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
[Illustration: He let himself drop into the sea.]
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.
“Just as we came to the mill, we could see the miller, as I believed,
sitting at the mill door, he being in white clothes, it being a very
dark night. He called out, ‘Who goes there?’ Upon which Richard
Penderell answered, ‘Neighbours going home,’ or some such like words,
whereupon the miller cried out, ‘If you be neighbours, stand, or I will
knock you down.’ Upon which we believing there was company in the
house, the fellow bade me follow him close, and he run to a gate that
went up a dirty lane, up a hill; and opening the gate the miller cried
out, ‘Rogues, rogues.’ And thereupon some men came out of the mill after
us, which I believed were soldiers. So we fell a-running both of us, up
the lane as long as we could run, it being very deep and very dirty,
till at last I bade him leap over a hedge, and lie still to hear if
anybody followed us, which we did, and continued lying upon the ground
about half an hour, when hearing nobody come, we continued our way on to
the village upon the Severn, where the fellow told me there was an
honest gentleman, one Mr. Woolfe, that lived in that town, where I might
be with great safety, for that he had hiding-holes for priests. But I
would not go in, till I knew a little of his mind whether he would
receive so dangerous a guest as me, and therefore stayed in a field,
under a hedge, by a great tree. Commanding him not to say it was I, but
only to ask Mr. Woolfe whether he would receive an English gentleman, a
person of quality, to hide him the next day, till we could travel again
by night--for I durst not go but by night.