Chapter 54
"It may be as you say, sir," said I, irritated by the flippancy of his remark; "but perhaps I may ask the name of the gentleman who takes such interest in my affairs, and by what right he meddles in them?"
The general started back in his chair, and was about to speak, when the advocate laid his hand gently on his arm to restrain him, and, in a voice of the most unruffled smoothness, replied,--
"As to my name, sir, it is Laurence Baillot; my rank is simple avocat to the Cours et Tribunaux; and the 'right' by which I interfere in matters personal to you is the consideration of fifty louis which accompanied this brief."
"And my name, young man, is Lieutenant-Gnral d'Auvergne," said the old man, proudly, as he stared me steadfastly in the face.
I arose at once, and saluted the general with a deep and respectful obeisance. It was the same officer who reviewed us at the Polytechnique the day of my promotion.
"You are now, I hope, satisfied with the reasons of our presence, and that nothing but considerations of your interest can have influenced our visit," said the avocat, with calmness. "Such being the case, sit down here, and relate all you can of your life since your leaving the Polytechnique. Be brief, too, for it is now three o'clock; the court opens at ten, your case will be called the second, and I must at least have three hours of sleep."
The general pointed to a seat beside him; I sat down, and without any delay proceeded to give a rapid account of all my adventures and proceedings to the hour we were then a.s.sembled, only omitting all mention of Mademoiselle de Meudon's name, and such allusions to De Beauvais as might lead to his crimination.
The advocate wrote down, as rapidly as I spoke them, the princ.i.p.al details of my history, and when I had concluded, perused the notes he had taken with a quick eye.
"This will never do," said he, with more impatience in his manner than I had yet witnessed. "Here are a ma.s.s of circ.u.mstances all unexplained, and all suspicious. It is now entirely a question of the feeling of the court. The charges, if pressed, must lead to a conviction.
Your innocence, sir, may satisfy--indeed, it has satisfied--General d'Auvergne, who else had not been here this night; but the proofs are not before us."
He paused for a moment, and then continued in a lower tone, addressing himself directly to the general: "We must entreat a delay; a day--two days, certainly--will establish the proofs against George and his accomplices; they will be condemned and executed at once. It is most likely that the court will not recur to capital punishment again. The example being made, any further demonstration will be needless. I see you put little faith in this manoeuvre; but, trust me, I know the temper of the tribunal. Besides, the political stroke has already succeeded.
Bonaparte has conquered all his enemies; his next step will be to profit by the victory." These words were riddles to me at the time, though the day soon came when their meaning was palpable. "Yes, two days will do it," said he, confidently raising his voice as he spoke; "and then, whether there be a hussar the more or one the less in France, will little trouble the current of events."
"Then how to obtain the time,--that is the question," said the general.
"Oh, we shall try something. There can always be a witness to be called; some evidence all-essential not forthcoming; some necessary proof not quite unravelled. What if we summoned this same Abb? The court will make proclamation for him. D'Ervan is the name?"
"Yes; but if by so doing he may be involved--"
"Fear nothing on that score; he'll never turn up, believe me. We can affect to show that his evidence is all-important. Yes, we'll make the Abb, d'Ervan our first witness. Where shall we say he resides? Rouen, I suppose, will do; yes, Rouen." And so, without waiting for a reply, he continued to write. "By this, you perceive," he remarked, "we shall disconcert their plans. They are evidently keeping this abbe up for some greater occasion; they have a case against himself, perhaps, in which the proofs are not yet sufficient for conviction. We 'll trouble their game, and they may be glad to compromise with us."
The general looked as much confounded as myself at these schemes of the lawyer, but we both were silent.
A few questions more followed, to which he wrote down my answers as I gave them, and then starting up, he said,--
"And now, General, I must hasten home to bed. Be ready, at all events, for appearing before the tribunal, Mr. Burke; at ten you will be called.
And so, good-night." He bowed formally to me, as he opened the door to permit the general to pa.s.s out first.
"I'll follow you in a moment," said the general, while he closed the door after him, and remained behind with me in the cell. "It was only this evening, sir," said he, in a low voice, "at the return of Madame Bonaparte from Boulogne, that Mademoiselle de Meudon learned you were not at liberty. She has made me acquainted with the circ.u.mstances by which your present risk has been incurred, and has put me in possession of wherewithal to establish your innocence as regards the adventure at the chteau d'Ancre. This disclosure, if it exculpates you, will of course criminate her, and among those, too, where she has been received and admitted on terms of the closest friends.h.i.+p. The natural
"Nothing could make me accept of such an exculpation," said I, resolutely; "and were it offered in spite of me, I 'll plead guilty to the whole act, and suffer with the rest."
The old man's eyes glistened with 'pleasure, and I thought I saw a tear fall on his cheek.
"Now," cried he, as he grasped my hand in both his--"now I feel that you are innocent, my brave boy, and, come what will, I 'll stand by you."
With that he hurried from the cell, and followed the advocate, who was already calling with some impatience to have the doors unlocked.
I was again alone. No, not alone, for in my narrow cell hope was with me now.
CHAPTER x.x.xVII. THE TRIAL.
So doubtful was the Government of the day in what way the people of Paris would be disposed to regard the trial of the _Chouan_ prisoners,--how far public sympathy might side with misfortune and heroism, and in what way they would regard Moreau, whose career in arms so many had witnessed with pride and enthusiasm,--that for several days they did not dare to strike the decisive blow which was to establish their guilt, but advanced with slow and cautious steps, gradually acc.u.mulating a ma.s.s of small circ.u.mstances, on which the "Moniteur" each day commented, and the other journals of less authority expatiated, as if to prepare the public mind for further and more important revelations.
At last, however, the day arrived in which the mine was to be sprung.
The secret police--whose information extended to all that went on in every cla.s.s of the capital, and who knew the chitchat of the highest circles equally as they did the grumblings of the Faubourg St. Antoine-- p.r.o.nounced the time had come when the fatal stroke might no longer be withheld, and when the long-destined vengeance should descend on their devoted heads.
The want of energy on the part of the prosecution--the absence of important witnesses and of all direct evidence whatever--which marked the first four days of the trial, had infused a high hope and a strong sense of security into the prisoners' hearts. The proofs which they so much dreaded, and of whose existence they well knew, were not forthcoming against them. The rumored treachery of some of their party began at length to lose its terror for them; while in the lax and careless proceedings of the Procureur-Gnral they saw, or fancied they saw, a desire on the part of Government to render the public uninterested spectators of the scene, and thus prepare the way for an acquittal, while no danger of any excitement existed.
Such was the state of matters at the close of the fourth day. A tiresome and desultory discussion on some merely legal question had occupied the court for several hours, and many of the spectators, wearied and tired out, had gone home disappointed in their expectations, and secretly resolving not to return the following day.
This was the moment for which the party in power had been waiting,--the interval of false security, as it would seem, when all danger was past, and no longer any apprehension existed. The sudden shock of the newly-discovered proofs would then come with peculiar force; while, mo matter how rapid any subsequent step might be, all charge of precipitancy or undue haste had been disproved by the tardy nature of the first four days' proceedings.
For the change of scene about to take place, an early edition of the "Moniteur" prepared the public; and by daybreak the walls of Paris were placarded with great announcements of the discoveries made by the Government: how, by their untiring efforts, the whole plot, which was to deluge France with blood and subvert the glorious inst.i.tutions of freedom they had acquired by the Revolution, had been laid open; new and convincing evidence of the guilt of the _Chouans_ had turned up; and a frightful picture of anarchy and social disorganization was displayed,--all of which was to originate in an effort to restore the Bourbons to the throne of France.
While, therefore, the galleries of the court were crowded to suffocation at an early hour, and every avenue leading to the tribunal crammed with people anxious to be present at this eventful crisis, the prisoners took their places on the "bench of the accused," totally unaware of the reason of the excitement they witnessed, and strangely puzzled to conceive what unknown circ.u.mstance had reinvested the proceedings with a new interest.
As I took my place among the rest, I stared with surprise at the scene: the strange contrast between the thousands there, whose strained eyes and feverish faces betokened the highest degree of excitement; and that little group on which every look was turned, calm and even cheerful.
There sat George Cadoudal in the midst of them, his hands clasped in those at either side of him; his strongly-marked features perfectly at rest, and his eyes bent with a steady stare on the bench where the judges were seated. Moreau was not present, nor did I see some of the _Chouans_ whom I remembered on the former day.
The usual formal proclamation of the court being made, silence was called by the crier,--a useless precaution, as throughout that vast a.s.sembly not a whisper was to be heard. A conversation of some minutes took place between the Procureur and the counsel for the prisoners, in which I recognized the voice of Monsieur Baillot, my own advocate; which was interrupted by the President, desiring that the proceedings should commence.
The Procureur-Gnral bowed and took his seat, while the President, turning towards George, said:--
"George Cadoudal, you have hitherto persisted in a course of blank denial regarding every circ.u.mstance of the conspiracy with which you are charged. You have a.s.serted your ignorance of persons and places with which we are provided with proof to show you are well acquainted. You have neither accounted for your presence in suspected situations, nor satisfactorily shown what were the objects of your intimacy with suspected individuals. The court now desires to ask you whether, at this stage of the proceedings, you wish to offer more explicit revelations, or explain any of the dubious events of your career."
"I will answer any question you put to me," replied George, sternly; "but I have lived too long in another country not to have learned some of its usages, and I feel no desire to become my own accuser. Let him there" (he pointed to the Procureur-Gnral) "do his office; he is the paid and salaried a.s.sailant of the innocent."
"I call upon the court," said the Procureur, rising, when he was suddenly interrupted by the President, saying,--
"We will protect you, Monsieur le Procureur. And once again we would admonish the accused, that insolence to the authorities of this court is but a sorry plea in vindication of his innocence, and shall be no recommendation to our mercy."
"Your mercy!" said George, in a voice of scorn and sarcasm. "Who ever heard of a tiger's benevolence or a wolf's charity? And even if you wished it, he whose slaves you are--"
"I call upon you to be silent," said an advocate, rising from a bench directly behind him. "Another interruption of this kind, and I shall abandon the defence."
"What?" said George, turning quickly round and staring at him with a look of withering contempt; "and have they bought you over too?"
"Call the first witness," said the President; and an indistinct murmur was heard, and a slight confusion seen to agitate the crowd, as the gendarmes opened a path towards the witness bench. And then I saw two men carrying something between them, which I soon perceived to be a man.
The legs, which were alone apparent, hung down listlessly like those of a corpse; and one arm, which fell over the shoulder of the bearer, moved to and fro, as they went, like the limb of a dead man. Every neck was stretched from the galleries above, and along the benches beneath, to catch a glimpse of the mysterious figure, which seemed like an apparition from the grave come to give evidence. His face, too, was concealed by a handkerchief; and as he was placed in a chair provided for the purpose, the a.s.sistants stood at either side to support his drooping figure.
"Let the witness be sworn," said the President; and, with the aid of an officer of the court, a thin white hand was held up, on which the flesh seemed almost transparent from emaciation. A low, muttering sound followed, and the President spoke again,--"Let the witness be uncovered.
George Cadoudal, advance!"
As the hardy _Chouan_ stepped forward, the handkerchief fell from the witness's face, while his head slowly turned round towards the prisoner.
A cry, like the yell of a wounded animal, broke from the stout Breton, as he bounded into the air and held up both his arms to their full height.
"Toi, toi!" screamed he, in accents that seemed the very last of a heart wrung to agony, while he leaned forward and fixed his eyes on him, till the very orbs seemed bursting from their sockets. "Oui," added he, in a lower tone, but one which was felt in every corner of that crowded a.s.semblage--"oui, c'est lui!" Then clasping his trembling hands together, as his knees bent beneath him, he turned his eyes upwards, and said, "Le bon Dieu, that makes men's hearts and knows their thoughts, deals with us as he will; and I must have sinned sorely towards him when such punishment as this has fallen upon me. Oh, my brother! my child! my own Bouvet de Lozier!"