Fraudsters and Charlatans (30 page)

Articles and letters began to appear in the
Chronicle
daily, and as a result it was arranged that de Rougemont would present himself for interview by the editor, H.W. Massingham, at the
Chronicle
offices on 14 September, accompanied by Fitzgerald. Edward Clodd, author and ex-president of the Folklore Society, also attended. Massingham found de Rougemont's English surprisingly refined for a man who claimed to have spent so little time in an English-speaking country. De Rougemont stated that he had been born in Paris on 9 November 1844, where his father, Samuel Emanuel de Rougemont, had a place of business on the Boulevard Haussmann. He had learned English before he left home, but had never before been to England. Following his return to civilisation he had worked as a canvasser selling properties for a James Murphy of Sydney, and had done many other odd jobs. In Brisbane he had worked for a tea-merchant whose name he could not remember. Asked about the language of the tribe, he refused to supply any more details, saying that a syndicate had been formed by himself and Mr Murphy, who was now in England, to go to Australia to mine the gold deposits he had found there – ‘if you had the words of the language you would have the tribe, and if you had the tribe, you would have the location,' he declared.
³¹

De Rougemont agreed to a meeting at the
Chronicle
offices two days later with ‘an Australian', now revealed to be the traveller and writer Louis Becke. Becke undoubtedly came off worst in the confrontation, since he was obliged to admit he had never ridden a turtle afloat. De Rougemont offered to show him how it was done, but Becke declined, saying he was ‘not so venturesome'.
³²
He then launched into a series of detailed questions about the single-handed voyage, all of which de Rougemont was able to answer to his own satisfaction. There was just one last question from the editor. He asked if he could see de Rougemont's bare arm. The reason, according to the editor, was that a man who had spent thirty years living almost naked in the outback would be as tanned on the arms as he was on the face; but there was also another unstated reason. Rumours had been abounding that de Rougemont had been a convict, in which case his arms might show the marks of shackles or branding. De Rougemont said he found the question impertinent, and the editor withdrew it.

The
Chronicle
continued to be deluged with letters, some in favour of de Rougemont, others that critically examined his story in great detail. Professor Forbes believed that statements regarding birdlife ‘present insuperable difficulties to the acceptance of his story',
³³
whereas C.J. Whelan, who provided tales of mariners attacked by giant cuttlefish, wrote: ‘I think the public will now be inclined to “pass” the octopus.'
³⁴
De Rougemont eagerly seized upon the supportive letters of Whelan and Moresby and wrote of Becke: ‘I am sorry to have to humiliate him, but he has gone out of his way to look for it.'
³⁵

The October issue of
Wide World Magazine
, published in the third week of September, revealed that:

it is very probable M de Rougemont may shortly be induced to lecture in the principal towns and cities of the United Kingdom. Moreover, he is at present giving sittings to that well-known artist, Mr John Tussaud, who is preparing a portrait model of this marvellous man, which will shortly be on view at the world-renowned galleries in the Marylebone road. It is impossible for us to reply individually to even a tithe of our ‘De Rougemont' correspondents. And M de Rougemont himself is busy working up his scientific material for the learned societies, tracing his relatives in Lausanne and Paris, etc etc.
³⁶

The ‘marvellous man' had indeed disappeared abroad, although it is unlikely that he told his publisher exactly where he was going.

Part three of ‘The Adventures' brought a fresh storm of criticism and ridicule. De Rougemont claimed that, within a month of his arrival on the mainland, he witnessed a battle with a nearby tribe, which was followed by a cannibal feast, the bodies being roasted on hot stones buried in the sand. ‘I saw mothers with a leg or an arm surrounded by plaintive children, who were crying for their portion of the toothsome dainty.'
³⁷
Out hunting in his boat, he succeeded in harpooning a whale calf when the boat was destroyed by its angry mother. Both whales were later washed up on shore and he was accorded enormous prestige as the natives thought he had killed both single-handed. The ever-resourceful Yamba soon replaced the boat by making a canoe: ‘One day I decided to go and explore one of the islands, in search of wombats, whose skins I wanted to make into sandals for myself. I knew that wombats haunted the islands in countless thousands, because I had seen them rising in clouds every evening at sunset.'
³⁸
Even the adulation of the natives began to pall. He found tribal life monotonous, and decided to try to reach the coast and find a ship. Yamba accompanied him wherever he went. ‘Her dog-like fidelity to me never wavered, and I know she would have laid down her life for me at any time.'
³⁹

While experts argued about the size of octopi or whether it was possible to ride a turtle, and others just wanted to recover the buried pearls, the
Chronicle
took a commendably practical view on the mystery and sent its Paris correspondent to check the registers of baptisms. On 19 September it announced to its readers that no trace had been found of the birth or baptism of Louis de Rougemont in Paris between 1840 and 1849. Moreover, the Boulevard Haussmann, where he was supposed to have been brought up, had not existed when de Rougemont was a child. Senior members of the de Rougemont family had been asked if they could identify the traveller from his published portraits, but denied any knowledge of him. It looked increasingly probable that the mysterious adventurer had lied about his name. Criticism in the newspapers was hardening. Becke, having established that, apart from any minor errors that might have crept into the manuscript, it was published essentially as related, now cast considerable doubts on de Rougemont's ability to handle the schooner as claimed, while David Carnegie, an Australian explorer and prospector who had substantial experience of portable condensers, could not see how a simple kettle could produce enough pure water to keep alive a man and a dog and later the four aboriginals as well. Another letter pointed out that, as the wombat is a burrowing marsupial, it could hardly rise in clouds. ‘How could his editor allow such an absurd statement to appear?'
⁴⁰

Keltie and Mill, backtracking with remarkable rapidity, wrote to the
Chronicle
saying that they had questioned de Rougemont solely on the nature of the land and the habits of the people, and found his replies ‘in the main accordant with published statements of reputable travellers'.
⁴¹
In view, however, of the sensational manner in which the story was presented, they had contacted the publisher and asked for their names to be withdrawn.

Wide World Magazine
easily weathered the criticism, presumably taking the view of many of de Rougemont's supporters that, since his experiences were apparently unique, there was no one sufficiently qualified to contradict him. That October, in the introduction to the November instalment, the editor promised ‘some truly amazing developments of the story . . . Arrangements are already being made for its translation into every European language from Spain to Sweden. M de Rougemont begs his hundreds of thousands of friends not to think him discourteous if he is at present obliged, though pressure of work, to decline all social engagements, lecture arrangements, etc etc.'
⁴²

Although the editor was later reluctant to reveal how the published ‘Adventures' had affected sales, an advertising circular issued that month claimed that ‘No magazine which has been published during the past quarter of a century can claim such a
startling increase
of circulation as has followed the appearance of this periodical. In less than seven months we are able to announce a solid sale of 400,000 copies per issue.'
⁴³

Meanwhile, issues of the magazine had been eagerly bought in Australia, where there was considerable excitement over de Rougemont's claim to have discovered Gibson. A sketch of the author appeared in the
Sydney Daily Telegraph
, which resulted in a number of people visiting the newspaper offices to say that they recognised the subject. All gave the same name, Henri Louis Grien, sometimes spelled Grein or even anglicised to Green. He had lived in Sydney, and had gone from there to New Zealand the previous year, leaving behind him a wife and family. Grien, it was said, had a wonderful gift for spinning yarns and often spoke of his pearl fishing adventures and time spent among the savages. The
Sydney Evening News
located Mrs Grien, a fair-complexioned lady in her early thirties who, shown a picture of Louis de Rougemont, readily identified him as her husband, from whom she had been separated for about two years. The newspapers also located Grien's lodgings in Sydney, and were told that, after his departure, letters had arrived there from his brother, Pastor François Grin of Suchy in Switzerland. The final pieces of the puzzle began to fall into place. Soon, cables were passing back and forth between Australian newspapers and the London
Daily Chronicle
, which was rapidly accumulating information that would finally expose the truth about Louis de Rougemont.

Louis de Rougemont's first public lecture took place at St James' Hall, Piccadilly, on 3 October 1898. Newnes Ltd advertised the event, stating that the speaker would ‘answer a number of the important questions which have been lately put in the newspapers'.
⁴⁴
Fitzgerald had told a visiting reporter that he was sure de Rougemont could clear up all the queries. He admitted that his protégé had used the name Green in Australia. Forgetting that de Rougemont had claimed only two weeks earlier not to be able to recall the name of the tea firm he had worked for, he said that the firm was called Green and that de Rougemont had used the name while in their employ.

On the platform at the distinguished occasion were Sir George Newnes, Mr Henniker Heaton and Mr Atherley-Jones QC MP. At first, the talk was, to many, a disappointment. Much of the material had already been covered in the pages of
Wide World Magazine
, and the speaker was reluctant to anticipate anything that had yet to be published. Queried by the more critical elements in the audience, he excused the size of the octopus as a boyish exaggeration. On the absence of his birth from the Paris registers he could say only that this was where he had believed he had been born. To those who questioned the details of his wanderings he pleaded ignorance of the geography of the area. As the audience filed out, a man rose and asked if de Rougemont would show his arms, a suggestion that caused immediate uproar. The speaker hesitated. ‘If the request had been made in any place but this', he began, but the rest of his sentence was drowned by cries of derision. ‘But as it is made here, I will show it!' he went on.
⁴⁵
He then removed his coat and pulled back the sleeves of his shirt to show tanned arms with no sign of any convict markings. What had been a disappointing evening turned into a personal triumph as he received three hearty cheers. Despite his triumph, the ‘marvellous man' developed cold feet about presenting himself for public questioning a second time, and abruptly cancelled the remainder of his appearances, to the annoyance of André, who instructed his solicitors to take legal proceedings. On 7 October Madame Tussauds waxworks advertised its latest sensation: ‘The Modern Robinson Crusoe, taken from life, M. Louis de Rougemont'.
⁴⁶

It was not only in Australia that people had recognised Louis de Rougemont's portrait in
Wide World Magazine
. In London several readers recalled a shabbily dressed man who in the spring of 1898 had approached them asking for financial assistance to develop an invention. On 5 October William May, a noted Australian salvage diver, walked into the
Chronicle
offices. He was visiting friends in London and had heard about a city firm being approached about a diving apparatus. The story had a familiar ring. He was shown the August issue of
Wide World Magazine
with de Rougemont's portrait, a tactical error on the
Chronicle
's part, since May, in common with so many others, was at once so amused and diverted by the story that there was great difficulty in bringing his attention back to the subject in hand. He confirmed that the portrait was of a Mr Green he had known in Sydney for three or four years. Green, he said, was a member of a firm called McQuillan (spelt McQuellan in the Australian newspapers) and Green, which had been trying, with some success, to get interested parties to invest in a new design of diving apparatus. Made of copper, it consisted of a frame with holes through which the diver passed his arms, and on to the apparatus was screwed an ordinary diving helmet. It had, said May, one defect: ‘It gave the diver about four and a half pounds of air to live upon when he wanted about thirty. One day, about two years ago, I was asked to inspect the invention. I did so; and I said to the firm that in my opinion they had discovered a highly successful murdering machine.'
⁴⁷
The apparatus had been tested in January 1897, when a Dane, Christien Madsen, dived from a steamer off Dawes Point. Fifteen minutes later he was brought to the surface dead. It was ‘Green' who had been holding the end of the exhaust pipe. An inquest later found that Madsen's death was the result of a collapsed spine resulting from an old injury.

May said that when he had first met ‘Green' in Sydney in 1895 he had seemed to be a settled inhabitant and did not appear to have just returned from a long sojourn in the wilderness. The
Chronicle
sent a telegram to the
Sydney Daily Telegraph
asking how long Grien had lived in Sydney and the age of his eldest child. The reply was short but revealing: ‘Seventeen years. Frequently away. Eldest child fourteen.'
⁴⁸
As the
Chronicle
succinctly put it: ‘the names he had given in the
Wide World Magazine
do not fit, the dates do not fit, the story does not fit'.
⁴⁹
The claim to have spent thirty years in the wilderness was clearly unrealistic.