Being a Narrative of the extraordinary hallucination of Gottlieb Einhalter, alias Raoul Croc, a native of Tours, carefully abstracted from the Rechtsfalle of the Law Courts of Wittenberg, and compared with the Report made by the Committee of Savans to the French Academy of Sciences.
by R.H. Horne.
Originally published in Howitt's Journal (William Lovett) vol.1 #8 (20 Feb 1847).
It is our semi-barbarous Code of Laws that makes Heroes of vulgar felons, by exciting the imagination, and calling forth sympathy and pity for a poor wretch about to become the principal performer in a public Strangling Show. The Law, is the Newgate dramatist; the scaffold, is the stage; the whole mixed public, is the audience; and "the moral" is, in its most extensive influence, that there is something great in a man who is hanged.—R.H.H.
In the neighbourhood of Puy St. Ostien, a small obscure town of Languedoc, a murder was committed about nine years since upon a labouring man, named Jacques Moulin, as he was returning homeward from his work. He was killed by a shot from the road-side, the bullet passing quite through his body. He had a little money about him, and an old silver medal or decoration, both of which were found upon his person, and there was no appearance of any attempt having been made to rob him; so that the private malice of some unknown enemy seemed to be the only cause to which his murder could be attributed. Jacques Moulin, however, was well known to be a most peaceful and inoffensive man, who was generally indeed considered to be of rather an imbecile character, and not at all likely to provoke the hostility of any one. It was more probable, therefore, that he was shot, by mistake, for somebody else. But whatever the motive of the assassin, he had successfully effected his escape. An old man, with a wooden leg, who had formerly been a soldier, and served in Italy under Napoleon, was witness of the sanguinary occurrence. He said he was seated on a bank, near the entrance of the town, resting himself; there was a hedge close behind him, and a ball had been fired right through this hedge. Deceased cried out, "Oh, mon Dieu, pourquoi?" and instantly fell. This was all witness knew of the matter. He got up as fast as he could, when he saw the man fall in the road, and looked over the hedge, and in all directions, thinking he should see the assassin making off, but he could not obtain the least glimpse of him. Being unable to lift the body out of the road, he sat himself down again, to watch it till somebody passed that way. Two labourers shortly appeared, to whom he related what had happened. The police exerted themselves, but could obtain no clue to the discovery of the murderer. The unfortunate man was buried, and the affair soon lost its interest.
Three weeks afterwards, as Auguste Vivier, a manufacturer of artificial flowers, was on the road from St. Gervaise to Clermont, he stopped at a little auberge on the way-side, to obtain some refreshment. He had scarcely sat there ten minutes, when he was shot. The report sounded quite close to the auberge. Several people instantly ran out, and found Auguste Vivier lying with his face upon the ground, having fallen forwards from the bench upon which he was sitting. They lifted him up, and found he was quite dead. By a strange coincidence, the only witness was the same old soldier with the wooden leg, who, being on his way to St. Gervaise, had stopped there for some refreshment. He stated that deceased and himself were sitting on opposite benches; that there was a garden paling close behind deceased's back, and two elder trees, the boughs of which extended nearly over both their heads; that somebody had fired a gun from behind the garden paling; and that deceased immediately fell forwards, with his face upon the ground. Witness saw the smoke coming out of the middle of his back; could not say for certain, if it was a gun or a pistol; thought, from the report, that it must be a large gun—a gun of the kind used to kill wild-fowl. He was too infirm to pursue the perpetrator of the deed; and all he could do on seeing the man fall, was to call out for help.
But who was the assassin? and by what means had he effected his escape? Auguste Vivier had had a violent altercation, some time previously, with a gardener of Clermont, on the merit of their respective vocations, in which deceased had come off victor, and bestowed various epithets of contempt upon his opponent, as a mere digger of earth and sower of seeds. The gardener was immediately arrested, and a most rigid investigation was instituted. Nothing, however, could be proved against him, and he was acquitted.
This occurrence became the subject of much discussion for many leagues round, and was only just beginning to pass away, when a third murder, under equally mysterious circumstances, was committed in the neighbouring province of Guienne. A silversmith of Lausanne was shot while amusing himself with angling in a little boat on the Garonne. He was alone in the boat at the time; and the only witness of the murder was the same old soldier with the wooden leg, who was sitting upon the bank, reading, when the shot was fired. The deceased himself made this statement before he died. He did not lose his senses on receiving the shot; but, pressing one hand to his side, looked all round for the assassin; but he could see no one except an old man upon the river's bank, who was reading a book.
Upon such very suspicious circumstances, rendered trebly so by the previous murders, the old soldier was, of course, arrested. His person was immediately subjected to the most rigid search. Nothing was found upon him but a book, a tobacco pouch, two francs, and five centimes. He gave his name Amande Giraud; described himself as having served in the campaigns of Italy and Austria, in 1805; that he was in Soult's division, whose life he had saved at the battle of Austerlitz, upon which occasion he had lost his right leg, and had received a pension from Marshal Soult ever since; that he had married late in life; that his wife was dead; and that he was now on his way to Bourdeaux, to see his little son, who was at school there. He stated himself to be in the sixtieth year of his age. He as a meagre, weather-beaten man, with a sallow complexion, and a thoughtful expression of countenance. He had received some education, and appeared to have naturally a philosophic turn of mind; as, indeed, the book found upon him would seem to indicate, which was the translation of an English work by an author of the highest rank in statistical calculations. Application was made to Marshal Soult, who corroborated the statement of Amande Giraud; adding that he had been a brave and honest soldier, and the gallant Marshal believed him to be quite incapable of any acts of baseness or mystery. Inquiries were also made by the gens-d'armerie of Bourdeaux concerning the little son of Amande Giraud, though for some time without effect, as no boy of that name was to be found at any of the schools. A boy, however, of that name had been for a short time at one of the pauper schools, and was eventually traced to a little disreputable shop in the suburbs, where he filled the post of shoe-black and errand-boy. The old soldier was informed of this circumstance, at which he was very much shocked. Nothing criminal, however, could be proved against him; he was accordingly set at liberty, and a few francs were awarded him by the Court, to enable him to pursue his way comfortably to Bourdeaux.
On the 15th of August, 1836, an English family, named Stewart, arrived at the principal hotel of Godesberg, on the Rhine, bringing with them a Prussian valet and an English lady's maid. Between this valet and the lady's maid there had been a love affair, and a marriage had been contemplated. Recently, however, the young woman, having made some discoveries in the character of the valet which were not at all to her mind, had broken off the match. On the evening of their arrival at Godesberg, they were seen walking together on the long, straight road, with apple trees growing on each side, which leads to Rolandseck. About half-past nine o'clock, or a quarter to ten, the valet returned alone, looking very pale. He said he knew nothing of Jane Simpson. The family of Mr. Stewart were all very much surprised and distressed at her absence. Next morning, about daybreak, her body was discovered near the foot of one of the apple trees. There was the mark of a bullet wound in her right side. She appeared to have been dead some hours. Several articles of jewellery, and a little money, were found upon her. She had not been robbed. The valet was arrested, and tried for the murder. He endeavoured to trump up a story about Jane Simpson asking him to throw a large stone up into one of the trees on the road-side; that he had in vain assured her the apples were of a wild kind, quite unfit to eat; that she had made him look for stones to throw up; and that, while he was thus occupied at a little distance, a shot had been fired from one of the fields beyond the trees; that he saw Jane Simpson fall, and fearing he should be accused of her murder, he had made the best of his way back. The effect of this preposterous story, as may be supposed, had the worst influence upon the minds of his judges. Appearances were too strong against him; he was found guilty, and executed at Cologne, August 27th, in the presence of an immense concourse of people, among whom were a great many of the English residents and visitors.
Mr. Stewart and his family were, of course, extremely pained by these occurrences, and would have departed instantly on their intended journey to Berlin, but that the health of Mrs. Stewart had been seriously affected, and a brief delay was ordered by her physicians. On the 3d of September, being the first day of her convalescence, she was persuaded by Mr. Stewart to make a little excursion in the vicinity: they, accordingly, took a drive for a mile or two, and then, alighting, they proceeded to ascend the wooded mount leading up to Rolandsbogen. Mrs. Stewart was too weak to ascend above half way; she therefore remained with a German lady's maid, whom she had just engaged, reclining on the grass at the foot of some dwarf trees which thickly line the narrow ascent, while Mr. Stewart and the rest of the party continued their way up the mount. Mr. Stewart was accompanied by a favourite dog. They gained the summit; and passing under the ruined arch, with its overgrowth of wild shrubs and hanging weeds, two of the children remained jumping up to catch at these wild festoons, while the others advanced to the edge of the small bushy level at top, and looked down upon the lovely scenery of the Rhine below. While they were thus employed, they heard the report of a gun from the woods beneath, and presently after, a cry. The recollection of the recent tragical events flashed upon Mr. Stewart's mind, and, full of alarm, he instantly hurried down. He was preceded by the dog, barking with all his might. They found Mrs. Stewart in the spot where they had left her. She had fainted, and her maid was endeavouring to restore her. This was at last accomplished. A shot had been fired at her, by which she had narrowly escaped being killed, the ball having cut away one side of her bonnet. It had also wounded her maid in the arm. Mr. Stewart, his son, and a gentleman who was of the party, immediately proceeded to search the bushes and woods in all directions. It was without effect; and they were about to return to the carriage, when the dog made a sudden dart round a corner of the thicket below, and continued to bark at something he had discovered. Mr. Stewart and the others hurried to the spot; but the sole object of the dog's excitement was merely an old man with a wooden leg, who was sitting under a tree, reading a book. He looked up calmly as they appeared, and smiled at the dog's continued barking. The old man said he had seen nobody. Finding no sign or trace of the miscreant, Mr. Stewart was about to return; on second thoughts, however, they desired the man to accompany them, as perhaps he might know more than he chose to communicate. He rose and followed them without hesitation. An officer of the police was passing just as they reached the high road; and the diabolical attempt having been communicated to him, he appeared to consider the nature of the circumstance required that he should take the old man into custody for examination.
The name of the man was Gottlieb Einhalter. He had served in the German campaign of 1812 and 1813; and had lost his leg at the battle of Leipzic. He showed a paper, written by a non-commissioned officer, to this effect. This officer was long since dead. Gottlieb Einhalter maintained himself by attending fairs and markets, where he made himself useful as an accountant and calculator. He was found to write pretty well, and possessed some knowledge of figures. He had a clever, self-taught method of making calculations. The book found in his possession appeared to indicate a certain pleasure in numerical estimates, with which it abounded. It was a work of grave absurdity, and had evidently been much studied, as it was in a dog's-eared and dirty condition. No fire-arms, ammunition, or any weapon of offence, were discovered upon him; and after some further examination and detention, he was liberated.
Mr. and Mrs. Stewart forthwith departed on their route for Dresden and Berlin, but too anxious to escape from a place where they appeared to be the marked objects of some secret assassin, though from what cause they were totally at a loss to conjecture. Moreover, such a thing as a murder, or any attempt of the kind, was previously unknown in the neighbourhood. It was, in fact, a most untoward event for Godesberg, as it occasioned many other English visitors to leave abruptly, some proceeding on their tour up the Rhine, others returning straight to England.
Early in the month of March, 1838, two years after the date of the occurrences just recorded, a short, square-built man, in a peasant's blouse, with a pipe in his mouth, and his cap set far back upon his head, so that the peak stuck almost upright from his forehead, was observed about the dusk of evening to continue walking up and down the one principal street of Wittenberg, staring about him anxiously on all sides. He was obviously waiting for somebody. Nothing was thought of this at the time; but it was subsequently remembered in the evidence before the court. After a time, the University clock struck nine, and the man went away. There is a large dyke at Wittenberg, the use of which is to defend the town from the inundations of the Elbe; and on the borders of this dyke the same man appeared at ten o'clock on the same night. He stood looking into the dyke, as if in deep thought. Presently he was joined by another short and rather heavy figure, also in the blouse of a peasant of Upper Saxony; and they both stood, side by side, looking into the dyke. They appeared to be conversing together in an under tone. In the course of a few minutes they were joined by a tall, commanding figure, in a long cloak, wearing a broad-brimmed hat with a high-pointed crown, and a small plume, or wing, of black feathers at one side. His deportment was stately, and his air and gesticulations were those of lofty rank and dignified authority. He placed himself between the two short, thick-set peasants, and all three continued to stand, staring down into the dyke. Not that the dyke was likely to form the subject of their contemplations, but this was the appearance the group presented in the murky shades of night. Presently the gesticulations of one of the peasants showed that something important was in discussion. They were answered by the tall, commanding figure in the long cloak; but, almost immediately after, the man on his left adroitly lifted up one foot, and, without being perceived by the man on the other side, gave the tall, commanding figure a sharp kick behind, somewhere about the middle of his long cloak. The lofty individual received the sudden hint or warning, whichever it might be, without any external demonstration; and in a few minutes the conference was broken up, and all three departed in different directions.
The night passed with that quietude which is usual (except when it is disturbed by the street-chorusses of the students of the University) in this town; and from the mysterious meeting of the three individuals at the dyke, nothing, as it seemed, transpired. The meeting was not, however, without its results.
Next morning being the first day of the principal fair of Wittenberg, all the houses of public entertainment in the town were in preparation for the reception of visitors. At an early hour, and before the opening of the fair, many persons from the suburbs and the country round about began to throng into the town. Coffee-shops and beer-houses were soon in great request. In a back room of one of these coffee-houses sat three men in earnest conversation, while a tall and imposing figure, in a long, dark cloak, and wearing a high-crowned hat, with a feather in it, was standing alone, by an open window just out of sight, but in a listening attitude. One of the men now rose, and left the room; the tall figure outside immediately retreated from his Almost at the same moment the report of a gun or pistol was heard. Several persons hurried into the room, and found one of the men had been shot. His companion was in such dismay that he had not even been able to take the pipe out of his mouth, and could only point to the open window. Everybody ran in the direction he pointed, and saw a tall figure in a cloak hurrying away. He was pursued and seized; and being taken in charge by the police, he was searched, and a pistol was found concealed underneath his waistcoat, with one of his braces across the barrel.
The companion of the man who had been shot, and the only witness of the deed, was an old man well known at fairs and markets as a calculator and go-between in bargains. He also assisted at times as an interpreter, being able to speak French quite as well as German. He had a wooden leg. His name was Gottlieb Einhalter. He stated that a shot had been fired in at the window; did not know by whom; had heard the sound of feet running away.
The tall man, in the dark cloak and high-crowned hat, was a Tyrolese huckster, who had come to the fair to sell handkerchiefs and scarfs, green and yellow table cloths, and other bright-coloured cotton and woollen goods. He protested his entire innocence of any murderous attempt upon Gustav Grimm; and called the blessed saints to witness that he had never even thought of such a thing. As for the pistol found upon him, he had bought it by the advice of Gottlieb Einhalter, the Wunderarzt and calculator. Being asked for what purpose, he confessed that it was to frighten Gustav Grimm. Gustav Grimm and Nicolas Holst were manufacturers of linen; he had agreed with them to exchange goods, and to undersell everybody else in the fair by various devices. He had then, by the secret advice of Einhalter, entered into an under-bargain with Nicolas Holst to defraud Gustav Grimm of the proceeds of their joint roguery. The pistol was only got to help this. It was true the pistol had no charge in it when found upon him; but this was not because he had fired it, but because it had not been loaded. The lock and barrel would show this; as, in fact, had been already noticed by the police.
In consequence of this statement, which, though not very clear, showed at least that roguery and mischief had been abundantly contemplated, Gottlieb Einhalter underwent a close examination. He was first searched. No fire-arms, ammunition, or weapon of offence, were found upon him. There was a book in French in his breast pocket, purporting to be the translation of an English work on population; a few fünf-groschen pieces were in his waistcoat pocket; and in the pocket of his coat skirt were two letters; one in French, which seemed to relate to a remittance of money from Bourdeaux; and the other in German, which was a love-letter, written in very inflated language, and addressed to a putzmacherin (or dressmaker), who lived in the suburbs. Suspicious as were all the circumstances, nothing was elicited of a kind to show that he was an accomplice in the murderous act. The accusations of the Tyrolese huckster were in a great measure discredited; nor were the statements of Nicolas Holst received as truth. Gottlich Einhalter was, nevertheless, detained in custody.