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The Paris Sketch Book

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"Nay," said the man with the orders, "look closer at it, Signor
Gambouge; it is astonishing how easy the language is."

Wondering, Simon took a sheet of paper. He turned pale as he
looked at it, and began to curse the ices and the waiter. "Come,
M. l'Abbé," he said; "the heat and glare of this place are
intolerable."

The stranger rose with them. "Au plaisir de vous revoir, mon cher
monsieur," said he; "I do not mind speaking before the Abbé here,
who will be my very good friend one of these days: but I thought it
necessary to refresh your memory, concerning our little business
transaction six years since; and could not exactly talk of it AT
CHURCH, as you may fancy."

Simon Gambouge had seen, in the double-sheeted Times, the paper
signed by himself, which the little Devil had pulled out of his
fob.

There was no doubt on the subject; and Simon, who had but a year
to live, grew more pious, and more careful than ever. He had
consultations with all the doctors of the Sorbonne and all the
lawyers of the Palais. But his magnificence grew as wearisome to
him as his poverty had been before; and not one of the doctors whom
he consulted could give him a pennyworth of consolation.

Then he grew outrageous in his demands upon the Devil, and put him
to all sorts of absurd and ridiculous tasks; but they were all
punctually performed, until Simon could invent no new ones, and the
Devil sat all day with his hands in his pockets doing nothing.

One day, Simon's confessor came bounding into the room, with the
greatest glee. "My friend," said he, "I have it! Eureka!--I have
found it. Send the Pope a hundred thousand crowns, build a new
Jesuit college at Rome, give a hundred gold candlesticks to St.
Peter's; and tell his Holiness you will double all, if he will give
you absolution!"

Gambouge caught at the notion, and hurried off a courier to Rome
ventre à terre. His Holiness agreed to the request of the
petition, and sent him an absolution, written out with his own
fist, and all in due form.

"Now," said he, "foul fiend, I defy you! arise, Diabolus! your
contract is not worth a jot: the Pope has absolved me, and I am
safe on the road to salvation." In a fervor of gratitude he
clasped the hand of his confessor, and embraced him: tears of joy
ran down the cheeks of these good men.

They heard an inordinate roar of laughter, and there was Diabolus
sitting opposite to them, holding his sides, and lashing his tail
about, as if he would have gone mad with glee.

"Why," said he, "what nonsense is this! do you suppose I care about
THAT?" and he tossed the Pope's missive into a corner. "M. l'Abbé
knows," he said, bowing and grinning, "that though the Pope's paper
may pass current HERE, it is not worth twopence in our country.
What do I care about the Pope's absolution? You might just as well
be absolved by your under butler."

"Egad," said the Abbé, "the rogue is right--I quite forgot the
fact, which he points out clearly enough."

"No, no, Gambouge," continued Diabolus, with horrid familiarity.
"go thy ways, old fellow, that COCK WON'T FIGHT." And he retired
up the chimney, chuckling at his wit and his triumph. Gambouge
heard his tail scuttling all the way up, as if he had been a
sweeper by profession.

Simon was left in that condition of grief in which, according to
the newspapers, cities and nations are found when a murder is
committed, or a lord ill of the gout--a situation, we say, more
easy to imagine than to describe.

To add to his woes, Mrs. Gambouge, who was now first made acquainted
with his compact, and its probable consequences, raised such a storm
about his ears, as made him wish almost that his seven years were
expired. She screamed, she scolded, she swore, she wept, she went
into such fits of hysterics, that poor Gambouge, who had completely
knocked under to her, was worn out of his life. He was allowed no
rest, night or day: he moped about his fine house, solitary and
wretched, and cursed his stars that he ever had married the
butcher's daughter.

It wanted six months of the time.

A sudden and desperate resolution seemed all at once to have taken
possession of Simon Gambouge. He called his family and his friends
together--he gave one of the greatest feasts that ever was known in
the city of Paris--he gayly presided at one end of his table, while
Mrs. Gam., splendidly arrayed, gave herself airs at the other
extremity.

After dinner, using the customary formula, he called upon Diabolus
to appear. The old ladies screamed, and hoped he would not appear
naked; the young ones tittered, and longed to see the monster:
everybody was pale with expectation and affright.

A very quiet, gentlemanly man, neatly dressed in black, made his
appearance, to the surprise of all present, and bowed all round to
the company. "I will not show my CREDENTIALS," he said, blushing,
and pointing to his hoofs, which were cleverly hidden by his pumps
and shoe-buckles, "unless the ladies absolutely wish it; but I am
the person you want, Mr. Gambouge; pray tell me what is your will."

"You know," said that gentleman, in a stately and determined voice,
"that you are bound to me, according to our agreement, for six
months to come."

"I am," replied the new comer.

"You are to do all that I ask, whatsoever it may be, or you forfeit
the bond which I gave you?"

"It is true."

"You declare this before the present company?"

"Upon my honor, as a gentleman," said Diabolus, bowing, and laying
his hand upon his waistcoat.

A whisper of applause ran round the room: all were charmed with the
bland manners of the fascinating stranger.

"My love," continued Gambouge, mildly addressing his lady, "will
you be so polite as to step this way? You know I must go soon, and
I am anxious, before this noble company, to make a provision for
one who, in sickness as in health, in poverty as in riches, has
been my truest and fondest companion."

Gambouge mopped his eyes with his handkerchief--all the company did
likewise. Diabolus sobbed audibly, and Mrs. Gambouge sidled up to
her husband's side, and took him tenderly by the hand. "Simon!"
said she, "is it true? and do you really love your Griskinissa?"

Simon continued solemnly: "Come hither, Diabolus; you are bound to
obey me in all things for the six months during which our contract
has to run; take, then, Griskinissa Gambouge, live alone with her
for half a year, never leave her from morning till night, obey all
her caprices, follow all her whims, and listen to all the abuse
which falls from her infernal tongue. Do this, and I ask no more
of you; I will deliver myself up at the appointed time."

Not Lord G---, when flogged by lord B---, in the House,--not Mr.
Cartlitch, of Astley's Amphitheatre, in his most pathetic passages,
could look more crestfallen, and howl more hideously, than Diabolus
did now. "Take another year, Gambouge," screamed he; "two more--
ten more--a century; roast me on Lawrence's gridiron, boil me in
holy water, but don't ask that: don't, don't bid me live with Mrs.
Gambouge!"

Simon smiled sternly. "I have said it," he cried; "do this, or our
contract is at an end."

The Devil, at this, grinned so horribly that every drop of beer in
the house turned sour: he gnashed his teeth so frightfully that
every person in the company wellnigh fainted with the cholic. He
slapped down the great parchment upon the floor, trampled upon
it madly, and lashed it with his hoofs and his tail: at last,
spreading out a mighty pair of wings as wide as from here to Regent
Street, he slapped Gambouge with his tail over one eye, and
vanished, abruptly, through the keyhole.

Gambouge screamed with pain and started up. "You drunken, lazy
scoundrel!" cried a shrill and well-known voice, "you have been
asleep these two hours:" and here he received another terrific box
on the ear.

It was too true, he had fallen asleep at his work; and the
beautiful vision had been dispelled by the thumps of the tipsy
Griskinissa. Nothing remained to corroborate his story, except the
bladder of lake, and this was spirted all over his waistcoat and
breeches.

"I wish," said the poor fellow, rubbing his tingling cheeks, "that
dreams were true;" and he went to work again at his portrait.

My last accounts of Gambouge are, that he has left the arts, and is
footman in a small family. Mrs. Gam. takes in washing; and it is
said that, her continual dealings with soap-suds and hot water have
been the only things in life which have kept her from spontaneous
combustion.



CARTOUCHE.


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.

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