Episode 57: The Final Escape - The Rebel Thief, Episode 6

Duolingo French Podcast

Hi all, a quick note before we begin.

This season of the Duolingo French podcast is serialized.

So if you haven’t heard the previous episodes yet, go back and listen to those first.

Now onto the episode.

It’s January 1906.

After a harrowing 21-day journey in the dark hold of a prison ship, Alexandre Jacob steps out onto the deck, and into daylight.

Allez, avancez !

Alexandre blinks and holds up an arm against the scorching South American sun.

He tries to get his bearings…

Marchez tout droit !

Je suis arrivé au Bagne, de l’autre côté du monde.

Je suis en Amérique du Sud… Sur cette terre, loin de la France, transformée en prison.

Eh, toi, là ! Oui, toi, matricule 34777… Y a rien à voir.

Marche avec le groupe !

Alexandre has been assigned un matricule, a prison number, stitched onto his uniform.

From now on, guards will refer to him only by his number: 34777.

This is his new reality.

And le bagne, France’s notorious overseas prison camp, is his new home.

Alexandre follows his fellow prisoners down a wooden gangway and onto the beach.

He swats a mosquito off his neck.

The heat is stifling.

As they head towards the prison camp, they pass a group of gaunt, sickly-looking prisoners, des bagnards.

Je suis horrifié de voir tous ces bagnards épuisés qui travaillent autour de moi.

Leurs visages sont éteints, et détruits.

À ce moment-là, je comprends que le bagne va être pire que je l’avais imaginé.

Alexandre watches les bagnards.

They are hunched over, bent under the weight of heavy cargo.

Alexandre realizes this is his life now.

Back-breaking forced labor, day in and day out, surrounded by guards barking orders.

And yet, even faced with this bleak new reality, Alexandre feels a familiar burst of defiance.

En me condamnant, la justice veut que je devienne comme ces bagnards, plus mort que vivant… Mais je ferai tout pour que ça n’arrive pas.

Mon esprit restera fort.

Mon esprit restera libre.

Je vivrai toujours selon ma conscience.

Je me fais cette promesse : je vais m’échapper de cette prison !

After his arrival in French Guiana, France’s only colony in South America, Alexandre was placed in a compound built on three rocky islands some 15 kilometers off the coast.

These islands were known as le Bagne de Guyane.

There, housed in a cramped, humid cabin with 12 other men, Alexandre settled into a crushing routine.

Au bagne de Guyane, tout était misérable et rien n’avait de sens.

Le jour, le travail était insupportable.

Et la nuit, quand j'essayais de dormir, j’entendais les prisonniers malades pleurer.

Les hommes qui ne savaient pas se défendre ou se faire respecter ne survivaient pas longtemps…

Alexandre knew that his odds of surviving more than a few years were slim.

Few men made it past the first five years.

Disease was rampant, and inmates competed for limited food and water rations.

Violent prison gangs formed and settled scores.

But luckily for Alexandre, his reputation as the leader of an infamous band of thieves protected him.

J’avais quand même de la chance : la majorité des prisonniers et des gardes avaient entendu parler des « travailleurs de la nuit ».

Ils savaient que j’avais beaucoup d’amis parmi les anarchistes, au bagne et en France.

Ça me protégeait.

Shortly after his arrival au bagne, Alexandre received an unexpected piece of good news.

His lawyers wrote him a letter informing him that they had mounted a series of appeals to try to get Rose and Marie released.

And they’d secured Marie's freedom!

Je ne pouvais pas croire cette bonne nouvelle.

Ma mère était libre ! J’avais eu tellement peur pour elle.

Elle allait pouvoir continuer à vivre sa vie.

J’étais tellement rassuré.

Apart from his lawyer, Alexandre was only allowed to write to one other person.

So he chose his mother, Marie.

Through Marie, Alexandre could receive news from his friends and accomplices locked up in various prisons.

He asked his mother to write to him about her life in Paris.

And about Rose.

Mon fils chéri, ne t’inquiète pas pour moi.

Je vais trouver du travail et je vais tout faire pour qu’on se revoie un jour.

Tu me manques tellement.

J’ai reçu une lettre de Rose.

Malheureusement, je n’ai pas de bonnes nouvelles à te donner.

Rose hadn’t been as lucky as Marie.

Her appeal had been denied, rejeté.

Rose n’avait vraiment pas de chance.

Sa demande avait été rejetée et elle restait en prison.

C’était très difficile parce que je ne pouvais pas lui écrire, ni la réconforter.

Alors, j’ai demandé à ma mère d’essayer d’aider Rose.

Ma mère me donnait régulièrement de ses nouvelles, mais je sentais qu’elle ne me disait pas tout.

Alexandre felt that there was something his mother wasn’t telling him about Rose…and he was right.

In prison, Rose’s health was failing.

One day, barely a year after Alexandre had arrived in French Guiana, Marie wrote Alexandre with terrible news: Rose had died in prison.

Mon Alexandre, cette lettre est difficile à écrire.

Et je sais qu’elle sera difficile à lire.

Rose, notre chère Rose, est morte.

Je sais que cela va te faire beaucoup de mal, mais je devais te le dire.

Mon pauvre enfant, je suis tellement triste.

Back in French Guiana, Alexandre received the news of Rose’s death like a violent blow.

Ma pauvre, pauvre Rose.

Je me sentais terriblement coupable.

Si elle ne m’avait pas rencontré, sa vie aurait été différente.

Mais on s’aimait…

Alexandre was devastated.

But he knew he couldn’t show weakness in front of guards and fellow prisoners.

In le bagne, weakness meant death.

So he channeled his sadness into rage.

Je devais survivre à cette tragédie.

Je ne pouvais pas commencer à boire, comme d’autres prisonniers ici.

C’était une question de vie ou de mort.

Les oppresseurs avaient tué Rose, mais moi, ils ne me tueraient pas !

Alexandre threw himself into plans to escape.

He had tried a few things already and knew it was nearly impossible.

The only way off the island was by sea, which meant he had to swim for hours, or build un radeau, a raft of some sort.

In either case, the journey could be deadly.

But one night, while a guard’s back was turned, Alexandre slipped out into the darkness.

Je devais sortir de cette prison à tout prix ! J’avais réussi à construire un radeau.

Alors j’ai essayé de m’échapper.

Mais les vagues de l’océan étaient trop fortes… Elles me repoussaient toujours vers l’île.

Et des gardes m’ont vu… Quand ils m’ont attrapé, ma punition a été terrible.

After his failed escape, Alexandre was locked up for months in solitary confinement, en isolement.

He spent his days in a dark, filthy cell shackled to a narrow cot.

But this didn’t stop him.

After being released, Alexandre tried to escape again.

And again.

J’ai tout essayé.

Parfois j’étais seul, et d’autres fois, j’étais avec des complices.

Mais ça ne marchait jamais.

C’est devenu un cercle vicieux.

J’essayais de m’échapper, puis les gardes m’attrapaient, et j’étais placé en isolement.

Every time Alexandre was placed in solitary confinement, he grew thinner, and weaker.

Yet somehow, he managed to survive the first five years.

And the next five years.

His resolve never wavered.

He was still determined to escape.

Plus que tout, j’étais motivé par mon désir de liberté.

Je voulais rentrer chez moi, revoir ma chère mère… Je devais trouver une façon d’y arriver.

Finally, in 1917, ten years after he first set foot in Le Bagne de Guyane, Alexandre came up with his riskiest escape plan yet.

It was a crazy idea…desperate, even.

But Alexandre thought it just might work.

Over the years, he and his mother had developed a coded language in their letters to avoid censorship.

Now, he wrote to her with a very unusual request.

Cette fois-ci, je devais tout prévoir.

Même les plus petits détails.

J’ai écrit à ma mère une lettre codée pour lui demander de l’aide.

In his encrypted letter, Alexandre asked his mother to hide something in one of the cans of food she sent him.

A substance called morphine chlorhydrate.

He’d read in a book that when you drank it, it induced a temporary death-like state.

J’avais tout essayé, et j’avais enfin compris que je n’arriverais pas à traverser ces 15 kilomètres dans l’océan Atlantique.

C’était trop difficile.

Alors j’ai décidé d’essayer quelque chose d’un peu fou.

Alexandre planned to swallow just enough of the dangerous substance to pass for dead.

His hope was that guards would find his lifeless body lying on the beach, assume that he had drowned while trying to escape, then take him to the morgue on the mainland.

Une fois sur le continent, ce serait beaucoup plus facile de trouver une façon de m’échapper.

Mais pour cela, il fallait d’abord que je me réveille.

C’était très, très risqué.

Mais je devais essayer.

The first part of Alexandre’s plan worked.

Marie secretly sent him a small bottle of the drug, and he used a file to break out of his cell.

Then, he dove into the waves.

He made a good show of swimming for his life, then, he let himself drift back to the beach.

Quand je suis arrivé sur la plage, je me sentais très faible.

Je suis tombé sur le sable.

Là, avec difficulté, j’ai sorti la petite bouteille de morphine chlorhydrate.

J’ai pensé à Rose, et à ma mère.

Puis, j’ai bu toute la bouteille d’un coup, et j’ai perdu conscience.

The Guards spotted Alexandre’s lifeless body on the beach and assumed he was dead.

They prepared to bring him to the mainland.

But when the island doctor came to examine the body, he noticed a peculiar smell in Alexandre’s mouth.

He decided to take the body back to the island infirmary.

Quand je me suis réveillé, j’avais la tête très lourde et je voyais mal.

Je ne savais pas où j'étais.

Je me demandais si mon plan avait fonctionné et si j’étais à la morgue.

Il a quelque chose dans la bouche, regardez…

Mais quand j’ai enfin pu voir clair, le médecin de l’île me regardait avec colère.

Il n’est pas mort.

The doctor had figured out that Alexandre had faked his own death.

This time, Alexandre knew he was done for.

After coming so close to escaping, he could expect to be locked in solitary confinement for a very, very long time.

Je me retrouvais encore enfermé entre quatre murs.

Pour la première fois, je me suis dit : « Je vais mourir sur ces terribles îles… »

By the time Alexandre was released from solitary confinement, it was 1919.

Against all odds, he’d managed to survive for 13 years.

But beyond le bagne, the world had been changing, fast.

The First World War had come and gone, and the roaring twenties were about to begin.

Back in Paris, Marie was leading a double life.

During the day, she worked as a theater seamstress, sewing costumes for performers.

Bonsoir Mesdames ! Vos costumes sont prêts.

Bonsoir Marie !

Merci, Marie ! Heureusement que tu es là.

But at night, Marie’s other life began.

She wrote letters to politicians, to prison officials… She insisted that Alexandre’s harsh punishment didn’t match his crimes, and asked for his freedom.

She worried that having an anarchist son might cost her her job, so she didn’t talk about him at work.

But one day, as she was hemming the gown of a performer named Romanitza, she let her guard down.

Aïe ! Marie, tu m’as piquée !

Oh, pardon, Romanitza.

Je n’arrive pas à me concentrer aujourd’hui.

Je m’inquiète beaucoup pour mon fils.

Romanitza asked Marie what had happened.

At first, Marie tried to change the subject.

But then, she broke down and told Romanitza the truth.

La vérité, c’est que mon fils, Alexandre… Il est en prison… au bagne en Guyane.

Je ne l’ai pas vu depuis treize ans… Tous les jours, j’ai peur d’apprendre sa mort.

Marie worried Romanitza would judge her harshly for having a son in the notorious prison camp in French Guiana.

Instead, Romanitza asked Marie what Alexandre had done to deserve such a terrible punishment.

When Marie revealed that he’d been an anarchist and a thief, Romanitza’s reaction surprised her.

Marie, c’est horrible que ton fils soit au bagne de Guyane.

Cet endroit est inhumain.

Tu sais que mon mari est avocat ?

Ah oui ?

Je vais lui parler d’Alexandre et voir s’il peut t’aider.

Je ne sais pas si ça servirait à quelque chose… Cela fait 13 ans que je parle à des avocats et que j'écris des lettres.

J’ai déjà tout essayé.

Romanitza told Marie that public opinion about le bagne was changing.

She said there were prominent journalists and doctors who had traveled to French Guiana and come back with harrowing reports.

Now, the French public was beginning to see the prison camp system as deeply flawed…

Mon mari connaît beaucoup de gens qui pensent que le bagne ne devrait plus exister.

C’est une institution injuste et cruelle qui n’a pas sa place dans la France d’aujourd’hui.

J’espère vraiment que tu as raison.

Je ne dois pas abandonner.

Et je ne dois pas perdre espoir.

Marie went home that night feeling invigorated.

She wrote to Alexandre that times were changing, that there was still hope for his release.

But when Alexandre’s response came in the mail, he sounded skeptical.

Ma pauvre maman, tu te bats tellement pour ma libération… Mais je ne sais pas si cela sert à quelque chose.

Penses-tu vraiment que le pouvoir bourgeois va me libérer ?

Alexandre didn’t have much faith in his mother’s efforts.

But Marie redoubled her letter-writing campaign, this time, with the support of Romanitza and her husband.

They introduced Marie to some friends in high places: journalists, elected officials.

They all seemed sympathetic, but for several years, not much happened.

Then, in 1925, Romanitza introduced Marie to a journalist called Louis Roubaud.

Le journaliste est venu chez moi.

Au début, j’étais très timide.

Il me posait beaucoup de questions.

Il a même voulu voir les lettres qu’Alexandre m’avait écrites depuis qu’il était au bagne.

J’ai hésité, mais Romanitza m’avait dit que je pouvais lui faire confiance.

Alors j’ai tout raconté à ce journaliste.

The following week, when Marie picked up the newspaper, her eyes welled up with tears.

There, as part of a special report on the injustice of le bagne, was the article based on her interview.

The journalist described her as a courageous, determined mother who had never given up hope of seeing her son again.

Le journaliste racontait ce qu’il voyait dans les lettres d’Alexandre.

Pour lui, c'était un homme intelligent dans une terrible situation.

Son article parlait aussi de l'amour entre une mère et son fils.

C’était la première fois que quelqu’un d’aussi important demandait publiquement la libération d’Alexandre.

Cela m’a remplie d’espoir.

Emboldened by the newspaper article, Marie decided to write, once more, to ministers, to prison authorities… And why not, to the new French President! She would ask for a presidential pardon for her son.

Monsieur le président, je suis une pauvre mère qui vous implore la pitié pour son enfant.

Mon malheureux fils a été condamné au bagne jusqu’à la fin de sa vie, mais c’est un très bon fils.

Et ce que je veux plus que tout, c’est revoir mon fils avant ma mort.

Marie mailed the letter… Now, all she could do was wait.

She knew the letter might never reach the president.

Still, every day, she checked her mailbox.

Then one day…

Un jour, en rentrant chez moi, j’ai ouvert ma boîte aux lettres, comme tous les jours.

À l’intérieur, j’ai vu un petit télégramme.

J’étais sûre que c’était la réponse, positive ou négative ! Mon cœur battait très vite.

With a trembling hand, Marie pulled the telegram out of the mailbox.

She took a deep breath.

Then she opened it, and read the words:

« Madame, par décision de Monsieur le président de la République, votre fils sera déplacé et finira sa condamnation en France métropolitaine. »

The president had decided Alexandre could serve the rest of his sentence en France Metropolitaine, in mainland France.

Marie felt her legs go limp.

Alexandre was coming home.

In October 1925, Alexandre Jacob, prisoner 34777, embarked on a steamship one last time.

It wasn’t the daring prison escape he’d vowed to make 20 years earlier… But now, at age 46, he was leaving le bagne for good.

Je n’aurais jamais pensé que la France écouterait un jour les plaintes d’une pauvre dame.

Mais ma mère m’a prouvé le contraire.

Elle n’a jamais abandonné.

Finalement, la plus courageuse de nous tous, c’était elle.

On a cold December day in 1927, Alexandre put on the first civilian clothes he had worn in over two decades, and stepped out onto the streets of France a free man.

A woman was waiting for him on the sidewalk, her shawl wrapped tightly against the cold.

She was small and wrinkled, but her gaze was sharp, and she held her head proudly.

After 21 years, Marie had brought her son home.

Maman, ma chère maman…

Mon Alexandre, mon Alexandre… Enfin ! Tu es libre !

Merci, Maman.

Merci pour tout.

Je t’aime si fort.

Je ne te quitterai plus jamais, c’est promis.

And so began the final chapter in the tumultuous life of Rebel Thief Alexandre Jacob.

His thieving days were long over… So many of his friends and accomplices had died in captivity.

Rose était morte en prison ; mes camarades aussi.

Félix et Léon qui étaient avec moi pour le dernier vol à Abbeville.

Même Marius, qui m’avait aidé à m'échapper de l’asile psychiatrique.

Ils sont tous morts en prison.

La prison, c’était juste un moyen de tuer les gens lentement.

C’était une grande injustice.

But despite the loss of his companions and the hardships he endured in prison, Alexandre’s spirit remained unbroken.

He joined a thriving community of marchands forains, fairground merchants, and surrounded himself with friends.

He even found love again.

Alexandre also became a vocal critic of le bagne, speaking out against its inhumanity until the entire system was abolished, in 1953.

La prison ne m’a jamais enlevé le plaisir de vivre.

Ni mon désir de me battre pour ce qui était juste.

Though he remained an anarchist at heart, he promised his mother that he’d never again have run-ins with the law.

And he stayed true to his word.

He lived by her side until she died peacefully in their home, at the age of 81.

The final decades of Alexandre’s life were quiet.

He was beloved by friends and known to neighbors as a generous man.

One month shy of his 75th birthday, feeling his health declining, Alexandre decided to exit the world on his own terms.

He spent the last of his money to host a feast for nine poor children from his village.

After they had gone, he washed the dishes, closed all the windows, and lit the charcoal stove.

Then he pulled out a small bottle of morphine from his pantry.

Jusqu'au dernier moment, j'aurai le sourire aux lèvres, et le souvenir de mes camarades dans le cœur.

Alexandre read the warning label on the bottle… Then he unscrewed the top and downed its contents in one gulp.

Friends found his body the following morning.

He seemed to be smiling, asleep in his armchair.

Next to him, in characteristic Alexandre fashion, he’d left a short handwritten note:

« Vous trouverez deux litres de vin rosé dans la cuisine.

À votre santé. »

And that’s it for “The Rebel Thief,” Le voleur rebelle, based on the real-life story of Alexandre Marius Jacob.

The Duolingo French Podcast is produced by Duolingo and Adonde Media.

Our Lead Producer for this season was Lorena Galliot.

Our Production Manager was Román Frontini.

Our co-writers were Lorena Galliot and Pierre-Louis Vernier.

Our assistant producer was Justine Hagard.

Additional editorial and production support were provided by Martine Chaussard and Adélie Pojzman-Pontay.

Mixing and sound designers were Samia Bouzid, Morgane Fouse and David De Luca.

Our Mastering Engineer was Laurent Apffel, who also composed our original music and gave voice to the character of Alexandre Jacob.

Our lead creative producer at Duolingo was Laura Macomber.

Duolingo story editing and French language support was provided by Alexa Fernández, Jérémy Belgarde, Stephanie da Silva Leite, Lisa Bromberg, Emma Gibson, Sharon Wilkinson, Tim Shey, and Elizabeth Strong.

Voice actors for this series were Laurent Apffel, Lambert Bastar, Marie Benati, Edouard Dossetto, Danielle Acker, Jérôme Ruiz and Ewunia.

Musicians for the original score were Carla Seron, Manuel Torres and Matias Mahns, who also composed additional music.

Additional voices and sound recording were provided by Jourdan Lucente, Alexandra Chaigneau, Boris Beugard, Vincent Kambouchnère, Pablo Chevalier and Léna Allibert of the Collectif Nuit Orange.

We’d also like to thank Martin Cruz and Antonio Romero for their guidance on sound, Gonzalo Castro and Isabel Vásquez for operations support as well as Adélie Pojzman-Pontay, Martine Chaussard, Justine Hagard, Jérémy Belgarde, Jérémy Davis, Jules Darmanin, Ludovic Eugène, Louis Descombes, Michel Peretti, François Xavier Cardot, Valentin Thierry, Philippe Lunardelli, Annika Schimmer, Cesar Vichido and Israel Vichido for their voice or sound contributions.

Special thanks to the historian and author Jean-Marc Delpech for sharing his encyclopedic knowledge of all things Alexandre Jacob with us.