I have been much interested with an account of the exploits of
Monsieur Louis Dominic Cartouche, and as Newgate and the highways
are so much the fashion with us in England, we may be allowed to
look abroad for histories of a similar tendency. It is pleasant to
find that virtue is cosmopolite, and may exist among wooden-shoed
Papists as well as honest Church-of-England men.
Louis Dominic was born in a quarter of Paris called the Courtille,
says the historian whose work lies before me;--born in the
Courtille, and in the year 1693. Another biographer asserts that
he was born two years later, and in the Marais;--of respectable
parents, of course. Think of the talent that our two countries
produced about this time: Marlborough, Villars, Mandrin, Turpin,
Boileau, Dryden, Swift, Addison, Molière, Racine, Jack Sheppard,
and Louis Cartouche,--all famous within the same twenty years, and
fighting, writing, robbing à l'envi!
Well, Marlborough was no chicken when he began to show his genius;
Swift was but a dull, idle, college lad; but if we read the
histories of some other great men mentioned in the above list--
I mean the thieves, especially--we shall find that they all
commenced very early: they showed a passion for their art, as
little Raphael did, or little Mozart; and the history of Cartouche's
knaveries begins almost with his breeches.
Dominic's parents sent him to school at the college of Clermont
(now Louis le Grand); and although it has never been discovered
that the Jesuits, who directed that seminary, advanced him much in
classical or theological knowledge, Cartouche, in revenge, showed,
by repeated instances, his own natural bent and genius, which no
difficulties were strong enough to overcome. His first great
action on record, although not successful in the end, and tinctured
with the innocence of youth, is yet highly creditable to him. He
made a general swoop of a hundred and twenty nightcaps belonging to
his companions, and disposed of them to his satisfaction; but as it
was discovered that of all the youths in the college of Clermont,
he only was the possessor of a cap to sleep in, suspicion (which,
alas! was confirmed) immediately fell upon him: and by this little
piece of youthful naïveté, a scheme, prettily conceived and smartly
performed, was rendered naught.
Cartouche had a wonderful love for good eating, and put all the
apple-women and cooks, who came to supply the students, under
contribution. Not always, however, desirous of robbing these, he
used to deal with them, occasionally, on honest principles of
barter; that is, whenever he could get hold of his schoolfellows'
knives, books, rulers, or playthings, which he used fairly to
exchange for tarts and gingerbread.
It seemed as if the presiding genius of evil was determined to
patronize this young man; for before he had been long at college,
and soon after he had, with the greatest difficulty, escaped from
the nightcap scrape, an opportunity occurred by which he was
enabled to gratify both his propensities at once, and not only to
steal, but to steal sweetmeats. It happened that the principal of
the college received some pots of Narbonne honey, which came under
the eyes of Cartouche, and in which that young gentleman, as soon
as ever he saw them, determined to put his fingers. The president
of the college put aside his honey-pots in an apartment within his
own; to which, except by the one door which led into the room which
his reverence usually occupied, there was no outlet. There was no
chimney in the room; and the windows looked into the court, where
there was a porter at night, and where crowds passed by day. What
was Cartouche to do?--have the honey he must.
Over this chamber, which contained what his soul longed after, and
over the president's rooms, there ran a set of unoccupied garrets,
into which the dexterous Cartouche penetrated. These were divided
from the rooms below, according to the fashion of those days, by a
set of large beams, which reached across the whole building, and
across which rude planks were laid, which formed the ceiling of the
lower story and the floor of the upper. Some of these planks did
young Cartouche remove; and having descended by means of a rope,
tied a couple of others to the neck of the honey-pots, climbed back
again, and drew up his prey in safety. He then cunningly fixed the
planks again in their old places, and retired to gorge himself upon
his booty. And, now, see the punishment of avarice! Everybody
knows that the brethren of the order of Jesus are bound by a vow to
have no more than a certain small sum of money in their possession.
The principal of the college of Clermont had amassed a larger sum,
in defiance of this rule: and where do you think the old gentleman
had hidden it? In the honey-pots! As Cartouche dug his spoon into
one of them, he brought out, besides a quantity of golden honey, a
couple of golden louis, which, with ninety-eight more of their
fellows, were comfortably hidden in the pots. Little Dominic, who,
before, had cut rather a poor figure among his fellow-students, now
appeared in as fine clothes as any of them could boast of; and when
asked by his parents, on going home, how he came by them, said that
a young nobleman of his schoolfellows had taken a violent fancy to
him, and made him a present of a couple of his suits. Cartouche
the elder, good man, went to thank the young nobleman; but none
such could be found, and young Cartouche disdained to give any
explanation of his manner of gaining the money.
Here, again, we have to regret and remark the inadvertence of
youth. Cartouche lost a hundred louis--for what? For a pot of
honey not worth a couple of shillings. Had he fished out the
pieces, and replaced the pots and the honey, he might have been
safe, and a respectable citizen all his life after. The principal
would not have dared to confess the loss of his money, and did not,
openly; but he vowed vengeance against the stealer of his
sweetmeat, and a rigid search was made. Cartouche, as usual, was
fixed upon; and in the tick of his bed, lo! there were found a
couple of empty honey-pots! From this scrape there is no knowing
how he would have escaped, had not the president himself been a
little anxious to hush the matter up; and accordingly, young
Cartouche was made to disgorge the residue of his ill-gotten gold
pieces, old Cartouche made up the deficiency, and his son was
allowed to remain unpunished--until the next time.
This, you may fancy, was not very long in coming; and though
history has not made us acquainted with the exact crime which Louis
Dominic next committed, it must have been a serious one; for
Cartouche, who had borne philosophically all the whippings and
punishments which were administered to him at college, did not dare
to face that one which his indignant father had in pickle for him.
As he was coming home from school, on the first day after his
crime, when he received permission to go abroad, one of his
brothers, who was on the look-out for him, met him at a short
distance from home, and told him what was in preparation; which so
frightened this young thief, that he declined returning home
altogether, and set out upon the wide world to shift for himself
as he could.
Undoubted as his genius was, he had not arrived at the full
exercise of it, and his gains were by no means equal to his
appetite. In whatever professions he tried,--whether he joined the
gipsies, which he did,--whether he picked pockets on the Pont Neuf,
which occupation history attributes to him,--poor Cartouche was
always hungry. Hungry and ragged, he wandered from one place and
profession to another, and regretted the honey-pots at Clermont,
and the comfortable soup and bouilli at home.
Cartouche had an uncle, a kind man, who was a merchant, and had
dealings at Rouen. One day, walking on the quays of that city,
this gentleman saw a very miserable, dirty, starving lad, who had
just made a pounce upon some bones and turnip-peelings, that had
been flung out on the quay, and was eating them as greedily as if
they had been turkeys and truffles. The worthy man examined the
lad a little closer. O heavens! it was their runaway prodigal--it
was little Louis Dominic! The merchant was touched by his case;
and forgetting the nightcaps, the honey-pots, and the rags and dirt
of little Louis, took him to his arms, and kissed and hugged him
with the tenderest affection. Louis kissed and hugged too, and
blubbered a great deal: he was very repentant, as a man often is
when he is hungry; and he went home with his uncle, and his peace
was made; and his mother got him new clothes, and filled his belly,
and for a while Louis was as good a son as might be.
But why attempt to balk the progress of genius? Louis's was not to
be kept down. He was sixteen years of age by this time--a smart,
lively young fellow, and, what is more, desperately enamored of a
lovely washerwoman. To be successful in your love, as Louis knew,
you must have something more than mere flames and sentiment;--a
washer, or any other woman, cannot live upon sighs only; but must
have new gowns and caps, and a necklace every now and then, and a
few handkerchiefs and silk stockings, and a treat into the country
or to the play. Now, how are all these things to be had without
money? Cartouche saw at once that it was impossible; and as his
father would give him none, he was obliged to look for it
elsewhere. He took to his old courses, and lifted a purse here,
and a watch there; and found, moreover, an accommodating gentleman,
who took the wares off his hands.
This gentleman introduced him into a very select and agreeable
society, in which Cartouche's merit began speedily to be
recognized, and in which he learnt how pleasant it is in life to
have friends to assist one, and how much may be done by a proper
division of labor. M. Cartouche, in fact, formed part of a regular
company or gang of gentlemen, who were associated together for the
purpose of making war on the public and the law.
Cartouche had a lovely young sister, who was to be married to a
rich young gentleman from the provinces. As is the fashion in
France, the parents had arranged the match among themselves; and
the young people had never met until just before the time appointed
for the marriage, when the bridegroom came up to Paris with his
title-deeds, and settlements, and money. Now there can hardly be
found in history a finer instance of devotion than Cartouche now
exhibited. He went to his captain, explained the matter to him,
and actually, for the good of his country, as it were (the thieves
might be called his country), sacrificed his sister's husband's
property. Informations were taken, the house of the bridegroom was
reconnoitred, and, one night, Cartouche, in company with some
chosen friends, made his first visit to the house of his brother-
in-law. All the people were gone to bed; and, doubtless, for fear
of disturbing the porter, Cartouche and his companions spared him
the trouble of opening the door, by ascending quietly at the
window. They arrived at the room where the bridegroom kept his
great chest, and set industriously to work, filing and picking the
locks which defended the treasure.
The bridegroom slept in the next room; but however tenderly
Cartouche and his workmen handled their tools, from fear of
disturbing his slumbers, their benevolent design was disappointed,
for awaken him they did; and quietly slipping out of bed, he came
to a place where he had a complete view of all that was going on.
He did not cry out, or frighten himself sillily; but, on the
contrary, contented himself with watching the countenances of the
robbers, so that he might recognize them on another occasion; and,
though an avaricious man, he did not feel the slightest anxiety
about his money-chest; for the fact is, he had removed all the cash
and papers the day before.
As soon, however, as they had broken all the locks, and found the
nothing which lay at the bottom of the chest, he shouted with such
a loud voice, "Here, Thomas!--John!--officer!--keep the gate, fire
at the rascals!" that they, incontinently taking fright, skipped
nimbly out of window, and left the house free.
Cartouche, after this, did not care to meet his brother-in-law, but
eschewed all those occasions on which the latter was to be present
at his father's house. The evening before the marriage came; and
then his father insisted upon his appearance among the other
relatives of the bride's and bridegroom's families, who were all to
assemble and make merry. Cartouche was obliged to yield; and
brought with him one or two of his companions, who had been, by the
way, present in the affair of the empty money-boxes; and though he
never fancied that there was any danger in meeting his brother-in-
law, for he had no idea that he had been seen on the night of the
attack, with a natural modesty, which did him really credit, he
kept out of the young bridegroom's sight as much as he could, and
showed no desire to be presented to him. At supper, however, as he
was sneaking modestly down to a side-table, his father shouted
after him, "Ho, Dominic, come hither, and sit opposite to your
brother-in-law:" which Dominic did, his friends following. The
bridegroom pledged him very gracefully in a bumper; and was in the
act of making him a pretty speech, on the honor of an alliance with
such a family, and on the pleasures of brother-in-lawship in
general, when, looking in his face--ye gods! he saw the very man
who had been filing at his money-chest a few nights ago! By his
side, too, sat a couple more of the gang. The poor fellow turned
deadly pale and sick, and, setting his glass down, ran quickly out
of the room, for he thought he was in company of a whole gang of
robbers. And when he got home, he wrote a letter to the elder
Cartouche, humbly declining any connection with his family.
Cartouche the elder, of course, angrily asked the reason of such an
abrupt dissolution of the engagement; and then, much to his horror,
heard of his eldest son's doings. "You would not have me marry
into such a family?" said the ex-bridegroom. And old Cartouche, an
honest old citizen, confessed, with a heavy heart, that he would
not. What was he to do with the lad? He did not like to ask for a
lettre de cachet, and shut him up in the Bastile. He determined to
give him a year's discipline at the monastery of St. Lazare.
But how to catch the young gentleman? Old Cartouche knew that,
were he to tell his son of the scheme, the latter would never obey,
and, therefore, he determined to be very cunning. He told Dominic
that he was about to make a heavy bargain with the fathers, and
should require a witness; so they stepped into a carriage together,
and drove unsuspectingly to the Rue St. Denis. But, when they
arrived near the convent, Cartouche saw several ominous figures
gathering round the coach, and felt that his doom was sealed.
However, he made as if he knew nothing of the conspiracy; and the
carriage drew up, and his father, descended, and, bidding him wait
for a minute in the coach, promised to return to him. Cartouche
looked out; on the other side of the way half a dozen men were
posted, evidently with the intention of arresting him.
Cartouche now performed a great and celebrated stroke of genius,
which, if he had not been professionally employed in the morning,
he never could have executed. He had in his pocket a piece of
linen, which he had laid hold of at the door of some shop, and from
which he quickly tore three suitable stripes. One he tied round
his head, after the fashion of a nightcap; a second round his
waist, like an apron; and with the third he covered his hat, a
round one, with a large brim. His coat and his periwig lie left
behind him in the carriage; and when he stepped out from it (which
he did without asking the coachman to let down the steps), he bore
exactly the appearance of a cook's boy carrying a dish; and with
this he slipped through the exempts quite unsuspected, and bade
adieu to the Lazarists and his honest father, who came out speedily
to seek him, and was not a little annoyed to find only his coat and
wig.
With that coat and wig, Cartouche left home, father, friends,
conscience, remorse, society, behind him. He discovered (like a
great number of other philosophers and poets, when they have
committed rascally actions) that the world was all going wrong, and
he quarrelled with it outright. One of the first stories told of
the illustrious Cartouche, when he became professionally and openly
a robber, redounds highly to his credit, and shows that he knew how
to take advantage of the occasion, and how much he had improved in
the course of a very few years' experience. His courage and
ingenuity were vastly admired by his friends; so much so, that, one
day, the captain of the band thought fit to compliment him, and
vowed that when he (the captain) died, Cartouche should infallibly
be called to the command-in-chief. This conversation, so
flattering to Cartouche, was carried on between the two gentlemen,
as they were walking, one night, on the quays by the side of the
Seine. Cartouche, when the captain made the last remark,
blushingly protested against it, and pleaded his extreme youth as
a reason why his comrades could never put entire trust in him.
"Psha, man!" said the captain, "thy youth is in thy favor; thou
wilt live only the longer to lead thy troops to victory. As for
strength, bravery, and cunning, wert thou as old as Methuselah,
thou couldst not be better provided than thou art now, at
eighteen." What was the reply of Monsieur Cartouche? He answered,
not by words, but by actions. Drawing his knife from his girdle,
he instantly dug it into the captain's left side, as near his heart
as possible; and then, seizing that imprudent commander,
precipitated him violently into the waters of the Seine, to keep
company with the gudgeons and river-gods. When he returned to
the band, and recounted how the captain had basely attempted to
assassinate him, and how he, on the contrary, had, by exertion of
superior skill, overcome the captain, not one of the society
believed a word of his history; but they elected him captain
forthwith. I think his Excellency Don Rafael Maroto, the
pacificator of Spain, is an amiable character, for whom history
has not been written in vain.
Being arrived at this exalted position, there is no end of the
feats which Cartouche performed; and his band reached to such a
pitch of glory, that if there had been a hundred thousand, instead
of a hundred of them, who knows but that a new and popular dynasty
might not have been founded, and "Louis Dominic, premier Empereur
des Français," might have performed innumerable glorious actions,
and fixed himself in the hearts of his people, just as other
monarchs have done, a hundred years after Cartouche's death.
A story similar to the above, and equally moral, is that of
Cartouche, who, in company with two other gentlemen, robbed the
coche, or packet-boat, from Melun, where they took a good quantity
of booty,--making the passengers lie down on the decks, and rifling
them at leisure. "This money will be but very little among three,"
whispered Cartouche to his neighbor, as the three conquerors were
making merry over their gains; "if you were but to pull the trigger
of your pistol in the neighborhood of your comrade's ear, perhaps
it might go off, and then there would be but two of us to share."
Strangely enough, as Cartouche said, the pistol DID go off, and No.
3 perished. "Give him another ball," said Cartouche; and another
was fired into him. But no sooner had Cartouche's comrade
discharged both his pistols, than Cartouche himself, seized with a
furious indignation, drew his: "Learn, monster," cried he, "not to
be so greedy of gold, and perish, the victim of thy disloyalty and
avarice!" So Cartouche slew the second robber; and there is no man
in Europe who can say that the latter did not merit well his
punishment.
I could fill volumes, and not mere sheets of paper, with tales of
the triumphs of Cartouche and his band; how he robbed the Countess
of O----, going to Dijon, in her coach, and how the Countess fell
in love with him, and was faithful to him ever after; how, when the
lieutenant of police offered a reward of a hundred pistoles to any
man who would bring Cartouche before him, a noble Marquess, in a
coach and six, drove up to the hotel of the police; and the noble
Marquess, desiring to see Monsieur de la Reynie, on matters of the
highest moment, alone, the latter introduced him into his private
cabinet; and how, when there, the Marquess drew from his pocket a
long, curiously shaped dagger: "Look at this, Monsieur de la
Reynie," said he; "this dagger is poisoned!"
"Is it possible?" said M. de la Reynie.
"A prick of it would do for any man," said the Marquess.
"You don't say so!" said M. de la Reynie.
"I do, though; and, what is more," says the Marquess, in a terrible
voice, "if you do not instantly lay yourself flat on the ground,
with your face towards it, and your hands crossed over your back,
or if you make the slightest noise or cry, I will stick this
poisoned dagger between your ribs, as sure as my name is Cartouche?"
At the sound of this dreadful name, M. de la Reynie sunk
incontinently down on his stomach, and submitted to be carefully
gagged and corded; after which Monsieur Cartouche laid his hands
upon all the money which was kept in the lieutenant's cabinet.
Alas! and alas! many a stout bailiff, and many an honest fellow of
a spy, went, for that day, without his pay and his victuals.
There is a story that Cartouche once took the diligence to Lille,
and found in it a certain Abbé Potter, who was full of indignation
against this monster of a Cartouche, and said that when he went
back to Paris, which he proposed to do in about a fortnight, he
should give the lieutenant of police some information, which would
infallibly lead to the scoundrel's capture. But poor Potter was
disappointed in his designs; for, before he could fulfil them, he
was made the victim of Cartouche's cruelty.
A letter came to the lieutenant of police, to state that Cartouche
had travelled to Lille, in company with the Abbé de Potter, of that
town; that, on the reverend gentleman's return towards Paris,
Cartouche had waylaid him, murdered him, taken his papers, and
would come to Paris himself, bearing the name and clothes of the
unfortunate Abbé, by the Lille coach, on such a day. The Lille
coach arrived, was surrounded by police agents; the monster
Cartouche was there, sure enough, in the Abbé's guise. He was
seized, bound, flung into prison, brought out to be examined, and,
on examination, found to be no other than the Abbé Potter himself!
It is pleasant to read thus of the relaxations of great men, and
find them condescending to joke like the meanest of us.
Another diligence adventure is recounted of the famous Cartouche.
It happened that he met, in the coach, a young and lovely lady,
clad in widow's weeds, and bound to Paris, with a couple of
servants. The poor thing was the widow of a rich old gentleman
of Marseilles, and was going to the capital to arrange with her
lawyers, and to settle her husband's will. The Count de Grinche
(for so her fellow-passenger was called) was quite as candid as the
pretty widow had been, and stated that he was a captain in the
regiment of Nivernois; that he was going to Paris to buy a
colonelcy, which his relatives, the Duke de Bouillon, the Prince
de Montmorency, the Commandeur de la Trémoille, with all their
interest at court, could not fail to procure for him. To be short,
in the course of the four days' journey, the Count Louis Dominic de
Grinche played his cards so well, that the poor little widow half
forgot her late husband; and her eyes glistened with tears as the
Count kissed her hand at parting--at parting, he hoped, only for a
few hours.
Day and night the insinuating Count followed her; and when, at the
end of a fortnight, and in the midst of a tête-à-tête, he plunged,
one morning, suddenly on his knees, and said, Leonora, do you love
me?" the poor thing heaved the gentlest, tenderest, sweetest sigh
in the world; and sinking her blushing head on his shoulder,
whispered, "Oh, Dominic, je t'aime! Ah!" said she, "how noble is
it of my Dominic to take me with the little I have, and he so rich
a nobleman!" The fact is, the old Baron's titles and estates had
passed away to his nephews; his dowager was only left with three
hundred thousand livres, in rentes sur l'état--a handsome sum, but
nothing to compare to the rent-roll of Count Dominic, Count de la
Grinche, Seigneur de la Haute Pigre, Baron de la Bigorne; he had
estates and wealth which might authorize him to aspire to the hand
of a duchess, at least.
The unfortunate widow never for a moment suspected the cruel trick
that was about to be played on her; and, at the request of her
affianced husband, sold out her money, and realized it in gold, to
be made over to him on the day when the contract was to be signed.
The day arrived; and, according to the custom in France, the
relations of both parties attended. The widow's relatives, though
respectable, were not of the first nobility, being chiefly persons
of the finance or the robe: there was the president of the court of
Arras, and his lady; a farmer-general; a judge of a court of Paris;
and other such grave and respectable people. As for Monsieur le
Comte de la Grinche, he was not bound for names; and, having the
whole peerage to choose from, brought a host of Montmorencies,
Créquis, De la Tours, and Guises at his back. His homme d'affaires
brought his papers in a sack, and displayed the plans of his
estates, and the titles of his glorious ancestry. The widow's
lawyers had her money in sacks; and between the gold on the one
side, and the parchments on the other, lay the contract which was
to make the widow's three hundred thousand francs the property of
the Count de Grinche. The Count de la Grinche was just about to
sign; when the Marshal de Villars, stepping up to him, said,
"Captain, do you know who the president of the court of Arras,
yonder, is? It is old Manasseh, the fence, of Brussels. I pawned
a gold watch to him, which I stole from Cadogan, when I was with
Malbrook's army in Flanders."
Here the Duc de la Roche Guyon came forward, very much alarmed.
"Run me through the body!" said his Grace, "but the comptroller-
general's lady, there, is no other than that old hag of a Margoton
who keeps the ----" Here the Duc de la Roche Guyon's voice fell.
Cartouche smiled graciously, and walked up to the table. He took
up one of the widow's fifteen thousand gold pieces;--it was as
pretty a bit of copper as you could wish to see. "My dear," said
he politely, "there is some mistake here, and this business had
better stop."
"Count!" gasped the poor widow.
"Count be hanged!" answered the bridegroom, sternly "my name is
CARTOUCHE!"