely laid under contribution to point innumerable morals and adorn no end of tales.
A passport had been procured from Paris by which the prince was to travel, of course under an assumed name; and the fact of the faithful Thelin not being similarly supplied, caused much anxiety to the little circle; but the accident of the English visitors’ arrival, was turned to good account in this matter. Telling his friends that he wished his valet to take a journey, the prince begged that one of them would be good enough to let his courier give the man his passport, which was immediately done. It is curious to note that afterwards, when in power, as if the emperor had remembered this small favour, he passed a law to the effect that English people might travel through France without a passport.
Very early on the Monday morning, the prince, Dr. Conneau, and Charles Thelin stood, without their shoes, watching the courtyard from behind the window curtains, for the arrival of the workmen. “St. Monday” is kept in France as religiously as it is here by certain classes of operatives; and to their great vexation they saw but very few of the men come in, and those were in cleaner blouses than the “Saturday” one which was to form the prince’s disguise. Again: by an unfortunate chance, the only sentinel they were particularly anxious to avoid happened to be on duty just outside. The prince had noticed that this man had been extremely zealous in his inspection and cross-examination of the workmen, every one of whom, as he was a keen, eagle-eyed fellow, he knew at sight. However, this man was relieved at six o’clock, and one who was considered less active took his place. The danger of discovery was, of course, chiefly to be apprehended from two sources—from the soldiers and keepers, and from the workmen themselves, who, seeing a stranger among them, would be sure to give an alarm. To lessen the chances from the latter, as soon as the workmen were all in, Thelin, having clipped his master’s moustaches, went out and invited them into the dining-room to have a morning dram; and while he was pouring it out and detaining them with light conversation, the prince slipped down the first stairs, and picking up a plank, waited coolly for his man to rejoin him; for as the two keepers at the bottom of the stairs knew him well, it was necessary for Thelin to be there to take off the attention of one, while his highness’s face was covered from the other by the plank on his shoulder. Here another difficulty arose. The prince being much below the middle stature, and therefore smaller than any of the workmen, his friends had provided a pair of high-heeled boots, which gave him the appearance of being four inches taller than he really was, and the feet of these were hidden from observation by being placed in a pair of clumsy-looking sabots. But as it was Monday, and the weather was fine, it was noticed that not one of the men had sabots on, so that at the last moment a whispered consultation became necessary upon the subject of sabots or no sabots. The prince was for kicking them off; but Thelin insisted upon their retention. So, with plank and sabots, and a much-soiled blouse, with a short, common clay pipe between his lips, the future Emperor of the French marched out of Ham.