ASERS DE LATUDE, son of the Marquis de Latude, a military officer of rank and distinction, was born in Languedoc, 1725. Like his father, he was educated for the military profession, and in his twenty-fourth year was studying engineering in Paris, when by his own folly he involved himself in misfortunes that

may almost be termed monumental.

The Marquise de Pompadour was at this time in the meridian of her beauty and power. Latude had seen her and fallen a victim to her charms. In this he differed nothing from many hundreds of young men in Paris. But the means by which he tried to attract her notice were as original as they proved unfortunate.

He was sitting one sunny morning on a bench in the garden of the Tuileries, when two men in hot argument passed down the gravel walk before him. So deeply engaged were they in their discussion as to forget the likelihood of being overheard. Latude overheard them. Their theme was the iniquity of Madame de Pompadour; and it supplied the young man with a scheme.

It was original, but clumsy nevertheless. He placed in the post a small cardboard box containing a packet of harmless powder, addressed to the Marchioness. Then, donning his best suit, he went straight to Versailles and demanded admission to the Pompadour's apartments. She received him, and listened

to his story. He had overheard (he said) a conspiracy against her life; had seen the two men he suspected dropping a small packet into the post; and had come straight to Versailles in the apprehension that the packet contained some subtle poison.

The Pompadour was all gratitude; attempted to reward him with a purse of gold; dismissed him with many kindly expressions, and then sat down to reflect. As a result of her reflections she took the trouble to procure a specimen of the handwriting of her soi-disant preserver, compared it with that of the address on the cardboard packet, and, finding them identical, flew into a passion and planned a revenge.

A few days later M. de Latude found himself in the Bastille.

He remained there four months, shut in a narrow cell in the Tour du Cour. Then, one day, three turnkeys entered his cell with the news that Madame la Marquise had relented, and that he was free. Joyfully enough Latude stepped across the threshold-and was carried off to a new prison, the Castle of Vincennes. The Marquise, in fact, was inflexible and Latude (though bestowed in a comfortable apartment and allowed to walk daily for two hours in the garden) began to think his imprisonment was intended to last for life. So he bent his thoughts on escape.

"I kept up my heart," says he, "in the hope that I should one day be free, and the conviction that this freedom would be due to my own efforts, not to the favour of my gaolers. I was for ever hatching plans.

"Among my fellow-prisoners was an aged priest, who used to appear every day in the castle garden. He had been deprived of his liberty a long while on account of his leanings to Jansenism. He was often visited by an Abbé of St. Sauveur, and devoted a great part of his leisure to teaching the officer's children their letters. When in the company of his little pupils he was permitted to go almost where he pleased; and usually took his walk about the time when I was led into a small garden on the other side of the wall. Two turnkeys used to escort me on my leaving my cell, and again on my return; but occasionally the senior of the two would await me in the garden, while his junior came up alone to let me out. By degrees I accustomed this man to see me run down the staircase. in front of him and join his comrade in the garden, so that he always moved very leisurely when he came to fetch me.

'On a certain day I had resolved, at any cost, to make an attempt at escape. As soon, therefore, as he came into my cell, I ran downstairs for my life, and, hastily bolting the staircase door on the outside, left him a prisoner within. I had now four sentinels to deal with. The first stood on the other side of a door that led from the dungeon-a door that was always closed.

"I knocked the door was opened.

"Where is the Abbé of St. Sauveur ?' I asked rapidly. Our priest has been awaiting him in the garden for more than two hours. I've been looking

for him everywhere.'

"As I spoke, I ran forward till I came to the second sentinel. To him I put the same question, and he allowed me to pass in the same way; and to a third, posted on the other side of the drawbridge, with whom I was just as successful. The fourth sentinel, seeing I had passed the others, did not for a moment suspect I was a prisoner. I crossed the threshold of the outside gate. I ran forward until out of sight. I was free!

"I made my way across the fields, keeping off the highway as much as possible; and at length I came to Paris, where I hired furnished lodgings, and tasted the pleasures of liberty to their full extent with a palate sharpened by fourteen months of captivity."

So far, so good. But though the escape was neat, how was Latude to remain in hiding? To escape from France was as difficult. Latude resolved to throw himself on the generosity of his persecutors. He drew up a memorial to the King, writing of Madame de Pompadour in respectful terms, and of his fault with contrition. He entreated that her vengeance might be satisfied with what he had already suffered, and concluded by naming his place of hiding.

Latude had been ill-advised to put his trust in princes. He was answered by a visit of the police, who promptly arrested and carried him off to the Bastille. They assured him he was merely in custody that he might explain his late escape. He did so, and was at once clapped in a strong dungeon. For eighteen months he endured the harshest treatment in this place, when M. Berryer, a lieutenant of police, and a former friend of Latude's, interposed on the side of clemency. The unfortunate young man was removed to a more spacious room, and even allowed an attendant. A young fellow named Cochar undertook the post of servant to the prisoner, but over-calculated his strength to bear up against the perpetual confinement for which he so heroically volunteered. He pined away, and though at last removed into freedom, tasted it only to die.

Latude at first was inconsolable. But after a while M. Berryer supplied a new comrade, this time a fellow-prisoner, D'Alègre by name, who also had offended the petulant Marquise. So sick was she by this at repeated petitions for the pardon of the two youths for D'Alègre was about the same age as Latude that she vowed their imprisonment should be perpetual. The lieutenant of police was forced to break the news to the pair, that, until her death or disgrace, hope for them was vain. And here Latude shall be left to tell his own story.

"Under these circumstances, young men could come to but one resolve-to escape or perish. But to anyone able to form the faintest idea of the Bastille, this project must seem little short of madness. As our eyes rested on its walls, which are above six feet thick, on the four iron bars in the windows of our cell, on the four iron bars in the chinney; and as we considered by how many armed men the prison is guarded, the height of its walls, the water in its moats, it seemed impossible for two prisoners, without human help, to

make their escape. Yet in my project I knew what I was about, and hope, in the sequel, I shall be credited with a soul something above the ordinary.

"It was no use to think of escaping from the Bastille by the gates; and, the ground being thus denied me, there was but one other course to mount into the air. Our room had a chimney that ran to the top of the tower; but this, like every other in the place, was (as I have hinted) so fortified with iron bars as scarce to leave a passage for the smoke. Moreover, anyone making his way to the top of the tower would find himself cut off from the surrounding buildings with a ditch, commanded by a high wall, about 200 feet below him.

"Here is a list of our necessities:-We must climb to the top of the chimney in spite of the iron bars; we must have 1,400 feet of cord and two ladders-one of rope, 250 steps in length, to reach the foot of the tower; and a second of wood, between twenty and thirty feet long, for mounting the ditch beyond. We must make these ourselves, and therefore must procure tools and materials; and having made, we must hide them, though the officers, with the turnkey, paid us a visit several times a week, and strictly searched our persons.

"Figure to yourselves ten years passed in a room where you can neither see nor speak with the prisoner above your head. Many times, and for many years, has a whole family-husband, wife, and children-been immured in the Bastille without either guessing that a relative was near. You never learn any

news kings die, ministries are changed, you hear not a syllable. The officers, the surgeon, the gaolers say, 'Good morning!' 'Good evening!' 'Do you want anything?' That is all.

"Well, my first care was to find out a hiding-place for my implements, &c., as soon as I should procure them; and at length I hit on a bright idea. I had been in several rooms in the Bastille, and had always known if the one above or below me were occupied, by the noise the prisoner made. On this occasion I heard sounds from above, but none from below; and yet I knew there was someone in the room beneath. This made me guess there must be a double

thickness of boards between us. I determined to find out.

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There was a chapel in the Bastille where mass was celebrated once a day during the week, and on Sundays and holidays thrice. Permission to attend it is rarely granted; but I and my comrade enjoyed it, as did the prisoner below us. Now in the chapel are five small compartments: the prisoner is placed in one of these during the ceremony; he is taken back after the elevation; and so the priest never views the face of a prisoner, nor does the prisoner see more of the priest than his back. The prisoner below us went to mass on our days, descended the first, and returned to his cell after us. So now I told my companion I had a mind to take a view of the stranger's room on from mass.

our return

"This was how I desired him to help me. He was to put his tweezer-case into his handkerchief, and on regaining the second storey to contrive, by pulling

out the handkerchief, that the case should fall downstairs to the greatest possible distance. He must then immediately desire the turnkey, who attended us, to run back and pick it up.

"All this was perfectly managed. The turnkey descended to find the case: and I, being foremost, ran to our fellow-prisoner's room, shot back the bolt, and opened the door. I examined the height of the room, and found it about ten feet. I shut the door again, and had time to measure a step or two of the staircase. Then, counting the number of these steps between that chamber and our own, I found a difference of five feet. The ceiling was not of stone, so could not well be five feet thick. There must be a double partition! "My friend,' said I to D'Alègre on our return, a drum between the room below us and our own.'

we are saved! There is

"Drum!' said he 'suppose all the drums in the army were there, how are they to help us to escape?'

Nonsense we don't want the drums of the army; but if, as I am sure, there is a hollow to hide the ropes and other implements that I shall need, I will engage that we escape.'

"This is pretty talk of hiding ropes,' he answered impatiently. First of all we must get them.'

"Why, as to getting ropes, you need give yourself no trouble; for in my trunk here we have more than a thousand feet.'

Trunk Rope!'-he thought me mad. I know what your portmanteau holds-not a single yard of rope, I'll be sworn.'

'Indeed, yes,' I said, it holds twelve dozen of shirts, six dozen pairs of silk stockings, twelve dozen pairs of under-stockings, besides towels and drawers. Are these not enough for a rope of a thousand feet?'

"True; but how are we to remove the iron bars in our chimney? We have no instruments.'

"Said I, The hand is the instrument of all instruments. Look at the iron hinges of our folding-table. I will put each of these into a handle, and sharpen it to an edge on the tiled floor. We have a steel, too; and by breaking this I will manufacture, in less than two hours, a good knife to make the handles.'

"So I did. With a hinge from our table we managed to prise up a tile in the floor, and set about digging, with such success that in six hours we had picked a hole through the brickwork beneath, and found that my hasty calculation had not misled me. There was a clear space of four feet between our floor and the ceiling below. Henceforward we considered our escape a certainty. But this was work enough for one day. We swept all the rubbish back into the hole, and carefully replaced the tile.

Next day I broke our steel and made a penknife out of it. Our next operation was to unstitch two of my shirts and unravel them, drawing out one thread after another. These threads we carefully braided until we had a rope fifty-five feet long; and then, with the wood that was brought us for