Émilie de Lavalette in 1816.
Émilie de Lavalette in 1816, presumably after her ordeal in the Conciergerie gaol in Paris that ended on January 23rd that year. It does not show, except perhaps in the eyes, but she had been subjected to six weeks of abuse, and had been left suffering from chronic depression and anxiety. She became withdrawn and averse to company, and Antoine acknowledged that some thought her insane, though evidently he did not. After six years’ exile, her husband returned to France to receive a pardon, and the devoted couple were reunited. “At last, the health of Madame de Lavalette recovered sufficiently to permit me to take her home” wrote Antoine in his Memoirs. “A deep melancholy throws her frequently into fits of abstractedness; but she is always equally mild, amiable, and good. We pass the summer in a retired country-house, where she seems to enjoy herself.”
Part 1 of 2
MY wife came at six o’clock to dine with me.* She brought with her a relation, Mademoiselle Dubourg. When we were alone, she said: “It appears but too certain that we have nothing to hope; we must therefore, my dear, take a resolution, and this is what I propose to you. At eight o’clock you shall go out dressed in my clothes, and accompanied by my cousin. You shall step into my sedan-chair, which will carry you to the Rue des Saints-Peres, where you will find M. Baudus with a cabriolet, who will conduct you to a retreat he has prepared for you, and where you may await without danger a favourable opportunity of leaving France.”
I listened to her and looked at her in silence. Her manner was calm, and her voice firm. She appeared so convinced of the success of her plan, that it was some time before I dared to reply. I looked, however, upon the whole as a mad undertaking. I was at last obliged to tell her so; but she interrupted me at the first word by saying: “I will hear of no objections. I die if you die. Do not therefore reject my plan. I know it will succeed. I feel that God supports me!”
* Émilie de Beauharnais, comtesse de Lavalette (1781–1855), was dame d’atour (maid of honour) to her cousin, Empress Joséphine (Beauharnais) of France; Napoleon annulled his marriage to Josephine on January 10th, 1810. Émilie had married Antoine Marie Chamans (1769-1830), comte de Lavalette, in 1798. The Count was confined in the Conciergerie, a courthouse and prison (now a museum) on the Île de la Cité, little more than a stone’s throw from Notre Dame.
Précis
In 1815, following the downfall of Napoleon, one of his generals, the Comte de Lavalette, was condemned to death by the royalists. On the night before sentence was to be carried out, his wife Émilie visited his prison cell and proposed an escape plan. When he had recovered his breath, the Count began to raise objections but Émilie would not listen. (60 / 60 words)
Part Two
‘The Escape of the Comte de Lavalette’, a contemporary cartoon.
A cartoon from 1815 showing the recent escape of the Comte de Lavalette. The Count himself, dressed in English military uniform (which in fact he put on later) beneath his wife’s dress, is seen exiting the Conciergerie, saying “Fate’s propitious. All’s clear and quiet”, while drawing a cloth down as far as he dares over his face. Behind him trots ‘un chien Barbe’ helpfully carrying two lanterns, a sly reference to François Barbé-Marbois, Minister of Justice, who many believed was in on the plot. Within the gaol, Émilie sighs “Bless me, how my heart beats! I hope he’s safe off by this. How shall I hide myself?” while a naive turnkey addresses the still-petticoated woman as ‘General’.
It was in vain that I reminded her of the numerous turnkeys with whom she was surrounded every evening when she left me; the jailer who handed her to her sedan-chair; the impossibility of my being sufficiently disguised to deceive them;* and finally my invincible reluctance to leave her in the hands of the prison keepers. “What will they do,” I said, “when they discover that I am gone? These brutes, in their blind rage, will they not forget themselves and perhaps strike you?”*
I was going on, but I soon saw, by the paleness of her countenance and the movements of convulsive impatience that were beginning to agitate her, that I ought to put an end to all objections. I remained silent for a few minutes, at the end of which I continued thus: “Well, then, I shall do as you please; but if you want to succeed, permit me to make at least one observation. The cabriolet is too far off. I shall be scarcely gone when my flight will be discovered, and I shall most undoubtedly be stopped in the chair, for near an hour is required to go to the Rue des Saints-Pères. I cannot escape on foot with your clothes.” This reflection seemed to strike her. “Change,” I added, “that part of your plan. The whole of to-morrow is still at our disposal: I promise to do to-morrow all you wish.”*
* The Count was well-built, though he had lost weight under the stress of his arrest and confinement. Émilie, moreover, had neglected to cover her face on her way in, so the Count could not very well assume a veil without attracting notice; and her hat had feathers in it, likely to catch on any door lintel when worn on the head of a tall man, and thus give him away to any sharp-eyed turnkey. The escape seems almost as miraculous as that of St Peter: see Jailbreak.
* The Countess was treated so badly that she suffered a mental breakdown. She was released on January 23rd, 1816, “after six weeks’ ill-usage” as her husband named it. Though she improved enough to enjoy a life of quiet seclusion, she remained uncomfortable in company and subject to episodes of depression and abstraction ever after.
* The plan worked, with the help of a party of British adventurers led by General Sir Robert Wilson and John Hely-Hutchinson, 3rd Earl of Donoughmore. They brought the Count as far as Mons; on reaching Worms, a German city some forty miles south of Frankfurt, he learnt that his wife had been detained in the Conciergerie and that Wilson had also been arrested after a letter to Charles, 2nd Earl Grey, was intercepted; with some reservations, Wilson had kept his mission secret from his Commander-in-Chief, Prince Frederick Augustus, Duke of York and Albany, and had liaised with the Earl instead. From Worms, the Count made his way to Bavaria.
Précis
As gently as possible, Antoine pointed out what he believed were fatal flaws in Émilie’s plan, from disguising himself in her clothes to the risks she would be running after he had escaped. But she brushed them aside, and reluctantly he agreed to follow her plan to the letter — except for the getaway vehicle, which he wanted brought nearer. (60 / 60 words)
