# Protestant Exiles from France/Volume 2 - Book Third - Chapter 13 - Section IV

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De Laval.
A French Protestant nobleman, Henri d’Albret D’Ully, chevalier, Seigneur Vicomte de Laval, claimed descent from Henri IV. He had large estates in Picardy; his residence was the Chateau of Gourlencour. A picture of that mansion is still preserved, and many spacious white-washed residences in Portarlington are formed upon the model of that and of similar French chateaux. His wife was Magdeleine de Schelandre. The emissaries of persecution broke up this honoured and happy family in August 1688. He was imprisoned in Verneuill, and the Vicomtesse in Sedan. Several years were spent in vicissitudes between liberty and durance. Two of the children of this noble pair were born in French prisons. Sir Erasmus Borrowes possesses a manuscript address from the Vicomte to his children, dated from a prison, “De Guize, le 2 Avril 1689;” it is partly a narrative, and partly an affectionate religious exhortation. His eldest son (afterwards an officer in the British ​army) was kept in the dungeons of Laon, the old capital of France, from 1688 to 1705. A letter is extant which he addressed to his parents on his liberation, dated Fontaine, 4th March 1705.
The parents had made an earlier escape; the father’s imprisonment having terminated in the end of September 1689. They settled in Portarlington in 1695. Daniel David, son of the Vicomte de Laval, was born there, 25th October 1695; his sponsors were Captain David De Proisy, Chevalier et Seigneur de Chastelain d'Eppe, and Anne de Vinegoy, wife of Lieut-Col. Daniel Le Grand, Seigneur du Petit Bosc. In the reign of Queen Anne five of the Vicomte de Laval’s sons were in the British army; three of these gallant youths were killed in action. One of the younger sons, Louis, assumed the title of Sieur de Fontaine from one of the family estates. Other two were named Joseph and David. The former lost his life in the battle at sea between a British transport and a French ship-of-war, of which the venerable Pasteur Fontaine speaks when thanking God that his son, contrary to his own wish, did not embark in that transport. Louis and David de Laval were on that occasion taken prisoners and conveyed to France. The incidents of this mournful casualty are detailed in the following letter from Louis to one of his sisters:—
“May 26, 1709, Living at Mademoiselle de Grange’s, at Dinan in Bretagne.
“My dear Sister, — Since I saw you last I have endured great hardships. Having sailed for two days after our embarkation at Cork, on the third day we encountered a large man-of-war with fifty guns and a mortar; and although we had but 36 cannons, we fought the French for some time, until we lost a considerable number of men, and among the killed was my poor brother Joseph; he was shot with a cannon-ball, and poor Monsieur De Bette (from Portarlington), with a great many more besides. And when the French boarded us, they took from us all we had. and brought us into their own ship, and put the officers and us into a large room, where we lay on deck for three or four nights before we came to land. They disembarked us at Brest, where we remained two days; and while we were there Captain Nicola (from Portarlington) gave David and me an English half-crown, and bid us to be as economical as possible, as he had only two for himself and his son; and we were allowed by the king only fivepence a day. They then sent us from Brest to Dinan, which is forty leagues distant; we performed most of the journey on foot, every league is three long miles. We were five days and a half on the journey, and David and I have walked twenty-one miles in a day. Had it not been for some gentlemen that were with us, we should never have been able to make the journey; for our officer was not with us, and did not know we were gone until after our departure. When we arrived at Dinan they put us into the castle, and there we lay on the ground on straw. The next day they allowed us to go into the town, where they gave us a lodging for fourpence a night, and agreed to dress our food. Excuse me to my father and mother, for I was unwilling to inform them of this bad news; and pray, dear sister, give my brother’s and my duty to my father and mother, and assure them that we are both well and wish to be with them:— and give our regards to my sisters and to all who enquire for us, whom it would be too long to name. Your loving brother till death,
“Louis Fontaine.”
Sir Erasmus Borrowes (in the Ulster Journal, vol. iii. p. 226) mentions Mrs Willis of Portarlington, the refugee’s great-granddaughter, then in possession of the family heirlooms, such as the picture of the Chateau, a wooden token representing the profile of Louis XIV., and the manuscript written in Guize prison and already described. I had permission to copy the French original (but time did not permit); I therefore reproduce and re-edit the translation by Sir Erasmus Borrowes of the most interesting portion of the manuscript:—
“1689. My dear children, when I spoke to you at the commencement of this letter of my captivity, I told you that it continued still with great inconveniences really insupportable, to the extent that I had lost all hope of ever seeing you again (of which my persecutors wished to convince me) unless I made you return to prison, assuring me that this was the only means to restore myself to liberty. But God was so merciful to me (notwithstanding the torments they inflicted on me) as to enable me to refuse compliance with a condition so cruel, and so prejudicial to your eternal salvation. You were too happy in leaving such a sink of vice that I should consent to plunge you into it again, by a cowardice unworthy of the name and profession of a Christian, and of a Christian enlightened by the Divine mercy through the Holy Gospel. You know that I was arrested by the police of Soissons on the 17th of August, and conducted into the prisons of Verneuill; and this was for being accused, as formerly was St. Paul, for the hope of Israel, — that is to say, for holding the name of God in the purity and the simplicity that it pleased him to reveal to us in his word, a crime which in France at present is esteemed the most fearful, and visited with punishment the most severe. This was the reason that I was so strictly guarded in a place most disagreeable and incommodious, in which I was nearly smothered by different kinds of animals, and where there was not even room to arrange ​a bed. I was not there long before I fell ill, and I beheld myself abandoned by the whole world. I heard from my friends, for it was not permitted to them to see me. But persons, who presented themselves for the purpose of annoying me, had all license for doing so, and of such people there were only too many to be found. Even your poor mother saw me but rarely and with the greatest difficulty, which obliged her, though very inconvenient from the approach of her accouchement, to make a journey to Soissons in order to try and obtain from our Intendant the favour that she should be allowed to take care of me in my illness, and that some kind of liberty should be afforded to me. Fearing that I could not survive for any length of time in such a miserable place, she offered to remain in prison herself in my place for some time; but they were inexorable to her prayers, and she returned without having obtained anything.
“You can imagine what was her sorrow and grief: however, the good God, who always paternally chastises his children, and who never strikes them with one hand but to raise them up with the other, bestowed on me strength and vigour to vanquish that illness, notwithstanding the hardships I had to bear. Thus, at the end of twelve days I found myself a little better, which made your mother resolve to take a secret journey into her country in order to receive some arrears that her father-in law owed us, the term of payment being past; and this is what has been partly the cause of all my sufferings, and of our having so long deferred following you. He wished for nothing so much as that some obstacle should present itself to prevent him from paying this money; accordingly he decided that the authority which I had given to your mother to receive that sum was not sufficient, because it had been drawn up in prison, and that a man, in the situation in which I was, could not legally negotiate or authorise it. Thus she found she had made a useless journey; and, to fill up the measure of her misfortunes, she found on her return that, because it was not yet bad enough with me, they had transferred me from the prisons of Verneuil to those of Guise.
“On the 27th September [1688] the police of Laon had orders to come and remove me, and to conduct me to Guise. I was not quite recovered from illness; however I had to travel, and they tied me with many cords on a horse. The officer who commanded the escort was an upright man, and had formerly conducted me to the prison of Sedan for the same cause of my religion. He said that he was touched at my condition, and assured me that they only transferred me that I might be better; but I well experienced the contrary. He excused himself for the cruel and inhuman manner in which they treated me, making me understand how express his orders were, and to what an extent he was forced to obey them; and as for me he esteemed me only too happy to be suffering for the profession of the truth. All the population of the town came out into the streets to see me; they had, indeed, seen me many times in a similar condition, but not tied and bound with cords, as I now was. I was visited by many melancholy thoughts during the journey; but never had anything so much afflicted me as, on arriving at Guise, to see a mob excited against me (who could do me no evil, because they were prevented) and heaping on me a thousand atrocious insults. I remembered that the Saviour of the world replied not to such outrages, and I had the honour to imitate him in that respect; nevertheless this heart, little regenerated, was with difficulty prevented from showing its resentment. How often did I ardently ask God to support me with patient self-possession under this insult. And then the words of the Prophet David in Psalm Sixty-nine came to my mind, where he says, For they persecute him whom thou hast smitten, and they talk to the grief of those whom thou hast wounded; this passage of Scripture for a long time occupied my thoughts, finding that it exactly suited my case.
“They lodged me in the most frightful part of the tower, so far removed from the business of the world that I neither saw nor heard anything but the gaoler, who came a moment each day to see what I was doing. I was two days and two nights without knowing if I was dead or alive, and consequently without dreaming of taking any nourishment. So much was I penetrated with grief and agony, and so extraordinary was my depression, that I could not even address God or invoke him, except by interrupted and unconnected prayers. The end of Psalm Seventy was continually on my lips, saying with the author, But I am poor and needy. Make haste to me, O God! Thou art my help, my deliverer. O Lord, make no tarrying. Reflecting upon these words, I pictured to myself, that my trials were similar to those of the prophet when he pronounced them, which gave me some consolation. But when I reflected that instead of lodging me better than when at Verneuil — as the officer who conducted me had made me hope— they now treated me with such rigour and inhumanity, it came into my head that they wished to make me a terrible example to the Reformed Christians in the Province.
“The image of death continually presented itself before me, which made me exclaim with the same prophet, as in Psalm Seventy seven. It was from what I said in that hour that God came to my assistance, or I should have died. I knew my weakness then, and how little I was disposed to be a martyr. On this subject I earnestly implored divine assistance to aid me, entreating that he would be pleased to accord me strength and courage to do nothing unworthy of the profession of a reformed Christian, of which I had the honour to experience the light. But God had not reserved me for so glorious a part as to seal His truth with my blood; of which I became aware seven or eight days after, by the arrival at Guise of the Intendant, who I knew was favourable to me.
“Your mother, the day after her return to Verneuil, set out again to see me. God willed that her journey was so à propos that she preceded the Intendant two or three hours only, ​during which she could see me but for a moment (notwithstanding any intercession she could make for that purpose), and only in the presence of a sergeant and four soldiers of the garrison, who attended her like her shadow. She had a number of particulars to relate to me respecting the journey she had just made in her country, but as it was impossible for her to impart them to me, I could draw nothing from her except sighs and tears, which she poured forth in abundance. Her escort dragged her away against her will, for the poor creature would have taken it as a great favour if they had detained her as a prisoner along with myself. This visit affected me much more deeply than any former one, so that I should have wished very much not to have seen her. Yet when the Intendant arrived, she besought him with so much determination, that he was compelled to yield to her importunity, so much so, that he permitted her not only to see me, but even to remain with me, and that, too, in a place a little less dreadful than that in which I had been, which they made me leave at once.
“This change so unexpected, and so agreeable to me that I regarded it as an interposition of Heaven, was (I believe) rather the effect of necessity than the result of any kind disposition they might have felt towards me. When I found myself in her society, and out of that detestable place, I seemed to have entered another world. All my unhappiness now was for my poor wife, who every moment expected her accouchement; she would willingly have been a captive for my sake, courageously despising all the inconveniences which she would meet with in a place where she would have nothing but solitude. This was one great cause of sorrow; although this was not the first time that by divine permission she was placed in a similar position, though more inconvenient. In fact you know that two years ago her accouchement took place in the prison of Sedan, she having been dragged from her bed (which from illness she had not left for six months) to be brought there. By the goodness of God she now, at the end of three weeks, notwithstanding all these miseries and calamities, brought into the world another fine boy, by whom the number of your brothers is again augmented.
“After I had been in prison seven months, they thought themselves obliged to bring my trial on, and for that purpose, on the last of January [1689] the police of Soissons brought me to the prison of Laon, to which place the Intendant arranged that the witnesses, along with the President, should go. With all these forms it was on the 27th of March that I was confronted with the witnesses, who had not much to say against me. I was kept before the bar for more than two hours to render an account of my faith and of what I was accused of, and particularly your flight, which they positively wished me to remedy by your return, although I had always borne witness that it was not in my power to do so. They exhibited an Order of Council which commanded the Intendant to treat me with all the rigour of the law. God gave me grace to reply to all their questions according to the promptings of my conscience, and boldly to confess the truth which we at one time so feebly defended. It now pleased Him to show His strength in my weakness, for in myself and in my flesh I recognize nothing but weakness. Sentence was pronounced that, as an expiation of my pretended crimes, I was still to remain in prison for six months — a sentence which was considered very favourable, and which I attribute to prayer to God on that and on ordinary occasions. I am much indebted to Mons. and Madlle. de Lussi who were most kind to me, and whom I shall remember with gratitude all my life. At present I have more license for writing than ever. May it please God to preserve us to the end of this persecution, to shield us from the storm and the tempest, and to conduct us by his goodness to the haven of salvation.”
The De Lussi family were cousins of the Lavals. Some of the ladies underwent what they call “a wretched imprisonment” in the convent of Soissons. Vicomte de Laval was an elder in Portarlington French Church; his signature, “Laval, ancien” may be seen in the Register. As a prominent member of the aristocratic colony, he lived in some grandeur. He was in the habit of wearing a cloak of scarlet cloth lined with ermine, a sword-buckle, knee-buckles, shoe-buckles, and a stock-buckle, all of silver, set with diamonds; and he always carried his hat under his arm.
The refugee Vicomte’s son, David, went back to France, where he retained the title of nobility, and resided in the chateau of his ancient family. By his wife, daughter of Colonel Paravicini, he had several sons and three daughters. In 1751, on the rising of fresh troubles in France, he brought his daughters over to Portarlington, and left them with an aunt. He was again in France in 1755, but returned to Ireland, and spent his last days in Portarlington. The last Vicomte, Robert, died unmarried. One of Vicomte David’s daughters was not married. Frances was married to a gentleman of good family, and had two daughters, one of whom was Mrs. Willis, wife of the Rev. Thomas Willis, D.D. The eldest daughter of David, Vicomte de Laval, was Mary Louisa Charlotte, wife of Gilbert Tarleton, Esq., of Portarlington. Her children were Harrietta, wife of Monsieur Castelfranc; Edward Tarleton, Esq. of Dublin (born 20th February 1764), and Captain Henry Tarleton, a military officer, killed in action. The heir of Edward Tarleton, Esq., is the Rev. John Rotheram Tarleton, rector of Tyholland, county of Monaghan, the representative of Vicomte de Laval. The chief relic, an heirloom, surviving from the refugee era, ​is an antique silver seal, having three faces engraved with — (1st) the arms of Vicomte de Laval; (2d) his monogram on a shield, surmounted by a French Vicomte’s coronet; and (3d) his wife’s portrait engraved on his heart, and surrounded with the sentimental motto, il y restera tant que je vivray. Mr. Tarleton cherishes the memory of his doubly illustrious French ancestry; one of his sons is Captain Edward De Laval Tarleton, of the Royal Artillery.