Part 32 (1/2)
”Brother, by what right did the jurors who a.s.sisted at the sessions of the revolutionary tribunal inst.i.tuted on August the 17th of this year, declare the accused innocent or guilty?”
”They exercised a right conferred on them by the law.”
”Then the law confers in certain cases, and on citizens elected by the people, the right to judge or to absolve?”
”In certain cases, yes; and the present case is not of their number.”
”John, those are the subtleties of a lawyer. Listen to what pa.s.sed before my eyes: The people elected by acclamation and installed in the prison a revolutionary tribunal of eleven jurors. The prisoners were brought before them. Then--I saw everything, I heard everything, and I swear before G.o.d, aye, on my soul and conscience, that all those who were sentenced deserved the death. My mind is clear, my thoughts calm.
Hear what I have to tell you, then you shall p.r.o.nounce between those who glorify the events of September and those who condemn them:
”Three carriages bearing priests accused of having fomented civil war, were driving towards the Abbey. As the vehicles approached the prison, one of the priests, who was braving the crowd with the violence of his discourse, was cursed by it. In a pa.s.sion he raised his cane and struck one of those who insulted him over the head. The crowd, exasperated, followed the vehicles into the Abbey and ma.s.sacred all the priests in them.”
Victoria gasped for breath and continued:
”It was at this moment that I entered the prison. Almost at the same time as I, Manuel, the attorney-at-law for the Commune, arrived. The people called on the guards to deliver the prisoners to them. Manuel asked to be heard. He began by reading a decision of the Commune, which declared:
”'In the name of the people, citizens, you are enjoined to pa.s.s judgment on all the prisoners in the Abbey Prison without distinction; with the exception of Abbot Lenfant, whom you shall bestow in a safe place.
”'At the City Hall, September 2, 1792.
”'Signed, Panis, Sergent, administrators.'
”Having read the decree, Manuel continued:
”'Citizens, your resentment is just. Wage, if you will, war without let upon the enemies of the public weal! Fight them to the death; they must perish. But you love justice, and you would shudder at the thought of imbruing your hands with innocent blood. Cease, then, from throwing yourselves like tigers upon men, your brothers.'”
Victoria, after accentuating this fact, went on:
”A court elected by those present and presided over by Maillard, convened in the registrar's office; one enters the place by a grating communicating with the interior of the prison, and leaves it by a door opening on the prison courtyard. It was in the latter place that the justiciaries awaited the condemned, to execute them. Maillard laid before him the prison register; this gave the charge against each inmate, and the cause of his arrest. A warder, as each prisoner's name was called, went to fetch him. He was led before the tribunal, which proceeded in this wise:
”For instance, they brought in a Knight of St. Louis, an ex-captain of the King's Huntsmen. The accused, formerly the seigneur of several parishes, enjoyed still a large fortune. His name was Journiac of St.
Meard. Here he comes before the tribunal. He gives his name and surname.
'Are you a royalist?' asks Maillard. And as, at that question, St. Meard seemed troubled, Maillard adds: 'Answer truthfully and without fear. We are here to judge not opinions but their consequences.' The Chevalier of St. Meard, a firm and loyal man, replies: 'I am a royalist, I mourn the old regime. I believe that France is essentially monarchist. I have never concealed my regrets. I have a naturally satirical spirit, and I have published in several miscellanies, adhering to my opinion, several mocking verses against the Revolution. Those are the princ.i.p.al facts charged against me. As to the rest, I have here papers which will, happily, make clear to you my innocence.' And St. Meard drew from a portfolio several sheets. They were carefully examined. Some witnesses, brought there by the merest chance, were heard for and against the accused. His defense, worked out in much detail, occupied over half an hour, and ended with these words: 'I mourn the old regime; but I have never conspired against the new. I did not flee the country; I regard as a crime the appeal to foreign arms. I hope I have proved to you, citizens, my innocence, and I believe that you will set me at liberty, to which I am much inclined both by principle and by nature.' The jurors conferred in a low voice, and in a few seconds Maillard rose, removed his hat, and said aloud, 'Prisoner at the bar, you are free.' Then, addressing three patriots armed with pikes and b.l.o.o.d.y swords, Maillard added, 'Watch over the safety of this citizen; conduct him to his home.'--”
”Ah,” I broke in, experiencing a mingled sensation of compa.s.sion and horror, ”the heart of man is an abyss--an abyss--one's reason is lost in trying to fathom it!”
”That is how things were conducted at the Abbey,” proceeded Victoria.
”After examination and free defense I saw set at liberty Bertrand La Molleville, brother of the minister; Maton La Varenne, a lawyer; Abbot Solomon Duveyrier; and the Count of Afry, a colonel in the Swiss regiments, after he had proven an alibi from Paris during the events of the 10th of August.”
And Victoria completed the account of the things she witnessed while the prisoners were being judged:
”I told you, brother, how they acquitted the innocent; now I shall show you how they performed sentence on the guilty. Let me take the case of Montmorin, the double traitor absolved by the Orleans High Court. That scandalous acquittal was one of the causes of to-day's events. The people, tired and irritated at seeing the criminals pa.s.s scatheless under the sword of the law, has done justice to itself, by striking them! Montmorin, brought before the court, showed himself haughty and arrogant; a contemptuous smile contracted his lips. 'You are Citizen Montmorin? The crimes of which you are accused are notorious. What have you to say in your defense?' Maillard asked the former minister. 'I refuse to reply; I do not recognize your right to sit upon me,' retorted Montmorin. In vain Maillard urged him to speak; the prisoner maintained an obstinate silence. 'Take the accused to La Force,' ordered Maillard, after with a look consulting the jurors, all of whom gave, by an affirmative nod of the head, their approval of the sentence of the Count of Montmorin.”
”But Maillard had just ordered the prisoner to be taken to La Force?”
”A conventional phrase, to spare the condemned up to the last moment the agonies of death. 'Take the accused to La Force,' or 'Release the accused,' were the formulas for the supreme penalty. They opened before them the door that gave on the courtyard; the door closed on them, and the justiciaries performed their office.”
”Strange contradiction--pity and ferocity!”