Coelius Secundus Curion, a zealous Lutheran, having dared to give the lie in open church to a Jacobin who had heaped on him the most odious calumnies from the pulpit, was immediately arrested by order of the inquisitor of Turin. He was dragged from prison to prison, but he at last made his escape so cleverly that his enemies could only account for it by accusing him of magic. In order to exculpate himself from an accusation extremely dangerous at that time, he published an account of his escape in a little Latin dialogue, entitled “Probus,” from which we select the following passages for translation:—

“I had been shut up for eight days in my new prison,” says Curion, “with my feet fastened to enormous pieces of wood, when, by nothing less than a sudden inspiration from Heaven, I was urged to supplicate the young man in charge of me to release me from at least one of my fetters. The other, as I pointed out to him, would be quite heavy enough to ensure my safe custody. As he was merciful, and bore no malice against me, he at length suffered himself to be persuaded, and set one of my feet at liberty. He had no sooner left me than I set to work to carry out a plan I had already formed for my escape. I tore my shirt into shreds, and taking off my stocking and slipper, stuffed them with these rags till I had made a very fair model of a leg and foot. But though the form and contour of the flesh were there, you had only to touch the new limb to find that it was lamentably deficient in bone. What was to be done? I looked about everywhere, till at last my eye lighted on a stick hidden away under a settle. I seized it eagerly and soon fashioned bones for my leg; and then, hiding my real limb under my cloak, I sat calmly awaiting the success of my ruse. After a time the young man came in to pay me his usual visit and to ask me how I did. ‘I should feel better,’ I said, pointing to my dummy, ‘if you would kindly fasten this leg to the fetter and let me give the other a rest.’ He consented, and chained up my false limb with all imaginable care.”

The rest is soon told. The prisoner waited till nightfall, and as soon as he heard his attendants snoring, quietly parted company with his fettered leg, undressed it, clothed himself again, and softly stole out of his cell, which no one had taken the trouble to fasten on the outside. Even then his difficulties were not at an end; but he at length found means to scale the outer walls of his prison and to regain his liberty. (Ludovic Lalanne: Curiosities of Biography.)