In truth, the Bastille was more a house of detention than anything else, and in many cases was regarded as a shelter or harbour of refuge from outside storms. Instances are frequent of men petitioning to be sent there to escape their enemies, and of others refusing to come out and be forced to meet their enemies. Moreover, if a young man of fashion contracted debts or low amours, or gambled, or was too intimate with undesirable women--as was the case with the Duc d'Estrées, the Duc de Mortemart, the Comte d'Harcourt, and others--nothing was more common than for his father to pack him off to the Bastille, accompanied by his tutor and his valet. Also, the Bastille was often regarded by the Parisians as a suitable object for poking fun at. Voltaire, after having been incarcerated there for objecting to being thrashed by the Chevalier de Rohan for being a poet, told Louis XV, when he promised to provide for him, that "he trusted his Majesty's provision would not again include board and lodging." Another poet, referring to the moat round the fortress, delivered himself of the lines: Que vois-je dans ce marécage Digne de curiosité, Se tenir sur sa gravité En citadel de village? A quoi sert ce vieux mur dans l'eau? Est-ce un aqueduc, un caveau? Est-ce un reservoir de grenouilles? And Langlet du Frosnoy (an abbé and a most prolific writer, who passed half his life in various prisons, and died at eighty by tumbling into the fire while reading a book) used to take his papers, his snuff, and his nightgown off to the Bastille when rearrested, and calmly go on with his work there on being once more locked up. As regards the surrender of the Bastille (for, as Marmontel truthfully says, it was only threatened with siege and never really besieged) in 1789, and the release of the "unhappy prisoners," it may be mentioned that there were but seven of them there, and that one was an imbecile Englishman named Whyte, whose friends had had him shut up to keep him out of harm's way. Four of the others were common forgers awaiting trial; the sixth was the Comte de Solages, detained at the request of his family and on their paying his expenses; and the seventh was Tavernier, a man who had conspired against the late King. No record of torture being practised in the Bastille--after the middle ages--can be found; while, as for food, the Kings allowed so fair a sum to each prisoner--generally one hundred sols, or five francs, a day--that often the latter petitioned that, instead of so many meals, they might be allowed some of the money for other things. In the case of a prince of the blood, fifty livres a day were allowed; for the Cardinal de Rohan one hundred and twenty were granted. Discipline had, however, to be maintained, and where the "guests" were too obstreperous they were sometimes confined alone in dark, solitary cells, instead of being in rooms with others for companions. Latude, who has been regarded as a