almost a Pauper, Friendless and Unknown in the World; yet did I feel
Undaunted, and confident that Better Days were in store for me. Pouching
my Fifty Florins, I first followed the Burgomaster's advice by getting
out of Holland as quick as ever I could, and betook myself by
Treyckshuyt and Stage Wagon to the city of Bruxelles in Brabant. Here I
abode for some months in the house of a clean Widow-woman that was a
Walloon, who, finding that I was English, and, besides, a very tolerable
French Scholar, procured me several Pupils among the Tradesfolk in the
neighbourhood of the Petit Sablon (hard by the Archduchess Governante's
Palace), where I dwelt on a Sixth Floor. By degrees I did so increase my
number of Pupils, that I was able to open a School of some thirty Lads
and Lasses. To both indifferently I taught the Languages, with Writing
and Accompts; while for the instruction of the latter in Needlework and
other Feminine Accomplishments I engaged my Landlady's Daughter, a
comely Maiden, albeit Red-haired, and very much pitted with the
Small-pox. Figure to yourself Captain Jack Dangerous turned Dominie! I
am venturesome enough to believe that I was a very passable Pedagogue;
and of this I am certain, that I was entirely beloved by my Scholars.
The sufferings I had undergone while a Captive in the hands of that
Barbarous Wretch, Gnawbit, had never been effaced from my Memory, and
had made me infinitely tender towards little Children. Indeed I could
scarcely bear to use the Ferula to them, or nip 'em with a Fescue, much
less to untruss and Scourge 'em, as 'tis the brutal fashion of Pedants
to do; nor do I think, though I disobeyed Solomon's maxim, and Spared
the Rod, that I did much towards Spoiling any Child that was under my
care. I made Learning easy and pleasant to my Youngsters, by telling
them all sorts of moving and marvellous Stories, drawn from what Books
of History I had handy (and these I admit I coloured a little, to suit
the Imaginations of the Young), and others concerning my own remarkable
Adventures, in which, however extraordinary they seemed, I always took
care to adhere strictly to the Truth, only suppressing that which it was
not proper for Youth and Innocence to be made acquainted with.
But Schoolkeeping is a tiresome trade. One cannot be at it day and night
too; and a Man must have some place to Divert himself in, when the toils
of the day are over. I found out a Coffee-House in the Rue de Merinos,
or Spaan Scheep Straet, as the Flemings call it, in strange likeness to
our tongue, and there, over my Tobacco, made some strange Acquaintance.
There was one De Suaso, an Empiric, that had writ against the English
College of Physicians, and was like to have made a Fortune by his famous
Nostrum for the Gout, _the Sudorific Expulsive Mixture_; but that
Scheme had fallen through, it having been discovered that the Mixture
was naught but Quicksilver and Suet, which made the Patients perspire
indeed, but turned 'em all, to the very Silver in their Pockets, as
Black as Small-Coal Men. Now, he had become a kind of Pedlar, selling
Handkerchiefs made at Amsterdam, in imitation of those of Naples, with
Women's Gloves, Fans, Essences, and Pomatums--and in fact all the
Whim-Whams that are known in the Italian trade as _Galanterie le piu
curiose di Venezia e di Milano_. But his prime trade was in Selling of
Snuff, for the choicer sorts of which there was at that time a perfect
Rage among the Quality, both of the Continent and of England. This De
Suaso used to Laugh, and say that the best venture he had ever made was
from a Parcel of Snuff so bad and rotten, that he was about to send it
back to the Hamburg Merchant who had sold it him, when one day, plying
at the chief Coffee-House, as was his wont, my Lord Hautgoustham, an
English Nobleman, desired him to fill his box with the choicest Snuff
he had. Thinking my Lord really a Judge, he gives him some undeniable
_Bouquet Dauphine_; but the Peer would have none of it. Then he tries
him with one Mixture after another, but always unsuccessfully; until at
last he bethinks him of the Musty Parcel he has at home, and
accordingly, having fetched some of that, returns to the Coffee-House,
and says that he has indeed a Snuff of extraordinary Smell and Taste,
but that 'tis extravagantly dear. Lord Hautgoustham tries it, and calls
out in an ecstasy that 'tis the most beautiful Snuff he ever put to his
Nose. He bought a Pound of it, for which De Suaso charged him at the
moderate rate of Four Guineas; and desires to know his Lodging, that he
may send his Friends to buy some of this Incomparable Mixture. The
Artful Rogue then affects the Coy, says that his Stock of the Snuff is
very low, and by degrees raises his price to Eleven Pistoles a Pound,
until the English in Brussels have been half-poisoned with his filthy
Remnant; when there comes upon the scene a certain Mr. Dubiggin, a rich
old English Merchant of the Caraccas, who knew all kinds of Snuff as
well as a Yorkshire Tyke knows Horses; and he, telling the Nobleman and
his Friends how they have been duped, my Lord Hautgoustham, who was of a
hot temper, makes no more ado, but kicks this unhappy De Suaso half way
down the Montagne de la Cour.
Here, too, I made an Acquaintance who was afterwards the means of
working me much Mischief. This was one Ferdinando Carolyi, that said he
was a Styrian, but spoke most Tongues, and was a thoroughly accomplished
Rascal. He had been a painter of Flower-pieces, and from what I could
learn had also made the Mill to go in the way of coining False Money;
but at the time I knew him was all for the occult Science called the
Cabala. He showed me a whole chestful of Writings at his Lodgings--which
were very mean--and declared that he had invented a perfect and
particular System, which he called the Astronomical Terrestrial Cabala.
He had run through the whole Pentateuch, and had reduced to the Signs
of the Zodiac the words of such Scripture Verses as answered to the
same; one to Aries, the second to Taurus, the third to Gemini, and the
like. In short, there appeared a kind of Harmony in 'em, particularly
when the Terrestrial Cabala (which was of the Dryest) was moistened with
a flask or two of good old Rhenish. The whole of this contrivance was to
tend towards the Discovery of the Philosopher's Stone. He pretended by
these Astronomical Figures to have penetrated into the most essential
Arcana of Nature, and all the necessary operations for attaining the
_Elixir Philosophorum_, or some such word. But this Carolyi had such a
winning Way with him, that he would well-nigh have talked a Donkey's
Hind-leg off. He began to tell me about Peter of Lombardy and the great
adept Zacharias, and of the blessed Terra Foliata, or Land of Leaves,
where Gold is sown to be radically Dissolved in order to its
Putrefaction and Regermination in a Fixation which has Power over its
Brethren the Imperfect Metals, and makes them like unto itself; and
this process (which I believe to have been only a story about a Cock and
a Bull) he called Re-incrudation. In fact my Gentleman almost talked me
out of my Senses: and as I thought him a monstrous clever Man, I lent
him (although my Purse was as lean as might be) half-a-score of Austrian
Ducats, to carry out his experiments in the Universal Menstruum. Alas! I
never saw my Ducats nor my Alchemist again. A week after I had lent him
the money, he fled on a suspicion of Base Coin; and I had hard work to
persuade the Officers of Justice that I had not a hand in his
Malpractices. As it was, nearly all my Scholars fell away from my
School; and the Impudent Flemings sneered at me as _Mozzoo Kabala_,--in
their barbarous Lingo,--and I was pointed out in the streets as a
Wizard, a Fortune-teller, a Cunning Man, and what not. So that I was
fain, after about ten years' sojourn at Bruxelles, to call in my Dues,
gather my few Effects together, and bidding farewell to Flanders,
proceed to Paris. It was time; for the Priests were up in arms against
me as a Heretic Outlaw, dealing in Magic. The Black Gentry are
hereabouts very Bigoted; and although they have no Inquisition, would, I
doubt not, have led me a sorry Life, but for my Discretion in timely
Flitting.
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 FRANCOIS 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 a la Tete!_" cries he. "_La
Faute est a Monseigneur et a son Mandement. Je perirai; mais les Grands
de la Terre periront avec moi._"[B]
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 Francaises, 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 blesse!_"--"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 Francois 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.