Peter Leroux was a poor ploughman in the environs of Beaugeney. After
passing the day in leading across the fields the three horses which
were generally yoked to his plough, he returned to the farm in the
evening, supped without many words, with his fellow-labourers, lighted
his lantern, and then retired to bed in a species of shed
communicating with the stables. His dreams were simple, and little
coloured with the tints of imagination; his horses were for the most
part their principal subject. On one occasion, he started from his
slumbers in the midst of his fancied efforts to lift up the obstinate
mare, which had taken it into her head to be weak in the legs; another
time, the 'old gray' had entangled his hoof in the cords of the team.
One night, he dreamed that he had just put an entirely new thong to
his old whip, but that, notwithstanding, it obstinately refused to
crack. This remarkable vision impressed him so deeply, that, on
awaking, he seized the whip, which he was accustomed to place every
night by his side; and in order thoroughly to assure himself that he
was not stricken powerless, and deprived of the most gratifying
prerogative of the ploughman, he took to smacking it violently in the
dead of the night. At this noise, all the stable was in commotion; the
horses, alarmed, neighed, and ran one against the other, almost
breaking their cords; but, with some soothing words, Peter Leroux
managed to appease all this tumult, and silence was immediately
restored. This was one of those extraordinary events of his life which
he never failed to relate every time that a cup of wine had made him
eloquent, and he found a companion in the mood to listen to him.
About the same period, dreams of quite a different kind occupied the
mind of a certain M. Desalleaux, deputy of the public prosecutor in
the criminal court of Orleans. Having made a promising _début_ in that
office only a few months previously, there was no longer any position
in the magistracy which he believed too high for his future
attainment; and the post of keeper of the seals was one of the most
frequent visions of his slumbers. But it was particularly in the
intoxicating triumphs of oratory that his thoughts would revel in
sleep, when the whole day had been given to the study of some case in
which he was to plead. The glory of the Aguesseaux, and the other
celebrated names of the great days of parliamentary eloquence,
scarcely sufficed for his impatient ambition; it was in the most
distant periods of the past--the times of the marvellous eloquence of
Demosthenes--that he delighted to contemplate the likeness of his own
ideal future. The attainment of power by eloquence; such was the idea,
the text, so to speak, of his whole life--the one object for which he
renounced all the ordinary hopes and pleasures of youth.
One day, these two natures--that of Peter Leroux, lifted scarcely one
degree above the range of the brute, and that of M. Desalleux,
abstract and rectified to the highest pitch of intellectuality--found
themselves face to face. A little contest was going on between them.
M. Desalleux, sitting in his official place, demanded, upon evidence
somewhat insufficient, the head of Peter Leroux, accused of murder;
and Peter Leroux defended his head against the eloquence of M.
Desalleux.
Notwithstanding the remarkable disproportion of power which Providence
had placed in this duel, the accused, for lack of conclusive proofs,
would in all probability have escaped from the hands of the
executioner; but from that very scantiness in the evidence arose an
extraordinary opportunity for eloquence, which could not fail to be
singularly useful to the ambitious hopes of M. Desalleux. In justice
to himself, he could not neglect to take advantage of it.
In the next place, an unlucky circumstance presented itself for poor
Peter Leroux. Some days before the commencement of the trial, and in
the presence of several ladies, who promised themselves the pleasure
of being there to enjoy the spectacle, the young deputy had let fall
an expression of his firm confidence in obtaining from the jury a
verdict of condemnation. Every one will understand the painful
position in which he would be placed if his prosecution failed, and
Peter Leroux came back with his head upon his shoulders, to testify to
the weakness of M. Desalleux's eloquence. Let us not be too severe
upon the deputy of the public prosecutor: if he was not absolutely
convinced, it was his duty to appear so, and only the more meritorious
to utter such eloquent denunciations as for a century past had not
been heard at the bar of the criminal court of Orleans. Oh, if you
had been there to see how they were moved, those poor gentlemen of the
jury!--moved almost to tears, when, in a fine and most sonorous
peroration, he set before them the fearful picture of society shaken
to its foundations--the whole community about to enter upon
dissolution, immediately upon the acquittal of Peter Leroux! If you
had only heard the courteous eulogiums exchanged on both sides, when
the advocate of the accused, commencing his address, declared that he
could not go further without rendering homage to the brilliant powers
of oratory displayed by the deputy public prosecutor! If you had only
heard the president of the court, making the same felicitations the
text of his exordium, so well, that nothing would have persuaded you
that it was not an academical fête, and that they were not simply
awarding a prize for eloquence, instead of a sentence of death to a
fellow-creature. You would have seen, in the midst of a crowd of
'elegantly-attired members of the fair sex,' as the newspapers of the
province said, the sister of M. Desalleux, receiving the compliments
of all the ladies around her; while, at a little distance, the old
father was weeping with joy at the sight of the noble son and
incomparable orator whom he had given to the world.
Six weeks after this scene of family happiness, Peter Leroux,
accompanied by the executioner, mounted the condemned cart, which
waited for him at the door of the jail of Orleans. They proceeded
together to the Place du Martroie, which is the spot where executions
take place. Here they found a scaffold erected, and a considerable
concourse of persons expecting them. Peter Leroux, with the slow and
heavy ascent of a sack of flour going up by means of a pulley to the
top of a warehouse, mounts the steps of the scaffold. As he reached
the platform, a ray of sunlight, playing upon the brilliant and
polished steel of the instrument of justice, dazzled his eyes, and he
seemed about to stumble; but the executioner, with the courteous
attention of a host who knows how to do the honours of his house,
sustained him by the arm, and placed him upon the plank of the
guillotine. There Peter Leroux found the clerk of the court, who had
come for the purpose of reading formally the order for execution; the
gendarmes, who were charged to see that the public peace was kept
during the business about to be transacted; and the assistants of the
executioner, who, notwithstanding the ill name which has been given to
them, pointed out to him, with a complaisance full of delicate
consideration, the precise position in which to place himself under
the axe. One minute after, Peter Leroux's head was divorced from his
body, which operation was accomplished with such dexterity, that many
of those present at the spectacle asked of their neighbours if it was
already finished; and were told that it was; upon which they remarked,
that it was the last time they would put themselves so much out of the
way for so little.
Three months had passed since the head and body of Peter Leroux had
been cast into a corner of the cemetery, and, in all probability, the
grave no longer concealed aught but his bones, when a new session of
assizes was opened, and M. Desalleux had again to support a capital
indictment.
The day previous, he quitted at an early hour a ball to which he had
been invited with all his family, at a château in the environs, and
returned alone to the city, in order to prepare his case for the
morrow.
The night was dark; a warm wind from the south whistled drearily,
while the buzz of the gay scene that he had left seemed to linger in
his ears. A feeling of melancholy stole over him. The memory of many
people whom he had known, and who were dead, returned to his mind;
and, scarcely knowing why, he began to think of Peter Leroux.
Nevertheless, as he drew near the city, and the first lights of the
suburbs began to appear, all his sombre ideas vanished, and as soon as
he found himself again at his desk, surrounded by his books and
papers, he thought no longer of anything but his oration, which he had
determined should be even yet more brilliant than any that had
preceded it.
His system of indictment was already nearly settled. It is
singular, by the way, that French legal expression, a 'system of
indictment'--that is to say, an absolute manner of grouping an
_ensemble_ of facts and proofs, in virtue of which the prosecutor
appropriates to himself the head of a man--as one would say, 'a system
of philosophy'--that is, an _ensemble_ of reasonings and sophisms, by
the aid of which we establish some harmless truth, theory, or fancy.
His system of indictment was nearly completed, when the deposition of
a witness which he had not examined, suddenly presented itself, with
such an aspect as threatened to overturn all the edifice of his logic.
He hesitated for some moments; but, as we have already seen, M.
Desalleux, in his functions of deputy-prosecutor, consulted his vanity
at least as often as his conscience. Invoking all his powers of logic
and skill for turning words to his purpose, struggling muscle to
muscle with the unlucky testimony, he did not despair of finally
enlisting it in the number of his best arguments, as containing the
most conclusive evidence against the prisoner; but, unfortunately, the
trouble was considerable, and the night was already far advanced.
The clock had just struck three, and the lamp upon his table, burning
with a crust upon the wick, gave only a feeble light in the chamber.
Having trimmed it, and feeling somewhat excited with his labours, he
rose and walked to and fro, then returned and sat in his chair, from
which, leaning back in an easy attitude, and suspending his
reflections for awhile, he contemplated the stars which were shining
through a window opposite. Suddenly lowering his gaze, he encountered
what seemed to him two eyes staring in at him through the
window-panes. Imagining that the reflection of the lamp, doubled by
some flaw in the glass, had deceived him, he changed his place; but
the vision only appeared more distinct. As he was not wanting in
courage, he took a walking-stick, the only weapon within reach, and
opened the window, to see who was the intruder who came thus to
observe him at such an hour. The chamber which he occupied was high;
above and below, the wall of his house was perfectly perpendicular,
and afforded no means by which any one could climb or descend. In the
narrow space between himself and the balcony, the smallest object
could not have escaped him; but he saw nothing. He thought again that
he must have been the dupe of one of those hallucinations that
sometimes visit men in the night; and, with a smile, he applied
himself again to his labours. But he had not written twenty lines,
when he felt, before looking up, that there was something moving in a
corner of the chamber. This began to alarm him, for it was not natural
that the senses, one after the other, should conspire to deceive him.
Raising his eyes, and shading them with his hand from the glare of the
lamp beside him, he observed a dusky object advancing towards him with
short hops like those of a raven. As the apparition approached him,
its aspect became more terrifying; for it took the unmistakable form
of a human head separated from the trunk and dripping with blood; and
when at length, with a spring, it bounded upon the table, and rolled
about over the papers scattered on his desk, M. Desalleux recognised
the features of Peter Leroux, who no doubt had come to remind him that
a good conscience is of greater value than eloquence. Overcome by a
sensation of terror, M. Desalleux fainted. That morning, at daybreak,
he was found stretched out insensible on the floor near a little pool
of blood, which was also found in spots upon his desk, and on the
leaves of his pleadings. It was supposed, and he took care never to
contradict it, that he had been seized with a hemorrhage. It is
scarcely necessary to add, that he was not in a state to speak at the
trial, and that all his oratorical preparations were thrown away.
Many days passed before the recollection of that terrible night faded
from the memory of the deputy-prosecutor--many days before he could
bear to be alone or in the dark without terror. After some months,
however, the head of Peter Leroux not having repeated its visit, the
pride of intellect began again to counterbalance the testimony of the
senses, and again he asked himself, if he had not been duped by them.
In order more surely to weaken their authority, which all his
reasonings had not been able entirely to overcome, he called to his
aid the opinion of his physician, communicating to him in confidence
the story of his adventure. The doctor, who, by dint of long examining
the human brain, without discovering the slightest trace of anything
resembling a soul, had come to a learned conviction of materialism,
did not fail to laugh heartily on listening to the recital of the
nocturnal vision. This was perhaps the best manner of treating his
patient; for by having the appearance of holding his fancy in
derision, he forced, as it were, his self-esteem to take a part in the
cure. Moreover, as may be imagined, he did not hesitate to explain to
his patient, that his hallucination proceeded from an over-tension of
the cerebral fibre, followed by congestion and evacuation of blood,
which had been the causes of his seeing precisely what he had not
seen. Powerfully reassured by this consultation, and as no accident
happened to contradict its correctness, M. Desalleux by degrees
regained his serenity of mind, and gradually returned to his former
habits--modifying them simply insomuch that he laboured with an
application somewhat less severe, and indulged, at the doctor's
suggestion, in some of those amusements of life which he had hitherto
totally neglected.
M. Desalleux thought of a wife, and no man was more in a position than
he to secure a good match; for, without speaking of personal
advantages, the fame of his oratorical successes, and perhaps, more
still, the little anxiety which he displayed for any other kind of
success, had rendered him the object of more than one lady's ambition.
But there was in the bent of his life something too positive for him
to consent that even the love of a woman should find a place there
unconditionally. Among the hearts which seemed ready to bestow
themselves upon him, he calculated which was the particular one whose
good-will was best supported by money, useful relations, and other
social advantages. The first part of his romance being thus settled,
he saw without regret that the bride who would bring him all these,
was a young girl, witty, and of elegant exterior; whereupon he set
about falling in love with her with all the passion of which he was
capable, and with the approbation of her family, until at length a
marriage was determined upon.
Orleans had not, for a long time, seen a prettier bride than that of
M. Desalleux; nor a family more happy than that of M. Desalleux; nor a
wedding-ball so joyous and brilliant as that of M. Desalleux. That
night he thought no more of his ambition; he lived only in the
present. According to French custom, the guests remained until a late
hour. Imprisoned in a corner of the saloon by a barrister, who had
taken that opportune moment to recommend a case to him, the bridegroom
looked, from time to time, at the timepiece, which pointed to a
quarter to two. He had also remarked, that twice within a short time
the mother of the bride had approached her, and whispered in her ear,
and that the latter had replied with an air of confusion. Suddenly, at
the conclusion of a contra-dance, he perceived, by a certain
whispering that ran through the assembly, that something important was
going on. Casting his eyes, while the barrister continued to talk to
him, upon the seats which his wife and her ladies of honour had
occupied during the whole evening, he perceived that they were empty;
whereupon the grave deputy-prosecutor cutting short, as most men would
have done under the circumstances, the argument of the barrister,
advanced by a clever series of manoeuvres towards the door of the
apartment; and at the moment when some domestics entered bearing
refreshments, glided out, in the fond and mistaken belief that no one
had remarked him.
At the door of the nuptial chamber he met his mother-in-law, who was
retiring with the various dignitaries, whose presence had been
considered necessary, as well as some matrons who had joined the
_cortège_. Pressing his hand, and with a faltering voice, the mother
whispered to him a few words, and it was understood that she spoke of
her daughter. M. Desalleux, smiling, replied with some affectionate
phrases. Most assuredly in that moment he was not thinking of poor
Peter Leroux.
At the moment of closing the door of the chamber, the bride was
already abed. He remarked, what appeared to him strange, that the
curtains of her bed were drawn. The room was quite silent.
The stillness, and the strange fact of the close-drawn curtains
embarrassed him. His heart beat violently. He looked around, and
remarked her dress and all her wedding-ornaments lying around him,
with a graceful air of negligence, in various parts of the room. With
a faltering voice he called upon his bride by name. Having no reply,
he returned, perhaps to gain time, towards the door, assured himself
that it was well fastened, then approaching the bed, he opened the
curtains gently.
By the flickering light of the lamp suspended from the ceiling, a
singular vision presented itself to his eyes. Near his _fiancée_, who
was fast asleep, the head of a man with black hair was lying on the
white pillow. Was he again the victim of an error of the senses, or
had some usurper dared to occupy his place? At all events, his
substitute took little notice of him; for, as well as his wife, he was
sound asleep, with his face turned towards the bottom of the alcove.
In the moment when M. Desalleux leaned over the bed, to examine the
features of this singular intruder, a long sigh, like that of a man
awaking from slumber, broke the silence of the chamber; and at the
same time the head of the stranger turning towards him, he recognised
the face of Peter Leroux staring at him, with that very look of
stupified astonishment with which for two hours the unlucky ploughman
had listened to his brilliant discourse in the criminal court of
Orleans.
Perhaps, on any other occasion, the deputy-prosecutor, on finding
himself a second time visited by this horrible vision, would have
suspected that he had been guilty of some wicked action, for which he
was doomed to this persecution: his conscience, if he had taken the
trouble to cross-examine it, would have very soon told him what was
his crime, in which case, being a good Catholic, he would perhaps have
gone out and locked the door of the haunted room until morning, when
he would have immediately ordered a mass for the repose of the soul of
Peter Leroux; by means of this, and of some contributions to the fund
for poor prisoners of justice, he might, perhaps, have regained his
tranquillity of mind, and escaped for ever from the annoyance to which
he had been subjected. At such a time, however, he felt more
irritation than remorse; and he accordingly endeavoured to seize the
intruder by the hair, and drag him from his resting-place. At the
first movement that he made, however, the head, understanding his
intentions, began to grind its teeth, and as he stretched out his
hand, the bridegroom felt himself severely bitten. The pain of his
wound increased his rage. He looked around for some weapon, went to
the fireplace and seized a bar of steel which served to support the
fire-irons, then returned, and striking several times upon the bed
with all his force, endeavoured to destroy his hideous visitor. But
the head, ducking and bobbing like the white gentleman with black
spots, whom Punch has never been able to touch, dexterously slipped
aside at every blow, which descended harmlessly upon the bed-clothes.
For several minutes the furious bridegroom continued to waste his
strength in this manner, when, springing with an extraordinary bound,
the head passed over the shoulder of its adversary, and disappeared
behind him before he could observe by what way it had escaped.
After a careful search, and considerable raking in corners with the
bar of steel, finding himself at length master of the field of battle,
the deputy-prosecutor returned to the bed. The bride was still
miraculously asleep; and, to his horror, he perceived, on lifting the
coverlet, that she was lying in a pool of blood, left no doubt by the
bleeding head. Misfortunes never come alone: while seeking for a cloth
about the chamber, he struck the lamp with his forehead, and
extinguished it.
Meanwhile the night was advancing; already the window of the chamber
began to glimmer with the coming day. Furious with the obstacles which
heaven and earth seemed to set in his way, the deputy-prosecutor
determined to solve the mystery. Approaching the bed again, he called
upon his bride by the tenderest names, and endeavoured to awake her,
yet she continued to sleep. Taking her in his arms, he embraced her
passionately; but she slept on, and appeared insensible to all his
caresses. What could this mean? Was it the feint of a bashful girl, or
was he himself dreaming? It was growing lighter; and in the hope of
dispelling the odious enchantments with which he was surrounded, M.
Desalleux went to the window, and drew aside the blinds and curtains
to let in the new day. Then the unhappy lawyer perceived for the first
time why the blood refused to be dried up. Blinded by his anger in his
combat with the head of Peter Leroux, and while he had supposed
himself to be chastising his disturber, he had, in fact, been striking
the head of his unfortunate bride. The blows had been dealt so quickly
and with such violence, that she had died without a sigh, or, perhaps,
without her assailant's hearing one, in the fury of the struggle.
We leave to psychologists to explain this phenomenon; but on seeing
that he had killed his bride, he was seized with a violent fit of
laughter, which attracted the attention of his mother-in-law, who
knocked gently at the door, and desired to know the cause of the
disturbance. On hearing the voice of the mother of his wife, his
terrible gaiety increased. Running to open the door, he seized her by
the arm, and drawing her to the side of the bed, pulled back the
curtains, and revealed to her the terrible spectacle; after which his
laughter grew still more furious, until at length he sank exhausted on
the floor.
Alarmed at the shrieks of the mother, all the inmates of the house
became witnesses of the scene, the report of which spread rapidly
through the city. The same morning, upon a warrant from the
procureur-general, M. Desalleux was conducted to the criminal prison
of Orleans; and it has since been remarked, as a singular coincidence,
that his cell was the same that had been occupied by Peter Leroux up
to the day of his execution.
The end of the deputy-prosecutor, however, was a little less tragic.
Declared by the unanimous testimony of the physicians to be insane,
the man who had dreamed of moving the world with his eloquence, was
conducted to the hospital for lunatics, and for more than six months
kept chained in a dark cell, as in the good old times. At the end of
this time, however, as he appeared to be no longer dangerous, his
chains were removed, and he was subjected to milder treatment.
As soon as he recovered his liberty, a strange delusion took
possession of him, which did not leave him until he died. He fancied
himself a tight-rope dancer, and from morning to night danced with the
gestures and movements of a man who holds a balancing-rod, and walks
upon a cord.
If any one visiting the city of Orleans would take the trouble to
inquire of M. Troisétoiles, landlord of the Hôtel Aux Clés de la
Ville, in the Place du Marché, he would obtain a confirmation of the
truth of this history, together with many other facts and
circumstances, collateral and ramificatory, concerning the bride and
bridegroom, their relations and friends, which we have not thought
necessary to state. With regard, however, to the tragic event which we
have last described, M. Troisétoiles will simply relate what is known
to the world on the subject--namely, that the deputy-prosecutor, being
injured in mind by overstudy and application to business, knocked out
his wife's brains on her wedding-night. We, however, although we
decline to mention our sources of information, have been enabled to
give the private and secret history of the tragedy, for the truth of
which we are equally able to vouch.
A bookseller in Orleans, sometime afterwards, conceived the idea of
collecting and publishing a volume of the speeches which he had
pronounced during his short but brilliant oratorical career. Three
editions were exhausted successively, and not long since a fourth was
announced.