Profligate Lord Massereene turned his Parisian prison cell into a salon

Posted in Famous crimes, Historical articles, History, Law, Oddities on Wednesday, 28 August 2013

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This edited article about Lord Massereene originally appeared in Look and Learn issue number 386 published on 7 June 1969.

Lord Massereene, picture, image, illustration

The young Irish aristocrat, Lord Massereene ran up considerable debts in Paris, as he lived in lavish style surrounded by servants and clamouring creditors, before being taken to prison where he continued to live like a lord, by Paul Rainer

In the year 1779, a strange scene was enacted outside an elegant Paris mansion. An ornate sedan chair, borne by four splendidly-liveried lackeys, stopped at the mansion. The men set down the chair gently, and one rushed to open the golden door. A handsome youth in his middle twenties stepped out daintily, taking care not to rumple his silk damask coat with the pure gold buttons, or soil his gleaming buckled shoes and silk knee-breeches. He raised a gloved hand to adjust his powdered wig, then made his way towards the door.

At that moment a fat, fussy little man who had been waiting in the shadows, came quickly forward.

“Lord Massereene,” he said, “these bills simply must be paid! I will wait no longer.” As he spoke, he waved the bills in the air.

Lord Massereene ignored him, and, followed by his liveried footmen, made his way towards the door, which opened to receive him, revealing the elegance inside.

Puffing and blowing with anger, the creditor followed him, talking all the time: “Your Lordship, please listen to reason. You have had everything from us – beautiful jewels, and wonderful clothes from Monsieur Tarnesc. Yet you refuse to pay. Please. . . .”

The door slammed in his face. The tradesman shook his fist threateningly at the closed door. “Very well, my fine Lord. You shall go to prison!”

Lord Massereene, a handsome Irish youth of 27, had arrived in Paris to enjoy himself. With an income of 100,000 francs a year, he could afford to live like a lord. Instead of this, he lived like three lords and somehow in less than a month had spent 376,732 francs!

His creditors put their heads together and acted. One night Lord Massereene was arrested and taken by police to the dingy debtors’ prison at Fort L’Eveque. Knowing his love of luxury and easy life, his creditors were certain that a short stay would cure him. He would miss the gay parties he held in his Paris home, the reckless card games, the dancing, the fencing, the hunting.

Unfortunately for them, they forgot one thing. It is quite true that in France, as everywhere else, prisons were grim places, run by cruel and corrupt warders; that the sanitary conditions were terrible; that the food was usually uneatable and insufficient; that there were rat-infested dungeons away from light, air and human companionship. But it was only the really penniless prisoners who suffered these humiliations and hardships. Those who had a large income were allowed more comfortable quarters. The prison was run by a concierge and a small staff. Whereas creditors had to pay out of their own pockets for the support of poor prisoners, those with money coming in could buy what they pleased and the warders became their servants, only too glad to have a “guest” who could give them money.

Far from disliking prison, Massereene quite enjoyed it. For one thing, he was safe from the vexatious creditors. With an income of 100,000 francs, he could live like a prince. He furnished his apartments lavishly, kept huge stocks of the finest wines, had his meals prepared by the best chefs and had plenty of gay feminine company to dance and dine with him, lavishing on them jewels, expensive carriages and huge wardrobes of clothes for he could afford to pay for many of the things he wanted.

The outside of the prison looked grim enough, and the iron-barred gates were guarded by warders. But even inside prison he lived as happily as he had done before.

His creditors were speechless with anger as they saw jewellers and florists arriving with their wares. Confirming from Dublin that His Lordship’s personal income was enormous, they tried to get hold of some of it – but as the money reached him through a banker go-between, they couldn’t touch it. They appealed to the Attorney General to stop visitors from seeing him because “his sojourn has none of the hardship associated with prison life . . . he finds his incarceration most pleasant. . . .” But the Attorney-General replied that running the prison was entirely under the discretion of its Governor.

So the creditors thought up a plot to punish Massereene. They introduced two decoys who pretended to Massereene that they would help him escape. Thinking that he would avoid his creditors, he put on false whiskers, wore a broad-brimmed hat and went with the escorts, but when he reached the courtyard he was pounced upon and dragged off to the dreaded underground dungeons reserved for disobedient prisoners. For days he slept on wet soil, while filthy bread was thrown through a hole in the wall.

“Now he’ll pay up!” thought the creditors, but instead it made Massereene more obstinate than ever. He withstood his punishment, managed to return to his old prison and live more merrily than before, even bringing in a paid orchestra to enliven his parties!

Months passed. Years passed. Only when the old prison was demolished did he leave – to be transferred to the La Force debtors’ prison. He continued his luxurious living, even building up a fine library, maintaining an unrestricted correspondence with all his friends, receiving guests as often as he liked.

At last, after ten years, the French Revolution flared up. While the nearby Bastille was being stormed by mobs, Massereene was persuaded by his fellow-prisoners to lead them to freedom.

He marched to the prison gates, where an armed guard awaited them.

“Attempt to escape, and we shoot!” hissed the Governor.

Massereene laughed in his face. “Shoot! My dear man, I owe by now a million francs. If you shoot me, you will have to pay my debts.”

That was, in fact, the law. Not fancying being thrown in prison for a debt the Governor could never hope to pay, the prisoners, Massereene included, were allowed to storm through the gates.

And Massereene caught a boat back to Ireland from Calais.

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