AMONG all the paper that I found in the oaken chest, those which related to the death of Cartouche were by far the most curious, and presented the highest interest, in that they partly contradicted history. They denied with such persuasive strength, and such undeniable logic, that it is difficult to see how the great historians could have overlooked the real details, and the generations which have succeeded since the year 1721, should not have suspected the truth. History teaches us that Cartouche, after having suffered the rack in its most cruel form, during which he confessed nothing, not even a name or a fact, this Cartouche, who had only to die, and nothing to gain from his confession, nothing to soften his last moments, was brought to torment in the Place de la Grere, and it was there that he decided to speak. That they took him back to the Hotel de Ville, and that it was there that he betrayed his principal accomplices, after which he was racked and fastened to the cross, where he expired.
Immediately after this 360 persons were arrested, with the result that they were tried, and judicially massacred, the last one of them being executed two years after Cartouche.
Now in following the papers of Théophraste, we are not doing full justice to Cartouche. While Cartouche was an object of terror, he was at the same time an object of admiration. His courage knew no bounds, and he proved it at the time of his torture. At the moments when his sufferings were greatest, he did not speak. It was said that he only wished to die bravely. The great ladies of the court and of the city had hired windows and points of vantage from which to witness his death, and he did not wish to show them on the scaffold, a cowardly dastard, but the most daring and bravest of bandits. It is an historical fact that of the 360 persons who were arrested after his death, it was found that Cartouche was loved by all. The official report showed women throwing themselves in the arms of L’Enfant at the Hotel de Ville, even after the denunciation.
It is not necessary to mention all the protests that M. Longuet made against the dishonorable death attributed to Cartouche, but some of the preceding lines seem to show that he was right.
It was while conversing on this question that Théophraste and his friend arrived at the Rue de le Petit Pont, without passing over the bridge.
“My dear friend,” said Théophraste, “look at that house at the side of the hotel, which has the sign, ‘To the rendezvous of the Maraiches,’ and tell me if you find anything remarkable about it.” They were then in front of a low, narrow and dirty old house, a hotel. The door on the ground floor disclosed a counter for the sale of drinks. Above the door was a notice, “To the rendezvous of the kitchen-gardeners.” The hotel was leaning against a vast building of the eighteenth century, which Théophraste pointed out with his green umbrella. This building had a balcony of iron, wrought in a delicate design of the period.
“I observe a beautiful balcony, of which the feature in the design seems to be the quiver of the god of love.”
“Anything more?” asked Théophraste.
“I do not notice anything further,” said Adolphe.
“Do you notice the large gratings on the windows? There was a time, my dear Adolphe, when windows that had gratings on were very much in vogue. There were never so many grilled windows in Paris as in the year 1720, and I would swear that these were placed there the day after the affair of the Chateaux Augustins. The Parisians always protected their ground floor, but this did not trouble us very much, for we had Simon L’Auvergnat.”