_President._—Bruce, have you been in Paris some time?
_Bruce._—Thirteen months.
_President._—You have had communication with the Duc de Vincennes?
_Bruce._—That is true, Monsieur le President; but I do not see what my
friendship with the Duke has to do with the escape of M. de Lavallette.
_President._—You have manifested a great interest for Marshal Ney?
_Bruce._—That is also true, and I am far from blushing at it.
_President._—It is to you that the condemned Lavallette addressed
himself for the means of leaving Paris and France?
_Bruce._—The 31st December, or the 1st January, I received an anonymous
letter, in which the nobleness of my character was extolled, but I do
not know whether I merited all the compliments that were paid to me. It
went on to say: the confidence that I inspired determined the author of
the letter to inform me that M. Lavallette was still in Paris, and that
I could save him. I did not doubt the person who remitted that letter to
me: I thought that in an affair of that nature one could not too much
avoid indiscretion. The adventure of the escape of M. Lavallette
appeared to me to have in it something of romance, and, indeed,
something of the miraculous. I interested myself intensely about him,
and I was easily determined to serve him. I know not if I were wrong,
but I thought that honour and humanity would not permit me to do
otherwise. I would not have placed any one in my confidence, but that I
feared in acting alone to compromise him who confided his life to me. I
informed a friend, whom I will not name, unless he thinks it proper for
me to do so. We thought that it would be advisable to communicate to
another friend. We arranged between the three the measures that we
should take. On the evening of the 7th January M. de Lavallette went to
the apartment of the second friend. I remained with him till twelve
o’clock. I shook hands with him and quitted.
_President._—Tell us what passed in the apartment of Captain Hutchinson
from the moment of the arrival of the condemned Lavallette.
_Bruce._—I have not mentioned Captain Hutchinson’s name.
_President._—But you have made it public by the inference and it is so
from the interrogatories in which your two friends have made themselves
known?
_Bruce._—We have made our interrogatories public because it was
important for us to destroy the scandal that was spread regarding our
conduct (at this moment Captain Hutchinson requested Mr. Bruce to
mention his name). My friend, continued Mr. Bruce, has authorised me to
mention his name; I can now admit that it was in Captain Hutchinson’s
apartment that M. de Lavallette passed the night of the 7th to the 8th
of January.
_President._—Did you not obtain a wig for the condemned Lavallette?
_Bruce._—I had nothing whatever to do with the wig of M. de Lavallette;
the measure of the wig that was found in my house concerned a friend who
was at Constantinople.
_President_, to Captain Hutchinson.—It was in your apartment that
Lavallette was received on the 7th January?
_Hutchinson._—Yes, sir.
_President._—After Lavallette entered your lodging did not an unknown
person present himself at your door to give to the condemned man two
pistols that he had forgotten to take with him?
_Hutchinson._—My servant came to me and announced that somebody desired
to speak to me. I went out to prevent the unknown person from entering.
I perceived in his pocket a double-barrelled pistol.
The first idea that struck me was, that all was discovered, and I
prepared to defend myself. I seized the pistol, the stranger did not
resist, he only said to me, “You are, then, one of our friends;” I
replied in the affirmative; but from precaution I would not permit him
to enter my chamber.
_President._—When Lavallette left Paris you accompanied him to
Compiègne?
_Hutchinson._—I did.
_President._—That which you did was only to oblige your friend?
_Hutchinson._—Not at all, sir. I was not moved by anything but a feeling
of humanity.
_President_, to Wilson.—General Wilson, had you previously known
Lavallette?
_General Wilson._—I had never seen M. de Lavallette before this event,
nor had I the least knowledge of him.
_President._—You are charged with having conducted him out of France?
_General Wilson._—Yes.
_President._—It was you who asked Captain Hutchinson to receive the
condemned Lavallette?
_General Wilson._—My friend Captain Hutchinson has done nothing but
under my influence.
_President._—In conducting Lavallette, you passed by Compiègne, and you
arrived at the frontier—you took under false names for Lavallette and
yourself two passports, that you had the caution to get examined by
competent authorities.
_General Wilson._—That is true.
_President._—Do you know that Lavallette was condemned to capital
punishment?
_General Wilson._—Without doubt.
_President._—Are you aware that Lavallette was condemned as an
accomplice of Bonaparte, in having joined a rebellious faction that
brought back the usurper?
_General Wilson._—I know the history of the return of Napoleon, but I
did not look upon M. Lavallette as having taken part in a conspiracy,
because I always was convinced that no previous plot had existed to
induce Bonaparte to re-enter France. His coming was spontaneous.
Moreover, where it was a matter between my two friends and myself of
saving M. de Lavallette, humanity spoke only to our hearts, and we were
not at all directed by any political bias.
This open confession rendered superfluous, with respect to them, the
testimony of any witnesses; the appearance of _Madame Lavallette_ was,
however, too interesting to be passed over. At her entrance, a general
murmur of feeling or curiosity was heard, and the three gentlemen
saluted her with a profound bow. Overpowered by her emotions, she was
scarcely able to articulate; at length, being told by the President that
she was summoned only on account of some of the accused, who had invoked
her testimony, she said, “I declare that the persons who have called me
contributed in no respect to the escape of M. Lavallette (meaning _from
prison_); no one was in my confidence: I alone did the whole.” Being
desired to say whether she had ever seen or known the English gentlemen,
she looked at them for a moment, and declared that she had never known
or seen them before.
At a subsequent audience, April 24th, 1816, M. Dupin spoke for the
English gentlemen, and his defence was a splendid piece of oratory. The
case he reduced to the two propositions:—1. There was no act of
_complicity_ between the accused persons and the principal culprit. 2.
The fact imputed to them cannot be considered as a crime, nor as an
offence. Part of his peroration was as follows:—“In ancient Athens,
where the people were remarkable for their frivolity, but where the
Areopagus was noted for its justice, a young man was condemned to death
for having killed a dove, which, pursued by a hawk, flew to him for
safety. It was adjudged that he who was without pity, could never be a
good citizen. And shall we, in the nineteenth century, see men condemned
for saving the life of another who put his fate into their hands?... No,
this cannot be under the government of a prince whose justice, clemency,
and benevolence recommend him equally to the love and the fidelity of
his people. Under the rule of a descendant of St. Louis, humanity is
amalgamated with Christian charity. This is indeed so, for the ministers
of our altars present to us as the triumph of charity the act of that,
holy personage, St. Vincent de Paul, who did not think he offended the
laws of his country when he effected the escape of a poor suffering
wretch from the galleys, by himself taking his seat and his chains.
These sublime feats of humanity do not fall beneath your jurisdiction.
Courts of justice are instituted to punish the crimes, not to proceed
against the virtues, of men.” He concluded with an earnest
recommendation of the accused to the court as _foreigners_ and
_Englishmen_.
The proceedings having closed, _Sir Robert Wilson_ rose, and with
dignified confidence delivered an address in French. Having acknowledged
that he had been interested in the fate of Lavallette, on political
grounds, he declared that such considerations had a very inferior
influence on his determination.
“The appeal” (said he) “made to our humanity, to our personal character,
and to our national generosity; the responsibility thrown upon us of
instantly deciding on the life or death of an unfortunate man, and,
above all, of an unfortunate foreigner—this appeal was imperative and
did not permit us to calculate his other claims to our good will. At
this cry of humanity we should have done as much for an obscure, unknown
individual, or even for an enemy who had fallen into misfortune. Perhaps
we were imprudent, but we would rather incur that reproach, than the one
we should have merited by basely abandoning him, who, full of
confidence, threw himself into our arms: and these very men who have
calumniated us, without knowing either the motives or the details of our
conduct—these very men, I say, would have been the first to stigmatize
us as heartless cowards, if, by our refusal to save M. Lavallette, we
had abandoned him to certain death. We resign ourselves with security to
the decision of the jury; and if you should condemn us for having
contravened your positive laws, we shall not at least have to reproach
ourselves for having violated the eternal laws of morality and
humanity.”
_Mr. Bruce_ delivered, in French, a speech of the same general tenor;
his language was animated, and his tone firm and manly.
“Gentlemen (he concluded) I have confessed to you, with all frankness
and honour, the whole truth with regard to the part which I took in the
escape of M. Lavallette; and notwithstanding the respect which I
entertain for the majesty of the laws, notwithstanding the respect I owe
to this tribunal, I cannot be wanting in the respect I owe to myself so
far as to affirm, that I feel not the least compunction for what I have
done. I leave you, gentlemen, to decide upon my fate and I implore
nothing but justice.”
The President concisely summed up the evidence, and gave his charge with
great impartiality and much eloquence. The jury retired to deliberate,
and in about two hours returned with a verdict of guilty against Messrs.
Wilson, Bruce, and Hutchinson, and not guilty as to the other prisoners,
except Eberle the gaoler, whom they convicted of the minor offence of
negligence.
The President then read the article of the penal code applicable to the
charge proved against the three British subjects, in which the
punishment prescribed was imprisonment for a term not exceeding two
years, nor less than three months; and without hesitation he pronounced
for the shortest allowable term.
Each of the three British subjects was accordingly sentenced to three
months’ imprisonment and the costs of the trial. Eberle, the gaoler, was
sentenced to two years’ imprisonment, and after that, to be ten years
under the surveillance of the police. The President announced to the
convicted that they had three days allowed to appeal to the Court of
Cassation. Bruce, Hutchinson, and Wilson, would make no appeal against
the judgment and passed their three months of imprisonment at the
Conciergerie. It was intimated that Louis XVIII. would willingly have
respited them, had they asked his pardon, but this they respectfully
declined to do. On their return to England, all parties, Tory, Whig and
Radical, received them with enthusiasm. The nobility and fashionable
world fêted them, and the public lavished praises on them. The Prince
Regent, wishing to act with official strictness, deprived Hutchinson of
his appointment as Captain in the Guards, but on his fellow officers
exclaiming against such harshness, he restored him to his regiment and
rank.
Mr. Bruce was entertained by the Countess of Bessborough at a _déjeuner_
where he met the Duke of Wellington, and received his Grace’s
congratulations. The electors of Southwark, to mark their sense of Sir
Robert Wilson’s noble conduct, returned him as their representative to
Parliament. Sir Robert, who was a clever writer, as well as a good
soldier and an active politician, died in 1849, after a chequered but
honourable public career. Captain Hutchinson, who for many years after
the trial was known by the _sobriquet_ of “Lavallette Hutchinson,” died
in 1851, third Earl of Donoughmore, which title he inherited from his
uncle, the eminent General Lord Hutchinson, second Earl of Donoughmore,
who took the command at the close of the victory of Alexandria, after
Sir Ralph Abercromby had been borne, mortally wounded, from the field.
The Lavalette name is at this day of important note in France, the
Marquis of Lavalette being the present able and popular Minister of the
Interior there. It appears, however, that he is no relative of the Count
of the escape, and has had naught in common with him but the name, and
hardly even that, for it would seem, the count spelt its second syllable
with the double _ll_, where the Marquis has but one. In here
acknowledging the communication I have had the honour to receive from M.
le Marquis, whose obliging amiability fully tallies with that ready and
cordial attention one is ever sure to receive from high officials in
France, as well as in England,—I must add that I should be very glad
indeed, if I, or rather some one more competent than myself, could take
advantage of the Marquis’s courtesy, and, by thoroughly searching all
French archives relating to the subject, bring out the full details and
the whole truth of this most mysterious and most interesting affair—the
escape of Lavallette.
LEWIS AND SON, Printers, Swan Buildings, Moorgate Street.
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Footnote 1:
Dibdin uses his name freely: here is a specimen from his “Peter
Pullhauls Medley.”
“When grown a man I soon began
To quit each boyish notion;
With old Benbow I swore to go,
And tempt the waving ocean.
“Ten years I served with him, or nigh,
And saw the gallant hero die;
Yet ’scaped each shot myself, for why?
“‘There’s a sweet little cherub that sits up aloft,
To keep watch for the life of poor Jack.’”
Footnote 2:
In Owen and Blakeway’s History of Shrewsbury, the ancient descent and
parentage of the admiral, as above given, are, on very good argument,
altogether denied. They (and what T. Phillips says in his History of
Shrewsbury bears them out) state the admiral to have been the son of
William Benbow, of Cotton Hill, tanner and burgess of Shrewsbury, and
to have had no uncle, Colonel Thomas Benbow, and only an uncle,
Captain John Benbow, who was actually (and no doubt pursuant to the
sentence recorded in the State Trials) shot in the Bowling Green of
Shrewsbury on the 15th of October, 1651, and was buried the following
day in St. Chad’s churchyard in that town; and a stone erected over
him, which was renewed in 1740, and which gave his name and the date
of his interment. St. Chad’s register has further this entry: “1651,
October 16; John Benbowe, captain, who was shott at the Castle. B.”
All this being so, what becomes of the story of the Colonel Benbow of
the Tower? It may be true, but must refer to some other member of the
family.
Footnote 3:
Admiral Benbow was born at Cotton Hill, near Shrewsbury, in 1650. In a
bedroom belonging to the house of his birth appear the following
lines, written with a diamond on the window:—
“Then only breathe one prayer for me,
That far away, where’er I go,
The heart that would have bled for thee
May feel through life no other woe.
“I shall look back, when on the main,
Back to my native isle;
And almost think I hear again
That voice, and view that smile.”