many of his class, Berryer was a man of feeling; he promised to intercede for him with the marchioness, and in the meanwhile, he endeavoured to make him as comfortable as a man could be who was robbed of his liberty. To make the time pass less heavily, he gave him a comrade, a Jew, a man of abilities, Abuzaglo by name, who was accused of being a secret British agent. The two captives soon became friends; Abuzaglo had hopes of speedy liberation through the influence of the Prince of Conti, and he promised to obtain the exercise of that influence in behalf of his companion. Latude, on his part, in case of his being first released, bound himself to strain every nerve to rescue Abuzaglo. Ever on the watch to catch the conversation of the prisoners, the jailors appear to have obtained a knowledge of the hopes and reciprocal engagements of the friends. When Latude had been four months at the Bastile, three turnkeys entered, and said that an order was come to set him free. Abuzaglo embraced him, and conjured him to remember his promise. But no sooner had the joyful Latude crossed the threshold of his prison, than he was told that he was only going to be removed to Vincennes. Abuzaglo was liberated shortly after; but believing that Latude was free, and had broken his word to him, he ceased to take an interest in his fate. It is not wonderful that the health of Latude gave way under the pressure of grief and disappointment. M. Berryer came to console him, removed him to the most comfortable apartment in the castle, and allowed him to walk daily for two hours in the garden. But he did not conceal that the marchioness was inflexible; and in consequence of this, the captive, who felt a prophetic fear that he was destined to perpetual imprisonment, resolved to make an attempt to escape. Nearly nine months elapsed before he could find an opportunity to carry his plan into effect. The moment at length arrived. One of his fellow-prisoners, an ecclesiastic, was frequently visited by an abbé; and this circumstance he made the basis of his project. To succeed, it was necessary for him to elude the vigilance of two turnkeys, who guarded him when he walked, and of four sentinels, who watched the outer doors; and this was no easy matter. the turnkeys, one often waited in the garden while the other went to fetch the prisoner. Latude began by accustoming the second turnkey to see him hurry down-stairs, and join the first in the garden. When the day came on which he was determined to take flight, he, as usual, passed rapidly down the stairs. without exciting any suspicion, his keeper having no doubt that he should find him in the garden. At the bottom was a Of door, which he hastily bolted to prevent the second turnkey from giving the alarm to his companion. Successful thus far, he knocked at the gate which led out of the castle. It was opened, and with an appearance of much eagerness, he asked for the abbé, and was answered that the sentinel had not seen him. 'Our priest has been waiting for him in the garden more than two hours,' exclaimed Latude; 'I have been running after him in all directions to no purpose; but, egad, he shall pay me for my running!' He was allowed to pass. He repeated the same inquiry to the three other sentinels, received similar answers, and at last found himself beyond his prison walls. Avoiding as much as possible the high road, he traversed the fields and vineyards, and finally reached Paris, where he shut himself up in a retired lodging. In the first moments of recovered liberty, the feelings of Latude were those of unmixed pleasure. They were, however, soon alloyed by doubt, apprehension, and anxiety. What was he to do? whither was he to fly? To remain concealed was impossible, and even had it been possible, would have been only another kind of captivity; to fly from the kingdom was nearly if not quite as difficult; and besides, he was reluctant to give up the gaieties of the capital and his prospects of advancement. In this dilemma he romantically determined to throw himself upon the generosity of his persecutor. 'I drew up,' says he, 'a memorial, which I addressed to the king. I spoke in it of Madame de Pompadour with respect, and of my fault towards her with repentance. I entreated she would be satisfied with the punishment I had undergone; or, if fourteen months' imprisonment had not expiated my offence, I ventured to implore the clemency of her I had offended, and threw myself on the mercy of my sovereign. concluded my memorial by naming the asylum I had chosen.' To use such language was indeed sounding the very base strings of humility. I This appeal of the sheep to the wolf was answered in a wolf-like manner. Latude was arrested without delay, and immured in the Bastile. It was a part of the tactics of the prison to inspire hopes, for the purpose of adding the pain of disappointment to the other sufferings of a prisoner. He was accordingly told that he was taken into custody merely to ascertain by what means he had escaped. He gave a candid account of the stratagem to which he had resorted; but instead of being set free, as he had foolishly expected, he was thrown into a dungeon, and subjected to the harshest treatment. Again his compassionate friend, the lieutenant of police, came to his relief. He could not release him from his dungeon, but did all that lay in his power to render it less wearisome. He condoled with him; tried, but in vain, to soften his tormentor; and, as a loophole in the vault admitted light enough to allow of reading, he ordered him to be supplied with books, pens, ink, and paper. For six months these resources enabled Latude to bear his fate with some degree of fortitude. His patience was then exhausted, and he gave way to rage and despair, in the paroxysms of which he vented his angry feelings in epigrams and satirical verses. One of these compositions, which is certainly not deficient in bitterness, he was imprudent enough to write on the margin of a book which had been lent to him. Latude had taken the precaution to write this in a feigned hand; but he was not aware that, whenever a prisoner returned a book, every page of it was carefully examined. The jailors discovered the epigram, and took the took the volume to John Lebel, the governor, who dutifully hastened to lay it before the marchioness. Her fury was extreme. Sending for M. Berryer, she exclaimed to him, in a voice half-smothered with passion, 'See here! learn to know the man for whom you are so much interested, and dare again to solicit my clemency!' Eighteen dreary months passed away, during which Latude was strictly confined to He his dungeon, scarcely hearing the sound of a human voice. At last M. Berryer took upon himself the responsibility of removing him to a better apartment, and even allowing him to have the attendance of a servant. Cochar, was found willing to A young man, named undertake the monotonous and soul-depressing task of being domestic to a prisoner. was gentle and sympathizing, and in so far was qualified for his office; but he had miscalculated his own strength, and the weight of the burden he was to bear. He drooped, and in a short time he was stretched on the bed of mortal sickness. Fresh air and liberty might have saved him. he could not obtain; for it was Those, however, a rule that the fate of any one who entered into the service of a prisoner, became linked with that of his master, and that he must not expect to quit the Bastile till his employer was set at large. It was not till Cochar was expiring, that the jailors would so much as consent to remove him from the chamber of Latude. Within three months from his entrance into the Bastile he ceased to exist. Latude was inconsolable for the loss of the poor youth, who had always endeavoured to comfort him, as long as he had spirits to do so. To mitigate his grief, M. Berryer obtained for him the society of a fellowcaptive, who could scarcely fail to have a perfect communion H to of feeling with him. This new | Latude, on the contrary, with a associate, D'Alegre by name, sort of insane energy, and his was about his own age, full of mind immediately began activity, spirit, and talent, and revolve projects of escape. The had committed the irremissible very idea of escaping would crime of offending the Mar- seem to be indicative of madchioness de Pompadour. Tak-ness. ing it for granted that she was reclaimable, though on what ground he did so it would be difficult to discover, he had written to her a letter, in which he apprized her of the public hatred, and pointed out the means by which he thought she might remove it, and become an object of affection. For giving this advice, he had already spent three years within the walls of the Bastile. Yet his woes were now only beginning. The unfortunate D'Alegre had ample cause to lament his having forgotten the scriptural injunction, not to cast pearls before swine. M. Berryer took the same warm interest in D'Alegre as in Latude. He was indefatigable in his exertions to obtain their pardon; and for a while he flattered himself that he should succeed. At last, wearied by his importunity, the marchioness vowed that her vengeance should be perpetual, and she commanded him never again to mention their names. He was therefore obliged to communicate to them the melancholy tidings, that their chains could be broken only by her disgrace or death. D'Alegre was almost overwhelmed by the first shock of this intelligence; it inspired 'As we cast our eyes,' says Latude, 'on the walls of the Bastile, which are above six feet thick, four iron bars at the windows, and as many in the chimney; and as we considered by how many armed men the prison is guarded, the height of the walls, and the trenches most commonly full of water,-it seemed morally impossible for two prisoners immured in a cell, and destitute of human assistance, to make their escape. 'It was necessary to have 1400 feet of cord, two ladders, one of wood, from twenty to thirty feet in length, and another of rope 180; to remove several iron bars from the chimney, and to bore a hole in one night through a wall many feet thick, at the distance of only | fifteen feet from a sentinel. It was necessary to create the articles I have mentioned to accomplish our escape, and we had no resource but our own hands. It was necessary to conceal the wooden and the rope ladder of 250 steps, a foot long and an inch thick, and several other prohibited particulars, in a prisoner's room; though the officers, accompanied by the turnkey, paid us a visit many times a week, and hon oured our persons with a strict examination. 'You must have been confined in the Bastile to know how wretches are treated there. Figure to yourself ten years spent in a room without seeing or speaking to the prisoner over your head. Many times have there been immured the husband, the wife, and a family of children, for a number of years, without either apprehending that a relation was near. You never hear any news there; let the king die, let the ministry be totally changed, you are not told a syllable of the matter. The officers, the surgeon, the turnkeys, say nothing to you but "Good morning!" "Good evening!" "Do you stand in "Do you stand in need of anything?" 'There is a chapel, in which is daily performed one mass, and on holidays and Sundays three. In the chapel are five little closets; the prisoner is placed in one of these, when the magistrate gives him leave to be present at the celebration of that ceremony; he is taken back after the elevation, so that no priest ever views the face of a prisoner, and the latter never sees more than the back of the priest. M. Berryer had granted me permission to hear mass on Sundays and Wednesdays, and had allowed the same liberty to my companion. He had given that leave also to the prisoner who lodged above us. I had observed that this prisoner never made any noise; did not so much as move his chair, nor even cough, etc. He went to mass on our days, descended the first, and returned up-stairs after us. My mind being constantly intent on my scheme of escaping, I told my companion that I had a mind to take a view of the stranger's room at our return from mass; and I desired him to forward my wish, by putting his tweezer-case in his handkerchief, and when we had regained the second story, to contrive, by pulling out his handkerchief, that the tweezer-case should fall down the stairs to the greatest distance possible; and that he should desire the turnkey, who usually attended us, to go and pick it up. This was no sooner proposed than done. Being foremost, I ran up without loss of time, drew back the bolt, and opened the door. I examined the height of the room, and found it could not be above ten feet. I shut the door again, and had leisure to measure one, two, and three steps of the staircase; I counted their number from that chamber to ours, and discovered a difference of about five feet. As the separation was not a stone arch, I readily perceived that it could not be five feet thick, and consequently must be double. I then said to my companion, "Never despair! With a little patience and courage we may make our escape. Here is my estimate: there is a drum between the room on the third storey and ours." |