The Curious Case of the Curious Case of Robert Ledru

Robert Ledru is barely a footnote in my novel, Gray Matter. His name is thrown out as a warning by the lawyer, Jean-Michel D'Barbareau, to show what happens to those who dare threaten him or his clients. Despite the fact that Robert Ledru occupies only a single sentence in Gray Matter, his story is fascinating enough to warrant further inquiry.

If you're curiosity hasn't already driven you to an internet search of the name, you will find several blogs, Youtube videos, and social media posts which all give a brief rendition of the story. Though they differ slightly in what details they include, the summary is this:

The Curious Case of Robert Ledru

Robert Ledru is a respected detective for the Paris Prefecture. Born in 1852, he quickly rises through the ranks, solving various cases within Paris and solidifying his reputation as one of the best detectives in Paris. In 1887, he is called away to Le Havre to investigate some missing seamen. He arrives, checks into a hotel, places the inquiry file under his pillow alongside his pistol, and goes to bed. The following morning, the body of Andre Monet, a local businessman, is found murdered on the beach by the local police. They naturally request the aid of the expert detective from Paris, who just so happens to be in town.

Robert Ledru awakens, noting that his socks are slightly wet, but blames it on the damp atmosphere of the seaside town (having never been far outside Paris before). The file on the missing seamen is now also missing. Ledru suspects foul play until he arrives on the beach. Taking a cursory look at the scene—and noticing some footprints—he promptly announces that he knows the identity of the murderer and returns to his room, feeling sick.

Later, he returns to Paris and turns himself in to the prefecture for the murder of Andre Monet with the following evidence: The footprints on the beach are missing the big toe of the right foot. Ledru is also missing his big toe on his right foot. He sites the fact that his socks were wet the following morning, and that the bullet found in Monet is the same type that he uses in his pistol, which disappeared along with the file on the missing seamen.

Being the respectable policeman that he is, he does nothing to cover these glaring facts, and instead presents the case with the same conviction that he would place on any other suspect, though he denies any knowledge or memory of the murder and can present no motive for it. He believes that he arose during the night while asleep and walked onto the beach wearing nothing but his socks and underwear. For whatever reason, he carried the inquiry file and his pistol. He shot Monet, threw the file and the pistol into the sea, and returned to bed, then awoke the following day with no memory of any of it. The prefecture is skeptical, but agree to place him under arrest until further investigation.

The prefecture undertake a series of tests, proving that Ledru does suffer from somnambulism, often rising from his bed to claw at the bars on his cell. Unknown to Ledru, they place a pistol loaded with blanks under his pillow. That night, he finds the pistol in his sleep and attempts to shoot the guard. He is apparently not awakened by the pistol shots and, on the following morning, claims to have no memory of the event. Convinced of his guilt and his innocence both, the prefecture has him placed under permanent house-arrest. He lives out the remainder of his days in seclusion on a farm with a nurse, dying in 1937 at the age of 85.

When I first discovered this story, I found it absolutely fascinating and, as I love inserting bits of forgotten history into my novels, I could not help but include it, however briefly. I knew that The Forgotten History Blog could further explore the story for any interested readers. I have come across the case of Robert Ledru several times over the last few years, but it is only recently that I began digging into the story in earnest while preparing for this blog. While trying to find the answer to the question of “Who was Robert Ledru?” I discovered another, more important question:

Was Robert Ledru?

The Curious Case of the Curious Case

While every blog post, article, and mention of Robert Ledru all report the facts as if they actually happened, I began to have serious doubts in the validity of the story. None of them give any indication as to where they heard the story or what evidence they base his existence on. None of them. They simply tell the story as if it was true and factual and leave it at that. Now, instead of using this post to answer “Who was Robert Ledru, and what led up to these fascinating events?” I began to ask “Did Robert Ledru exist at all? Is this story nothing more than an urban legend?”

Robert Ledru...?

Since my first discovery of Ledru, his entry on Wikipedia has been removed, and the articles which cover his story all began to look remarkably similar. Not only that, they tended to use each other as sources, mostly tracing back to the article by medium.com or the article from lookandlearn.com, both of which are linked at the bottom of this blog. They did not link back to any actual historical documents at all. Despite the image of 'Robert Ledru' which some include. My attempts at even finding the name 'Robert Ledru' in any historical context failed entirely. Rather than repeating this sad trend and adding yet another questionable post to the chain of posts that affirm Ledru's existence only through mindless repetition, I preferred to do some digging on my own, and see if I could find ANY historical evidence to prove his existence.

To put into perspective how strikingly odd this lack of information is, let me give you an example of some other research I have done with far better results. For the third book in the Callahan Chronicles series, Grayhound, I was looking into the student riots of 1893. This event was also in Paris and only six years after the supposed story of Robert Ledru's arrest, which happened in 1887. During these riots, a student was accidentally killed. In most articles, his name is not mentioned, or he is mentioned only by the name 'Nuger.' Despite this, I wanted to find out more about this mysterious student known only by this single name, which I wasn't sure was a surname or a given name—or even a nickname. It took some effort, but I was finally able to learn not only his full name, Antoine-Felix Nuger, but also his date of birth, parents' names, number of siblings (with their births and deaths as well) , the address in Paris where he died, where he was buried, and a good deal more about his family. I was able to piece together a substantial amount of information, much of which is included in the novel.

All this to say that even in the late 1800's, it was practically impossible to exist without leaving behind some record of your existence. I find it remarkably strange, then, that a detective—even an unofficial one—in the Paris Prefecture could live all the way up to 1937 without there being some record bearing his name outside of a handful of self-referencing blogs. If nothing else, surely his death would have been recorded, but I could find no death certificate either. The only plausible explanation for this is the fact that Ledru did live his later years near Le Havre, which was practically leveled in WWII. Because of this, there is some slight possibility that all records of his existence have been lost, but if all these records were lost, where on earth did the story come from?

While I realize that not every bit of history can be found on the internet, it is surprising that nothing whatsoever can be found out about Ledru other than the basic story repeated above. The only source which the several articles mention outside of themselves is a book by Frederick Oughton. In my search, it seemed that if any answers were to be found, this book was the earliest reliable source. I decided to track down a copy.

The Two Lives of Robert Ledru

The Two Lives of Robert Ledru was published in 1963. It is not available anywhere (as of January, 2025) in digital format, and very little can even be found out about the author, Frederick Oughton (1923-1990). It apparently did not see much circulation, and there are only a handful of physical copies available for sale online, none of which are particularly cheap—especially for an unknown novelist without steady income. The book, like the blogs I mentioned before, is written as if the story is true. This alone is hardly evidence. Dracula is written under the same premise, after all. Pretending that a story has been 'discovered' rather than invented is a long-standing device which authors have used for centuries to lend their story credibility.

The novel paints a very different picture of Robert Ledru than the blog articles. The strange story of Ledru arresting himself does not take place until the final chapter, and includes no more information than the blogs, themselves. The remainder of the book covers Ledru's career, with brief snippets of his early life. Ledru is portrayed far less heroically in the novel. At one point, early in his career, he falsely accuses his landlord of raping a girl simply to get rid of him and claim the house for himself. He takes bribes, keeps criminals on his personal payroll—many of which he extorts to pay for other criminals on his payroll—drinks excessively, and spends much of the novel sleeping his way across Paris, seducing the wives and mistresses of criminals for information, bringing with him law, order, and syphilis.

Yes, syphilis. He catches the disease early in the story during a drunken meeting with a prostitute (one of many), and despite the intense physical suffering he endures from the disease, Ledru seems to feel no remorse for spreading the disease around throughout the rest of his life. Without going into any of the more gruesome details of the novel, I can simply say that it is a dark look into the criminal underbelly of Paris in the 19th century. The prefecture is no less corrupt than the criminals they hunt down, and Ledru is about as morally bankrupt as they come. The book deals with many shocking subjects which would never have been mentioned during Ledru's (supposed) lifetime, but are unsurprising for a book written in 1963. There is no overarching story which reaches a satisfying conclusion at the end. If anything, the novel is really about syphilis and the downward spiral of a very troubled man whose life is injurious to everyone he meets, but especially to himself.

The blogs paint Ledru as an upstanding officer, and the final murder which he commits in his sleep as a shocking event that is at contrast with his character. Such is not the case. The book clearly indicates that Ledru is unstable, and is already being driven insane by the syphilis long before the murder of Andre Monet. His early life show that he is fully capable of murder, for he has no moral compass other than his own benefit. The story is nothing more than a series of events that happen in sequence, rather than a cohesive story with a conclusion. The story of Robert Ledru is not the story of Jekyll and Hyde, of a split personality or of a good man with an unknown dark side, but the story of Officer Hyde, totally devoid of the good Dr. Jekyll.

The story left me unsatisfied and facing three possible conclusions:

1. Frederick Oughton is a bad novelist and has no idea how story structure is supposed to work.

2. Frederick Oughton is a genius, and intentionally used bad structure to confirm his claim that the story is true, making it feel like a series of events which he was able to discover, and that he was inevitably forced to include only what he could find, regardless of how unsatisfying or disconnected.

3. Frederick Oughton is telling the story as he discovered it, and these events really took place.

Personally, I think the book is a work of fiction, possibly inspired by the combination of several French detectives or events from the era. Clearly, Oughton did his due diligence in regards to historical research, but whether that research was regarding the person of Robert Ledru or merely research in order to invent Robert Ledru, I can't say. Rather than being a mystery novel, it is a dark look at the effects of syphilis in the 19th century and the descent into madness of a man who is, most likely, a sociopath. I think the structure is intentional, leaving the mystery of Ledru's existence unsolved, and letting the reader answer the questions raised as best he or she can.

Solving the Case

Much like the story of Robert Ledru, this blog has no satisfying conclusion. Oughton has now been dead for 35 years, so it is impossible to ask him, and extremely unlikely that any of his research is still intact. He does include a bibliography at the end of his novel, but only 7 of the 18 sources were written after 1887, when Ledru was arrested. Naturally, any sources written before the supposed events occur will be of no help whatsoever. I have included the list of Oughton's sources at the end of this article, in the hopes that some other may be able to track them down. Throughout the novel, Oughton also mentions the existence of a journal, which supposedly belonged to Robert Ledru (and which was presumably the source of all the sordid details of his private life). If such a journal exists, I find it strange that it was not listed in the bibliography alongside Oughton's other resources. It also begs the question: How did Oughton get his hands on this journal in the first place? There is a slight possibility that Robert Ledru is a false name, but if so, surely the story itself is unique enough to identify the real people, even under different names. No such account seems to exist.

In addition to Robert Ledru, I can find no mention of Andre Monet, the man he supposedly murdered, nor Sylvestre Bonnard, an artist involved in another of Ledru's cases. Oughton makes the claim that since Ledru is a black mark on the prefecture's record, his story has been 'hushed up' by officials, and most evidence relating to his existence has been conveniently destroyed or hidden away. While this is perhaps possible, I find it extremely unlikely that this story, as remarkable as it was, would not have made it to the press before 1937 (if it reached the press at all).

The earliest potential reference to the story of Robert Ledru that I could find comes from Newspapers.com. After (temporarily) subscribing to their $150 a year subscription, I was able to find 3 articles regarding Robert Ledru, one of which was referenced by the Ye Olde Crime podcast. While these articles do predate Oughton's novel by 26 years, I am still doubtful as to their authenticity. They make the same claim that Oughton did: that the story had been buried for fifty years and only came out after Ledru's death. The information which Newspapers.com indicates as to the source of the articles are as follows:

1. Pittsburgh Sun-Telegraph, November 7th, 1937, page 71.

2. The Washington Herald, November 7th, 1937, page 71.

3. The San Francisco Examiner, November 7th, 1937, page 95.

Strangely enough, the single page which constitutes each of these three articles is identical in every case. None of the archival images have the name of the paper at the top of the page, and one must trust whoever input the data into the archives that the image did truly come from three different papers. At the bottom of the page are the words:

“© 1937 by American Weekly, Inc. Great Britain Rights Reserved.” and the following page number: 3.

Below is one of the three identical articles supposedly printed by the newspapers above.

I find it terribly suspicious that the article is identical in all 3 papers, and that none of the papers have printed the name of their respective companies. It is also terribly concerning that the page number does not match the page number it is supposed to be, and that the page number is the same in all three, with the same copyright, which is also the same in all three and does not match the names of the papers.

It is certainly possible that this story ran in these three papers (and that in itself isn't proof that the story is true) and that Frederick Oughton read the story and decided to dig deeper into the truth of it. It is almost certain that he is a better researcher than myself, and quite possible that he was able to find proof where I could not. Without a firmer grasp of French, I doubt I would find much help in the sources he cites, which are predominantly French.

On the other hand... It is also very possible that someone faked these articles and posted them to Newspapers.com to give some credibility to the urban legend that has cropped up about Robert Ledru in the last few years. The fact that all three are identical copies, down to the copyright and page number, is a major mark against their authenticity. Between modern internet bloggers and Oughton's book of sixty years ago, there is no mention of Ledru at all. Even the character of Ledru has changed from how he is portrayed in Oughton's book, almost as if someone discovered Oughton's book, found the last chapter of the book fascinating, and decided to create some 'evidence' to make the story seem plausible enough for the internet to believe it—all while polishing up the detective's moral character to make the contrast all the more interesting.

It is certainly possible that the story was hushed up, that these newspapers published the story in 1937 after Ledru's death, copying the story from some other newspaper—somehow all forgetting to change the page number—and that 25 years later, Frederick Oughton decided to investigate the truth of the story, but neglected to share where he found out the many details he included. It is certainly possible, but is it probable? I am a skeptic at heart, and the glaring lack of proof from any other sources is a serious problem. If I can find ample records of a practically unknown student called Antoine-Felix Nuger, why can't I find a shred of evidence for a man who was supposedly one of the best detectives of the era, as most of these online articles claim? Rather than proving Ledru's existence, it only proves how important it is to investigate before passing along information one finds online.

If any of my readers are able to dig deeper into this mystery, or find out any reliable evidence one way or another, please send it my way! I love hearing from readers and armchair historians like myself. I hope to be able to update this blog in the future to provide an answer to this curious case. In the meantime, without any ability to find reliable evidence to the contrary, I am forced to assume that Robert Ledru is more at home in Gray Matter than I originally thought, and while I originally included him as a strange bit of actual history, he is more probably—like my own characters— pure fiction.

Below is the bibliography included at the back of Frederick Oughton's book, The Two Lives of Robert Ledru. The ones in bold are late enough that they might actually contain some reference to Robert Ledru (just in case a French historian runs across this blog).

Frederick Oughton's Bibliography:

Allard, Paul: Les Dessus de la Guerre, 1933

Barthelmy: Histoire Politique des prisons, 1890

Cochin, A: Sociétés de pensée et la Democratie, 1921

Daudet, Léon: La Police Politique, 1934

Fortolis, L.: Les Anglais en France, 1923

Le Gallo, E.: Les Cent-Jours, 1923

Heritier, Jean: L'Histoire de la IIIéme Republique, 1936

Arnault, A. V.: Souvenirs, 1833

Bourrienne, L. de: Memoires, 1829

Couchery, J.B.: Le Moniteur-Secret, 1814

Froment: La Police devoilée, 1829

Guizot, F.: Conspirations, 1821

Manuel, P.: La Police de Paris devoilée, 1793

Nodier, Charles: Souvenirs de la Revolution, 1831

Procés de la Conspiration des Patriotes de 1816, 1816

Ternaux, Mortimer: Historie de la Terreur, 1850

Vidocq: Memoires, 1827

Virmaitre, Charles: Paris-Police, 1886

These blogs are designed to give you a brief look at the true history which plays a part in my novels, The Callahan Chronicles.

For more information on Robert Ledru or the Callahan Chronicles, check out these links:

The Callahan Chronicles - by Paul Campbell

Gray Matter - buy on Amazon

Newspaper article - by newspapers.com

Robert Ledru's Unique Investigation - by Sellmagical on medium.com

The Policeman who Caught Himself? - by lookandlearn history picture archive