CLAUDE DU VALL.
It might very naturally be objected to us by some, that we should introduce into our work the life of any highwayman, however celebrated, whose fortune it was to have been born in France; but, without insisting upon the celebrity of the person whose life we are about to narrate, it will be sufficient to inform the objecting reader, that many of the adventures achieved by Claude du Vall were performed in England, and that he is accordingly, to all intents and purposes, although a Frenchman by birth, an English highwayman.
This noted person was born at Domfront, in Normandy.[1]His father was a miller, and his motherwas descended from a worshipful race of tailors. He was brought up in the Catholic faith, and received an education suited to the profession for which he was intended,—namely, that of a footman. But, although his father was careful to train up his son in the religion of his ancestors, he was himself utterly without religion. He talked more of good cheer than of the church; of sumptuous feasts than of ardent faith; of good wine than of good works.
Du Vall’s parents were exempted from the trouble and expense of rearing their son at the age of thirteen. We first find him at Rouen, the principal city of Normandy, in the character of a stable-boy. Here he fortunately found retour horses going to Paris: upon one of these he was permitted to ride, on condition of assisting to dress them at night. His expenses were likewise defrayed by some English travellers whom he met upon the road.
Arrived at Paris, he continued at the same inn where the Englishmen put up, and by running messages, or performing the meanest offices, subsisted for a while. He continued in this humble station until the restoration of Charles II., when multitudes from the continent resorted to England. In the character of a footman to a person of quality, Du Vall also repaired to England. The universal joy which seized the nation upon that happy event contaminated the morals of all: riot, dissipation, and every species of profligacy abounded. The young and sprightly French footman entered keenly into these amusements. His funds, however, being soon exhausted, he deemed it no great crime for a Frenchman to exact contributions from the English. In a short time, he became so dexterous in his new employment, that he had the honor of being first named in an advertisement issued for the apprehending of some notorious robbers.
One day, Du Vall and some others espied a knight and his lady travelling along in their coach. Seeing themselves in danger of being attacked, the lady resorted to a flageolet, and commenced playing, which she did very dexterously. Du Vall taking the hint, pulled one out of his pocket, began to play, and in this posture approached the coach. “Sir,” said he to the knight, “your lady performs excellently, and I make no doubt she dances well; will you step out of the coach, and let us have the honor to dance a courant with her upon the heath?” “I dare not deny any thing, sir,” replied the knight readily, “to a gentleman of your quality and good behavior; you seem a man of generosity, and your request is perfectly reasonable.” Immediately the footman opened the door, and the knight came out. Du Vall leaped lightly off his horse, and handed the lady down. It was surprising to see how gracefully he moved upon the grass: scarcely a dancing-master in London but would have been proud to have shown such agility in a pair of pumps, as Du Vall evinced in a pair of French riding-boots. As soon as the dance was over, hehanded the lady to the coach, but just as the knight was stepping in, “Sir,” said he, “you forget to pay the music.” His worship replied, that he never forgot such things, and instantly put his hand under the seat of the coach, pulled out one hundred pounds in a bag which he delivered to Du Vall, who received it with a very good grace, and courteously answered, “Sir you are liberal, and shall have no cause to regret your generosity; this hundred pounds, given so handsomely is better than ten times the sum taken by force. Your noble behavior has excused you the other three hundred pounds which you have in the coach with you.” After this, he gave him his word that he might pass undisturbed, if he met any other of his crew, and then wished them a good journey.
At another time, Du Vall and some of his associates met a coach upon Blackheath, full of ladies, and a child with them. One of the gang rode up to the coach, and in a rude manner robbed the ladies of their watches and rings, and even seized a silver sucking bottle of the child’s. The infant cried bitterly for its bottle, and the ladies earnestly entreated he would only return that article to the child, which he barbarously refused. Du Vall went forward to discover what detained his accomplice, and, the ladies renewing their entreaties to him, he instantly threatened to shoot his companion, unless he returned that article, saying, “Sirrah, can’t you behave like a gentleman and raise a contribution without stripping people? but, perhaps, you had some occasion for the sucking-bottle, for, by your actions, one would imagine you were hardly weaned.” This smart reproof had the desired effect, and Du Vall, in a courteous manner, took his leave of the ladies.
One day Du Vall met Roper, master of the hounds to Charles II., who was hunting in Windsor Forest; and, taking the advantage of a thicket, demanded his money, or he would instantly take his life. Roper, without hesitation, gave him his purse, containing at least fifty guineas: in return for which, Du Vall boundhim neck and heel, tied his horse to a tree beside him, and rode across the country.
It was a considerable time before the huntsmen discovered their master. The squire, being at length released, made all possible haste to Windsor, unwilling to venture himself into any more thickets for that day, whatever might be the fortune of the hunt. Entering the town, he was accosted by Sir Stephen Fox, who inquired if he had had any sport. “Sport!” replied Roper, in a great passion, “yes, sir, I have had sport enough from a villain who made me pay full dear for it; he bound me neck and heels, contrary to my desire, and then took fifty guineas from me to pay him for his labor, which I had much rather he had omitted.”
England now became too contracted a sphere for the talents of our adventurer; and, in consequence of a proclamation issued for his detection, and his notoriety in the kingdom, Du Vall retired to his native country. At Paris he lived in a very extravagant style, and carried on war with rich travellers and fair ladies, and proudly boasted that he was equally successful with both; but his warfare with the latter was infinitely more agreeable, though much less profitable, than with the former.
There is one adventure of Du Vall at Paris, which we shall lay before our readers. There was in that city a learned Jesuit, confessor to the French king, who had rendered himself eminent, both by his politics and his avarice. His thirst for money was insatiable, and increased with his riches. Du Vall devised the following plan to obtain a share of the immense wealth of this pious father.
To facilitate his admittance into the Jesuit’s company, he dressed himself as a scholar, and, waiting a favorable opportunity, went up to him very confidently, and addressed him as follows: “May it please your reverence, I am a poor scholar, who have been several years travelling over strange countries, to learn experience in the sciences, principally to serve mine owncountry, for whose advantage I am determined to apply my knowledge, if I may be favored with the patronage of a man so eminent as yourself.” “And what may this knowledge of yours be?” replied the father, very much pleased. “If you will communicate any thing to me that may be beneficial to France, I assure you, no proper encouragement shall be wanting on my side.” Du Vall, upon this, growing bolder, proceeded: “Sir, I have spent most of my time in the study of alchymy, or the transmutation of metals, and have profited so much at Rome and Venice, from great men learned in that science, that I can change several metals into gold, by the help of a philosophical powder which I can prepare very speedily.”
The father confessor was more elated with this communication than all the discoveries he had obtained in the way of his profession, and his knowledge even of his royal penitent’s most private secrets gave him less delight than the prospect of immense riches which now burst upon his avaricious mind. “Friend,” said he, “such a thing as this will be serviceable to the whole state, and particularly grateful to the king, who, as his affairs go at present, stands in great need of such a curious invention. But you must let me see some proof of your skill, before I credit what you say, so far as to communicate it to his majesty, who will sufficiently reward you, if what you promise be demonstrated.” Upon this, the confessor conducted Du Vall to his house, and furnished him with money to erect a laboratory, and to purchase such other materials as were requisite, in order to proceed in this invaluable operation, charging him to keep the secret from every living soul. Utensils being fixed, and every thing in readiness, the Jesuit came to witness the wonderful operation. Du Vall took several metals and minerals of the basest sort, and put them in a crucible, his reverence viewing every one as he put them in. Our alchymist had prepared a hollow tube, into which he conveyed several sprigs of real gold; with this seeming stick he stirred the operation,which, with its heat, melted the gold, and the tube at the same time, so that it sank imperceptibly into the vessel. When the excessive fire had consumed all the different materials which he had put in, the gold remained pure, to the quantity of an ounce and a half. This the Jesuit ordered to be examined, and, ascertaining that it was actually pure gold, he became devoted to Du Vall, and, blinded with the prospect of future advantage, credited every thing our impostor said, furnishing him with whatever he demanded, in hopes of being made master of this extraordinary secret. Thus were our alchymist and Jesuit, according to the old saying, as “great as two pickpockets.” Du Vall was a professed robber; and what is a court favorite but a picker of the people’s pockets? So that it was two sharpers endeavoring to outsharp one another. The confessor was as candid as Du Vall could wish; he showed him all his treasures, and several rich jewels which he had received from the king; hoping, by these obligations, to incline him to discover his wonderful secrets with more alacrity. In short, he became so importunate, that Du Vall was apprehensive of too minute an inquiry, if he denied the request any longer: he therefore appointed a day when the whole was to be disclosed. In the mean time, he took an opportunity of stealing into the chamber where the riches were deposited, and where his reverence generally slept after dinner; finding him in deep repose, he gently bound him, then took his keys, and unhoarded as much of his wealth as he could carry off unsuspected; after which, he quickly took leave of him and France.
It is uncertain how long Du Vall continued his depredations after his return to England; but we are informed, that in a fit of intoxication he was detected at the Hole-in-the-Wall, in Chandos street, committed to Newgate, convicted, condemned, and executed at Tyburn, in the twenty-seventh year of his age, on the 1st of January 1669: and so much had his gallantries and handsome figure rendered him the favorite of thefair sex, that many a bright eye was dimmed at his funeral; his corpse was bedewed with the tears of beauty, and his actions and death were celebrated by the immortal author of the inimitable Hudibras. He was buried with many flambeaux, amidst a numerous train of mourners, (most of them ladies,) in the middle aisle of the church in Covent Garden.
FOOTNOTES:[1]We find, by reference to an old Life of Du Vall, published in 1670, that Domfront was a place by no means unlikely to have produced our adventurer. Indeed, it appears that common honesty was a most uncommon ingredient in the moral economy of the place, as the following curious extract from the work in question will abundantly testify:—“In the days of Charles IX. the curate of Domfront, (for so the French name him whom we call parson, and vicar,) out of his own head began a strange innovation and oppression in that parish; that is, he absolutely denied to baptize any of their children, if they would not, at the same time, pay him his funeral fees: and what was worse, he would give them no reason for this alteration, but only promised to enter bond for himself and successors, that hereafter, all persons paying so at their christening should be buriedgratis. What think ye the poor people did in this case? They did not pull his surplice over his ears, nor tear his mass-book, nor throw crickets at his head: no, they humbly desired him to alter his resolutions, and amicably reasoned with him; but he, being a capricious fellow, gave them no other answer, but ‘What I have done, I have done; take your remedy where you can find it; it is not for men of my coat to give an account of my actions to the laity;’ which was a surly and quarrelsome answer, and unbefitting a priest. Yet this did not provoke his parishioners to speak one ill word against his person or function, or to do any illegal act. They only took the regular way of complaining of him to his ordinary, the archbishop of Rouen. Upon summons, he appears: the archbishop takes him up roundly, tells him he deserves deprivation, if that can be proved which is objected against him, and asked him what he had to say for himself. After his due reverence, he answers, that he acknowledges the fact, to save the time of examining witnesses; but desires his grace to hear his reasons, and then do unto him as he shall see cause. ‘I have,’ says he, ‘been curate of this parish seven years; in that time I have, one year with another, baptized a hundred children, and buried not one. At first I rejoiced at my good fortune to be placed in so good an air; but, looking into the register-book, I found, for a hundred years back, near the same number yearly baptized, and no one above five years old buried; and which did more amaze me, I find the number of communicants to be no greaternowthan they werethen. This seemed to me a great mystery; but, upon farther inquiry, I found out the true cause of it; for all that werebornat Domfront werehangedat Rouen. I did this to keep my parishioners from hanging, encouraging them to die at home, the burial duties being already paid.’“The archbishop demanded of the parishioners whether this was true or not. They answered, that too many of them came to that unlucky end at Rouen. ‘Well, then,’ says he, ‘I approve of what the curate has done, and will cause my secretary, inperpetuam rei memoriam, to make an act of it;’ which act the curate carried home with him, and the parish cheerfully submitted to it, and have found much good by it; for within less than twenty years, there diedfifteenof natural deaths, and now there die three or four yearly.”
[1]We find, by reference to an old Life of Du Vall, published in 1670, that Domfront was a place by no means unlikely to have produced our adventurer. Indeed, it appears that common honesty was a most uncommon ingredient in the moral economy of the place, as the following curious extract from the work in question will abundantly testify:—“In the days of Charles IX. the curate of Domfront, (for so the French name him whom we call parson, and vicar,) out of his own head began a strange innovation and oppression in that parish; that is, he absolutely denied to baptize any of their children, if they would not, at the same time, pay him his funeral fees: and what was worse, he would give them no reason for this alteration, but only promised to enter bond for himself and successors, that hereafter, all persons paying so at their christening should be buriedgratis. What think ye the poor people did in this case? They did not pull his surplice over his ears, nor tear his mass-book, nor throw crickets at his head: no, they humbly desired him to alter his resolutions, and amicably reasoned with him; but he, being a capricious fellow, gave them no other answer, but ‘What I have done, I have done; take your remedy where you can find it; it is not for men of my coat to give an account of my actions to the laity;’ which was a surly and quarrelsome answer, and unbefitting a priest. Yet this did not provoke his parishioners to speak one ill word against his person or function, or to do any illegal act. They only took the regular way of complaining of him to his ordinary, the archbishop of Rouen. Upon summons, he appears: the archbishop takes him up roundly, tells him he deserves deprivation, if that can be proved which is objected against him, and asked him what he had to say for himself. After his due reverence, he answers, that he acknowledges the fact, to save the time of examining witnesses; but desires his grace to hear his reasons, and then do unto him as he shall see cause. ‘I have,’ says he, ‘been curate of this parish seven years; in that time I have, one year with another, baptized a hundred children, and buried not one. At first I rejoiced at my good fortune to be placed in so good an air; but, looking into the register-book, I found, for a hundred years back, near the same number yearly baptized, and no one above five years old buried; and which did more amaze me, I find the number of communicants to be no greaternowthan they werethen. This seemed to me a great mystery; but, upon farther inquiry, I found out the true cause of it; for all that werebornat Domfront werehangedat Rouen. I did this to keep my parishioners from hanging, encouraging them to die at home, the burial duties being already paid.’“The archbishop demanded of the parishioners whether this was true or not. They answered, that too many of them came to that unlucky end at Rouen. ‘Well, then,’ says he, ‘I approve of what the curate has done, and will cause my secretary, inperpetuam rei memoriam, to make an act of it;’ which act the curate carried home with him, and the parish cheerfully submitted to it, and have found much good by it; for within less than twenty years, there diedfifteenof natural deaths, and now there die three or four yearly.”
[1]We find, by reference to an old Life of Du Vall, published in 1670, that Domfront was a place by no means unlikely to have produced our adventurer. Indeed, it appears that common honesty was a most uncommon ingredient in the moral economy of the place, as the following curious extract from the work in question will abundantly testify:—
“In the days of Charles IX. the curate of Domfront, (for so the French name him whom we call parson, and vicar,) out of his own head began a strange innovation and oppression in that parish; that is, he absolutely denied to baptize any of their children, if they would not, at the same time, pay him his funeral fees: and what was worse, he would give them no reason for this alteration, but only promised to enter bond for himself and successors, that hereafter, all persons paying so at their christening should be buriedgratis. What think ye the poor people did in this case? They did not pull his surplice over his ears, nor tear his mass-book, nor throw crickets at his head: no, they humbly desired him to alter his resolutions, and amicably reasoned with him; but he, being a capricious fellow, gave them no other answer, but ‘What I have done, I have done; take your remedy where you can find it; it is not for men of my coat to give an account of my actions to the laity;’ which was a surly and quarrelsome answer, and unbefitting a priest. Yet this did not provoke his parishioners to speak one ill word against his person or function, or to do any illegal act. They only took the regular way of complaining of him to his ordinary, the archbishop of Rouen. Upon summons, he appears: the archbishop takes him up roundly, tells him he deserves deprivation, if that can be proved which is objected against him, and asked him what he had to say for himself. After his due reverence, he answers, that he acknowledges the fact, to save the time of examining witnesses; but desires his grace to hear his reasons, and then do unto him as he shall see cause. ‘I have,’ says he, ‘been curate of this parish seven years; in that time I have, one year with another, baptized a hundred children, and buried not one. At first I rejoiced at my good fortune to be placed in so good an air; but, looking into the register-book, I found, for a hundred years back, near the same number yearly baptized, and no one above five years old buried; and which did more amaze me, I find the number of communicants to be no greaternowthan they werethen. This seemed to me a great mystery; but, upon farther inquiry, I found out the true cause of it; for all that werebornat Domfront werehangedat Rouen. I did this to keep my parishioners from hanging, encouraging them to die at home, the burial duties being already paid.’
“The archbishop demanded of the parishioners whether this was true or not. They answered, that too many of them came to that unlucky end at Rouen. ‘Well, then,’ says he, ‘I approve of what the curate has done, and will cause my secretary, inperpetuam rei memoriam, to make an act of it;’ which act the curate carried home with him, and the parish cheerfully submitted to it, and have found much good by it; for within less than twenty years, there diedfifteenof natural deaths, and now there die three or four yearly.”