From Johnson’s A General History of the Lives of the… Highwaymen and Du Vall’s final speech from Smith’s General History of the Lives of the Most Notorious Highwaymen
Du Vall was trained as a footman and came to England in a noble retinue when Charles II was restored to the throne. Footmen often became highwaymen: they were trained as outriders, hired to protect an equipage from robbery, so they had the requisite skills of hard riding and sure shooting; used to living well, they were noted for their insolent, often insubordinate, attitude (indeed this might be encouraged as some rakish peers felt it reflected well on them for their footmen to cultivate a sense of hauteur) that was easily translated into the desire to live free of the shackles of service, by their own rules. Du Vall’s flair, independence and taste for the high life mimicked the values of the dissolute Restoration aristocracy he had once worked for. Johnson’s account is given in full.
Du Vall was born at Dumfort in Normandy. His father was a miller, and his mother was descended of an honourable race of tailors. He was educated in the Catholic faith, and received an education suited to a footman. But though the father was careful to train up his son in the religion of his ancestors, he was without religion himself. He talked more of good cheer than of the church; of sumptuous feasts than of ardent faith; of good wine, than of good works. One time old Du Vall was seized with a severe illness, and there were strong hopes that he would die a natural death. In this extreme illness a ghostly father visited him with his Corpus Domini,1 informing him that, having heard of his dangerous situation, he had brought his Saviour to confirm him in his last moments. Upon this old Du Vall, drawing aside the curtains, beheld a goodly fat friar, with the host in his hand. ‘I know,’ said he, ‘that it is our Saviour, because he comes to me in the same manner as he went to Jerusalem: it is an ass that carries him.’
Du Vall’s parents were freed of 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 horses2 going to Paris: upon one of these he was permitted to ride, upon condition of assisting to dress them at night. His expenses were likewise defrayed by some English travellers that he met upon the road.
Arrived at Paris, he continued at the same in n where the Englishmen put up, and, by running messages, or performing the meanest offices, he 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 that country. 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 honour 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 took up a flageolet, and commenced playing, which she did very dexterously. Du Vall taking the hint, pulled one out of his pocket, commenced playing and, in this posture, approached the coach. ‘Sir,’ said he to the knight, ‘your lady plays excellently, and I make no doubt but she dances well. Will you step out of the coach, and let us have the honour to dance a bourant with her upon the heath?’ ‘I dare not deny any thing, sir,’ the knight readily replied, ‘to a gentleman of your quality and good behaviour; you seem a man of generosity, and your request is perfectly reasonable.’ Immediately the footman opens the door, and the knight comes out. Du Vall leaps lightly off his horse, and hands 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 showed in a pair of French riding-boots. As soon as the dance was over, he handed the lady to the coach, but just as the knight was stepping in, ‘Sir,’ says 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 an 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 generously, is better than ten times the sum taken by force. Your noble behaviour 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, 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 Hooper, master of the hounds to Charles II, who was hunting in Windsor Forest; and, taking the advantage of a thicket, he demanded his money, or he would instantly take away his life. Hooper, without hesitation, gave him his purse, containing at least fifty guineas; in return for which, Du Vall bound him 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 Hooper, 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 heel, contrary to my desire, and then took fifty guineas from me, to pay him for his labour, 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 country, 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. In the true language of a warrior, he avowed that his fortune was as good as that of Marlborough, who never laid siege to a city that he did not take. The adventures of his gallantry are, however, of such a nature, that decorum forbids their recital; and certainly, it is no great compliment to the delicacy or taste of him who first recorded them. It is sufficient to mention, that his gallantries emptied his coffers, and excited him to renewed depredations to feed his licentious desires, until he became confirmed in every species of vice.
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 favourable 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 own country, for whose advantage I am determined to apply my knowledge, if I may be favoured 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 obtained in the way of his profession: 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 stick, into which he conveyed several sprigs of real gold; with this stick he stirred the operation, which, with its heat, melted the gold and the stick at the same time, so that it sunk, 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, he credited every thing our impostor said, furnishing him with whatever he demanded, in hopes to be 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-favourite, but a picker of the people’s pockets? So that it was two sharpers endeavouring 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 meantime, 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 in the whole at Chandos-street, committed to New-gate, convicted, condemned and executed at Tyburn, in the twenty-seventh year of his age; and so much had his gallantries and handsome figure rendered him the favourite of the fair sex, that many a bright eye was dimmed at his funeral, his lifeless corpse was bedewed with the tears of beauty, and his actions and death were celebrated by the immortal author of the inimitable ‘Hudibras’.1
I should be very ungrateful (which, amongst persons of honour, is a greater crime than that for which I die,) should I not acknowledge my obligation to you, fair English ladies. I could not have hoped that a person of my nation, birth, education and condition, would have had so many powerful charms to captivate you all, and to tie you so firmly to my interest that you have not abandoned me in distress, or in prison, that you have accompanied me to this place of death, of ignominious death. How mightily, and how generously have you rewarded my little services. Shall I ever forget that universal consternation amongst you when I was taken, your frequent, your chargeable visits to me at Newgate, your shrieks, your swoonings when I was condemned, your zealous intercession and importunity for my pardon? You could not have erected fairer pillars of honour and respect to me, had I been an Hercules. It has been the misfortune of several English gentlemen, in the times of the late usurpation, to die at this place upon the honourablest occasion that ever presented itself, the endeavouring to restore their exiled sovereign; gentlemen, indeed, who had ventured their lives, and lost their estates, in the service of their prince; but they all died unlamented and uninterceded for, because they were English. How much greater, therefore, is my obligation, whom you love better than your own countrymen? Nevertheless, ladies, it does not grieve me that your intercession for my life proved ineffectual; for now I shall die with little pain, an healthful body and I hope a prepared mind. For my confessor has showed me the evil of my way, and wrought in me a true repentance; witness these tears, these unfeigned tears.