The Strange Adventures of Captain Dangerous. Volume 3

CHAPTER THE FIFTH.

OF A STRANGE AND HORRIBLE ADVENTURE I HAD IN PARIS, WHICH WAS NEARLY MY UNDOING

The Manner of its Coming About was this. I arrived in Paris very Poor and Miserable, and was for some days (when that which I brought with me was spent) almost destitute of Bread. At last, hearing that some Odd Hands were wanted at the Opera-House to caper about in a new Ballet upon the Story of Orpheus, the Master of the Tavern where I Lodged, who had been a Property-Master at the Theatres, and entertained many of the Playing Gentry, made interest for me, as much to keep me from Starving as to put me in the way of earning enough money to pay my Score to him. For I have found that there never was in this world a man so Poor but he could manage to run into Debt. In virtue of his Influence, I, who had never so much as stood up in a polite Minuet in my life, and knew no more of Dancing than sufficed to foot it on a Shuffleboard at a Tavern to the tune of Green Sleeves, was engaged at the wages of one Livre ten Sols a night to be a Mime in the same Ballet. But 'twas little proficiency in Dancing they wanted from me. One need not have been bound 'prentice to a Hackney Caper-Merchant to play one of the Furies that hold back Eurydice, and vomit Flames through a Great Mask. They gave me a Monstrous Dress, akin to the San Benitos which are worn by the poor wretches who are burnt by the Inquisition; and my flame-burning was done by an Ingenious Mechanical Contrivance, that had a most delectable effect, albeit the Fumes of the Sulphur half-choked me. And they did not ask for any Characters for their Furies. I tumbled and vomited Flames for at least thirty nights, when one evening, standing at the Side-Scenes waiting for my turn to come on, it chanced that the light gauzy Coats of a pretty little Dancing-girl, that was playing a Dryad in the Wood where Orpheus charms the Beast, caught Fire. I think 'twas the Candle fell out of the Moon-box, and so on to her Drapery; but, at all events, she was Alight, and ran about the Scene, screaming piteously. The poor little cowardly wretches her Companions all ran away in sheer terror; and as for the two Musqueteers of the Guard who stood sentry at each side of the Proscenium, one dastard Losel fell on his Marrow-bones and began bawling for his Saints, whilst the other, a more active Craven, drops his musket and bayonet with a clang, and clambers into the Orchestra, hitting out right and left among the Fiddlers, and very nearly tumbling into the Big Drum. All this took much less time to pass than I have taken to relate; but as quick as thought I rushed on to the stage, seized hold of the little Dancing-girl, tripped her up, and rolling her over and over on the Boards, I encompassed her till the flames were Extinguished. Luckily there was no Harm done. She was Bruised all over, and one of her pretty little Elbows was scratched; but that was all. One of the Gentlemen of the King's Chamber came round from his Box; and the Sardinian Ambassador sends round at once a Purse of Fifty Pistoles, and an offer for her to become his Madam; "For I should like one," his Excellency said, "that had been half-roasted. All these Frenchwomen look as though they had been boiled." When the Little Girl was brought to her Dressing-room, and had somewhat recovered from her Fright, she began to thank me, her Preserver, as she called me, with great Fervour and Vehemence; yet did I fancy that, although her words were excellently well chosen, she spoke with somewhat of an English Accent. And indeed she proved to be English. She was the Daughter of one Mr. Lovell, an English Gentleman of very fair extraction, who had been unfortunately mixed up in the troubles of the Forty-five; and having been rather a dangerous Plotter, and so excepted from the Act of Oblivion, had been fain to reside in Paris ever since, picking up a Crust as he could by translating, teaching of the Theorbo and Harpsichord, and suchlike sorry Shifts. But he was very well connected, and had powerful friends among the French Quality. He was now a very old man, but of a most Genteel Presence and Majestic Carriage. The Little Girl's name – she was now about Eighteen years old – was Lilias, and she was the only one. As she had a marvellous turn for Dancing, old Mr. Lovell had (in the stress of his Affairs) allowed her to be hired at the Opera House, where she received no less than a Hundred Ecus a month; but he knew too well what mettle Gentlemen of the King's Chamber and Musqueteers of the Guard were made of; and every night after the Performance he came down to the Theatre to fetch her – his Hat fiercely cocked, and his long Sword under his arm. So that none dared follow or molest her. And I question even, if he had heard of the Ambassador's offer, whether the old Gentleman would not have demanded Satisfaction from his Excellency for that slight.

When I discovered that this dear little Creature, who was as fair as her name and as good as gold, was my Countrywoman, I made bold to tell her that I was English too; whereupon she Laughed, and in her sweet manner expressed her wonder that I had come to be playing a Fury at the French Opera House. I chose to keep my Belongings private for the nonce; so the old Gentleman, treating me as an honest fellow of Low Degree, presented me with ten Livres, which I accepted, nothing loth, and the Theatre People even made a purse for me amounting to Fifty more. So that I got as rich as a Jew, and was much in favour with my Landlord. But, better than all, the Little Girl, as I was her Preserver, insisted that I should be her Protector too; and old Mr. Lovell being laid up very bad with the rheumatism, I was often privileged to attend her home after the Theatre, walking respectfully a couple of paces behind her, and grasping a stout Cudgel. Father and Daughter lived in the Impasse Mauvaise Langue, Rue des Moineaux, behind St. Rogue's Church; and often when I had got my precious charge home, she would press me to stop to supper, the which I took very humbly at a side table, and listened to the stories of old Mr. Lovell (who was very garrulous) about the Forty-five. "Bless his old heart," thought I; "I could tell him something about the Forty-five that would astonish him."

'Twas one night after leaving the Impasse Mauvaise Langue that, feeling both cold and dry, I turned into a Tavern that was open late, for a measure of Hot Spiced Wine, as a Night-cap. There was no one there, beyond the People of the House, save a man in a Drugget coat, a green velveteen Waistcoat, red plush Nethers, and a flapped Hat, all very Worn and Greasy. He was about my own age, and wore his own Hair; but the most remarkable thing about him was his Face. I never saw such a Red Face. 'Twas a hundred times more fiery than that of Bardolph in the Play. 'Twas more glowing than a Salamander's. 'Twas redder than Sir Robert Walpole's (the great Whig Minister who, in my youth, was called by the Common "Brandy-faced Bob!"). This man's Face was most terribly puffed and swollen, and the veins all injected with purplish Blood. The tips of his Ears were like two pendant Carbuncles. His little bloodshot Eyes seemed starting from their Sockets, while the Cheeks beneath puffed out like Pillows for his Orbits to rest upon. Not less worthy of remark was it that this Red-faced Man's Lips were of a tawny White. He was for ever scrabbling with his hands among his tufted Locks, and pressing them to his Temples, as though his Head pained him – which there was reason to believe it did.

This strange Person was, when I entered the Wine-shop, in hot Dispute with the Master about some trifling Liquor Score. He would not Pay, he said; no, not he. He had been basely Robbed and Swindled. He had plenty of Money, but he would not disburse a Red Liard. He showed, indeed, a Leathern Purse with two or three Gold Pieces in it, and smaller Money; but declared that he would Die sooner than disburse. And as he said this, he drew out of his pocket a long Clasp-Knife, two-bladed; and opening it, brandished it about, and said they had better let him go, or Worse would come of it.

The Master of the Tavern and his Wife, decent bodies both, were wofully frightened at the behaviour of this Desperado; but I was not to be frightened by such Racketing. I bade him put up his Toothpick, giving him at the same time a Back-Hander, which drove him into a Corner, where he crouched, snarling like a Wild-beast, but offering to do me no hurt. Then I asked what the To-do was about, and was told that he stood indebted but for Eight Sols, for Half a Litre of Wine, and that they could not account for his Fury. The Man was evidently not in Liquor, which was strange.

These good people were so flustered at the Man's uncommon Demeanour, that, seeing I was Strong and Valiant, they begged me to take him away. This I did, first discharging his Reckoning; for as he had Money about him, I doubted not but that he would recoup me. I got him into the Street (which was close to the Market of the Innocents, and I lived in the Street of the Ancient Comedy, t'other side of the River), and asked him where he was going.

"To get a Billet of Confession," he made answer.

"Stuff and Nonsense!" I answered, in the French Tongue. "They sell them not at this Hour of Night. Where do you live?"

"In the Parvis of Notre Dame," says he, staring like a Stuck Pig. "O Arnault! O Jansenius! O Monsieur de Paris! all this is your fault!"

And he lugs out of his Pocket a ragged Sheet of Paper, which he said was the last Mandement or Charge of the Archbishop of Paris, and was for reading it to me by the Moonlight; but I stopped him short. I had heard in a vague manner that the Public Mind was just then much agitated by some Dispute between the Clergy and the Parliament concerning Billets or Certificates of Confession; but they concerned neither me nor the Opera House. Besides, an Hour after Midnight is not the time for reading Archbishops' Charges in the Public Streets.

"'Tis my belief, Brother," I said, as soothingly as I could, "that you'd better go Home, and tie a Wet Clout round your Head; or, better still, hie to a Chirurgeon and be let Blood. Have you e'er a Home?"

He began to tell me that his Name was Robert François Damiens; that he had come from Picardy; that he had been a Stableman, a Locksmith, a Camp-follower, and a Servant at the College of Louis-le-Grand; that he had a Wife who was a Cook in a Noble Family, and a Daughter who coloured Prints for a Seller of Engravings. In short, he told me all save what I desired to know. And in the midst of his rambling recital he stops, and claps his Hand to his Forehead again.

"What ails you?" I asked.

"C'est le Sang, c'est le Sang qui me monte à la Tête!" cries he. "La Faute est à Monseigneur et à son Mandement. Je périrai; mais les Grands de la Terre périront avec moi."2

And with this Bedlamite Speech he broke away from me, – for I had kept a slight hold of him, – and set off Running as hard as his legs could carry him.

I concluded that this Red-faced Man must be some Mad Fellow just escaped out of Charenton; and, having other Fish to fry, let him follow his own devices. Whereupon I kindled a Pipe of Tobacco, and went home to Bed.

Two days after this (March, 1757), the whole Troop of the Opera House were commanded to Versailles, there to perform the Ballet of Orpheus before Mesdames the King's Daughters. I had by this time received slight Promotion, and played the Dog Cerberus, – at which my dear little Angel of a Lilias made much mirth. His Majesty was to have waited at Versailles for the playing of the Piece; but after Dinner he changes his mind, and determines on returning to his other Palace of Trianon.

'Twas about Five o'clock in the Afternoon, and there was a great Crowd in the Court of Marble to see the Most Christian King take Coach for Trianon. The Great Court was full of Gardes Françaises, Musqueteers Red and Gray carrying Torches, with Coaches, Led Horses, Prickers, Grooms, Pages, Valets, Waiting Women, and all the Hurley-Burly of a great Court. Some few of the Commonalty also managed to squeeze themselves in – amongst others, your humble Servant, John Dangerous, who was now reckoned no better than a Rascal Buffoon.

'Twas bitterly cold, and freezing hard, and the Courtiers had their hands squeezed into great fur Muffs. I saw the King come down the Marble Staircase; a fair portly Gentleman, with a Greatcoat, lined with fur, over his ordinary vestments – then a novelty among the French, and called a Redingote, from our English Riding-coat.

"Is that the King?" I heard a Voice, which I seemed to remember, ask behind me, as the Monarch passed between a double line of Spectators to his Coach.

"Yes, Dog," answered he who had been addressed, and who was an Officer in the Gray Musqueteers. "Pig, why dost thou not take off thy Hat?"

I was all at once pushed violently on one side. A Man with a Drugget Coat and Flapped Hat, and whom I at once recognised by the light of the glaring torches as the Red-faced Brawler of the Wine-shop, darted through the line of Guards, an open Knife in his hand, and rushing up to him, stabbed King Lewis the Fifteenth in the side.

I could hear his Majesty cry out, "Oh! je suis blessé!" – "I am wounded!" – but all the rest was turbulence and confusion; in the midst of which, not caring that the Red-faced Man should claim me as an Acquaintance, I slipped away. I need scarcely say that there was no Ballet at Versailles that night.

A great deal of Blood came from the King's Wound; for he was a Plethoric Sovereign, much given to High Living; but he was, on the whole, more Frightened than Hurt. Although when the Assassin was first laid hold of, His Majesty cried out in an Easy Manner that no Harm was to be done him, he never afterwards troubled his Royal Self in the slightest Manner to put a stop to the Hellish Torments inflicted on a Poor Wretch, who had, at the most, but scratched his Flesh, and for whom the most fitting Punishment would have been a Cell in a Madhouse.

As for this most miserable Red-faced Man, Robert François Damiens, this is what was done to him. At first handling, he was very nearly murdered by the Young Gentlemen Officers of the Body Guard, who, having tied him to a Bench, pricked him with their Sword Points, beat him with their Belts, and pummelled him about the Mouth with the Butt-ends of Pistols. Then he was had to the Civil Prison; and a certain President, named Michault, came to interrogate him, who being most zealous to discover whether the Parricide (as he was called) had any Accomplices, heated a Pair of Pincers in the Fire, and when they were red-hot, clawed and dragged away at the Unhappy Man's Legs, till the whole Dungeon did reek with the horrible Odour of Burnt Flesh. Just imagine one of our English Judges of the Land undertaking such a Hangman's Office! The poor Wretch made no other complaint than to murmur that the King had directed that he was not to be ill-treated; and when they further questioned him, could only stammer out some Incoherent Balderdash about the Archbishop, the Parliament, and the Billets of Confession.

After many Days, he was removed from Versailles to Paris; but his Legs were so bad with the Burning, that they were obliged to carry him away on a Mattress. So to Paris; the Journey taking Six Hours, through his great attendance of Guards and the thickness of the Crowd. He was had to the Prison of the Conciergerie, and put into a Circular Dungeon in the Tower called of Montgomery – the very same one where Ravaillac, that killed Henry the Fourth, had formerly lain. There they put him into a kind of Sack of Shamoy Leather, leaving only his Head free; and he was tied down to his bed – which was a common Hospital Pallet – by an immense number of Leathern Straps, secured by Iron Rings to the Floor of his Dungeon. But what Dr. Goldsmith, the Poetry-writer, means by "Damiens' Bed of Steel," I'm sure I don't know. At the head and foot of his Bed an Exempt kept watch Night and Day, and every three-quarters of an hour the Guard was relieved; so that the Miserable Creature had little chance of Sleeping. He would have sunk under all this Cruelty, but that they kept him up with Rich Meats and Generous Wines, which they had all but to force down his Throat.

But while all this was being done to Damiens, other steps were being taken by Justice, the which narrowly concerned me. As he would denounce no Accomplices, real or imaginary, the Police did their best to find out his Confederates for themselves, and by diligent Inquiry made themselves acquainted with all Damiens' movements for days before he committed his Crime. They found out the Wine-shop where he had refused to pay his Reckoning and made a Disturbance; and learning from the people of the House what manner of Man had paid for him and taken him away, they were soon on my track. One night, just before the Ballet began, I was taken by two Exempts; and, in the very play-acting dress as Cerberus that I wore, was forced into a Sedan, and taken, surrounded by Guards, to the Prison of the Châtelet. I thought of appealing to our Ambassador in Paris, and proving that I was a faithful Subject of King George; but, as it happened, I owed my safety to one who disowned that Monarch, and kept all his Allegiance for King James. For old Mr. Lovell, hearing of my Arrest, and importuned by poor Pretty Miss Lilias, who was kind enough to shed many Tears on the occasion, hurried off to his Eminence the Cardinal de – , who was all but supreme at Court, and with whom he had great Influence. The Cardinal listens to him very graciously, and by and by comes down the President Pasquier to interrogate me, to whom I told a plain Tale, setting forth how I had been unfortunate in Business in Holland and Flanders, and was earning an honest Livelihood by playing a Dog in a Pantomime. The people in the Wine-shop could not but bear me out in stating that I had come across the Red-faced Man by pure Accident, and was no Friend of his. It was moreover established by the Police, that I had not been seen in Damiens' company after the Night I first met him, and that I had a legitimate call to be at Versailles on the day of the Assassination; so that after about a fortnight's detention I was set at Liberty, to my own great joy and that of my good and kind Mistress Lilias, who had now repaid ten-thousand-fold whatever paltry Service I had been fortunate enough to render her. Nay, this seeming Misadventure was of present service to me; for his Eminence was pleased to say that he should be glad to hear something more concerning me, for that I seemed a Bold Fellow; and at an Interview with him, which lasted more than an Hour, I told him my whole Life and Adventures, which caused him to elevate his Eyebrows not a little.

"Cospetto! Signor Dangerous," says he (for though he spoke French like a Native he was by Birth an Italian, and sometimes swore in that Language), "if all be true what you say, – and you do not look like a Man who tells Lies, – you have led a strange Life. When a Boy, you were nearly Hanged; and now at the mezzo cammin of Life you have been on the point of having your Limbs broken on a St. Andrew's Cross. However, we must see what we can do for you. Strength, Valour, Experience, and Discretion do not often go together; but I give you credit for possessing a fair show of all Four. I suppose, now, that you are tired of squatting at the Wicket of the Infernal Regions at the Opera House?"

I bowed in acknowledgment of his Eminence's compliments, and said that I should be glad of any Employment.

"Well, well," continued his Eminence, "we will see. At present, as you say you are a fair Scholar, my Secretary will find you some work in copying Letters. And here, Signor Dangerous, take these ten Louis, and furnish yourself with some more Clerkly Attire than your present trim. It would never do for a Prince of the Church to have a Flavour of the Opera Side-Scenes about his house."

Unless Rumour lied, there hung sometimes about his Eminence's sumptuous hotel a Flavour, not alone of the Opera Side-Scenes, but of the Ballet-Dancers' Tiring-room. However, let that pass. I took the ten Louis with many Thanks, and six hours afterwards was strutting about in a suit of Black, full trimmed, with a little short Cloak, for all the world like a Notary's Clerk.

I had been in the Employ of his Eminence – who showed me daily more and more favour – about a month, when all Paris was agog with the News that the Monster Parricide and Hell-Hound (as they called him from the Pulpit), Robert François Damiens, was to suffer the last Penalty of his Crime. I know not what strange horrible fascination I yielded to, but I could not resist the desire to see the End of the Red-faced Man. I went. The Tragedy took place on the Place de Grêve; but ere he came on to his last Scene, Damiens had gone through other Woes well-nigh unutterable. I speak not of his performing the amende honorable, bare-footed, in his Shirt, a Halter round his Neck, and a lighted Taper of six pounds' weight in his Hand, at the Church-door, confessing his Crime, and asking Pardon of God, the King, and all Christian Men. Ah! no; he had suffered more than this. Part of his Sentence was that, prior to Execution, he was to undergo the Question Ordinary and Extraordinary; and so at the Conciergerie, in the presence of Presidents, Counsellors of the Parliament, Great Noblemen of the Court, and other Dignitaries, the Poor Thing was put into the Brodequins, or Boots, and wedge after wedge driven in between his Legs – already raw and inflamed with the Devilries of the President Michault – and the Iron Incasement. He rent the air with his Screams, until the Surgeons declared that he could hold out no longer. But he confessed nothing; for what had he to confess?

Then came the last awful Day, when all this Agony was to end. I saw it all. The Grêve was densely packed; and although the space is not a third so large as Tower Hill, there seemed to be Thousands more persons present than at the beheading of my Lord Lovat. A sorrier Sight was it to see the windows of the Hôtel de Ville thronged with Great Ladies of the Court, many of them Young and Beautiful, and all bravely Dressed, who laughed and chattered and ate Sweetmeats while the Terrible Show was going on. The Sentence ran that the Assassin's Hand, holding the Knife which he had used, should be Burnt in a Slow-fire of Sulphur. Then that his Flesh should be torn on the Breast, Arms, Stomach, Thighs, and Calves of the Legs with Pincers; and then that into the gaping Wounds there should be poured Melted Lead, Rosin, Pitch, Wax, and Boiling Oil. And finally, that by the Four Extremities he should be attached to Four Horses, and rent Asunder; his Body then to be Burnt, and his Ashes scattered to the Winds. There was nothing said about the Lord having mercy upon his Soul; but careful injunction was made that he was to be condemned in the Costs of the Prosecution.

All this was done, although I sicken to record it; but in the most Blundering Butcherly manner. The Chief-Executioner of the Parliament was Sick, and so the task was deputed to his Nephew, Gabriel Sanson, who being, notwithstanding his Sanguinary Office (which is hereditary), a Humane kind of Young Man, was all in a Shiver at what he had to perform, and quite lost his Head. Both his Valets, or Under-Hangmen, were Drunk. They had forgotten the Pitch, Oil, Rosin, and other things; and at the last moment they had to be sent for to the neighbouring Grocers'. But these Shopkeepers declared, out of humanity, that they had them not; whereupon Guards and Exempts were sent, who searched their Stores, and seized what was wanted in the King's Name. Then the Fiendish Show began. I can hear the miserable man's Shrieks as I sit writing this now. – But no more.

So strong is our Human Frame, that the great strong Brewer's Horses, although Dragged and Whipped this way and t'other, could not pull his limbs Asunder. So the Surgeons were obliged to sever the great Sinews with Knives, and then the Horses managed it, somehow.

Note. – When the Horses were Lashed, to make 'em pull Lustily, the Fine Ladies at the windows fluttered their Fans, and, in their sweet little Court Lingo, cried out compassionately, "Oh, les pauv' Zevaux!" – "Oh, the poor Dobbins!" They didn't say any thing about a poor Damiens.

Note. – Also, that when they took his Head, to cram it into the Brazier, and burn it with the rest of his Members, they found that his Hair, which when he was arrested was of a Dark Brown, had turned quite White.