THE FALSE DAUPHINS: MATHURIN BRUNEAU.

Mathurin Bruneau was the son of a maker of wooden shoes, and was born

at Vezin, in the department of the Marne-et-Loire. By his eleventh

year the precocious rogue had already endeavoured to palm himself off

as a nobleman's son, and encouraged, apparently, by the facility with

which his claims were acknowledged, he determined to fly at a higher

game, ultimately giving forth that he was the Duke of Normandy.

Although this impostor never was anything but a vulgar peasant, devoid

of education and good manners, he acquired a large following, and

really became a source of danger to the Government. In 1817, that is

to say, in the early days of the Bourbon restoration, when the throne

was in a very precarious condition, this claimant, taking advantage of

a famine and the general discontent, had placards posted on the walls

and public places of Rouen, denouncing the reigning monarch, Louis the

Eighteenth, claiming the crown for himself as the legitimate son of

Louis the Sixteenth, and promising, if placed on the throne, to reduce

the price of bread to three sous per pound. The long wars of the

empire had exhausted France, and reduced the provinces to such a

condition of misery that any inflammatory leader was likely to obtain a

large retinue of discontented followers, so that even so mean and

insignificant a personage as Bruneau was, was dangerous.

Bruneau, according to the minute and circumstantial investigation which

Monsieur Verdiere made into the past events of his life, had undergone

a series of adventures as surprising as those of Gil Blas, and had

perpetrated a variety of deceptions of a most extraordinary nature,

culminating in his grand assumption of the _role_ of the dauphin, the

titular "Louis the Seventeenth." When this ridiculous pretender, who

had already undergone imprisonment as a rogue and an _imbecile_, first

attempted to take upon himself the royal title, he was attired, says

his historian, in nothing but a nankin vest, linen trousers, and a

cotton cap, stockingless and moneyless,--not even a claimant was ever

in worse condition. According to the best account, this absurd

impostor was first prompted to assume the dauphin's name at the

suggestion of an eating-house keeper of Pont-de-Ce, who had formerly

been cook to Louis the Sixteenth.

Orders were issued for the arrest of the audacious pretender, but he

did not wait for them to be put into execution. He decamped, and was

traced to St. Malo, and arrested there. He was so illiterate that he

could neither read nor write; but for all that he caused a letter to be

written to the King, Louis the Eighteenth, in which, under the title of

the Dauphin, he reclaimed his paternal heritage. Sent to Bicetre, in

January 1816, Bruneau did not suffer himself to be cast down. In his

leisure hours he employed himself at his juvenile occupation of making

wooden shoes; but with an eye to future opportunities he endeavoured to

make proselytes to his regal pretensions. Among his companions in

misery he discovered some very useful converts or accomplices,

including Larcher, a pretended priest; Tourly, a forger; the Abbe

Matouillet; Branzon, condemned for robbery; and other equally

respectable associates. The rumour was speedily noised abroad that

"Louis the Seventeenth" was at Bicetre, and visitors continually came

to see "the unfortunate prince," and leave him substantial proofs of

their devotion and sympathy. They raised a civil list for him,

overwhelmed him with unsolicited gifts, wrote the "Memoires du Prince,"

and eventually made so great a stir in the city that the judicial

authorities were compelled to interfere, and on the 10th of February,

1818, had Bruneau up before the Police Tribunal. The accused presented

himself in his invariable cotton cap; and mean, illiterate, and

miserable as was his appearance, was saluted by a few faint cries of

"_Vive Louis the Seventeenth!_" What the man wanted in dignity he made

up for with assurance; and although Monsieur Dossier, the Procureur du

Roi, with pitiless severity disclosed the whole of the impostor's past

career, the insolent vagabond contested to the end of his

cross-examination that he was the veritable Duke of Normandy. His

vulgarity, his contradictions, and his whole demeanour were so

palpable, it is wonderful that a single person could have been duped.

And yet numerous people, many of them holding respectable positions in

society, permitted themselves to be fooled, and even subscribed large

sums of money for the pretender's support. The money which had been

subscribed for this _soi disant_ "Louis the Seventeenth" had been

chiefly deposited at the Bank of France--a fact of which the

prosecution was, of course, aware,--and therefore the judges did not

content themselves with condemning Bruneau to five years' imprisonment

for his imposture, and a further term of two years, to commence at the

expiration of the five, for his insolent behaviour during his trial,

but they also sentenced him to a fine of three thousand francs, to be

paid to the Government, and to defray three-quarters of the cost of his

prosecution, to meet which penalties the moneys standing to his credit

at the bank were confiscated. It was also ordered that at the

expiration of his term of imprisonment Bruneau should remain at the

disposal of the Government, to determine what was thought fit as to his

future. Bruneau's accomplice in the fraud was sentenced to two years'

imprisonment, and the payment of one-fourth of the cost of the

prosecution. Bruneau died in prison.

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