Chapter III: Part 3

“The duke,” says the president De Thou, had taken counsel with Claude de la Chastre and his son, and had resolved to make an effort for liberty on August 15th, the fête of the Virgin. He took the communion on that day, in order to deceive his guards and to remove all suspicion of his intention from their minds. He had remarked that it was their custom to close the doors after dinner, and to take the keys to the sheriff. On August 15th, accordingly, when the men were seated at their meal in the large hall, he quietly locked them in, and ran with great speed to the top of a high tower which lay nearest to the bridge beyond the city, first taking care to bolt the door behind him.

“Everything succeeded according to his wish. His trusty valet, who aided him on the occasion, was waiting for him at the top of the tower, holding a cord in his hand, with a piece of wood tied transversely to the end of it, to form a seat for the duke and facilitate his descent. When all was ready the valet let the cord go gently, and his master reached the ground in safety. The man then fastened the rope firmly to a stake, and at greater peril followed the duke, who had already hurried away along the course of the river, and whom he did not overtake till he reached Saint-Côme.

“The guards were in great consternation. Rouvray, the Governor of Tours, sent the news of the escape in all directions, with orders to the neighbouring population to take up arms and put themselves on the track of the fugitives. He had previously broken open the door of the tower; but the men employed in the work, finding no traces of their former prisoner, joined their companions, who were running wildly about the city. A great deal of time was wasted in the search for the keys of the bridge gate and the various doors of the chateau, for all the doors were opened at hazard, as it was not known what direction the fugitives had taken.”

“As soon as the duke reached the ground,” says Davila, “he took the road into the country by the Loire, and soon found two men holding a horse ready for him to mount. Galloping hard, he presently joined the Baron de Maison, son of the Lord de la Chastre, who, with three hundred horsemen, attended him beyond the Cher, and who sent the escort on with him to Bourges, where he not only found safety but was received with every demonstration of joy.” (_Ludovic Lalanne: Curiosities of Biography._)

_MARY DE’ MEDICIS._

1619.

Mary de’ Medicis, after the assassination of her favourite, Concini, seeing herself shut out from all participation in affairs by the intrigues of Luynes, asked for and obtained permission to retire to Blois (May, 1617), where she soon became a prisoner. Luynes surrounded her with spies, and placed two companies of cavalry in the neighbouring villages, with orders to watch her slightest movements. But the Duke d’Épernon and other malcontent lords, who had retired from the court, wishing to give more importance to their party, sought to deliver the Queen-mother and to place her at their head.

M. d’Épernon was chiefly urged on to this enterprise by a devoted adherent of the Queen-mother, named De Ruccellai, who had no other thought than how to serve his mistress, and no other inspiration than a passionate desire to see her at liberty. After long meditation over various plans, Ruccellai thought that no person could be made so useful to him as M. de Bouillon, on account both of that nobleman’s reputation among all classes of his countrymen, particularly among the Huguenots, and of the security which was afforded by his retreat at Sedan. He accordingly made a secret journey to Blois, and obtained the Queen-mother’s permission to speak to M. de Bouillon, and to promise him whatever might be necessary, in her name. He then sought out M. de Bouillon, but at very great peril, for he was obliged to travel by night and alone, for fear of being discovered. M. de Bouillon, however, excused himself from all participation in the design on account of his age, his infirmities, and his good understanding with the King, which he was unwilling to risk, as he had no other wish than to enjoy the benefits of that mercy which had been extended to him after the death of Marshal d’Ancre, and to end his days in peace. He, however, referred the Queen-mother’s messenger to M. d’Épernon, who, being extremely ill-satisfied with De Luynes, and having, besides, a number of large establishments in the kingdom, would be likely to prove far more serviceable in the cause than himself.

Ruccellai, having written to the Queen-mother and obtained her consent to this change of plan, laid his proposals before M. d’Épernon. The latter at first received them with some suspicion, but he was finally won over. At the end of a secret conference at his house, which lasted several days, he authorised Ruccellai to tell the Queen that if she could once contrive to escape from the chateau, and to pass the bridge on the Loire, he would await her arrival on the other side of the river, with such an escort as would conduct her safely, in spite of every obstacle, to Angoulême, or any other part of the kingdom to which she might choose to go. The Queen replied that nothing would be more easy; and Ruccellai pressed D’Épernon to hasten the execution of his part of the plan; but the latter insisted on putting off the enterprise till the February of the following year.

De Luynes, ever suspicious, and wishing to discover the real feelings of the Queen, sent one of his creatures to her, to say that the King was shortly going to Blois, and that he would fetch her away with him. The envoy also made repeated protestations of service on the part of De Luynes, and assured the Queen that she would in future be treated exactly in accordance with her own desires; but he never failed, while proffering these services, to narrowly watch the countenances of the Queen and all who approached her, to gather what he could of their real feelings. But not one of the Queen’s people was yet aware of her design; and as she had already sworn without scruple, so she did not hesitate to swear again, and that so well, that the agent of De Luynes went back firmly persuaded that she was impatient for the coming of the King, and was perfectly ready to be on good terms with his master and forget everything.

D’Épernon, having completed his measures, went to Confolens, where the Archbishop of Toulouse was waiting for him, with two hundred of his friends; but he did not find the expected news of the Queen-mother. He had, however, gone too far to recede; and he at once sent M. du Plessis to the Queen, to warn her of his arrival and to learn her wishes. When M. du Plessis had delivered his message, the Queen decided on setting out that same night.

She then for the first time took others into her confidence, and broke the matter to the Count de Brennes, her master of the horse, to M. de Merçay, and another officer of her body guard, and to the Signora Caterine, her woman of the bedchamber. She ordered the Count de Brennes to be at the door of her room at five the next morning, and to see that her travelling chariot with six horses was at the same time beyond the bridge. The others she kept with her all night, to pack up her jewels and wearing apparel.

With these three gentlemen then, and a single woman of the bedchamber, she left the place on the 22nd of February, at six in the morning, by the window of a room looking out upon the terrace, from which, owing to a broken wall, it was easy to reach the ground without passing by the door of the chateau. After the Queen had let herself glide down this ruin, and had regained her feet, she made her way to the bridge, where she met two men, one of whom, seeing her almost alone at that early hour, passed a very uncharitable judgment upon her. The other, however, recognised her, guessed her purpose, and wished her “God speed.”

On the other side of the bridge she found her carriage, and entering it, with her attendants she went to Montrichard, where she came up with one of her gentlemen, who had preceded her to make sure of the passage of the Cher. She remained there two days, during which time she wrote to the King, and then she set out for Angoulême.

After long conferences and innumerable intrigues, in which De Luynes and Richelieu, then Bishop of Luçon, displayed all their ability, Mary de’ Medicis, seeing all her partisans abandoning her interests in their anxiety to carry on a quarrel among themselves, left Angoulême for Tours, where Louis XIII. and Anne of Austria were waiting for her. They received her at about two leagues from the city, and lavished upon her the most affectionate caresses. She passed seven or eight days with them, and then withdrew for a time to Chinon, until the preparations were completed for her grand entry into Angers.--(_Memoirs of Fontenay-Mareuil._)

_GROTIUS._

1621.

Grotius was involved in the ruin of Barneveldt, for whom he had a very great admiration, and whose partisan he had been; and was sentenced to perpetual imprisonment, and the confiscation of all his property. He was confined in the castle of Louvenstein, near Gorcum. This was in 1619, when he was in his thirty-sixth year. He was very closely guarded, and the only consolation he enjoyed was that of the company of his wife, Marie de Reygesberg, who had obtained permission to visit him. The boon was accompanied by this cruel condition, that if she left the prison she would not be allowed to return to it. After a time, however, the severity of this rule was slightly relaxed, and she was allowed to leave the place twice a week.

Grotius had been some eighteen months at Louvenstein, when Muys van Holi, one of his declared enemies, who had also been one of his judges, warned the States-General that he had received certain information of the prisoner’s intention to escape. An agent was at once sent to the castle, to examine into the truth of the report, but he returned without having been able to find anything in confirmation of it. It was, however, so far true, that Marie de Reygesberg was constantly occupied with a design for effecting her husband’s liberation.

The prisoner had been allowed to borrow books of his friends, and when he had read them they were sent away in a large trunk, together with his linen, which was washed at Gorcum. During the first year the guards had never once failed to make a close search of this trunk whenever it was sent out of the prison; but tired at length of turning over nothing but dirty linen and books, they used to allow it to pass without examination. Their negligence did not escape the notice of the prisoner’s wife, and it occurred to her that she might take advantage of it. She discussed her plans with her husband, and persuaded him to let himself be shut up in the trunk, first taking care to bore several small holes in it at either end for the admission of air. When all was ready, the intended escape was rehearsed. The prisoner was shut up in the trunk during the time usually occupied by the journey to Gorcum, and this experiment was repeated several times, until he had grown tolerably accustomed to all the inconveniences of the situation. The adventurous pair then awaited nothing but a favourable moment for carrying out their design.

This soon came: the commandant of the fortress left the place for a short time on business; and before his departure the brave wife sought an interview with him, and obtained his permission to send away the trunk full of books, alleging as a reason that her husband being very weak, she wished to place the temptation to study beyond his reach. On leaving the commandant she immediately returned to the apartment occupied by Grotius, and shut him up in the trunk. His valet and a female servant were in the secret, and she caused them to spread the report of her husband’s illness among the soldiers, so that his temporary absence from his accustomed place of resort within the castle might occasion no surprise. Two soldiers were then brought in to carry the trunk, and one of them finding it very heavy, observed: “There must be an Arminian inside,” in allusion to the sect, flourishing at this epoch, to which Grotius belonged. The wife replied calmly, “In truth there are some Arminian books.” The chest was then lowered to the ground by means of a ladder, though not without great difficulty. The soldier who had found it too heavy was by no means satisfied with the explanation he had received; and he insisted that the trunk should be opened, in order that he might see what it really contained. He even went so far as to communicate his suspicions to the wife of the commandant, but the lady, either through negligence, or with the deliberate intention of refusing to notice what she had no desire to see, declined to listen to him. She replied, that the trunk contained nothing but books, as the wife of Grotius had assured her, and that it might be taken to the boat. This was done, and the female servant was allowed to take charge of it and to convey it to a certain house in Gorcum, as she had been ordered to do. She steadily refused, on its arrival at the landing-place, to have it placed on a sledge along with the rest of the luggage, on the ground that it was full of very fragile articles, which might easily be damaged. It was accordingly lifted into a hand barrow, and wheeled to the house of David Dazelaër, a friend of Grotius, and a relation of Marie de Reygesberg. When the woman found herself alone with her charge, she lifted the lid of the chest, and her master leaped out safe and sound, though he had suffered somewhat from his long confinement in a space three feet and a half in length. He at once assumed the dress of a mason; and taking a rule and trowel in his hand, he left the house by a back door

and made his way across the square of Gorcum to a gate of the city leading to the river. Here he again took boat and went to Valvic, in Brabant, whence, after making himself known to some Arminian friends, he set out by coach for Anvers, using great precautions on the way to prevent discovery.

Meanwhile, the report of his illness was still current at Louvenstein; and his wife, in order to gain time for him, assured every one that he was in great danger. As soon, however, as she learned, by the return of the servant, that he had reached Brabant, and was, consequently, in safety, she boldly told the guards that their bird had flown. The commandant, who had just returned, ran at once to the prisoner’s apartment and ordered the courageous woman to say where her husband was hidden. She suffered him to spend some time in a fruitless search, and then informed him of the stratagem by which he had been duped. She was at once imprisoned, more rigorously than ever Grotius had been; but she petitioned the States-General, and in a few days was permitted to rejoin the husband for whose liberty she had risked so much.

_ISAAC ARNAULD._

1635.

During the winter of 1635, Isaac Arnauld was governor of Philipsburg--a place well fortified by earthworks and a large ditch (the water of which was constantly frozen), but very insufficiently garrisoned. “The Imperialists, who were well informed of everything,” says the Abbé Arnauld, in his “Memoirs,” “had little difficulty in forming their plan of attack and putting it into execution.” When they entered the place they found the garrison under arms, but too weak to sustain a general assault. All the courage and conduct of the governor availed him nothing but to make a desperate defence and to sell his liberty dearly, after nearly all the garrison had been put to the sword. He was obliged to surrender, with a few companions who survived the slaughter; and after having been imprisoned in several places, was at length taken to Esslingen.

To add to the miseries of his situation, he was doomed to hear that he was openly accused, at the Court of France, of having lost Philipsburg by his negligence. From that moment he had but one thought--namely, how he could escape and clear his character before his sovereign; and with this view he steadily refused to become a prisoner on parole. His design was not easy of execution, for he was constantly guarded by soldiers, who accompanied him, even in his walks in the grounds of the fortress, and slept outside the door of his room at night. These difficulties, however, served only to give a stimulus to his invention. He carefully measured with his eye the exact height of his window which opened on the ditch of the fortress, and he became convinced that he had only to make the descent in safety to gain his liberty. He began by gaining the connivance of some French cavalry soldiers who were in the service of the Emperor, with the promise of giving them employment in his own regiment of carabineers, on his return to France; and he afterwards kept his word. The great and almost the only difficulty was to find rope for the descent, for there was but little to fear from the watchfulness of the garrison, the ditch beneath his window being very poorly guarded. To that end he always urged his confederates, when he was taking exercise, to pretend to be amusing themselves with various games, which they were always the more ready to do as he never failed to encourage them with liberal supplies of drink. After a short time, indeed, they proposed the games themselves, and seemed to take a real pleasure in them. One of these games, called Girding the Ass, was peculiarly favourable to his design, for it involved the use of a cord for binding the principal player. Arnauld always found a piece of silver for the purchase of this cord, and never asked for the change. When the game was over, the cord, being too small to seem worth keeping, used to be thrown away, and those who were in the prisoner’s interest took care to pick it up and give it him without attracting attention. When he had as many pieces as he judged necessary for his purpose, he put his scheme into execution, and escaped with the soldiers who had helped him; and he used such diligence that his friends first received the news of his liberty from his own lips.

On his arrival at Paris he constituted himself, by his own act, a prisoner in the Bastille, and demanded a full inquiry into the allegations against him. He remained there several months, until he had cleared his character, and he then consented to be set free. (_Memoirs of the Abbé Arnauld._)

_THE DUKE OF BEAUFORT._

1648.

The Duke of Beaufort, one of the chiefs of the party of the Fronde, was accused of having tried to assassinate Cardinal Mazarin, and was arrested at the Louvre, by order of Anne of Austria, and imprisoned in the tower of Vincennes. He remained there five years, but at length made his escape by the aid of his friends. The story is best told in the words of Madame de Motteville:--

“On the Day of Pentecost, the 1st of June, 1648, the Duke of Beaufort, who had been confined for five years at Vincennes, escaped from his prison at about twelve at noon. He found means to break his fetters, through the skill of his friends and of some of his own people, who served him faithfully on this occasion. He was closely watched by an officer of the body-guard, and by seven or eight soldiers, who slept in his room and had orders never to lose sight of him. He was waited on, besides, by the King’s own servants, and was not allowed to have one of his own men near him; and, moreover, Chavigny, the Governor of Vincennes, was unfriendly to him. The officer in charge of him, La Ramée, yielding to the request of some companions, had secretly given an asylum in the prison to a certain person, who alleged that he had fought a duel and that he wished to escape the penalty of his offence. There is some reason, however, to believe that he had been taken to Vincennes by the creatures of Beaufort, and probably with the knowledge of the officer; but I cannot speak positively as to this circumstance, and I am unwilling to deceive myself by mere appearances.

“At first this man, willing to make himself useful, played more zeal than any one else in his self-imposed service of watching the prisoner, and even did not shrink from rudeness, as the Queen was informed when this story was told to her. But whether he was at first there for the Duke of Beaufort, or against him, he presently allowed himself to be gained over by that prince, and he became useful to him by communicating with his friend and informing him of the schemes that were on foot for his release. When the time was ripe for the execution of their designs, the confederates expressly chose the Day of Pentecost, because every one was engaged in Divine service during that solemn fête. While the guards were at dinner, the Duke of Beaufort asked La Ramée to allow him to take a walk in a gallery, to which he had sometimes been permitted to have access. This gallery, although lower than the donjon in which the duke was confined, was, nevertheless, at a great height from the ditch, on which it looked. La Ramée followed his prisoner in his walk, and remained alone with him in the gallery. Meanwhile, the man whom the duke had gained had gone to dinner with the others, but, after taking a little wine, he feigned illness and left the table, as though to seek the fresh air of the gallery, taking care, on his way, to fasten several doors that were between his companions and their prisoner. As soon as he had joined the duke, the two threw themselves upon La Ramée so suddenly that he had not time to cry out. He was easily overpowered, for the duke alone was a very strong man. They were unwilling to take his life, though prudence might have dictated that course; but they gagged and bound him very securely, and left him on the floor. They then tied a cord to the window and slid, one after the other, to the ground, the man going first, as the one who would have been the most severely punished if their flight had been prevented. The depth of the ditch is so great, that although their rope was a very long one, they were obliged to drop a considerable distance. The servant suffered no injury from the fall, but the duke came to the earth with such violence that he fainted, and it took some time to bring him to himself. When he was sufficiently recovered, four or five of his people, who were on the other side of the ditch, and who had witnessed his sufferings with an anxiety that may easily be conceived, threw another rope to the fugitives, and by means of it drew them up by sheer force of arm to their own side--the servant taking precedence of his master, as before, in accordance with the engagement between them, which the duke most faithfully observed throughout the affair. When he reached the bank, the duke was in a very poor plight, for he had not only been wounded in falling, but his flesh had been cruelly pressed and cut by the tightened rope. But having a little recovered his strength, as much by his own natural force of will as by his fear of losing the reward of all his exertions, he raised himself and walked into a neighbouring wood, where he found a troop of fifty horsemen ready to do his bidding. One of his gentlemen, who was with him at the time, has since told me that the duke’s joy at seeing himself again at liberty and among his friends was such that it seemed to cure him in an instant, and that he leaped on horseback and vanished like a flash of lightning, as though he were mad with joy at the idea of being able to breathe the air without restraint, and to say with King Francis, when he set foot in France, on his return from Spain, ‘I am free!’ A woman gathering herbs by the side of the ditch, with her little son, saw all that passed; but the men in ambush had so threatened them, and they had besides, so little interest in preventing the escape of the duke, that they were perfectly still and became passive spectators of all that passed. As soon, however, as the fugitives were gone the woman ran with the news to her husband, the gardener of the place, and the two together alarmed the guard. But it was too late; it was not for man to change what God had ordained, for the stars, which seem sometimes to register the decrees of sovereigns, had already informed many persons, through an astrologer, named Goësel, that the duke would leave the chateau that very day. The news had a great effect on the whole court, and particularly on those who knew something of the duke’s plans. The minister was, no doubt, a good deal annoyed at the success of the little plot; but, true to his old habit, he did not make any display of his feelings.”

Madame de Motteville afterwards adds, “The Queen and Cardinal Mazarin talk very good-naturedly about it, and say laughingly, that M. de Beaufort has done right.”

_CARDINAL DE RETZ._

1654.

In December, 1652, Cardinal de Retz, who had played so considerable a part in the troubles of the Fronde, was wasting his time in fruitless negotiations with the ministers, when he was arrested at the Louvre and taken to Vincennes. He did not like his prison, and he had therefore to do what was very distasteful to him--namely, to make a humble appeal to the Archbishop of Paris, ere he could procure his transfer to the Chateau of Nantes, then under the governorship of Chalucet. From thence in due time he made his escape; and he gives us the following account of the exploit in his memoirs:--

“The Marshal de la Meilleraye and the First President de Bellièvre came together to fetch me from Vincennes. As the marshal was a martyr to the gout he could not come upstairs, so that M. Bellièvre alone came to my room, and this gave him an opportunity to tell me, as we were leaving it together, that I was to be sure not to give my parole when I was asked for it. I had no sooner reached the bottom of the staircase than the marshal demanded this pledge. I replied, that though I had heard of prisoners of war being required to give their parole, I did not know that the demand was customary in the case of prisoners of state. M. de Bellièvre then struck in on my side and said, ‘You don’t understand one another. The cardinal will not refuse to give his word provided only that you (turning to the marshal) confide absolutely in him, and let him walk about without guards; but if you guard him, monsieur, of what use will his parole be, for a man who is guarded is free from all obligations of honour?’

“The First President knew very well what he was about in saying this, for he had heard the Queen make the marshal promise that they should never lose sight of me. ‘You know,’ replied the marshal, looking M. de Bellièvre in the face, ‘whether or not I am able to do what you propose. But come,’ he continued, turning to me, ‘I must guard you, then, it seems; however, I will take care that you have nothing to complain of.’

“I remained there simply under the charge of M. de la Meilleraye, and he kept his word, for it would have been impossible to add to the kindness with which he treated me. I saw everybody; I had even all the amusements I desired, including a comedy almost every evening. All the ladies were there, and they supped with me very often. The fidelity of the guards to their trust was equal to their good nature. They never lost sight of me except when I entered my room, and the only door of this room was watched by six men, day and night. The window--a very high one--looked out on a courtyard, always filled with soldiers, and the six men appointed to look after me used to watch me from a terrace when I was taking exercise in a little garden planted in a kind of bastion or ravelin on a level with the water.

“I resolved, however, to devote all my energies to the recovery of my liberty. The First President urged me very strongly to make the attempt, and Montresor had sent me, through a lady of Nantes, a note containing the following words:--‘You are to be taken to Brest at the end of the month, if you don’t get away.’ But my task was by no means an easy one. The first thing was to amuse the marshal, and in doing that I did not forget that the most suspicious persons are often the most easily duped. I then spoke to M. de Brissac, who made journeys to Nantes from time to time, and who promised to help me. As he carried a great deal with him he invariably had a number of mules in his train, and it occurred to me that I might easily hide myself in one of the large trunks fastened to these creatures’ backs. A trunk was accordingly made for me somewhat larger than the rest, and with a hole or two in it to admit air. I tried it myself, and came to the conclusion that this means of escape was not only practicable, but that it was as easy as it was simple, and that it would not oblige me to share my secret with many persons.

“M. de Brissac, too, was very much in favour of it at first, but in the course of a journey to Machecoul he quite changed his opinion. On his return to Nantes he assured me that I could not fail to be suffocated in the trunk; but to convince me that his good intentions on my behalf remained the same, he told me that if I devised some other plan I might reckon on very effectual help from him in all that concerned the outside of the castle. We therefore began to take new measures on a plan which I formed myself the moment I became convinced that the other one could not be put into execution.

“I have already said that I used sometimes to take exercise on a kind of ravelin that gives on the river Loire. As we were in the month of August, and the river was very dry, the water did not quite touch the wall of the ravelin, but left a long strip of shore visible at the foot of it. Between the garden which was on the top of this bastion and the terrace where my guards took their station, there was a door, which Chalucet had had made to prevent the soldiers from stealing his grapes. This circumstance shaped my plan, which was to quietly fasten the door after me one day without letting the guards observe what I was doing, and then, while they could still see me through the open trellis-work, without being able to reach me if their suspicions should be aroused, to drop down from the wall by means of a rope provided for me by my doctor and the Abbé Rousseau, and to jump on horseback at the bottom of the ravelin with four gentlemen, whom I intended to make the companions of my flight. This plan was, of course, very difficult of execution. It could only be carried out in open day, between two sentries standing but thirty paces apart, and in full view of the six guards who could fire at me through the openings in the trellis-work. It was necessary again that the four gentlemen who were to accompany me and to favour my escape should be careful to be at the foot of the ravelin at exactly the proper time, for their presence there a moment too early would excite suspicions that might ruin all. If my object had merely been to get out of prison it would have been enough for me to have taken only such measures as I have already indicated; but I had very much more to do besides, for it was my intention to make my way to Paris and to appear there in public. And more than that, I had other pretensions that entailed difficulties of a still more formidable nature. It was desirable that I should travel from Nantes to Paris by diligence, for the couriers of the marshal would be certain to carry the alarm along every road, and it would be impossible for me to avoid observation and arrest if I travelled alone. And lastly, I should have to take care to inform my friends in Paris of my intentions while keeping my enemies there in ignorance of them. No event of our time would be more extraordinary than the success of an escape like mine, if the end of it were at the same time to free me from my fetters and to make me master of the capital of the kingdom.

“I began my flight on Saturday the 8th of April, at five o’clock in the evening. The little garden door closed, so to speak, quite naturally after me, and I slid down easily (with a stick between my legs) from the bastion, which was forty feet high. My valet de chambre, Fromentin, who is with me still, kept the guards occupied by giving them drink, and they became quite absorbed in the amusement of watching a Jacobin, who had got out of his depth in the river and was drowning under the castle walls. The sentinel who was but seventy paces from me, but in such a position that he could not reach me, hesitated to fire, because the moment I saw him getting his match ready I called out to him that he would be hanged if he did me harm, and he afterwards declared that this led him to believe I was escaping with the connivance of the marshal. Two little pages, who were bathing, and who saw me hanging by the rope, cried out lustily that I was trying to get away, but no attention was paid to them, because it was thought that they were merely calling for help for the drowning Jacobin. The four gentlemen were waiting for me at the bottom of the ravelin, where they pretended to be watering their horses as though they were just getting ready for the chase. To be brief, I was on horseback myself before the least alarm had been given, and as I had forty relays placed between Nantes and Paris, I should infallibly have reached the capital had not an accident occurred which I may say has exercised a fatal influence over the rest of my life.

“The moment I got to horse I took the road to Mauve--which is, if I am not mistaken, at about five leagues from Nantes by the river. It was agreed that M. de Brissac and the Chevalier de Sévigné should be in readiness there with a boat to carry me over. La Ralde, master of the horse to the Duke de Brissac, who preceded me, told me that I must gallop very fast, so as not to give the marshal’s guards time to close the gate of a little street in their quarter through which we should have to pass. I was mounted on one of the best horses in the world, which had cost M. de Brissac a thousand crowns, but I did not let him have his head, because the pavement was very bad and very slippery. We were making great speed when one of my gentlemen having suddenly warned me to take to my pistols because two of the marshal’s guards were approaching--who, however, were not paying the least attention to us--I unfortunately followed his advice, and was in the act of presenting the pistol at the nearest guard, when it exploded and frightened my horse, which reared and threw me. I fell with great violence against a door-post and broke my left shoulder. Another of my gentlemen, named Beauchesne, lifted me up and put me on horseback again: and though I endured such frightful sufferings that I was obliged every now and then to pull my hair to save myself from fainting, I finished my ride of five leagues before the grand-master, who followed at full speed with all the couriers of Nantes, could come up with me. I found M. de Brissac and the Chevalier de Sévigné at the appointed place by the river, but I fainted the moment I entered the boat. They brought me to myself by throwing water in my face. I wanted to get on horseback again when we had passed the river, but I lacked the strength; and Monsieur de Brissac was obliged to put me in a stack of hay, where he left me with one of my gentlemen, named Montet, who held me in his arms. He took Joly away with him, who, with Montet, had alone been able to follow us, the horses of the others having broken down: and he went straight to Beaupreau, with the intention of assembling the nobility there to come to my aid.

“I was hidden there above seven hours, suffering agonies such as I can hardly describe. My shoulder was put out of joint, and I was covered with terrible bruises. I was seized with a fever at about nine o’clock in the evening, and the pain that gave me was cruelly aggravated by the heat of the hay. I did not dare drink, although I was on the bank of the river, because if Montet and I had quitted our hiding-place there would have been no one to arrange the hay after us; and this circumstance would have put our pursuers on our track. As it was, we heard the horse-soldiers passing to right and left of us. M. de la Poise St. Offanges, a gentleman of some distinction in the district, whom M. de Brissac had informed of my plight, came at about two o’clock in the morning to take me away from the stack as soon as he had remarked that there were no more horse-soldiers in the neighbourhood.

“Monsieur d’Offanges put me upon a hand-barrow and had me wheeled by two peasants to a barn at about two leagues from the place, where I was again covered with hay; but as I now had something to drink I found myself in a state of almost perfect comfort.

“In about seven or eight hours Monsieur and Madame Brissac came to fetch me with about fifteen or twenty horses, and they took me to Beaupreau, where I only remained one night, while the nobility were being called together. In this short time M. de Brissac had assembled more than two hundred gentlemen, who were joined at about four leagues from the place by three hundred gentlemen under M. de Retz. We passed almost within sight of Nantes, from which place some of the marshal’s guards came to intercept us. They were vigorously repulsed and driven within the barrier, and we arrived at Machecoul, which is in the district of De Retz, in perfect safety.”

From Machecoul, Cardinal de Retz was taken, not without difficulty, to Belle-Isle; and some days after he reached San Sebastian, whence he went with Spanish passports to Rome. (_Memoirs of Cardinal de Retz._)

_QUIQUÉRAN DE BEAUJEU._

1671.

Paul-Antoine Quiquéran de Beaujeu, Knight of Malta, had acquired the reputation of one of the first seamen of his time by the number and success of his fights against the Turks. In the month of January, 1660, he was driven by a storm into one of the worst ports of the Archipelago, where he was blockaded and attacked by thirty galleys of Rhodes, commanded by the Capitan Pacha Mazamet in person. He stood out against an overpowering fire for an entire day, and only yielded when he had spent all his ammunition and lost three-fourths of his crew. He was put into irons and carried away in triumph; but the victorious fleet was assailed with a new storm of such violence that Mazamet was obliged to have recourse to the superior seamanship of his captive. M. de Beaujeu saved him, and so won the gratitude of the Turk that the latter, with a view to rescue his preserver, placed him for concealment among the lowest slaves. The grand vizier, however, who had probably been informed of this stratagem, demanded the illustrious prisoner by name; and recognising Beaujeu by his haughty air, he picked him out from among the slaves and sent him to the Seven Towers, bidding him give up all hope of ransom or of exchange. The Porte rejected every proposal made for his release, although the King interceded for him, and the Venetians sought in vain to have his name included in the terms of the Treaty of Candia. One of his nephews, about twenty-two years of age, then formed a plan for effecting his release and he executed it in the most brilliant and successful manner. He first went to Constantinople with M. de Nointel, the ambassador of France, and there he was allowed to see the prisoner--that permission being freely granted to every one on account of the supposed safety of the place. No other precaution was taken than that of searching the visitors, who were obliged, before seeing the prisoners, to give up their arms, their pocket-knives, and even their keys.

M. de Beaujeu was at first alarmed at a proposal which threatened to have very dangerous results; but eleven years of imprisonment, his natural taste for hazardous enterprises, and the contagious example of the young man’s courage and enthusiasm soon decided him to give his consent to the attempt. His nephew then began to carry him at each visit a small piece of rope, which he placed round his body; and when he thought he had enough of it for his purpose, he fixed on the day, the hour, and the signal for his departure. When the signal was given, the chevalier slid down from the walls; but finding the rope somewhat too short, he let himself drop into the sea, which washes the base of the Seven Towers. The splash of the falling body was heard by some Turks passing in a brigantine, and they made towards the fugitive; but the nephew, reaching him first in a well-armed skiff, drove them off, picked up his uncle, and took him on board one of the King’s ships, commanded by his friend the Count d’Apremont. The vessel carried him safely to France, where he lived a long while in the bosom of his family, as Commandant of Bordeaux.

The Governor of the Seven Towers was put to death for permitting his escape.

_CHARLES II._

1680.

Charles had landed in Scotland to attempt to reconquer the throne of the Stuarts, and had been doomed to witness the ruin of all his hopes at the disastrous battle of Worcester. He had displayed great courage on that occasion, but he had been compelled to take to flight, with many of his bravest and most distinguished officers. The following narrative, extracted from a fuller account in the Pepys MS., is in his own words:--

“After that the battle was so absolutely lost as to be beyond hope of recovery, I began to think of the best way of saving myself, and the first thought that came into my

head was, that, if I could possibly, I would get to London as soon, if not sooner, than the news of our defeat could get thither; and it being near dark I talked with some, especially with my Lord Rochester, who was then Wilmot, about their opinions which would be the best way for me to escape, it being impossible, as I thought, to get back to Scotland. I found them mightily distracted, and their opinions different, of the possibility of getting to Scotland; but not one agreeing with mine for going to London, saving my Lord Wilmot; and the truth is I did not impart my design of going to London to any but my Lord Wilmot. But we had such a number of beaten men with us of the horse that I strove, as soon as it was dark, to get from them; and though I could not get them to stand by me against the enemy, I could not get rid of them now I had a mind to it. So we--that is, my Lord Duke of Buckingham, Lauderdale, Derby, Wilmot, Tom Blague, Duke Darcey, and several others of my servants--went along northwards towards Scotland; and at last we got about sixty that were gentlemen and officers, and slipped away out of the high road that goes to Lancashire, and kept on the right hand, letting all the beaten men go along the great road; and ourselves not knowing very well which way to go, for it was then too late for us to get to London on horseback, riding directly for it; nor could we do it, because there were many people of quality with us that I could not get rid of.

“So we rode through a town short of Wolverhampton, betwixt that and Worcester, and went through, there lying a troop of the enemies there that night. We rode very quietly through the town, they having nobody to watch, nor they suspecting us more than we did them, which I learnt afterwards from a country fellow.

“We went that night about twenty miles, to a place called White Lady’s, hard by Tong Castle, by the advice of Mr. Giffard, where we stopped and got some little refreshment of bread and cheese, such as we could get, it being just beginning to be day. This White Lady’s was a private house, that Mr. Giffard, who was a Staffordshire man, had told me belonged to honest people that lived thereabouts.

“And just as we came thither there came in a country fellow, that told us there were three thousand of our horse just hard by Tong Castle, upon the heath, all in disorder, under David Leslie and some other of the general officers; upon which there were some of the people of quality that were with me, who were very earnest that I should go to him and endeavour to go into Scotland, which I thought was absolutely impossible, knowing very well they would all rise upon us, and that men who had deserted me when they were in good order would never stand to me when they had been beaten.

“This made me take the resolution of putting myself into a disguise, and endeavouring to get a-foot to London in a country fellow’s habit, with a pair of ordinary grey cloth breeches, a leathern doublet, and a green jerkin, which I took in the house of White Lady’s. I also cut my hair very short, and flung my clothes into a privy-house, that nobody might see that anybody had been stripping themselves, I acquainting none with my resolution of going to London but my Lord Wilmot, they all desiring me not to acquaint them with what I intended to do, because they knew not what they might be forced to confess; on which consideration they with one voice begged of me not to tell them what I intended to do.

“So all the persons of quality and officers who were with me--except my Lord Wilmot, with whom a place was agreed upon for our meeting in London if we escaped, and who endeavoured to go on horseback, in regard, as I think, of his being too big to go on foot--were resolved to go and join with the three thousand disordered horse, thinking to get away with them to Scotland. But, as I did before believe, they were all routed by a single troop of horse; which shows that my opinion was not wrong in not sticking to men who had run away.

“As soon as I was disguised I took with me a country fellow, whose name was Richard Penderell, whom Mr. Giffard had undertaken to answer for to be an honest man. He was a Roman Catholic, and I chose to trust them, because I knew they had hiding-places for priests, that I thought I might make use of in case of need.

“I was no sooner gone out of the house with this country fellow (being the next morning after the battle, and then broad day) but as I was in a great wood, I sat myself at the edge of the wood, near the highway that was there, the better to see who came after us, and whether they made any search after the runaways, and I immediately saw a troop of horse coming by, which I conceived to be the same troop that beat our three thousand horse; but it did not look like a troop of the army’s, but of the militia, for the fellow before it did not look at all like a soldier.

“In this wood I stayed all night, without meat or drink, and by great good fortune it rained all the time, which hindered them, as I believe, from coming into the wood to search for men that might be fled thither; and one thing is remarkable enough, that those with whom I have since spoken, of them that joined with the horse upon the heath, did say that it rained little or nothing with them all the day, but only in the wood where I was--thus contributing to my safety.

“As I was in the wood I talked with the fellow about getting towards London, and asking many questions about what gentlemen he knew. I did not find he knew any man of quality in the way towards London. And the truth is my mind changed as I lay in the wood, and I resolved on another way of making my escape; which was, to get over the Severn into Wales, and so to get either to Swansea or some other of the sea towns that I knew had commerce with France, to the end I might get over that way, as being a way that I thought none would suspect my taking; besides that I remembered several honest gentlemen that were of my acquaintance in Wales.

“So that night as soon as it was dark, Richard Penderell and I took our journey on foot towards the Severn, intending to pass over a ferry half way between Bridgenorth and Shrewsbury. But as we were going in the night, we came up by a mill, where I heard some people talking (memorandum that I had got some bread and cheese the night before at one of the Penderells’ houses, I not going in) and as we conceived it was about twelve or one o’clock at night, and the country fellow desired me not to answer if anybody should ask me any questions because I had not the accent of the country.