the other keeper, walked on in conversation with Thelin as far as the
gate of the fort. Here, as they went out, the soldier on guard would
have taken no notice had not the prince dropped his pipe right at the
man’s feet, which attracted his attention, and he looked him straight in
the face as he stooped to pick it up. That must have been a moment long
after remembered by the ruler of the French. Recovering his pipe, he
passed out through the serjeant’s guard, and being narrowly scanned by
one of the soldiers, he shifted the plank as if he were tired, and
managed so as very nearly to knock his examiner on the head. With an
exclamation of impatience the man turned aside, and the prince was free!
The fugitives had not gone far, however, when they met two workmen, who
looked very hard at the prince, who had once more to shift his board so
as to hide his face. As they passed, one of them exclaimed, “Is that
Bertou?” To which, with almost pardonable disregard of truth, his
highness gave a laconic “_Oui!_” and passed on.
The moment they were out of sight of the fortress, the board was thrown
into a ditch, with the dirty blouse; and as the prince was disguised as
a cabman, he waited outside the cemetery of St. Sulpice, two miles from
Ham, while his companion went for the cab in which the master was to
drive the servant to St. Quentin, on their way to Valenciennes.
When Charles Thelin returned with the cabriolet, he found the prince on
his knees before a large crucifix, returning thanks for his delivery.
As they drove towards St. Quentin, an old woman who knew Thelin passed
them, and afterwards told her friends that she had never before seen him
in such disreputable looking company, for she had always regarded the
valet to the good prince as a very respectable young man. At St. Quentin
the prince walked round the outskirts of the town to the opposite side
to that on which he had entered, while the valet drove to the post-house
to get a chaise to take them to Valenciennes.
Thelin being a great favourite with Madame Abrai, who kept the inn from
which the chaise had to be obtained, had much trouble to get away. She
insisted upon his taking some breakfast, and to tempt him, brought out a
pie of her own making, which she declared he must taste or never speak
to her again. Always ready to improve the occasion, her guest not only
ate some, but in a jocular way declared that the pasty was so good that
he should steal it and take it with him to eat on the journey. The good
soul consenting, it was taken to his highness, who, being very hungry,
condescended to finish it.
Owing to the pressure put upon him at the inn, Thelin was so long that
the prince feared he had mistaken the rendezvous. As he sat in great
suspense on a bank by the roadside, a fussy-looking little gentleman
passed and scanned him somewhat narrowly.
“Have you seen a postchaise on the road you have come, sir?” said the
prince.
“I have not, sir!” replied the little man, pompously. This was the
Procureur du Roi, who would have been charged with the prosecution of
the prince if he had been recaptured.
After the postchaise arrived, there were no further adventures until
Valenciennes was reached a little before two. The train for Brussels did
not leave till four, so for two weary hours the travellers sat together
in the waiting room of the station talking over the events of the
journey, and wondering how it fared with poor Dr. Conneau, who, although
free to walk out of the prison when he liked, had insisted upon
remaining to cover their retreat. While they sat there, a gendarme from
Ham suddenly appeared, and clapped Thelin on the shoulder. The
consternation of the travellers may be easily imagined.
“How goes it, Thelin?” said the man, in cheerful accents which speedily
reassured them. “Who would have thought now of meeting anybody from Ham
all this way off?”
“Good morning, neighbour,” said Thelin. “I am off to Belgium.”
“Ah! and how is the good prince?”
“He was very well when I last saw him. I have left his service now.”
“Oh, indeed! That gentleman with you is not from Ham, is he?”
“Oh, dear no! he is a man whom I have known years ago, and we have met
again on the journey.”
“Ah, well, good-bye; my train is going, and I cannot stop any longer
with you. Bon jour, monsieur” (to the prince). Hats raised.
“Bon jour, monsieur.”
And so the two fugitives got safely into Belgium. From Brussels they
went to Ostend, and from Ostend to London, where, as soon as the prince
arrived, he wrote a letter to the premier, Lord Aberdeen, to acquaint
him with the facts of his escape, and to assure Her Majesty’s Government
that he did not intend to conspire against the Government of France, but
was merely desirous of attending to his private affairs. In reply, Lord
Aberdeen wrote a polite letter, telling him that, under the
circumstances, he was welcome to remain in England as long as he
pleased. Thus ended one of the most memorable flights in history.
As the reader may like to know how the faithful Dr. Conneau fared, we
will just state that, by various pretences he delayed the discovery of
the prince’s departure for more than twelve hours. As the governor
always made a point of seeing the prince at frequent intervals during
the day, it was necessary to give it out that he was ill, and wanted
repose. To aid in the deception the doctor made up a stuffed figure,
dressed it in the prince’s clothes, and placed it on his bed; then
leaving his door ajar, he allowed the governor to peep in and satisfy
his mind that his prisoner was still there. Towards eight o’clock at
night, however, M. Demarle’s suspicions were aroused, and he insisted on
entering the prince’s room with the doctor, when, of course, the ruse
was discovered.
“When did the prince go?” said he, turning round sharply to Dr. Conneau.
“At seven this morning.”
“You are under arrest, Doctor.”
“Good.”
The worthy doctor was afterwards sentenced to three months’
imprisonment, for his share in the transaction.
_THE CAPTURE AND ESCAPE OF THE FENIAN HEAD CENTRE, JAMES STEPHENS._
After the seizure of the Fenian newspaper, the _Irish People_, in the
summer of 1865, the British Government made great efforts to capture a
number of the leading members of the “brotherhood,” which had caused
them so much trouble in Ireland. Among those who were thus “wanted,”
there was nobody whose presence in a court of justice was felt to be
more desirable than Mr. James Stephens, _alias_ Power, the chief centre,
and indeed, prime mover of Fenianism. The available detective force of
the three kingdoms were in active pursuit, and spies and informers were
being anxiously interrogated concerning the antecedents and personal
habits of their enterprising enemy. Wonderful were the tales told to the
authorities of this Mr. Stephens. He had for years, ever since 1848, it
was said, been carefully educating the Irish peasantry in the art and
mystery of treason, having travelled for the purpose in all sorts of
disguises through every town and hamlet of the country. At one time he
would be met with in the dress of a parish priest; then he would hobble
past police barracks on crutches; again, he would assume the character
of a rollicking farm servant on his way to a country fair, and so on,
_ad infinitum_. Whether all or any of these tales were true or not, it
is certain that, by some means or other, the organization which the
Government was determined to put down was not only widely spread but
continually increasing, and had members in every corner of the land; and
although the police felt quite certain that James Stephens had not left
the country or ceased from his labours, he somehow or other did for
months manage to baffle his innumerable pursuers.
The Government knew the man’s history. He had been connected with the
abortive attempts at insurrection with Smith O’Brien in 1848; was
present at the “battle” in the cabbage garden, and had escaped to the
Continent, where he had for a year or two made a precarious living as a
teacher of English and drawing. In Paris he had, with two friends, John
O’Mahoney and Michael Doheny, invented and drawn up the plans for the
conspiracy of which the world has since heard so much. The organization
was to be called the “Fenian Brotherhood,” after the Fenians, a
semi-mystical body of militia, celebrated for its deeds of chivalry and
prowess in ancient Irish history. Among other modest achievements set
down to the credit of these old warriors, in ballads still sung in the
wilds of Connemara and Mayo, it is recorded that each of them singly was
in the habit of conquering any nine men who had the temerity to engage
with him in mortal combat; in fact, it appears not to have been allowed
by the rules of the order for a private in that distinguished corps to
fight less than nine ordinary mortals, save under exceptionally
provoking circumstances. In fixing upon the title, “Fenian,” therefore,
the conspirators showed an intimate knowledge of the weakness of
thousands of their poorer fellow-countrymen, who are to this day as
proud of the doings of the old Fenian heroes, as English schoolboys are
of the self-reliance and wonderful performances of Robinson Crusoe.
The cleverest part of the programme, however, was that by which it was
determined to carry on the organization simultaneously in Ireland and
America. Two of the sedition farmers were to proceed to the United
States, and one to his native land; so that as fast as the treason
plants were sufficiently grown in the one country to bear
transplantation to the soil of the other, an experienced nurseryman
might be on the spot to receive them. Of course, the post of honour and
danger being the Irish one, there was a friendly contest in which each
of the conspirators endeavoured to secure it for himself. Each urged his
claims, but as no one would yield to the others, it was decided to toss
for it with a golden coin, for in such a sacred cause it was unanimously
agreed that neither silver or bronze was pure enough for use. This
decision caused some little delay, owing to the fact that among the
three original members of the brotherhood there did not happen to be as
much as five and fourpence; and as there is no French gold coin of less
value, the settlement of the momentous question was deferred. Mr.
Stephens soon after this obtaining some money from one of his pupils,
won the toss, and after seeing his friends off for New York, went to
Ireland, where, obtaining a living, first in a situation as teacher, and
afterwards as a commercial traveller, he devoted himself to his
enterprise with a zeal and devotion which as loyal citizens we must
regret were not applied in a worthier cause.
Among his other studies, Mr. Stephens had with much foresight included
the internal economy of the gaols of his native land. It was said, and
probably with some truth, that under various pretences he had made
himself tolerably well acquainted with the arrangements for the
detention of prisoners in most of the leading strongholds of the
country. He had evidently become imbued with the belief that the battle
of Irish liberty would have to be fought out in Her Majesty’s gaols, and
the sequel has proved the soundness of his conclusion. This was the man
whom the Government was so desirous of capturing all through the summer
and autumn of 1865.
Towards the end of July, 1865, a gentleman, named Herbert, with his wife
and daughter, went to reside in a handsome residence, called Fairfield
House, at the corner of Newbridge Avenue, Sandy Mount, Dublin. The
arrival of the family was hailed with much satisfaction among the
tradesmen of the neighbourhood; for the new comers evidently had not
only expensive tastes, but what was more important, plenty of money to
gratify them. Mr. and Mrs. Herbert laid out considerable sums, not only
in the embellishment and furnishing of Fairfield House, but in the
adornment of the grounds which were rather extensive; and although it
was observed that they kept very little company, yet, as they always
paid punctually for what they had, they soon became much respected in
the neighbourhood. The gentleman seldom went out and was therefore but
little known; but Mrs. Herbert, from her kindly manner and frequent
purchases, was a general favourite with the shopkeepers. So this quiet
household pursued the even tenor of its way until one dark winter’s
morning, when an accident happened to them, which as it has an immediate
bearing upon our narrative, we shall now relate.
Between five and six o’clock, on the 11th of November, a body of about
thirty well-armed policemen surrounded Mr. and Mrs. Herbert’s premises,
and three inspectors with cocked pistols in their hands scaled the wall
and effected an entrance. Of course, the peaceable inhabitants of the
house were all wrapped in slumber, from which Mr. Herbert was rudely
awakened by a loud knocking at his bedroom door.
“Who is there, and what is the matter?” were the questions which that
gentleman naturally put to his disturbers, who, commencing to break in
the door, replied as follows:
“Come, Mr. Stephens, open the door, we know you, and resistance is
perfectly useless.” To which summons Mr. Herbert, _alias_ Power, _alias_
Stephens, responded by opening the door and letting his captors in. One
of the inspectors stayed with Mr. Stephens while he dressed, and the
others searched the house, where, in an adjoining bedroom they found two
gentlemen in bed together, and one lying on a mattress on the floor.
These were Messrs. Brophy, Duffy, and Kickham, who were immediately
arrested upon the same charge as Stephens. In the other parts of the
house provisions enough to last the inmates six months, a quantity of
arms, and nearly £2000 in gold and cheques were found; one draft
recently received from New York being drawn in favour of a “Mr. Hooper,”
for no less a sum than £1525 8_s._ 6_d._
Mrs. Stephens had been tracked by female detectives during one of her
numerous shopping excursions, and thus the discovery of her husband’s
whereabouts had been effected. Without the least trouble the whole party
were conveyed to a police court, and after several preliminary
examinations were committed to Richmond Bridewell, to take their trial
before a Special Commission convened by Government for the purpose.
It was observed that Mr. Stephens bore himself with great composure
during his examination. Upon being called upon to make a defence, he
handed in a written protest as follows:
“I deliberately and conscientiously repudiate the existence of British
law in Ireland. I despise and defy any punishment it may inflict upon
me.
(Signed)
“JAMES STEPHENS.”
During the proceedings his cool and even defiant manner were calculated
to impress the by-standers with the belief that he was an attorney
watching a case, rather than a prisoner expecting the loss of his
liberty, and perhaps life. He seemed fully conscious of the goodness of
his cause and his superior ability, and appeared to feel a sovereign
contempt for “the other side.” He is described as being a “smart”
looking man, very neatly dressed, rather below the middle stature, with
smooth cheeks, a fair complexion, a fine large auburn beard, and hair of
light brown colour curling round the back of the head, the front and top
of which was entirely bald, and showed a very good development of the
intellectual and moral faculties, “firmness” being remarkably large. The
eyes small, lively, and restless. Temperament evidently sanguine and
nervous, indicating quickness of perception, energy, and determination.
He spoke fluently and correctly, with a slight Yankee accent (acquired
during his frequent visits to America which he had made to report
progress to his friends there). His manners were described as being
gentlemanly, savouring of a certain degree of abruptness and impatience.
This is the description which by general testimony applied to one who
was certainly the ablest man ever before the public in connection with
the Fenian conspiracy. As we have said before, the prisoners were kept
for safety in the Richmond Bridewell, one of the strongest prisons in
Ireland.
A portion of the gaol was selected which could not be approached without
passing through a number of doors composed of iron, and double locked.
The cell occupied by Stephens was in the corridor leading to the eastern
wing of the building, and adjoining the chapel where he was in the habit
of attending mass. His cell door was composed of strong hammered iron,
and secured, by a massive stock-lock and a huge padlock, to a staple
and thick swinging bar. The corridor on which the cell door opened was
guarded by another ponderous iron door of great strength and thickness,
and also double locked. But these were only the commencement of the
obstacles which would prevent escape by the doors, and escape from the
windows was absolutely impossible. No persons were permitted to see the
Fenian prisoners save the officials of the prison and the prisoners’
legal advisers; and it is stated that Stephens only saw a legal
gentlemen once, and that for a short time since his committal. The
instructions of the governor of the gaol to the officials under his
command were most stringent, and were apparently most strictly carried
out; and with the view of having a sufficient force on the premises, in
case it should be required, some of the metropolitan police were kept
constantly on duty in one of the outer corridors of the prison. All
communications to the prisoners were opened and read before they were
delivered, and also all letters written from them to their acquaintance.
Every article of food, clothing, etc., brought in was closely
scrutinized, and in fact, everything which foresight and precaution
could suggest was adopted, and a perfect control kept over any
communication with the prisoners’ friends outside.
At ten o’clock on a certain Thursday night, when the warders made their
last rounds, the cell in which James Stephens was confined was locked.
The keys had been at five o’clock duly handed over to the governor, who
had had them deposited in their proper order in the case in his office.
The watchman for the night was Daniel Byrne, who went on duty at ten
o’clock; and nothing occurred to disturb the ordinary routine of the
prison until a quarter to four the following morning, when Byrne gave an
alarm that he had discovered two tables placed one above the other, near
the south-western wall adjoining the governor’s garden. Mr. Philpots,
the deputy-governor and manager, and the gate warder, went quickly to
the place and found the two tables to be as Byrne had described them.
These tables belonged to the lunatic dining-hall and had to be brought a
long distance; but strange to say, there were no footprints on the upper
table, which there would have been if it had been stood upon by any
person who had walked through the open passages which were muddy, as
torrents of rain were falling. The wall bore no marks whatever of
persons having escaped by climbing over it. The night was particularly
dark and tempestuous.
When the governor and his assistants went to the section of the prison
in which Stephens had been confined, they found the doors of the
corridor open and also the door of his cell. His bed looked as if he had
not recently slept in it, and as if he had only rolled himself up in a
railway rug (found on the floor), and had waited for his deliverance.
A master key, quite bright, as if only recently made, was found in the
lock of the corridor door.
Byrne was accused of being an accomplice; and he certainly was a very
unfit person for so responsible a trust, seeing that he had been one of
the Irish legion at Castelfidardo, and was believed to be a captain in
the Fenian conspiracy. The patronage of the gaol appeared to be vested
in a body closely connected with the Dublin corporation. It is further
alleged that there were only three policemen employed in the prison, and
that while the barracks of Dublin were full of troops, there was no
guard to protect a building in which so many prisoners charged with
such serious offences were confined. There was a theory, which however
was not believed by the police, that Stephens was conveyed at once on
board a Cunard steamer, on his way to America, to relate to his brethren
there an account of the most brilliant achievement of the militant
branch of the order resident in Ireland.
As may be imagined, the escape caused immense excitement all over the
three kingdoms. Indignant leading articles appeared in the chief English
newspapers, blaming the police, Government, and everybody concerned in
what was felt to be a most disastrous business.
The Lord Lieutenant immediately caused the following proclamation to be
issued.
“A PROCLAMATION.”
“WODEHOUSE.
“Whereas, James Stephens, has been an acting member of a
treasonable conspiracy against the Queen’s authority in Ireland,
and has this morning escaped from the Richmond prison:
“Now, we being determined to bring the said James Stephens to
justice, do hereby offer a reward of £1000 to any person or persons
who shall give such information as shall lead to the arrest of the
said James Stephens.
“And we do hereby offer a further reward of £300 to any person or
persons who shall give such information as shall lead to the arrest
of any one whomsoever who has knowingly harboured, or received, or
concealed, or assisted, or aided in any way whatsoever in his
escape from arrest the said James Stephens.
“And we do also hereby offer a free pardon, in addition to the
above-mentioned reward, to any person or persons concerned in the
escape of the said James Stephens, who shall give such information
as shall lead to his arrest as aforesaid.
“Given at Her Majesty’s Castle of Dublin, this 24th day of
November, 1865.
“By his Excellency’s command,
“THOMAS A. LARCOM.”
Mr. Stephens was only too successful in eluding the vigilance of the
police; for finding that he was an exception to the rest of their
leaders, whose chief characteristic appeared to be to utterly fail in
everything they undertook, the Fenians began to suspect that their
head-centre had betrayed them to the Government, who had let him off as
the price of his treachery; and this in spite of the declarations of the
warder Byrne, who, after his acquittal from want of proof, went to
America, and told the story of the escape; how Col. Kelly and friends
were outside, and received the prisoner after he had let him out. There
were so many believers in the “treachery” view of the question, that
Stephens was deposed from office, and has never since been held of the
least importance in connection with the movement. It is only fair to
state, however, that of late years there has been a growing belief, as
expressed in the columns of the so-called “National” press, among the
Fenians, that Mr. Stephens was most unjustly accused. After his escape
he spent a few months in Ireland, and then visited New York, from
whence, disgusted with his reception, he departed for Paris, where he
lived for several years in great poverty. A story is told of his meeting
with an English detective at the Paris Exhibition, which, if true,
would appear to show that he was at least innocent of the “betrayal of
his companions for gold,” as was alleged against him by his American
accusers. The detective officer in question was enjoying a few weeks’
holiday in Paris, and being unable to speak French at the bar of one of
the refreshment rooms in the exhibition, got in dispute with a waiter.
After some time, he was helped out of the difficulty by a
shabbily-dressed but good-looking gentleman with a bald head.
“Why, you are Mr. Stephens, I believe!” said the policeman, in some
amazement, when he had time to take a good look at his new friend.
“Yes, I am indeed,” said the proprietor of the bald head, with a good
natured laugh; “and as one good turn deserves another, you shall stand a
dinner for old acquaintance sake; for to tell you the truth, I have not
been able to dine yet.”
“Why, Mr. Stephens, they say you are doing remarkably well here,” said
the other with a knowing wink.
“Ah! they do say so, but they are wrong. I was doing pretty well when I
was on here as interpreter, but your good friends in Scotland Yard have
got me out of that berth by their kind intercession on my behalf with
the French Government here; so make no more fuss about it, but stand
treat like a man;” which the correspondent of the respectable English
journal who related the story at the time was happy to inform his
readers the detective did.
Mr. Stephens is said to be at the present time in Russia.
THE END.