"SIRE,--I have been five times buried alive, and am well acquainted with misfortune. To have a heart more sympathetic than the common run of men it is necessary to have suffered great ills.... At the time of the Terror I had the delightful satisfaction of saving the lives of twenty-two poor wretches.... To petition Fouquet d'Etinville on behalf of the royalists was to persuade him that I was one myself. When I braved death in order to save the lives of twenty-two citizens, judge, great Emperor, if my heart can do ought but take great interest in you, the saviour of my beloved country." We are given some details of the last years of Latude's life in the _Memoirs_ of his friend, the Chevalier de Pougens, and in the _Memoirs_ of the Duchess d'Abrantès. The Chevalier tells us that at the age of seventy-five years he still enjoyed good health; he was "active and gay, and appeared to enjoy to the full the delights of existence. Every day he took long walks in Paris without experiencing the least fatigue. People were amazed to find _no trace_ of the cruel sufferings he had undergone in the cells during a captivity of thirty-five years." His popularity suffered no diminution under the Empire. Junot awarded him a pension from funds at his disposal. One day the general presented him to his wife, along with Madame Legros, whose side Latude never left. "When he arrived," says the Duchess d'Abrantès, "I went to greet him with a respect and an emotion that must have been truly edifying. I took him by the hand, conducted him to a chair, and put a cushion under his feet; in fact, he might have been my grandfather, whom I could not have treated better. At table I placed him on my right. But," adds the Duchess, "my enchantment was of short duration. He talked of nothing but his own adventures with appalling loquacity." At the age of eighty, a few months before his death, Latude wrote in the most familiar terms to his protector, the Chevalier de Pougens, a member of the Institute: "Now I assure you in the clearest possible words, that if within ten days of the present time, the 11th Messidor, you have not turned up in Paris (the Chevalier was staying at his country estate), I shall start the next day and come to you with the hunger of a giant and the thirst of a cabby, and when I have emptied your cellar and eaten you out of house and home you will see me play the second act of the comedy of _Jocrisse_[51]; you will see me run off with your plates, and dishes, and tankards, and bottles--empty, you may be sure--and fling all your furniture out of the window!"