manded another member of the gang to advance, and stab him. When this terrible act was performed, Cartouche, withdrawing the blood-stained weapon from the side of the unhappy man, and pointing to him in the flickering light of torches that lit up the scene, cried "Perish thus whoever violates his oath." It was by this energetic behaviour that he maintained in his band the most passive and absolute obedience. Cartouche was of small stature, but very robust; his countenance was marked by a sweet and attractive expression; and he displayed on every occasion an extraordinary and cool audacity. Notwithstanding that he was constantly pursued, he visited the theatres and public places, and sometimes, even the most select and retired circles. It more than once happened that his conversation fascinated the people with whom he mixed, although they had not the slightest suspicion who this charming person was. He rendered himself most agreeable to the ladies, whom he studied to please with the most assiduous attention. Very frequently he was recognised by the police and municipal guard, yet they dared not lay hands upon him; often also he forced them to quit their hold, on displaying a couple of pistols which he always carried in his girdle. Once, however, a sergeant and private of the city guard attempted his capture, but their rashness soon produced its result, and, in an instant, they were stretched dead at his feet-the spectators fleeing horror-stricken at the sight. The renown of Cartouche, and the dismay he inspired, increased daily. In the city or in the country he was the constant theme of conversation. His robberies were so numerous and so audacious, that the parliament became alarmed, and solicited the government to take some steps to secure the terrible depredator. The minister of war, Leblanc, gave secret orders to this effect to all the police and municipal guards of the metropolis and the provinces, and every official in the metropolis was ordered to redouble his activity. At this critical moment Cartouche called his little band together, to lay the state of affairs before them, and take the advice of his council. It was decided, after a long deliberation, that he should leave Paris for some time, with the view of putting the police off the scent. He set out for Burgundy. At Bur-sur-Seine he presented himself, under the name of Charles Bourquignon, to an old lady as her son returned after a long absence in India. The poor old woman really believed that she saw her dear son and received him with open arms, and shortly afterwards introduced him to a rich and worthy circle of acquaintances, in which he was entertained with the greatest hospitality. There he might have amended his life, and have obliterated the past, while leading a new and entirely strange mode of life; but the force of evil inclinations and bad habits drove him to quit this happy retreat, and to again present himself in Paris. His first task was to learn from the superior officers of his gang what had been done during his absence, to reward or punish according to desert. This assumption of absolute authority might fairly entitle him to be called a veritable king; indeed, he had his mistresses, his courtiers, riches, and subjects, and, it must be added, traitors also; for a short time after he was denounced by one of his favourite companions, a soldier of the guard, named Duchatelet, who assisted him in his boldest and most terrible expeditions. Cartouche had taken refuge in a tavern of La Courtille, named "The Pistol," and situated near Belleville, when the soldiers of the municipal guard invested the house by night, and surprised him in his bed before he could defend himself. His capture caused the greatest excitement throughout Paris, every one feeling as if, henceforth, neither murders nor robberies would be committed. They conducted him to the Chatelet prison, and securely lodged him in a cell. He tried to escape from his gloomy chamber, but all his efforts were fruitless. The parliament met and engaged in an animated discussion as to whose office it was to try the notorious robber. The criminal court of the city claimed the privilege exclusively, and after a long debate he was handed over to it. Once in the hands of the law, Cartouche displayed a coolness, a gaiety, and self-possession the most complete. He would not name any of his accomplices, and when confronted with several of them, who were likewise in prison, he declared he did not know them. At first, in fact, he pretended not to be Dominique Cartouche, but Charles Bourquignon, son of Thomas Bourquignon, originally of Bur-sur-Seine, and while they were cross-examining him on this point, he asked for a bottle of Burgundy and said, with an ironical tone, as he emptied his glass, "My love for that wine proves that I am of the same country as itself, and that I am a patriot." The public excitement increased each day, and nobody was spoken of but Cartouche. Such extraordinary and fabulous adventures had been related of him that every one was anxious to see and hear him. The fair sex displayed the most intense interest in the judicial proceedings; and notwithstanding the strongest regulations of the judges, contrived by the most ingenious methods to gain admittance to the court house. Several ladies of the court, disguised as officers of the Royal Guard, got an introduction to his cell, escorted by a couple of gaolers. Cartouche, who was indisposed on that day, was greatly honoured by the visits of the young officers. He spoke to them in the most delightful manner, and caused by his charming conversation the greatest astonishment in the young ladies' minds. As they were leaving the prison, profoundly touched by their interview with the robber, they encountered a captain of the Royal Guard, who penetrating their disguise, but waiting to extract some amusement out of the adventure, feigned to take them for subalterns of the Royal Guards. Ile demanded where they had come from, and why they had broken the prison regulations. On one of the young ladies replying in an embarrassed tone, he ordered them to be conducted before the lieutenant of police. M. D'Argenson, who was a very severe official, hesitated some moments as to what course to take; but recognizing in one of the young officers a maid of honour, he quickly discharged all the frightened ladies. This adventure amused for a time both the court and the city. On another occasion, the lady of Marshal De Bouflers, having by dint of great influence obtained an order to see Cartouche, betook herself to the prison, where she found the prisoner singing. On seeing the lady he wished to rise, but the weight of his chains having caused him to fail back, the lady could not restrain her feeling of compassion for the charming robber, and uttered a shriek, Cartouche hastened to reassure her with a voice fulí of emotion; and on bidding him a tender farewell she presented him with two louis to procure some comforts in his prison. At the commencement of his examination he endeavoured to deny his identity. He wished to pass for a man named John Little, son of a merchant of Barrois; but his mother and younger brother, on being called, swore to him, and he was pronounced guilty of several murders, without counting those that had failed from circumstances over which he had no control. Finding himself thus condemned, and seeing no way of escape from his prison, he sought to commit suicide by dashing his head against his chains, but was prevented by the gaolers who watched over him, and in order that this attempt should not be repeated, he was secured to the wall so closely that he was scarcely able to take a step in advance. Some influential persons, who feared lest he might confess, conveyed a quantity of poison to him, which he drank in some wine. About midnight on the 17th or 18th October, 1721, he vomited several times; a physician, who was at once summoned, immediately administered an antidote to him and thus saved his life; but from that time no one was allowed to enter his cell. This event caused the court to expedite the completion of the trial, and although he made no revelations, the evidence was sufficient. He was, by a parliamentary decree, on the 26th November, 1721, condemned to die at the Place de Grève. On the morning of the 27th October, he was subjected to question by torture, but he revealed nothing, and would not make known who were his accomplices. Every persuasion was moreover employed, but he confessed nothing; and treated as a coward and a perjurer one of his accomplices who, on being tortured by water, had at the eighth pint, revealed the names of some of his comrades. Nevertheless, although he would not name any of his band, the exhortations of the priest who attended him produced some effect, and he began to display signs of repentance. The day of execution arrived, and he was led forth from the prison to the place where he was to be deprived of life. The streets were thronged by an eager multitude; the windows were filled with spectators who, for the last month, had awaited with anxiety this horrible spectacle. As Cartouche drew near the place of execution, he perceived a coffin placed on the scaffold surrounded by archers. By the side of the coffin stood the executioner and his assistants, who were arranging, with the utmost coolness, the instruments for the execution. This view produced an impression upon him, and he cried out in a loud voice "That is a horrible sight." His confessor profited by this moment of very natural weakness to make fresh efforts to induce him to reveal the names of his accomplices, but he quickly mastered his emotion, and stepped up the ladder with a firm foot. When he reached the summit he cast on all sides an anxious look, but he could not see his comrades, who, by the strongest oaths, had bound themselves to rescue him. At this his firmness abandoned him again; he beckoned to his confessor and told him that before he died he wished to make a full and complete confession, and at his request he was taken to the Hotel de Ville. He commenced with a detailed list of all his crimes, named his accomplices, pointed out their dwellings, and the methods of arresting them. Among the number whom his revelations compromised were several distinguised ladies and gentlemen. He denounced also, more than forty persons belonging to the suite of Mdile. Louise Elizabeth de Montpensier, one of the daughters of the regent, who was just leaving for Spain to espouse the prince of Asturias. Whilst Cartouche was at the Hotel de Ville, the archers scoured Paris, and secured a great number of those named by the condemned man, with whom they were speedily confronted. When they were brought face to face with him he reproached them in a calm tone, and told them that as they had not kept their oaths, he had not been obliged to hold to his. He then began to narrate in detail the crimes of each, and giving his proof to support what he said. The miserable men, paralysed with terror, were speedily carried off to a prison cell to await the day of their execution. After his companions, came the turn of his mistresses, of which he had three. They were immediately arrested. The first who appeared was a handsome and stately woman, he called her the "Gray Sister," and declared that she had had several children, one of whom she had killed. She was at once removed to prison. The second, whom he called the "Reigning Sultana," was magnificently dressed and had a bold, queenly air. He had nothing to charge her with. She was condemned to ten years' imprisonment. The third was a fish woman in the markets of the Halle. Cartouche had always shown a preference for her above her rivals. He denounced her as having received the greatest quantity of the stolen goods. Her house was searched, and, on the accusation being found correct, she was conducted to prison like her companions, there to await trial. These confrontations had lasted an entire night and the following morning. When all was concluded, they left Cartouche alone with his confessor till two o'clock in the afternoon, and when he had received the consolations of religion, he was again conducted to the Place de Grève. He mounted the scaffold with firmness, and resigned himself to his executioners. The crowd rushed after the principal assistants of the executioner, who hastened along with the corpse to be disposed of to the surgeons of Saint Come. The execution of Cartouche completely put an end to the horrible crimes which had so long dissoluted the capital. His accomplices quickly shared a like fate to his own; but not one displayed the courage of their leader. Scores of volumes have been written on Cartouche and his strange career; but the details here given as to his life and death have hitherto been imperfectly known. We have selected them from the most authentic sources. Whilst the famous thief was lying in his cell awaiting his end, a piece entitled "Cartouche, or the Robbers," was produced in Paris; but at the third representation it was withdrawn at the urgent request of the hero himself, who said that he was not desirous of amusing France entirely at his own expense. And on the first day of the representation of the play the Italian Comedians produced "Harlequin Cartouche." At a later period, Cartouche and his adventures were converted into a celebrated melo-drama. The story of Cartouche is productive of one consoling thought,-the very great progress society has made since those days; he had for accomplices persons in the most elevated ranks of society, who scrupled not to participate in the profits of his crimes. Thieves and murderers now-a-days form a world apart, surrounded with universal reprobation, and pursued with an incessant eagerness by the vigilance of the police, and when taken, punished by the strong hand of justice. THE CAMELIAS. BY W. C. BENNETT. "DOES this Camelia, Kate, become my hair? Charles Bertram brought it for me from the town; The very flower he wished me so to wear This county ball-night; and you wear one too! Ah, coz, I've caught him; he's my shadow, Kate, A partner always at my will to-night; Whom shall you dance with? with this same sweet Charles ? Charles, if I spare him, always flies to you; With Edward Conyers with his curled moustache ? A doughty captain, judge him by his beard; Now he's a match that half the county's mad O, Kate, to win him! win his acres, Kate, So, before her glass, O, fair deceit ! O, passionless sweet pride! A siren in her beauty and her wiles; Laughing she spoke, and, lustrous, left the room, Whose starry darkness walked to wilder souls, And in that great old chair of ancient oak, All carved and quaint, sits blue-eyed Kate, and smiles, Musing to net the snarer in her snare. "If he would do it-he, my one-time flame, This dear good Edward that she'd win to-night; Gay moth that fluttered round my light awhile, Warmed, but unharmed, and now my trusted friend; A flutterer he, yet with how kind a heart! And one who holds my pleasure as his own; If he would do it! snare this snarer now; Small ill to Ellen; 0, what gain to me! Charles loves me; O, he does, unmeshed by her! Unshadowed, shall he know, sweet-sunned by mine! Of beauty, hollow as her soul within, Her cold hard nature it so falsely hides!" So, hearts for stakes, the cousins won and lost |