"There is nothing in the pages of romance more wild than the adventures of this frivolous yet heroic woman. She slept in sheds, encountered a thousand hair-breadth escapes, and, with great sagacity, eluded the numerous bands who were scouring the country in quest of her. At one time, in an emergency, she threw herself upon the protection of a Republican, boldly entering his house, and saying, 'I am the Duchess of Berri: will you give me shelter?' He did not betray her. After such a journey of fifty days, she reached, on the 17th of May, the chateau of Plassac, near Saintes, in La Vendée, where a general rising of her friends was appointed for the 24th. Nearly all the Vendéan chiefs were then awaiting the summons. On the 21st of May, the duchess—still in the costume of a young peasant, presenting the aspect of a remarkably graceful and beautiful boy, and taking the name of 'Little Peter'—repaired on horseback to an appointed rendezvous at Meslier."[AK]
Here her disappointment was bitter. The Government troops were on the alert, fully prepared for any conflict. Her own friends were despairing. There was no enthusiasm manifested to enter upon an enterprise where defeat and death seemed inevitable. Passionately she entreated her friends not to abandon her, delineating the great risks she had run. It was all in vain. No general uprising could be secured. There were a few despairing conflicts, but the feeble bands of the insurgents rapidly melted away before the concentration of the Government troops.
Perilous wanderings.
Still, the duchess herself escaped capture. Accompanied by a single guide, and apparently insensible to hardship or peril, she wandered through the woods, often sleeping in the open air, and occasionally carried upon the shoulders of her attendant through the marshes.
"On one occasion," writes Alison, "when the pursuit was hottest, she found shelter in a ditch covered with bushes, while the soldiers in pursuit of her searched in vain, and probed with their bayonets every thicket in the wood with which it was environed. The variety, the fatigue, the dangers of her life, had inexpressible charms for a person of her ardent and romantic disposition. She often said, 'Don't speak to me of suffering. I was never so happy at Naples or Paris as now.'"[AL]
She took great pleasure in a variety of disguises. Sometimes, in the picturesque costume of a peasant-girl, with coarse wooden shoes on her little feet, she would enter a town filled with Royalist troops, and converse gayly with the gendarmes who guarded the gates. The coasts of France were so watched by Governmental vessels as to render her escape by water almost impossible. She consequently decided to seek a retreat in Nantes, a city in which she had so few adherents that no one would suspect her taking refuge there.
In the disguise of a peasant-girl, with one female companion, she entered the city, and was concealed by a few friends who perilled their lives in so doing. For several months she eluded all the efforts of the Government to find her. In the mean time, the partisans of the duchess were pursued and punished with the most terrible severity. No mercy was shown them. The duchess, from her retreat, kept up a lively correspondence with her friends, still hoping that fortune might turn in her favor. Pleading in behalf of these men, she wrote as follows to her aunt, the queen:
Letter to the queen.
"Whatever consequences may result for me, from the position in which I have placed myself while fulfilling my duties as a mother, I will never speak to you, madame, of my own interests. But brave men have become involved in danger for my son's sake, and I can not forbear from attempting whatever may be done with honor, in order to save them.
"I therefore entreat my aunt, whose goodness of heart and religious sentiment are known to me, to exert all her credit in their behalf. The bearer of this letter will furnish details respecting their situation. He will state that the judges given them are men against whom they have fought.