The same day word arrived that the Imperial Government had been

proclaimed at Montpellier.

The next day, April 3rd, all the officers on half-pay assembled at the

fountain to be reviewed by a general and a sub-inspector, and as these

officers were late, the order of the, day issued by General Ambert,

recognising the Imperial Government, was produced and passed along the

ranks, causing such excitement that one of the officers drew his sword

and cried, "Long live the emperor!" These magic words were re-echoed

from every side, and they all hastened to the barracks of the 63rd

Regiment, which at once joined the officers. At this juncture Marshal

Pelissier arrived, and did not appear to welcome the turn things had

taken; he made an effort to restrain the enthusiasm of the crowd, but

was immediately arrested by his own soldiers. The officers repaired in a

body to the headquarters of General Briche, commandant of the garrison,

and asked for the official copy of the order of the day. He replied that

he had received none, and when questioned as to which side he was on he

refused to answer. The officers upon this took him prisoner. Just as

they had consigned him to the barracks for confinement, a post-office

official arrived bringing a despatch from General Ambert. Learning that

General Briche was a prisoner, the messenger carried his packet to the

colonel of the 63rd Regiment, who was the next in seniority after the

general. In opening it, it was found to contain the order of the day.

Instantly the colonel ordered the ’gineyale’ to sound: the town guards

assumed arms, the troops left the barracks and formed in line, the

National Guards in the rear of the regular troops, and when they were

all thus drawn up; the order of the day was read; it was then snatched

out of the colonel’s hands, printed on large placards, and in less time

than seemed possible it was posted up in every street and at every

street corner; the tricolour replaced the white cockade, everyone being

obliged to wear the national emblem or none at all, the city was

proclaimed in a state of seige, and the military officers formed a

vigilance committee and a police force.

While the Duc d’Angouleme had been staying at Nimes, General Gilly had

applied for a command in that prince’s army, but in spite of all his

efforts obtained nothing; so immediately after the dinner at which he

was insulted he had withdrawn to Avernede, his place in the country. He

was awoke in the night of the 5th-6th April by a courier from General

Ambert, who sent to offer him the command of the 2nd Subdivision. On the

6th, General Gilly went to Nimes, and sent in his acceptance, whereby

the departments of the Gard, the Lozere, and Ardeche passed under his

authority.

Next day General Gilly received further despatches from General Ambert,

from which he learned that it was the general’s intention, in order to

avoid the danger of a civil war, to separate the Duc d’Angouleme’s army

from the departments which sympathised with the royal cause; he had

therefore decided to make Pont-Saint-Esprit a military post, and had

ordered the 10th Regiment of mounted chasseurs, the 13th artillery, and

a battalion of infantry to move towards this point by forced marches.

These troops were commanded by Colonel Saint-Laurent, but General Ambert

was anxious that if it could be done without danger, General Gilly

should leave Nimes, taking with him part of the 63rd Regiment, and

joining the other forces under the command of Colonel Saint-Laurent,

should assume the chief command. As the city was quite tranquil, General

Gilly did not hesitate to obey this order: he set out from Nimes on the

7th, passed the night at Uzes, and finding that town abandoned by the

magistrates, declared it in a state of siege, lest disturbances should

arise in the absence of authority. Having placed M. de Bresson in

command, a retired chief of battalion who was born in Uzes, and who

usually lived there, he continued his march on the morning of the 8th.

Beyond the village of Conans, General Gilly met an orderly sent to him

by Colonel Saint-Laurent to inform him that he, the colonel, had

occupied Pont Saint-Esprit, and that the Duc d’Angouleme, finding

himself thus caught between two fires, had just sent General d’Aultanne,

chief of staff in the royal army, to him, to enter into negotiations for

a surrender. Upon this, General Gilly quickened his advance, and on

reaching Pont-Saint-Esprit found General d’Aultanne and Colonel

Saint-Laurent conferring together at the Hotel de la Poste.

As Colonel Saint-Laurent had received his instructions directly from the

commander-in-chief, several points relating to the capitulation had

already been agreed upon; of these General Gilly slightly altered some,

and approved of the others, and the same day the following convention

was signed:

"Convention concluded between General Gilly and Baron de Damas

"S.A.R. Mgr. le Duc d’Angouleme, Commander-in-Chief of the royal army in

the South, and Baron de Gilly, General of Division and

Commander-in-Chief of the first corps of the Imperial Army, being most

anxiously desirous to prevent any further effusion of French blood, have

given plenary powers to arrange the terms of a convention to S.A.R. M.

le Baron de Damas, Field-Marshal and Under-Chief of Staff, and General

de Gilly and Adjutant Lefevre, Chevalier of the Legion of Honour, and

Chief of the Staff of the first Army Corps; who, having shown each other

their respective credentials, have agreed on the following terms:—

"Art. 1. The royal army is to be disbanded; and the National Guards

which are enrolled in it, under whatever name they may have been levied,

will return to their homes, after laying down their arms. Safe conducts

will be provided, and the general of division commanding-in-chief

guarantees that they shall never be molested for anything they may have

said or done in connection with the events preceding the present

convention.

"The officers will retain their swords; the troops of the line who form

part of this army will repair to such garrisons as may be assigned to

them.

"Art. 2. The general officers, superior staff officers and others of all

branches of the service, and the chiefs and subordinates of the

administrative departments, of whose names a list will be furnished to

the general-in-chief, will retire to their homes and there await the

orders of His Majesty the Emperor.

"Art. 3. Officers of every rank who wish to resign their commissions are

competent to do so. They will receive passports for their homes.

"Art. 4. The funds of the army and the lists of the paymaster-general

will be handed over at once to commissioners appointed for that purpose

by the commander-in-chief.

"Art. 5. The above articles apply to the corps commanded by Mgr. le Duc

d’Angouleme in person, and also to those who act separately but under

his orders, and as forming part of the royal army of the South.

"Art. 6. H.R.H. will post to Cette, where the vessels necessary for him

and his suite will be waiting to take him wherever he may desire.

Detachments of the Imperial Army will be placed at all the relays on the

road to protect His Royal Highness during the journey, and the honours

due to his rank will be everywhere paid him, if he so desire.

"Art. 7. All the officers and other persons of His Royal Highness’ suite

who desire to follow him will be permitted to do so, and they may either

embark with him at once or later, should their private affairs need time

for arrangement.

"Art. 8. The present treaty will be kept secret until His Royal Highness

have quitted the limits of the empire.

"Executed in duplicate and agreed upon between the above-mentioned

plenipotentiaries the 8th day of April in the year 1815, with the

approval of the general commanding-in-chief, and signed,

"At the headquarters at Pont-Saint-Esprit on the day and year above

written.

"(Signed) LEFEVRE Adjutant and Chief of Staff of the First Corps of the

Imperial Army of the South

"(Signed) BARON DE DAMAS Field-Marshal and Under-Chief of Staff

"The present convention is approved of by the General of Division

Commanding-in-Chief the Imperial Army of the South.

"(Signed) GILLY"

After some discussion between General Gilly and General Grouchy, the

capitulation was carried into effect. On the 16th April, at eight

o’clock in the morning, the Duc d’Angouleme arrived at Cette, and went

on board the Swedish vessel Scandinavia, which, taking advantage of a

favourable wind, set sail the same day.

Early in the morning of the 9th an officer of high rank had been sent to

La Palud to issue safe-conducts to the troops, who according to Article

I of the capitulation were to return home "after laying down their

arms." But during the preceding day and night some of the royal

volunteers had evaded this article by withdrawing with their arms and

baggage. As this infraction of the terms led to serious consequences, we

propose, in order to establish the fact, to cite the depositions of

three royal volunteers who afterwards gave evidence.

"On leaving the army of the Duc d’Angouleme after the capitulation,"

says Jean Saunier, "I went with my officers and my corps to

Saint-Jean-des-Anels. From there we marched towards Uzes. In the middle

of a forest, near a village, the name of which I have forgotten, our

General M. de Vogue told us that we were all to return to our own homes.

We asked him where we should deposit the flag. Just then Commandant

Magne detached it from the staff and put it in his pocket. We then asked

the general where we should deposit our arms; he replied, that we had

better keep them, as we should probably find use for them before long,

and also to take our ammunition with us, to ensure our safety on the

road.

"From that time on we all did what we thought best: sixty-four of us

remained together, and took a guide to enable us to avoid Uzes."

Nicholas Marie, labourer, deposed as follows:

"On leaving the army of the Duc d’Angouleme after the capitulation, I

went with my officers and my corps to Saint-Jean-des-Anels. We marched

towards Uzes, but when we were in the middle of a forest, near a village

the name of which I have forgotten, our general, M. de Vogue, told us

that we were to go to our own homes as soon as we liked. We saw

Commandant Magne loose the flag from its staff, roll it up and put it in

his pocket. We asked the general what we were to do with our arms; he

replied that we were to keep both them and our ammunition, as we should

find them of use. Upon this, our chiefs left us, and we all got away as

best we could."

"After the capitulation of the Duc d’Angouleme I found myself," deposes

Paul Lambert, lace-maker of Nimes, "in one of several detachments under

the orders of Commandant Magne and General Vogue. In the middle of a

forest near a village, the name of which I do not know, M. de Vogue and

the other officer, told us we might go home. The flag was folded up, and

M. Magne put it in his pocket. We asked our chiefs what we were to do

with our arms. M. de Vogue told us that we had better keep them, as we

should need them before very long; and in any case it would be well to

have them with us on the road, lest anything should happen to us."

The three depositions are too much alike to leave room for any doubt.

The royal volunteers contravened Article I of the convention.

Being thus abandoned by their chiefs, without general and without flag,

M. de Vogue’s soldiers asked no further counsel of anyone but

themselves, and, as one of them has already told us, sixty-four of them

joined together to hire a guide who was to show them how to get by Uzes

without going through it, for they were afraid of meeting with insult

there. The guide brought them as far as Montarem without anyone opposing

their passage or taking notice of their arms.

Suddenly a coachman named Bertrand, a confidential servant of Abbe

Rafin, former Grand-Vicar of Alais, and of Baroness Arnaud-Wurmeser (for

the abbe administered the estate of Aureillac in his own name and that

of the baroness), galloped into the village of Arpaillargues, which was

almost entirely Protestant and consequently Napoleonist, announcing that

the miquelets (for after one hundred and ten years the old name given to

the royal troops was revived) were on the way from Montarem, pillaging

houses, murdering magistrates, outraging women, and then throwing them

out of the windows. It is easy to understand the effect of such a story.

The people gathered together in groups; the mayor and his assistant

being absent, Bertrand was taken before a certain Boucarut, who on

receiving his report ordered the generale to be beaten and the tocsin to

be rung. Then the consternation became general: the men seized their

muskets, the women and children stones and pitchforks, and everyone made

ready to face a danger which only existed in the imagination of

Bertrand, for there was not a shadow of foundation for the story he had

told.

While the village was in this state of feverish excitement the royal

volunteers came in sight. Hardly were they seen than the cry, "There

they are! There they are!" arose on all sides, the streets were

barricaded with carts, the tocsin rang out with redoubled frenzy, and

everyone capable of carrying arms rushed to the entrance of the village.

The volunteers, hearing the uproar and seeing the hostile preparations,

halted, and to show that their intentions were peaceful, put their

shakos on their musket stocks and waved them above their heads, shouting

that no one need fear, for they would do no harm to anyone. But alarmed

as they were by the terrible stories told by Bertrand, the villagers

shouted back that they could not trust to such assurances, and that if

they wanted to pass through the village they must first give up their

weapons. It may easily be imagined that men who had broken the

convention in order to keep their weapons were not likely to give them

up to these villagers—in fact, they obstinately refused to let them out

of their hands, and by doing so increased the suspicions of the people.

A parley of a very excited character took place between M. Fournier for

the royal guards and M. Boucarut, who was chosen spokesman by the

villagers. From words they came to deeds: the miquelets tried to force

their way through, some shots were fired, and two miquelets, Calvet and

Fournier, fell. The others scattered, followed by a lively discharge,

and two more miquelets were slightly wounded. Thereupon they all took to

flight through the fields on either side of the road, pursued for a

short distance by the villagers, but soon returned to examine the two

wounded men, and a report was drawn up by Antoine Robin, advocate and

magistrate of the canton of Uzes, of the events just related.

This accident was almost the only one of its kind which happened during

the Hundred Days: the two parties remained face to face, threatening but

self-controlled. But let there be no mistake: there was no peace; they

were simply awaiting a declaration of war. When the calm was broken, it

was from Marseilles that the provocation came. We shall efface ourselves

for a time and let an eye-witness speak, who being a Catholic cannot be

suspected of partiality for the Protestants.

"I was living in Marseilles at the time of Napoleon’s landing, and I was

a witness of the impression which the news produced upon everyone. There

was one great cry; the enthusiasm was universal; the National Guard

wanted to join him to the last man, but Marshal Massena did not give his

consent until it was too late, for Napoleon had already reached the

mountains, and was moving with such swiftness that it would have been

impossible to overtake him. Next we heard of his triumphal entry into

Lyons, and of his arrival in Paris during the night. Marseilles

submitted like the rest of France; Prince d’Essling was recalled to the

capital, and Marshal Brune, who commanded the 6th corps of observation,

fixed his headquarters at Marseilles.

"With quite incomprehensible fickleness, Marseilles, whose name during

the Terror had been, as one may say, the symbol of the most advanced

opinions, had become almost entirely Royalist in 1815. Nevertheless, its

inhabitants saw without a murmur the tricolour flag after a year’s

absence floating once more above the walls. No arbitrary interference on

the part of the authorities, no threats, and no brawling between the

citizens and the soldiers, troubled the peace of old Phocea; no

revolution ever took place with such quietness and facility.

"It must, however, be said, that Marshal Brune was just the man to

accomplish such a transformation without friction; in him the frankness

and loyalty of an old soldier were combined with other qualities more

solid than brilliant. Tacitus in hand, he looked on at modern

revolutions as they passed, and only interfered when the, voice of his

country called him to her defence. The conqueror of Harlem and Bakkun

had been for four years forgotten in retirement, or rather in exile,

when the same voice which sent him away recalled him, and at the summons

Cincinnatus left his plough and grasped his weapons. Physically he was

at this period a man of about fifty-five, with a frank and open face

framed by large whiskers; his head was bald except for a little grizzled

hair at the temples; he was tall and active, and had a remarkably

soldierly bearing.

"I had been brought into contact with him by a report which one of my

friends and I had drawn up on the opinions of the people of the South,

and of which he had asked to have a copy. In a long conversation with

us, he discussed the subject with the impartiality of a man who brings

an open mind to a debate, and he invited us to come often to see him. We

enjoyed ourselves so much in his society that we got into the habit of

going to his house nearly every evening.

"On his arrival in the South an old calumny which had formerly pursued

him again made its appearance, quite rejuvenated by its long sleep. A

writer whose name I have forgotten, in describing the Massacres of the

Second of September and the death of the unfortunate Princesse de

Lamballe, had said, ’Some people thought they recognised in the man who

carried her head impaled on a pike, General Brune in disguise,’ and this

accusation; which had been caught up with eagerness under the Consulate,

still followed him so relentlessly in 1815, that hardly a day passed

without his receiving an anonymous letter, threatening him with the same

fate which had overtaken the princess. One evening while we were with

him such a letter arrived, and having read it he passed it on to us. It

was as follows:

"’Wretch,—We are acquainted with all your crimes, for which you will

soon receive the chastisement you well deserve. It was you who during

the revolution brought about the death of the Princesse de Lamballe; it

was you who carried her head on a pike, but your head will be impaled on

something longer. If you are so rash as to be present at the review of

the Allies it is all up with you, and your head will be stuck on the

steeple of the Accoules. Farewell, SCOUNDREL!’

"We advised him to trace this calumny to its source, and then to take

signal vengeance on the authors. He paused an instant to reflect, and

then lit the letter at a candle, and looking at it thoughtfully as it

turned to ashes in his hand, said,—Vengeance! Yes, perhaps by seeking

that I could silence the authors of these slanders and preserve the

public tranquillity which they constantly imperil. But I prefer

persuasion to severity. My principle is, that it is better to bring

men’s heads back to a right way of thinking than to cut them off, and to

be regarded as a weak man rather than as a bloodthirsty one.’

"The essence of Marshal Brune’s character was contained in these words.

"Public tranquillity was indeed twice endangered at Marseilles during

the Hundred Days, and both times in the same manner. The garrison

officers used to gather at a coffee-house in the place Necker, and sing

songs suggested by passing events. This caused an attack by the

townspeople, who broke the windows by throwing stones, some of which

struck the officers. These rushed out, crying, ’To arms!’ The

townspeople were not slow to respond, but the commandant ordered the

’geneydle’ to beat, sent out numerous patrols, and succeeded in calming

the excitement and restoring quietness without any casualties.

"The day of the Champ du Mai orders for a general illumination were

given, and that the tricolour flag should be displayed from the windows.

The greater number of the inhabitants paid no attention to the desires

of the authorities, and the officers being annoyed at this neglect,

indulged in reprehensible excesses, which, however, resulted in nothing

more serious than some broken windows belonging to houses which had not

illuminated, and in some of the householders being forced to illuminate

according to order.

"In Marseilles as in the rest of France, people began to despair of the

success of the royal cause, and those who represented this cause, who

were very numerous at Marseilles, gave up annoying the military and

seemed to resign themselves to their fate. Marshal Brune had left the

city to take up his post on the frontier, without any of the dangers

with which he was threatened having come across his path.

"The 25th of June arrived, and the news of the successes obtained at

Fleurus and at Ligny seemed to justify the hopes of the soldiers, when,

in the middle of the day, muttered reports began to spread in the town,

the distant reverberations of the cannon of Waterloo. The silence of the

leaders, the uneasiness of the soldiers, the delight of the Royalists,

foretold the outbreak of a new struggle, the, results of which it was

easy to anticipate. About four o’clock in the afternoon, a man, who had

probably got earlier information than his fellow-townspeople, tore off

his tricoloured cockade and trampled it under foot, crying, "Long live

the king!" The angry soldiers seized him and were about to drag him to

the guard-house, but the National Guards prevented them, and their

interference led to a fight. Shouts were heard on all sides, a large

ring was formed round the soldiers, a few musket shots heard, others

answered, three or four men fell, and lay there weltering in their

blood. Out of this confused uproar the word "Waterloo" emerged distinct;

and with this unfamiliar name pronounced for the first time in the

resounding voice of history, the news of the defeat of the French army

and the triumph of the Allies spread apace. Then General Verdier, who

held the chief command in the absence of Marshal Brune, tried to

harangue the people, but his voice was drowned by the shouts of the mob

who had gathered round a coffee-house where stood a bust of the emperor,

which they insisted should be given up to them. Verdier, hoping to calm,

what he took to be a simple street row, gave orders that the bust should

be brought out, and this concession, so significant on the part of a

general commanding in the emperor’s name, convinced the crowd that his

cause was lost. The fury of the populace grew greater now that they felt

that they could indulge it with impunity; they ran to the Town Hall, and

tearing down and burning the tricoloured, raised the white flag. The

roll of the generale, the clang of the tocsin were heard, the

neighbouring villages poured in their populations and increased the

throng in the streets; single acts of violence began to occur, wholesale

massacres were approaching. I had arrived in the town with my friend

M____ the very beginning of the tumult, so we had seen the dangerous

agitation and excitement grow under our eyes, but we were still ignorant

of its true cause, when, in the rue de Noailles, we met an acquaintance,

who, although his political opinions did not coincide with ours, had

always shown himself very friendly to us. ’Well,’ said I, ’what news?’

’Good for me and bad for you,’ he answered;’ I advise you to go away at

once.’ Surprised and somewhat alarmed at these words, we begged him to

explain. ’Listen,’ said he; ’there are going to be riots in the town; it

is well known that you used to go to Brune’s nearly every evening, and

that you are in consequence no favourite with your neighbours; seek

safety in the country.’ I addressed some further question to him, but,

turning his back on me, he left me without another word.

"M______ and I were still looking at each other in stupefaction, when

the increasing uproar aroused us to a sense that if we desired to follow

the advice just given we had not a moment to lose. We hastened to my

house, which was situated in the Allees de Meilhan. My wife was just

going out, but I stopped her.

"’We are not safe here,’ I said; ’we must get away into the country.’

"’But where can we go?’

"’Wherever luck takes us. Let us start.’

"She was going to put on her bonnet, but I told her to leave it behind;

for it was most important that no one should think we suspected

anything, but were merely going for a stroll. This precaution saved us,

for we learned the next day that if our intention to fly had been

suspected we should have been stopped.

"We walked at random, while behind us we heard musket shots from every

part of the town. We met a company of soldiers who were hurrying to the

relief of their comrades, but heard later that they had not been allowed

to pass the gate.

"We recollected an old officer of our acquaintance who had quitted the

service and withdrawn from the world some years before, and had taken a

place in the country near the village of Saint-Just; we directed our

course towards his house.

"’Captain,’ said I to him, ’they are murdering each other in the town,

we are pursued and without asylum, so we come to you.’ ’That’s right, my

children,’ said he; ’come in and welcome. I have never meddled with

political affairs, and no one can have anything against me. No one will

think of looking for you here.’

"The captain had friends in the town, who, one after another, reached

his house, and brought us news of all that went on during that dreadful

day. Many soldiers had been killed, and the Mamelukes had been

annihilated. A negress who had been in the service of these unfortunates

had been taken on the quay. ’Cry "Long live the king!’ shouted the mob.

’No,’ she replied. ’To Napoleon I owe my daily bread; long live

Napoleon!’ A bayonet-thrust in the abdomen was the answer. ’Villains!’

said she, covering the wound with her hand to keep back the protruding

entrails. ’Long live Napoleon!’ A push sent her into the water; she

sank, but rose again to the surface, and waving her hand, she cried for

the last time, ’Long live Napoleon!’ a bullet shot putting an end to her

life.

"Several of the townspeople had met with shocking deaths. For instance,

M. Angles, a neighbour of mine, an old man and no inconsiderable

scholar, having unfortunately, when at the palace some days before,

given utterance before witnesses to the sentiment that Napoleon was a

great man, learned that for this crime he was about to be arrested.

Yielding to the prayers of his family, he disguised himself, and,

getting into a waggon, set off to seek safety in the country. He was,

however, recognised and brought a prisoner to the place du Chapitre,

where, after being buffeted about and insulted for an hour by the

populace, he was at last murdered.

"It may easily be imagined that although no one came to disturb us we

did not sleep much that night. The ladies rested on sofas or in

arm-chairs without undressing, while our host, M______ and myself took

turns in guarding the door, gun in hand.

"As soon as it was light we consulted what course we should take: I was

of the opinion that we ought to try to reach Aix by unfrequented paths;

having friends there, we should be able to procure a carriage and get to

Nimes, where my family lived. But my wife did not agree with me. ’I must

go back to town for our things,’ said she; ’we have no clothes but those

on our backs. Let us send to the village to ask if Marseilles is quieter

to-day than yesterday.’ So we sent off a messenger.

"The news he brought back was favourable; order was completely restored.

I could not quite believe this, and still refused to let my wife return

to the town unless I accompanied her. But in that everyone was against

me: my presence would give rise to dangers which without me had no

existence. Where were the miscreants cowardly enough to murder a woman

of eighteen who belonged to no-party and had never injured anyone? As

for me, my opinions were well known. Moreover, my mother-in-law offered

to accompany her daughter, and both joined in persuading me that there

was no danger. At last I was forced to consent, but only on one

condition.

"’I cannot say,’ I observed, ’whether there is any foundation for the

reassuring tidings we have heard, but of one thing you may be sure: it

is now seven o’clock in the morning, you can get to Marseilles in an

hour, pack your trunks in another hour, and return in a third; let us

allow one hour more for unforeseen delays. If you are not back by eleven

o’clock, I shall believe something has happened, and take steps

accordingly.’ ’Very well,’ said my wife; ’if I am not back by then, you

may think me dead, and do whatever you think best.’ And so she and her

mother left me.

"An hour later, quite different news came to hand. Fugitives, seeking

like ourselves safety in the country, told us that the rioting, far from

ceasing, had increased; the streets were encumbered with corpses, and

two people had been murdered with unheard-of cruelty.

"An old man named Bessieres, who had led a simple and blameless life,

and whose only crime was that he had served under the Usurper,

anticipating that under existing circumstances this would be regarded as

a capital crime, made his will, which was afterwards found among his

papers. It began with the following words:

"’As it is possible that during this revolution I may meet my death, as

a partisan of Napoleon, although I have never loved him, I give and

bequeath, etc., etc.

"The day before, his brother-in-law, knowing he had private enemies, had

come to the house and spent the night trying to induce him to flee, but

all in vain. But the next morning, his house being attacked, he yielded,

and tried to escape by the back door. He was stopped by some of the

National Guard, and placed himself under their protection.

"They took him to the Cours St. Louis, where, being hustled by the crowd

and very ineffectually defended by the Guards, he tried to enter the

Cafe Mercantier, but the door was shut in his face. Being broken by

fatigue, breathless, and covered with dust and sweat, he threw himself

on one of the benches placed against the wall, outside the house. Here

he was wounded by a musket bullet, but not killed. At the sight of his

blood shrieks of joy were heard, and then a young man with a pistol in

each hand forced his way through the throng and killed the old man by

two shots fired point blank in his face.

"Another still more atrocious murder took place in the course of the

same morning. A father and son, bound back to back, were delivered over

to the tender mercies of the mob. Stoned and beaten and covered with

each other’s blood, for two long hours their death-agony endured, and

all the while those who could not get near enough to strike were dancing

round them.

"Our time passed listening to such stories; suddenly I saw a friend

running towards the house. I went to meet him. He was so pale that I

hardly dared to question him. He came from the city, and had been at my

house to see what had become of me. There was no one in it, but across

the door lay two corpses wrapped in a blood-stained sheet which he had

not dared to lift.

"At these terrible words nothing could hold me back. I set off for

Marseilles. M______ who would not consent to let me return alone,

accompanied me. In passing through the village of Saint-Just we

encountered a crowd of armed peasants in the main street who appeared to

belong to the free companies. Although this circumstance was rather

alarming, it would have been dangerous to turn back, so we continued our

way as if we were not in the least uneasy. They examined our bearing and

our dress narrowly, and then exchanged some sentences in a low, voice,

of which we only caught the word austaniers. This was the name by which

the Bonapartists were called by the peasants, and means ’eaters of

chestnuts,’ this article of food being brought from Corsica to France.

However, we were not molested in any way, for as we were going towards

the city they did not think we could be fugitives. A hundred yards

beyond the village we came up with a crowd of peasants, who were, like

us, on the way to Marseilles. It was plain to see that they had just

been pillaging some country house, for they were laden with rich stuffs,

chandeliers and jewels. It proved to be that of M. R____, inspector of

reviews. Several carried muskets. I pointed out to my companion a stain

of blood on the trousers of one of the men, who began to laugh when he

saw what we were looking at. Two hundred yards outside the city I met a

woman who had formerly been a servant in my house. She was very much

astonished to see me, and said, ’Go away at once; the massacre is

horrible, much worse than yesterday.’

"’But my wife,’ I cried, ’do you know anything about her?’

"’No, sir,’ she replied; ’I was going to knock at the door, but some

people asked me in a threatening manner if I could tell them where the

friend of that rascal Brine was, as they were going to take away his

appetite for bread. So take my advice,’ she continued, ’and go back to

where you came from.’

"This advice was the last I could make up my mind to follow, so we went

on, but found a strong guard at the gate, and saw that it would be

impossible to get through without being recognised. At the same time,

the cries and the reports of firearms from within were coming nearer; it

would therefore have been to court certain death to advance, so we

retraced our steps. In passing again through the village of Saint-Just

we met once more our armed peasants. But this time they burst out into

threats on seeing us, shouting, ’Let us kill them! Let us kill them!’

Instead of running away, we approached them, assuring them that we were

Royalists. Our coolness was so convincing that we got through safe and

sound.

"On getting back to the captain’s I threw myself on the sofa, quite

overcome by the thought that only that morning my wife had been beside

me under my protection, and that I had let her go back to the town to a

cruel and inevitable death. I felt as if my heart would break, and

nothing that our host and my friend could say gave me the slightest

comfort. I was like a madman, unconscious of everything round me.

"M______ went out to try to pick up some news, but in an instant we

heard him running back, and he dashed into the room, calling out:

"’They are coming! There they are!’

"’Who are coming?’ we asked.

"’The assassins!’

"My first feeling, I confess, was one of joy. I pounced upon a pair of

double-barrelled pistols, resolved not to let myself be slaughtered like

a sheep. Through the window I could see some men climbing over the wall

and getting down into the garden. We had just sufficient time to escape

by a back staircase which led to a door, through which we passed,

shutting it behind us. We found ourselves on a road, at the other side

of which was a vineyard. We crossed the road and crept under the vines,

which completely concealed us.

"As we learned later, the captain’s house had been denounced as a

Bonapartist nest, and the assassins had hoped to take it by surprise;

and, indeed, if they had come a little sooner we had been lost, for

before we had been five minutes in our hiding-place the murderers rushed

out on the road, looking for us in every direction, without the

slightest suspicion that we were not six yards distant. Though they did

not see us I could see them, and I held my pistols ready cocked, quite

determined to kill the first who came near. However, in a short time

they went away.

"As soon as they were out of hearing we began to consider our situation

and weigh our chances. There was no use in going back to the captain’s,

for he was no longer there, having also succeeded in getting away. If we

were to wander about the country we should be recognised as fugitives,

and the fate that awaited us as such was at that moment brought home to

us, for a few yards away we suddenly heard the shrieks of a man who was

being murdered. They were the first cries of agony I had ever heard, and

for a few moments, I confess, I was frozen with terror. But soon a

violent reaction took place within me, and I felt that it would be

better to march straight to meet peril than to await its coming, and

although I knew the danger of trying to go through Saint-Just again, I

resolved to risk it, and to get to Marseilles at all costs. So, turning

to M____, I said:

"’You can remain here without danger until the evening, but I am going

to Marseilles at once; for I cannot endure this uncertainty any longer.

If I find Saint-Just clear, I shall come back and rejoin you, but if not

I shall get away as best I can alone.’

"Knowing the danger that we were running, and how little chance there

was that we should ever see each other again, he held out his hand to

me, but I threw myself into his arms and gave him a last embrace.

"I started at once: when I reached Saint-Just I found the freebooters

still there; so I walked up to them, trolling a melody, but one of them

seized me by the collar and two others took aim at me with their

muskets.

"If ever in my life I shouted ’Long live the king!’ with less enthusiasm

than the cry deserves, it was then: to assume a rollicking air, to laugh

with cool carelessness when there is nothing between you and death but

the more or less strong pressure of a highwayman’s finger on the trigger

of a musket, is no easy task; but all this I accomplished, and once more

got through the village with a whole skin indeed, but with the

unalterable resolution to blow my brains out rather than again try such

an experiment.

"Having now a village behind me which I had vowed never to re-enter, and

there being no road available by which I could hope to get round

Marseilles, the only course open to me was to make my way into the city.

At that moment this was a thing of difficulty, for many small bodies of

troops, wearing the white cockade, infested the approaches. I soon

perceived that the danger of getting in was as great as ever, so I

determined to walk up and down till night, hoping the darkness would

come to my aid; but one of the patrols soon gave me to understand that

my prowling about had aroused suspicion, and ordered me either to go on

to the city, in which by all accounts there was small chance of safety

for me, or back to the village; where certain death awaited me. A happy

inspiration flashed across my mind, I would get some refreshment, and

seeing an inn near by, I went in and ordered a mug of beer, sitting down

near the window, faintly hoping that before the necessity for a final

decision arrived, someone who knew me would pass by. After waiting half

an hour, I did indeed see an acquaintance—no other than M______, whom I

had left in the vineyard. I beckoned him, and he joined me. He told me

that, being too impatient to await my return, he had soon made up his

mind to follow me, and by joining a band of pillagers was lucky enough

to get safely through Saint-Just. We consulted together as to what we

had better do next, and having applied to our host, found he could

supply us with a trusty messenger, who would carry the news of our

whereabouts to my brother-in-law. After an anxious wait of three hours,

we saw him coming. I was about to run out to meet him, but M____ held me

back, pointing out the danger of such a step; so we sat still our eyes

fixed on the approaching figure. But when my brother-in-law reached the

inn, I could restrain my impatience no longer, but rushing out of the

room met him on the stairs.

"’My wife?’ I cried. ’Have you seen my wife?’

"’She is at my house,’ was the reply, and with a cry of joy I threw

myself into his arms.

"My wife, who had been threatened, insulted, and roughly treated because

of my opinions, had indeed found safety at my brother-in-law’s.

"Night was coming on. My brother-in-law, who wore the uniform of the

National Guard, which was at that moment a safeguard, took us each by an

arm, and we passed the barrier without anyone asking us who we were.

Choosing quiet streets, we reached his house unmolested; but in fact the

whole city was quiet, for the carnage was practically at an end.

"My wife safe! this thought filled my heart with joy almost too great to

bear.

"Her adventures were the following:

"My wife and her mother had gone to our house, as agreed upon, to pack

our trunks. As they left their rooms, having accomplished their task,

they found the landlady waiting on the staircase, who at once

overwhelmed my wife with a torrent of abuse.

"The husband, who until then had known nothing of their tenant’s return,

hearing the noise, came out of his room, and, seizing his wife by the

arm, pulled her in and shut the door. She, however, rushed to the

window, and just as my wife and her mother reached the street, shouted

to a free band who were on guard across the way, ’Fire! they are

Bonapartists!’ Fortunately the men, more merciful than the woman, seeing

two ladies quite alone, did not hinder their passage, and as just then

my brother-in-law came by, whose opinions were well known and whose

uniform was respected, he was allowed to take them under his protection

and conduct them to his house in safety.

"A young man, employed at the Prefecture, who had called at my house the

day before, I having promised to help him in editing the Journal des

Bouches-du-Rhone, was not so lucky. His occupation and his visit to me

laid him under suspicion of possessing dangerous opinions, and his

friends urged him to fly; but it was too late. He was attacked at the

corner of the rue de Noailles, and fell wounded by a stab from a dagger.

Happily, however, he ultimately recovered.

"The whole day was passed in the commission of deeds still more bloody

than those of the day before; the sewers ran blood, and every hundred

yards a dead body was to be met. But this sight, instead of satiating

the thirst for blood of the assassins, only seemed to awaken a general

feeling of gaiety. In the evening the streets resounded with song and

roundelay, and for many a year to come that which we looked back on as

’the day of the massacre’ lived in the memory of the Royalists as ’the

day of the farce.’

"As we felt we could not live any longer in the midst of such scenes,

even though, as far as we were concerned, all danger was over, we set

out for Nimes that same evening, having been offered the use of a

carriage.

"Nothing worthy of note happened on the road to Orgon, which we reached

next day; but the isolated detachments of troops which we passed from

time to time reminded us that the tranquillity was nowhere perfect. As

we neared the town we saw three men going about arm in arm; this

friendliness seemed strange to us after our recent experiences, for one

of them wore a white cockade, the second a tricolour, and the third none

at all, and yet they went about on the most brotherly terms, each

awaiting under a different banner the outcome of events. Their wisdom

impressed me much, and feeling I had nothing to fear from such

philosophers, I went up to them and questioned them, and they explained

their hopes to me with the greatest innocence, and above all, their firm

determination to belong to what ever party got the upper hand. As we

drove into Orgon we saw at a glance that the whole town was simmering

with excitement. Everybody’s face expressed anxiety. A man who, we were

told, was the mayor, was haranguing a group. As everyone was listening,

with the greatest attention, we drew near and asked them the cause of

the excitement.

"’Gentlemen,’ said he, ’you ought to know the news: the king is in his

capital, and we have once more hoisted the white flag, and there has not

been a single dispute to mar the tranquillity of the day; one party has

triumphed without violence, and the other has submitted with

resignation. But I have just learned that a band of vagabonds, numbering

about three hundred, have assembled on the bridge over the Durance, and

are preparing to raid our little town to-night, intending by pillage or

extortion to get at what we possess. I have a few guns left which I am

about to distribute, and each man will watch over the safety of all.’

"Although he had not enough arms to go round, he offered to supply us,

but as I had my double-barrelled pistols I did not deprive him of his

weapons. I made the ladies go to bed, and, sitting at their door, tried

to sleep as well as I could, a pistol in each hand. But at every instant

the noise of a false alarm sounded through the town, and when day dawned

my only consolation was that no one else in Orgon had slept any better

than I.

"The next day we continued our journey to Tarascon, where new

excitements awaited us. As we got near the town we heard the tocsin

clanging and drums beating the generale. We were getting so accustomed

to the uproar that we were not very much astonished. However, when we

got in we asked what was going on, and we were told that twelve thousand

troops from Nimes had marched on Beaucaire and laid it waste with fire

and sword. I insinuated that twelve thousand men was rather a large

number for one town to furnish, but was told that that included troops

from the Gardonninque and the Cevennes. Nimes still clung to the

tricolour, but Beaucaire had hoisted the white flag, and it was for the

purpose of pulling it down and scattering the Royalists who were

assembling in numbers at Beaucaire that Nimes had sent forth her troops

on this expedition. Seeing that Tarascon and Beaucaire are only

separated by the Rhone, it struck me as peculiar that such quiet should

prevail on one bank, while such fierce conflict was raging on the other.

I did not doubt that something had happened, but not an event of such

gravity as was reported. We therefore decided to push on to Beaucaire,

and when we got there we found the town in the most perfect order. The

expedition of twelve thousand men was reduced to one of two hundred,

which had been easily repulsed, with the result that of the assailants

one had been wounded and one made prisoner. Proud of this success, the

people of Beaucaire entrusted us with a thousand objurgations to deliver

to their inveterate enemies the citizens of Nimes.

"If any journey could give a correct idea of the preparations for civil

war and the confusion which already prevailed in the South, I should

think that without contradiction it would be that which we took that

day. Along the four leagues which lie between Beaucaire and Nimes were

posted at frequent intervals detachments of troops displaying

alternately the white and the tricoloured cockade. Every village upon

our route except those just outside of Nimes had definitely joined

either one party or the other, and the soldiers, who were stationed at

equal distances along the road, were now Royalist and now Bonapartist.

Before leaving Beaucaire we had all provided ourselves, taking example

by the men we had seen at Orgon, with two cockades, one white, and one

tricoloured, and by peeping out from carriage windows we were able to

see which was worn by the troops we were approaching in time to attach a

similar one to our hats before we got up to them, whilst we hid the

other in our shoes; then as we were passing we stuck our heads,

decorated according to circumstances, out of the windows, and shouted

vigorously, ’Long live the king!’ or ’Long live the emperor!’ as the

case demanded. Thanks to this concession to political opinions on the

highway, and in no less degree to the money which we gave by way of tips

to everybody everywhere, we arrived at length at the barriers of Nimes,

where we came up with the National Guards who had been repulsed by the

townspeople of Beaucaire.

"This is what had taken place just before we arrived in the city:

"The National Guard of Nimes and the troops of which the garrison was

composed had resolved to unite in giving a banquet on Sunday, the 28th

of June, to celebrate the success of the French army. The news of the

battle of Waterloo travelled much more quickly to Marseilles than to

Nimes, so the banquet took place without interruption. A bust of

Napoleon was carried in procession all over the town, and then the

regular soldiers and the National Guard devoted the rest of the day to

rejoicings, which were followed by no excess.

"But the day was not quite finished before news came that numerous

meetings were taking place at Beaucaire, so although the news of the

defeat at Waterloo reached Nimes on the following Tuesday, the troops

which we had seen returning at the gates of the city had been despatched

on Wednesday to disperse these assemblies. Meantime the Bonapartists,

under the command of General Gilly, amongst whom was a regiment of

chasseurs, beginning to despair of the success of their cause, felt that

their situation was becoming very critical, especially as they learnt

that the forces at Beaucaire had assumed the offensive and were about to

march upon Nimes. As I had had no connection with anything that had

taken place in the capital of the Gard, I personally had nothing to

fear; but having learned by experience how easily suspicions arise, I

was afraid that the ill-luck which had not spared either my friends or

my family might lead to their being accused of having received a refugee

from Marseilles, a word which in itself had small significance, but

which in the mouth of an enemy might be fatal. Fears for the future

being thus aroused by my recollections of the past, I decided to give up

the contemplation of a drama which might become redoubtable, asked to

bury myself in the country with the firm intention of coming back to

Nimes as soon as the white flag should once more float from its towers.

"An old castle in the Cevennes, which from the days when the Albigenses

were burnt, down to the massacre of La Bagarre, had witnessed many a

revolution and counter revolution, became the asylum of my wife, my

mother, M______, and myself. As the peaceful tranquillity of our life

there was unbroken by any event of interest, I shall not pause to dwell

on it. But at length we grew weary, for such is man, of our life of

calm, and being left once for nearly a week without any news from

outside, we made that an excuse for returning to Nimes in order to see

with our own eyes how things were going on.

"When we were about two leagues on our way we met the carriage of a

friend, a rich landed proprietor from the city; seeing that he was in

it, I alighted to ask him what was happening at Nimes. ’I hope you do

not think of going there,’ said he, ’especially at this moment; the

excitement is intense, blood has already flowed, and a catastrophe is

imminent.’ So back we went to our mountain castle, but in a few days

became again a prey to the same restlessness, and, not being able to

overcome it, decided to go at all risks and see for ourselves the

condition of affairs; and this time, neither advice nor warning having

any effect, we not only set out, but we arrived at our destination the

same evening.

"We had not been misinformed, frays having already taken place in the

streets which had heated public opinion. One man had been killed on the

Esplanade by a musket shot, and it seemed as if his death would be only

the forerunner of many. The Catholics were awaiting with impatience the

arrival of those doughty warriors from Beaucaire on whom they placed

their chief reliance. The Protestants went about in painful silence, and

fear blanched every face. At length the white flag was hoisted and the

king proclaimed without any of the disorders which had been dreaded

taking place, but it was plainly visible that this calm was only a pause

before a struggle, and that on the slightest pretext the pent-up

passions would break loose again.

"Just at this time the memory of our quiet life in the mountains

inspired us with a happy idea. We had learned that the obstinate

resolution of Marshal Brune never to acknowledge Louis XVIII as king had

been softened, and that the marshal had been induced to hoist the white

flag at Toulon, while with a cockade in his hat he had formally resigned

the command of that place into the hands of the royal authorities.

"Henceforward in all Provence there was no spot where he could live

unmarked. His ultimate intentions were unknown to us, indeed his

movements seemed to show great hesitation on his part, so it occurred to

us to offer him our little country house as a refuge where he could

await the arrival of more peaceful times. We decided that M____ and

another friend of ours who had just arrived from Paris should go to him

and make the offer, which he would at once accept all the more readily

because it came from the hearts which were deeply devoted to him. They

set out, but to my great surprise returned the same day. They brought us

word that Marshal Brune had been assassinated at Avignon.

"At first we could not believe the dreadful news, and took it for one of

those ghastly rumours which circulate with such rapidity during periods

of civil strife; but we were not left long in uncertainty, for the

details of the catastrophe arrived all too soon."

CHAPTER VIII

For some days Avignon had its assassins, as Marseilles had had them, and

as Nimes was about to have them; for some days all Avignon shuddered at

the names of five men—Pointu, Farges, Roquefort, Naudaud, and Magnan.

Pointu was a perfect type of the men of the South, olive-skinned and

eagle-eyed, with a hook nose, and teeth of ivory. Although he was hardly

above middle height, and his back was bent from bearing heavy burdens,

his legs bowed by the pressure of the enormous masses which he daily

carried, he was yet possessed of extraordinary strength and dexterity.

He could throw over the Loulle gate a 48-pound cannon ball as easily as

a child could throw its ball. He could fling a stone from one bank of

the Rhone to the other where it was two hundred yards wide. And lastly,

he could throw a knife backwards while running at full speed with such

strength and precision of aim that this new kind of Parthian arrow would

go whistling through the air to hide two inches of its iron head in a

tree trunk no thicker than a man’s thigh. When to these accomplishments

are added an equal skill with the musket, the pistol, and the

quarter-staff, a good deal of mother wit, a deep hatred for Republicans,

against whom he had vowed vengeance at the foot of the scaffold on which

his father and mother had perished, an idea can be formed of the

terrible chief of the assassins of Avignon, who had for his lieutenants,

Farges the silk-weaver, Roquefort the porter, Naudaud the baker, and

Magnan the secondhand clothes dealer.

Avignon was entirely in the power of these five men, whose brutal

conduct the civil and military authorities would not or could not

repress, when word came that Marshal Brune, who was at Luc in command of

six thousand troops, had been summoned to Paris to give an account of

his conduct to the new Government.

The marshal, knowing the state of intense excitement which prevailed in

the South, and foreseeing the perils likely to meet him on the road,

asked permission to travel by water, but met with an official refusal,

and the Duc de Riviere, governor of Marseilles, furnished him with a

safe-conduct. The cut-throats bellowed with joy when they learned that a

Republican of ’89, who had risen to the rank of marshal under the

Usurper, was about to pass through Avignon. At the same time sinister

reports began to run from mouth to mouth, the harbingers of death. Once

more the infamous slander which a hundred times had been proved to be

false, raised its voice with dogged persistence, asserting that Brune,

who did not arrive at Paris until the 5th of September, 1792, had on the

2nd, when still at Lyons, carried the head of the Princesse de Lamballe

impaled on a pike. Soon the news came that the marshal had just escaped

assassination at Aix, indeed he owed his safety to the fleetness of his

horses. Pointu, Forges, and Roquefort swore that they would manage

things better at Avignon.

By the route which the marshal had chosen there were only two ways open

by which he could reach Lyons: he must either pass through Avignon, or

avoid it by taking a cross-road, which branched off the Pointet highway,

two leagues outside the town. The assassins thought he would take the

latter course, and on the 2nd of August, the day on which the marshal

was expected, Pointu, Magnan, and Naudaud, with four of their creatures,

took a carriage at six o’clock in the morning, and, setting out from the

Rhone bridge, hid themselves by the side of the high road to Pointet.

When the marshal reached the point where the road divided, having been

warned of the hostile feelings so rife in Avignon, he decided to take

the cross-road upon which Pointu and his men were awaiting him; but the

postillion obstinately refused to drive in this direction, saying that

he always changed horses at Avignon, and not at Pointet. One of the

marshal’s aides-de-camp tried, pistol in hand, to force him to obey; but

the marshal would permit no violence to be offered him, and gave him

orders to go on to Avignon.

The marshal reached the town at nine o’clock in the morning, and

alighted at the Hotel du Palais Royal, which was also the post-house.

While fresh horses were being put to and the passports and safe-conduct

examined at the Loulle gate, the marshal entered the hotel to take a

plate of soup. In less than five minutes a crowd gathered round the

door, and M. Moulin the proprietor noticing the sinister and threatening

expression many of the faces bore, went to the marshal’s room and urged

him to leave instantly without waiting for his papers, pledging his word

that he would send a man on horseback after him, who would overtake him

two or three leagues beyond the town, and bring him his own safe-conduct

and the passports of his aides-de-camp. The marshal came downstairs, and

finding the horses ready, got into the carriage, on which loud murmurs

arose from the populace, amongst which could be distinguished the

terrible word ’zaou!’ that excited cry of the Provencal, which according

to the tone in which it is uttered expresses every shade of threat, and

which means at once in a single syllable, "Bite, rend, kill, murder!"

The marshal set out at a gallop, and passed the town gates unmolested,

except by the howlings of the populace, who, however, made no attempt to

stop him. He thought he had left all his enemies behind, but when he

reached the Rhone bridge he found a group of men armed with muskets

waiting there, led by Farges and Roquefort. They all raised their guns

and took aim at the marshal, who thereupon ordered the postillion to

drive back. The order was obeyed, but when the carriage had gone about

fifty yards it was met by the crowd from the "Palais Royal," which had

followed it, so the postillion stopped. In a moment the traces were cut,

whereupon the marshal, opening the door, alighted, followed by his

valet, and passing on foot through the Loulle gate, followed by a second

carriage in which were his aides-de-camp, he regained the "Palais

Royal," the doors of which were opened to him and his suite, and

immediately secured against all others.

The marshal asked to be shown to a room, and M. Moulin gave him No. 1,

to the front. In ten minutes three thousand people filled the square; it

was as if the population sprang up from the ground. Just then the

carriage, which the marshal had left behind, came up, the postillion

having tied the traces, and a second time the great yard gates were

opened, and in spite of the press closed again and barricaded by the

porter Vernet, and M. Moulin himself, both of whom were men of colossal

strength. The aides-de-camp, who had remained in the carriage until

then, now alighted, and asked to be shown to the marshal; but Moulin

ordered the porter to conceal them in an outhouse. Vernet taking one in

each hand, dragged them off despite their struggles, and pushing them

behind some empty barrels, over which he threw an old piece of carpet,

said to them in a voice as solemn as if he were a prophet, "If you move,

you are dead men," and left them. The aides-de-camp remained there

motionless and silent.

At that moment M. de Saint-Chamans, prefect of Avignon, who had arrived

in town at five o’clock in the morning, came out into the courtyard. By

this time the crowd was smashing the windows and breaking in the street

door. The square was full to overflowing, everywhere threatening cries

were heard, and above all the terrible zaou, which from moment to moment

became more full of menace. M. Moulin saw that if they could not hold

out until the troops under Major Lambot arrived, all was lost; he

therefore told Vernet to settle the business of those who were breaking

in the door, while he would take charge of those who were trying to get

in at the window. Thus these two men, moved by a common impulse and of

equal courage, undertook to dispute with a howling mob the possession of

the blood for which it thirsted.

Both dashed to their posts, one in the hall, the other in the

dining-room, and found door and windows already smashed, and several men

in the house. At the sight of Vernet, with whose immense strength they

were acquainted, those in the hall drew back a step, and Vernet, taking

advantage of this movement, succeeded in ejecting them and in securing

the door once more. Meantime M. Moulin, seizing his double-barrelled

gun, which stood in the chimney-corner, pointed it at five men who had

got into the dining-room, and threatened to fire if they did not

instantly get out again. Four obeyed, but one refused to budge;

whereupon Moulin, finding himself no longer outnumbered, laid aside his

gun, and, seizing his adversary round the waist, lifted him as if he

were a child and flung him out of the window. The man died three weeks

later, not from the fall but from the squeeze.

Moulin then dashed to the window to secure it, but as he laid his hand

on it he felt his head seized from behind and pressed violently down on

his left shoulder; at the same instant a pane was broken into splinters,

and the head of a hatchet struck his right shoulder. M. de

Saint-Chamans, who had followed him into the room, had seen the weapon

thrown at Moulin’s head, and not being able to turn aside the iron, had

turned aside the object at which it was aimed. Moulin seized the hatchet

by the handle and tore it out of the hands of him who had delivered the

blow, which fortunately had missed its aim. He then finished closing the

window, and secured it by making fast the inside shutters, and went

upstairs to see after the marshal.

Him he found striding up and down his room, his handsome and noble face

as calm as if the voices of all those shouting men outside were not

demanding his death. Moulin made him leave No. 1 for No. 3, which, being

a back room and looking out on the courtyard, seemed to offer more

chances of safety than the other. The marshal asked for writing

materials, which Moulin brought, whereupon the marshal sat down at a

little table and began to write.

Just then the cries outside became still more uproarious. M. de

Saint-Chamans had gone out and ordered the crowd to disperse, whereupon

a thousand people had answered him with one voice, asking who he was

that he should give such an order. He announced his rank and authority,

to which the answer was, "We only know the prefect by his clothes." Now

it had unfortunately happened that M. de Chamans having sent his trunks

by diligence they had not yet arrived, and being dressed in a green

coat; nankeen trousers, and a pique vest, it could hardly be expected

that in such a suit he should overawe the people under the

circumstances; so, when he got up on a bench to harangue the populace,

cries arose of "Down with the green coat! We have enough of charlatans

like that!" and he was forced to get down again. As Vernet opened the

door to let him in, several men took advantage of the circumstance to

push in along with him; but Vernet let his fist fall three times, and

three men rolled at his feet like bulls struck by a club. The others

withdrew. A dozen champions such as Vernet would have saved the marshal.

Yet it must not be forgotten that this man was a Royalist, and held the

same opinions as those against whom he fought; for him as for them the

marshal was a mortal enemy, but he had a noble heart, and if the marshal

were guilty he desired a trial and not a murder. Meantime a certain

onlooker had heard what had been said to M. de Chamans about his

unofficial costume, and had gone to put on his uniform. This was M. de

Puy, a handsome and venerable old man, with white hair, pleasant

expression, and winning voice. He soon came back in his mayor’s robes,

wearing his scarf and his double cross of St. Louis and the Legion of

Honour. But neither his age nor his dignity made the slightest

impression on these people; they did not even allow him to get back to

the hotel door, but knocked him down and trampled him under foot, so

that he hardly escaped with torn clothes and his white hair covered with

dust and blood. The fury of the mob had now reached its height.

At this juncture the garrison of Avignon came in sight; it was composed

of four hundred volunteers, who formed a battalion known as the Royal

Angouleme. It was commanded by a man who had assumed the title of

Lieutenant-General of the Emancipating Army of Vaucluse. These forces

drew up under the windows of the "Palais Royal." They were composed

almost entirely of Provenceaux, and spoke the same dialect as the people

of the lower orders. The crowd asked the soldiers for what they had

come, why they did not leave them to accomplish an act of justice in

peace, and if they intended to interfere. "Quite the contrary," said one

of the soldiers; "pitch him out of the window, and we will catch him on

the points of our bayonets." Brutal cries of joy greeted this answer,

succeeded by a short silence, but it was easy to see that under the

apparent calm the crowd was in a state of eager expectation. Soon new

shouts were heard, but this time from the interior of the hotel; a small

band of men led by Forges and Roquefort had separated themselves from

the throng, and by the help of ladders had scaled the walls and got on

the roof of the house, and, gliding down the other side, had dropped

into the balcony outside the windows of the rooms where the marshal was

writing.

Some of these dashed through the windows without waiting to open them,

others rushed in at the open door. The marshal, thus taken by surprise,

rose, and not wishing that the letter he was writing to the Austrian

commandant to claim his protection should fall into the hands of these

wretches, he tore it to pieces. Then a man who belonged to a better

class than the others, and who wears to-day the Cross of the Legion of

Honour, granted to him perhaps for his conduct on this occasion,

advanced towards the marshal, sword in hand, and told him if he had any

last arrangements to make, he should make them at once, for he had only

ten minutes to live.

"What are you thinking of?" exclaimed Forges. "Ten minutes! Did he give

the Princesse de Lamballe ten minutes?" and he pointed his pistol at the

marshal’s breast; but the marshal striking up the weapon, the shot

missed its aim and buried itself in the ceiling.

"Clumsy fellow!" said the marshal, shrugging his shoulders, "not to be

able to kill a man at such close range."

"That’s true," replied Roquefort in his patois. "I’ll show you how to do

it"; and, receding a step, he took aim with his carbine at his victim,

whose back was partly towards him. A report was heard, and the marshal

fell dead on the spot, the bullet which entered at the shoulder going

right through his body and striking the opposite wall.

The two shots, which had been heard in the street, made the howling mob

dance for joy. One cowardly fellow, called Cadillan, rushed out on one

of the balconies which looked on the square, and, holding a loaded

pistol in each hand, which he had not dared to discharge even into the

dead body of the murdered man, he cut a caper, and, holding up the

innocent weapons, called out, "These have done the business!" But he

lied, the braggart, and boasted of a crime which was committed by braver

cutthroats than he.

Behind him came the general of the "Emancipating Army of Vaucluse," who,

graciously saluting the crowd, said, "The marshal has carried out an act

of justice by taking his own life." Shouts of mingled joy, revenge, and

hatred rose from the crowd, and the king’s attorney and the examining

magistrate set about drawing up a report of the suicide.

Now that all was over and there was no longer any question of saving the

marshal, M. Moulin desired at least to save the valuables which he had

in his carriage. He found in a cash box 40,000 francs, in the pockets a

snuff-box set with diamonds, and a pair of pistols and two swords; the

hilt of one of these latter was studded with precious stones, a gift

from the ill-starred Selim. M. Moulin returned across the court,

carrying these things. The Damascus blade was wrenched from his hands,

and the robber kept it five years as a trophy, and it was not until the

year 1820 that he was forced to give it up to the representative of the

marshal’s widow. Yet this man was an officer, and kept his rank all

through the Restoration, and was not dismissed the army till 1830. When

M. Moulin had placed the other objects in safety, he requested the

magistrate to have the corpse removed, as he wished the crowds to

disperse, that he might look after the aides-de camp. While they were

undressing the marshal, in order to certify the cause of death, a

leathern belt was found on him containing 5536 francs. The body was

carried downstairs by the grave-diggers without any opposition being

offered, but hardly had they advanced ten yards into the square when

shouts of "To the Rhone! to the Rhone!" resounded on all sides. A police

officer who tried to interfere was knocked down, the bearers were

ordered to turn round; they obeyed, and the crowd carried them off

towards the wooden bridge. When the fourteenth arch was reached, the

bier was torn from the bearers’ hands, and the corpse was flung into the

river. "Military honours!" shouted some one, and all who had guns fired

at the dead body, which was twice struck. "Tomb of Marshal Brune" was

then written on the arch, and the crowd withdrew, and passed the rest of

the day in holiday-making.

Meanwhile the Rhone, refusing to be an accomplice in such a crime, bore

away the corpse, which the assassins believed had been swallowed up for

ever. Next day it was found on the sandy shore at Tarascon, but the news

of the murder had preceded it, and it was recognised by the wounds, and

pushed back again into the waters, which bore it towards the sea.

Three leagues farther on it stopped again, this time by a grassy bank,

and was found by a man of forty and another of eighteen. They also

recognised it, but instead of shoving it back into the current, they

drew it up gently on the bank and carried it to a small property

belonging to one of them, where they reverently interred it. The elder

of the two was M. de Chartruse, the younger M. Amedee Pichot.

The body was exhumed by order of the marshal’s widow, and brought to her

castle of Saint-Just, in Champagne; she had it embalmed, and placed in a

bedroom adjoining her own, where it remained, covered only by a veil,

until the memory of the deceased was cleansed from the accusation of

suicide by a solemn public trial and judgment. Then only it was finally

interred, along with the parchment containing the decision of the Court

of Riom.

The ruffians who killed Marshal Brune, although they evaded the justice

of men, did not escape the vengeance of God: nearly every one of them

came to a miserable end. Roquefort and Farges were attacked by strange

and hitherto unknown diseases, recalling the plagues sent by God on the

peoples whom He desired to punish in bygone ages. In the case of Farges,

his skin dried up and became horny, causing him such intense irritation,

that as the only means of allaying it he had to be kept buried up to the

neck while still alive. The disease under which Roquefort suffered

seemed to have its seat in the marrow, for his bones by degrees lost all

solidity and power of resistance, so that his limbs refused to bear his

weight, and he went about the streets crawling like a serpent. Both died

in such dreadful torture that they regretted having escaped the

scaffold, which would have spared them such prolonged agony.

Pointu was condemned to death, in his absence, at the Assizes Court of

La Drome, for having murdered five people, and was cast off by his own

faction. For some time his wife, who was infirm and deformed, might be

seen going from house to house asking alms for him, who had been for two

months the arbiter of civil war and assassination. Then came a day when

she ceased her quest, and was seen sitting, her head covered by a black

rag: Pointu was dead, but it was never known where or how. In some

corner, probably, in the crevice of a rock or in the heart of the

forest, like an old tiger whose talons have been clipped and his teeth

drawn.

Naudaud and Magnan were sentenced to the galleys for ten years. Naudaud

died there, but Magnan finished his time and then became a scavenger,

and, faithful to his vocation as a dealer of death, a poisoner of stray

dogs.

Some of these cut-throats are still living, and fill good positions,

wearing crosses and epaulets, and, rejoicing in their impunity, imagine

they have escaped the eye of God.

We shall wait and see!

CHAPTER IX

It was on Saturday that the white flag was hoisted at Nimes. The next

day a crowd of Catholic peasants from the environs marched into the

city, to await the arrival of the Royalist army from Beaucaire.

Excitement was at fever heat, the desire of revenge filled every breast,

the hereditary hatred which had slumbered during the Empire again awoke

stronger than ever. Here I may pause to say that in the account which

follows of the events which took place about this time, I can only

guarantee the facts and not the dates: I relate everything as it

happened; but the day on which it happened may sometimes have escaped my

memory, for it is easier to recollect a murder to which one has been an

eye-witness, than to recall the exact date on which it happened.

The garrison of Nimes was composed of one battalion of the 13th Regiment

of the line, and another battalion of the 79th Regiment, which not being

up to its full war-strength had been sent to Nimes to complete its

numbers by enlistment. But after the battle of Waterloo the citizens had

tried to induce the soldiers to desert, so that of the two battalions,

even counting the officers, only about two hundred men remained.

When the news of the proclamation of Napoleon II reached Nimes,

Brigadier-General Malmont, commandant of the department, had him

proclaimed in the city without any disturbance being caused thereby. It

was not until some days later that a report began to be circulated that

a royal army was gathering at Beaucaire, and that the populace would

take advantage of its arrival to indulge in excesses. In the face of

this two-fold danger, General Malmont had ordered the regular troops,

and a part of the National Guard of the Hundred Days, to be drawn up

under arms in the rear of the barracks upon an eminence on which he had

mounted five pieces of ordnance. This disposition was maintained for two

days and a night, but as the populace remained quiet, the troops

returned to the barracks and the Guards to their homes.

But on Monday a concourse of people, who had heard that the army from

Beaucaire would arrive the next day, made a hostile demonstration before

the barracks, demanding with shouts and threats that the five cannons

should be handed over to them. The general and the officers who were

quartered in the town, hearing of the tumult, repaired at once to the

barracks, but soon came out again, and approaching the crowd tried to

persuade it to disperse, to which the only answer they received was a

shower of bullets. Convinced by this, as he was well acquainted with the

character of the people with whom he had to deal, that the struggle had

begun in earnest and must be fought out to the bitter end, the general

retreated with his officers, step by step, to the barracks, and having

got inside the gates, closed and bolted them.

He then decided that it was his duty to repulse force by force, for

everyone was determined to defend, at no matter what cost, a position

which, from the first moment of revolt, was fraught with such peril. So,

without waiting for orders, the soldiers, seeing that some of their

windows had been broken by shots from without, returned the fire, and,

being better marksmen than the townspeople, soon laid many low. Upon

this the alarmed crowd retired out of musket range, and entrenched

themselves in some neighbouring houses.

About nine o’clock in the evening, a man bearing something resembling a

white flag approached the walls and asked to speak to the general. He

brought a message inquiring on what terms the troops would consent to

evacuate Nimes. The general sent back word that the conditions were,

that the troops should be allowed to march out fully armed and with all

their baggage; the five guns alone would be left behind. When the forces

reached a certain valley outside the city they would halt, that the men

might be supplied with means sufficient to enable them either to rejoin

the regiments to which they belonged, or to return to their own homes.

At two o’clock A. M. the same envoy returned, and announced to the

general that the conditions had been accepted with one alteration, which

was that the troops, before marching out, should lay down their arms.

The messenger also intimated that if the offer he had brought were not

quickly accepted—say within two hours—the time for capitulation would

have gone by, and that he would not be answerable for what the people

might then do in their fury. The general accepted the conditions as

amended, and the envoy disappeared.

When the troops heard of the agreement, that they should be disarmed

before being allowed to leave the town, their first impulse was to

refuse to lay down their weapons before a rabble which had run away from

a few musket shots; but the general succeeded in soothing their sense of

humiliation and winning their consent by representing to them that there

could be nothing dishonourable in an action which prevented the children

of a common fatherland from shedding each other’s blood.

The gendarmerie, according to one article of the treaty, were to close

in at, the rear of the evacuating column; and thus hinder the populace

from molesting the troops of which it was composed. This was the only

concession obtained in return for the abandoned arms, and the farce in

question was already drawn up in field order, apparently waiting to

escort the troops out of the city.

At four o’clock P.M. the troops got ready, each company stacking its

arms in the courtyard before: marching out; but hardly had forty or

fifty men passed the gates than fire was opened on them at such close

range that half of them were killed or disabled at the first volley.

Upon this, those who were still within the walls closed the courtyard

gates, thus cutting off all chance of retreat from their comrades. In

the event; however, it turned out that several of the latter contrived

to escape with their lives and that they lost nothing through being

prevented from returning; for as soon as the mob saw that ten or twelve

of their victims had slipped through their hands they made a furious

attack on the barracks, burst in the gates, and scaled the walls with

such rapidity, that the soldiers had no time to repossess themselves of

their muskets, and even had they succeeded in seizing them they would

have been of little use, as ammunition was totally wanting. The barracks

being thus carried by assault, a horrible massacre ensued, which lasted

for three hours. Some of the wretched men, being hunted from room to

room, jumped out of the first window they could reach, without stopping

to measure its height from the ground, and were either impaled on the

bayonets held in readiness below, or, falling on the pavement, broke

their limbs and were pitilessly despatched.

The gendarmes, who had really been called out to protect the retreat of

the garrison, seemed to imagine they were there to witness a judicial

execution, and stood immovable and impassive while these horrid deeds

went on before their eyes. But the penalty of this indifference was

swiftly exacted, for as soon as the soldiers were all done with, the

mob, finding their thirst for blood still unslacked, turned on the

gendarmes, the greater number of whom were wounded, while all lost their

horses, and some their lives.

The populace was still engaged at its bloody task when news came that

the army from Beaucaire was within sight of the town, and the murderers,

hastening to despatch some of the wounded who still showed signs of

life, went forth to meet the long expected reinforcements.

Only those who saw the advancing army with their own eyes can form any

idea of its condition and appearance, the first corps excepted. This

corps was commanded by M. de Barre, who had put himself at its head with

the noble purpose of preventing, as far as he could, massacre and

pillage. In this he was seconded by the officers under him, who were

actuated by the same philanthropic motives as their general in

identifying themselves with the corps. Owing to their exertions, the men

advanced in fairly regular order, and good discipline was maintained.

All the men carried muskets.

But the first corps was only a kind of vanguard to the second, which was

the real army, and a wonderful thing to see and hear. Never were brought

together before or since so many different kinds of howl, so many

threats of death, so many rags; so many odd weapons, from the matchlock

of the time of the Michelade to the steel-tipped goad of the bullock

drovers of La Camargue, so that when the Nimes mob; which in all

conscience was howling and ragged enough, rushed out to offer a

brotherly welcome to the strangers, its first feeling was one of

astonishment and dismay as it caught sight of the motley crew which held

out to it the right hand of fellowship.

The new-comers soon showed that it was through necessity and not choice

that their outer man presented such a disreputable appearance; for they

were hardly well within the gates before demanding that the houses of

the members of the old Protestant National Guard should be pointed out

to them.

This being done, they promptly proceeded to exact from each household a

musket, a coat, a complete kit, or a sum of money, according to their

humour, so that before evening those who had arrived naked and penniless

were provided with complete uniforms and had money in their pockets.

These exactions were levied under the name of a contribution, but before

the day was ended naked and undisguised pillage began.

Someone asserted that during the assault on the barracks a certain

individual had fired out of a certain house on the assailants. The

indignant people now rushed to the house indicated, and soon left

nothing of it in existence but its walls. A little later it was clearly

proved that the individual accused was quite innocent of the crime laid

to his charge.

The house of a rich merchant lay in the path of the advancing army. A

cry arose that the owner was a Bonapartist, and nothing more was needed.

The house was broken into and pillaged, and the furniture thrown out of

the windows.

Two days later it turned out that not only was the merchant no

Bonapartist, but that his son had been one of those who had accompanied

the Duc d’Angouleme to Cette when he left the country. The pillagers

excused themselves by saying they had been misled by a resemblance

between two names, and this excuse, as far as appears, was accepted as

valid by the authorities.

It was not long before the populace of Nimes began to think they might

as well follow the example set them by their brothers from Beaucaire. In

twenty-four hours free companies were formed, headed by Trestaillons,

Trupheny, Graffan, and Morinet. These bands arrogated to themselves the

title of National Guard, and then what took place at Marseilles in the

excitement of the moment was repeated at Nimes with deliberation and

method, inspired by hate and the desire of vengeance. A revolt broke out

which followed the ordinary course: first pillage, then fire, then

murder, laid waste the city.

M. V______’s house, which stood in the middle of the town, was sacked

and then burnt to the ground, without a hand being raised to

prevent the crime.

M. T______’s house, on the road to Montpellier, was sacked and wrecked

and a bonfire made of the furniture, round which the crowd danced;

as if it had been an occasion of public rejoicing. Then cries were

raised for the proprietor, that he might be killed, and as he could

not be found the baffled fury of the mob vented itself on the dead.

A child three months buried was dragged from its grave, drawn by

the feet through the sewers and wayside puddles, and then flung on

a dung-heap; and, strange to say, while incendiarism and sacrilege

thus ran riot, the mayor of the place slept so sound that when he

awoke he was "quite astonished," to use his own expression, to hear

what had taken place during the night.

This expedition completed, the same company which had brought this

expedition to a successful issue next turned their attention to a small

country house occupied by a widow, whom I had often begged to take

refuge with us. But, secure in her insignificance, she had always

declined our offers, preferring to live solitary and retired in her own

home. But the freebooters sought her out, burst in her doors, drove her

away with blows and insults, destroyed her house and burnt her

furniture. They then proceeded to the vault in which lay the remains of

her family, dragged them out of their coffins and scattered them about

the fields. The next day the poor woman-ventured back, collected the

desecrated remains with pious care, and replaced them in the vault. But

this was counted to her as a crime; the company returned, once more cast

forth the contents of the coffins, and threatened to kill her should she

dare to touch them again. She was often seen in the days that followed

shedding bitter tears and watching over the sacred relics as they lay

exposed on the ground.

The name of this widow was Pepin, and the scene of the sacrilege was a

small enclosure on the hill of the Moulins-a-Vent.

Meantime the people in the Faubourg des Bourgades had invented a new

sort of game, or rather, had resolved to vary the serious business of

the drama that was being enacted by the introduction of comic scenes.

They had possessed themselves of a number of beetles such as washerwomen

use, and hammered in long nails, the points of which projected an inch

on the other side in the form of a fleur-de-lis. Every Protestant who

fell into their hands, no matter what his age or rank, was stamped with

the bloody emblem, serious wounds being inflicted in many cases.

Murders were now becoming common. Amongst other names of victims

mentioned were Loriol, Bigot, Dumas, Lhermet, Heritier, Domaison, Combe,

Clairon, Begomet, Poujas, Imbert, Vigal, Pourchet, Vignole. Details more

or less shocking came to light as to the manner in which the murderers

went to work. A man called Dalbos was in the custody of two armed men;

some others came to consult with them. Dalbos appealed for mercy to the

new-comers. It was granted, but as he turned to go he was shot dead.

Another of the name of Rambert tried to escape by disguising himself as

a woman, but was recognised and shot down a few yards outside his own

door. A gunner called Saussine was walking in all security along the

road to Uzes, pipe in mouth, when he was met by five men belonging to

Trestaillon’s company, who surrounded him and stabbed him to the heart

with their knives. The elder of two brothers named Chivas ran across

some fields to take shelter in a country house called Rouviere, which,

unknown to him, had been occupied by some of the new National Guard.

These met him on the threshold and shot him dead.

Rant was seized in his own house and shot. Clos was met by a company,

and seeing Trestaillons, with whom he had always been friends, in its

ranks, he went up to him and held out his hand; whereupon Trestaillons

drew a pistol from his belt and blew his brains out. Calandre being

chased down the rue des Soeurs-Grises, sought shelter in a tavern, but

was forced to come out, and was killed with sabres. Courbet was sent to

prison under the escort of some men, but these changed their minds on

the way as to his punishment, halted, and shot him dead in the middle of

the street.

A wine merchant called Cabanot, who was flying from Trestaillons, ran

into a house in which there was a venerable priest called Cure Bonhomme.

When the cut-throat rushed in, all covered with blood, the priest

advanced and stopped him, crying:

"What will happen, unhappy man, when you come to the confessional with

blood-stained hands?"

"Pooh!" replied Trestaillons, "you must put on your wide gown; the

sleeves are large enough to let everything pass."

To the short account given above of so many murders I will add the

narrative of one to which I was an eye-witness, and which made the most

terrible impression on me of, anything in my experience.

It was midnight. I was working beside my wife’s bed; she was just

becoming drowsy, when a noise in the distance caught our attention. It

gradually became more distinct, and drums began to beat the ’generale’

in every direction. Hiding my own alarm for fear of increasing hers, I

answered my wife, who was asking what new thing was about to happen,

that it was probably troops marching in or out of garrison. But soon

reports of firearms, accompanied by an uproar with which we were so

familiar that we could no longer mistake its meaning, were heard

outside. Opening my window, I heard bloodcurdling imprecations, mixed

with cries of "Long live the king!" going on. Not being able to remain

any longer in this uncertainty, I woke a captain who lived in the same

house. He rose, took his arms, and we went out together, directing our

course towards the point whence the shouts seemed to come. The moon

shone so bright that we could see everything almost as distinctly as in

broad daylight.

A concourse of people was hurrying towards the Cours yelling like

madmen; the greater number of them, half naked, armed with muskets,

swords, knives, and clubs, and swearing to exterminate everything, waved

their weapons above the heads of men who had evidently been torn from

their houses and brought to the square to be put to death. The rest of

the crowd had, like ourselves, been drawn thither by curiosity, and were

asking what was going on. "Murder is abroad," was the answer; "several

people have been killed in the environs, and the patrol has been fired

on." While this questioning was going on the noise continued to

increase. As I had really no business to be on a spot where such things

were going on, and feeling that my place was at my wife’s side, to

reassure her for the present and to watch over her should the rioters

come our way, I said good-bye to the captain, who went on to the

barracks, and took the road back to the suburb in which I lived.

I was not more than fifty steps from our house when I heard loud talking

behind me, and, turning, saw gun barrels glittering in the moonlight. As

the speakers seemed to be rapidly approaching me, I kept close in the

shadow of the houses till I reached my own door, which I laid softly to

behind me, leaving myself a chink by which I could peep out and watch

the movements of the group which was drawing near. Suddenly I felt

something touch my hand; it was a great Corsican dog, which was turned

loose at night, and was so fierce that it was a great protection to our

house. I felt glad to have it at my side, for in case of a struggle it

would be no despicable ally.

Those approaching turned out to be three armed men leading a fourth,

disarmed and a prisoner. They all stopped just opposite my door, which I

gently closed and locked, but as I still wished to see what they were

about, I slipped into the garden, which lay towards the street, still

followed by my dog. Contrary to his habit, and as if he understood the

danger, he gave a low whine instead of his usual savage growl. I climbed

into a fig tree the branches of which overhung the street, and, hidden

by the leaves, and resting my hands on the top of the wall, I leaned far

enough forward to see what the men were about.

They were still on the same spot, but there was a change in their

positions. The prisoner was now kneeling with clasped hands before the

cut-throats, begging for his life for the sake of his wife and children,

in heartrending accents, to which his executioners replied in mocking

tones, "We have got you at last into our hands, have we? You dog of a

Bonapartist, why do you not call on your emperor to come and help you

out of this scrape?" The unfortunate man’s entreaties became more

pitiful and their mocking replies more pitiless. They levelled their

muskets at him several times, and then lowered them, saying; "Devil take

it, we won’t shoot yet; let us give him time to see death coming," till

at last the poor wretch, seeing there was no hope of mercy, begged to be

put out of his misery.

Drops of sweat stood on my forehead. I felt my pockets to see if I had

nothing on me which I could use as a weapon, but I had not even a knife.

I looked at my dog; he was lying flat at the foot of the tree, and

appeared to be a prey to the most abject terror. The prisoner continued

his supplications, and the assassins their threats and mockery. I

climbed quietly down out of the fig tree, intending to fetch my pistols.

My dog followed me with his eyes, which seemed to be the only living

things about him. Just as my foot touched the ground a double report

rang out, and my dog gave a plaintive and prolonged howl. Feeling that

all was over, and that no weapons could be of any use, I climbed up

again into my perch and looked out. The poor wretch was lying face

downwards writhing in his blood; the assassins were reloading their

muskets as they walked away.

Being anxious to see if it was too late to help the man whom I had not

been able to save, I went out into the street and bent over him. He was

bloody, disfigured, dying, but was yet alive, uttering dismal groans. I

tried to lift him up, but soon saw that the wounds which he had received

from bullets fired at close range were both mortal, one being in the

head, and the other in the loins. Just then a patrol, of the National

Guard turned round the corner of the street. This, instead of being a

relief, awoke me to a sense of my danger, and feeling I could do nothing

for the wounded man, for the death rattle had already begun, I entered

my house, half shut the door, and listened.

"Qui vive?" asked the corporal.

"Idiot!" said someone else, "to ask ’Qui vive?’ of a dead man!"

"He is not dead," said a third voice; "listen to him singing"; and

indeed the poor fellow in his agony was giving utterance to dreadful

groans.

"Someone has tickled him well," said a fourth, "but what does it matter?

We had better finish the job."

Five or six musket shots followed, and the groans ceased.

The name of the man who had just expired was Louis Lichaire; it was not

against him, but against his nephew, that the assassins had had a

grudge, but finding the nephew out when they burst into the house, and a

victim being indispensable, they had torn the uncle from the arms of his

wife, and, dragging him towards the citadel, had killed him as I have

just related.

Very early next morning I sent to three commissioners of police, one

after the other, for permission to have the corpse carried to the

hospital, but these gentlemen were either not up or had already gone

out, so that it was not until eleven o’clock and after repeated

applications that they condescended to give me the needed authorisation.

Thanks to this delay, the whole town came to see the body of the

unfortunate man. Indeed, the day which followed a massacre was always

kept as a holiday, everyone leaving his work undone and coming out to

stare at the slaughtered victims. In this case, a man wishing to amuse

the crowd took his pipe out of his mouth and put it between the teeth of

the corpse—a joke which had a marvellous success, those present

shrieking with laughter.

Many murders had been committed during the night; the companies had

scoured the streets singing some doggerel, which one of the bloody

wretches, being in poetic vein, had composed, the chorus of which was:

"Our work's well done,

We spare none!"

Seventeen fatal outrages were committed, and yet neither the reports of

the firearms nor the cries of the victims broke the peaceful slumbers of

M. le Prefet and M. le Commissaire General de la Police. But if the

civil authorities slept, General Lagarde, who had shortly before come to

town to take command of the city in the name of the king, was awake. He

had sprung from his bed at the first shot, dressed himself, and made a

round of the posts; then sure that everything was in order, he had

formed patrols of chasseurs, and had himself, accompanied by two

officers only, gone wherever he heard cries for help. But in spite of

the strictness of his orders the small number of troops at his

disposition delayed the success of his efforts, and it was not until

three o’clock in the morning that he succeeded in securing Trestaillons.

When this man was taken he was dressed as usual in the uniform of the

National Guard, with a cocked hat and captain’s epaulets. General

Lagarde ordered the gens d’armes who made the capture to deprive him of

his sword and carbine, but it was only after a long struggle that they

could carry out this order, for Trestaillons protested that he would

only give up his carbine with his life. However, he was at last obliged

to yield to numbers, and when disarmed was removed to the barracks; but

as there could be no peace in the town as long as he was in it, the

general sent him to the citadel of Montpellier next morning before it

was light.

The disorders did not, however, cease at once. At eight o’clock A.M.

they were still going on, the mob seeming to be animated by the spirit

of Trestaillons, for while the soldiers were occupied in a distant

quarter of the town a score of men broke into the house of a certain

Scipion Chabrier, who had remained hidden from his enemies for a long

time, but who had lately returned home on the strength of the

proclamations published by General Lagarde when he assumed the position

of commandant of the town. He had indeed been sure that the disturbances

in Nimes were over, when they burst out with redoubled fury on the 16th

of October; on the morning of the 17th he was working quietly at home at

his trade of a silk weaver, when, alarmed by the shouts of a parcel of

cut-throats outside his house, he tried to escape. He succeeded in

reaching the "Coupe d’Or," but the ruffians followed him, and the first

who came up thrust him through the thigh with his bayonet. In

consequence of this wound he fell from top to bottom of the staircase,

was seized and dragged to the stables, where the assassins left him for

dead, with seven wounds in his body.

This was, however, the only murder committed that day in the town,

thanks to the vigilance and courage of General Lagarde.

The next day a considerable crowd gathered, and a noisy deputation went

to General Lagarde’s quarters and insolently demanded that Trestaillons

should be set at liberty. The general ordered them to disperse, but no

attention was paid to this command, whereupon he ordered his soldiers to

charge, and in a moment force accomplished what long-continued

persuasion had failed to effect. Several of the ringleaders were

arrested and taken to prison.

Thus, as we shall see, the struggle assumed a new phase: resistance to

the royal power was made in the name of the royal power, and both those

who broke or those who tried to maintain the public peace used the same

cry, "Long live the king!"

The firm attitude assumed by General Lagarde restored Nimes to a state

of superficial peace, beneath which, however, the old enmities were

fermenting. An occult power, which betrayed itself by a kind of passive

resistance, neutralised the effect of the measures taken by the military

commandant. He soon became cognisant of the fact that the essence of

this sanguinary political strife was an hereditary religious animosity,

and in order to strike a last blow at this, he resolved, after having

received permission from the king, to grant the general request of the

Protestants by reopening their places of worship, which had been closed

for more than four months, and allowing the public exercise of the

Protestant religion, which had been entirely suspended in the city for

the same length of time.

Formerly there had been six Protestant pastors resident in Nimes, but

four of them, had fled; the two who remained were MM. Juillerat and

Olivier Desmonts, the first a young man, twenty-eight years of age, the

second an old man of seventy.

The entire weight of the ministry had fallen during this period of

proscription on M. Juillerat, who had accepted the task and religiously

fulfilled it. It seemed as if a special providence had miraculously

protected him in the midst of the many perils which beset his path.

Although the other pastor, M. Desmonts, was president of the Consistory,

his life was in much less danger; for, first, he had reached an age

which almost everywhere commands respect, and then he had a son who was

a lieutenant in, one of the royal corps levied at Beaucaire, who

protected him by his name when he could not do so by his presence. M.

Desmonts had therefore little cause for anxiety as to his safety either

in the streets of Nimes or on the road between that and his country

house.

But, as we have said, it was not so with M. Juillerat. Being young and

active, and having an unfaltering trust in God, on him alone devolved

all the sacred duties of his office, from the visitation of the sick and

dying to the baptism of the newly born. These latter were often brought

to him at night to be baptized, and he consented, though unwillingly, to

make this concession, feeling that if he insisted on the performance of

the rite by day he would compromise not only his own safety but that of

others. In all that concerned him personally, such as consoling the

dying or caring for the wounded, he acted quite openly, and no danger

that he encountered on his way ever caused him to flinch from the path

of duty.

One day, as M. Juillerat was passing through the rue des Barquettes on

his way to the prefecture to transact some business connected with his

ministry, he saw several men lying in wait in a blind alley by which he

had to pass. They had their guns pointed at him. He continued his way

with tranquil step and such an air of resignation that the assassins

were overawed, and lowered their weapons as he approached, without

firing a single shot. When M. Juillerat reached the prefecture, thinking

that the prefect ought to be aware of everything connected with the

public order, he related this incident to M. d’Arbaud-Jouques, but the

latter did not think the affair of enough importance to require any

investigation.

It was, as will be seen, a difficult enterprise to open once again the

Protestant places of worship, which had been so long closed, in present

circumstances, and in face of the fact that the civil authorities

regarded such a step with disfavour, but General Lagarde was one of

those determined characters who always act up to their convictions.

Moreover, to prepare people’s minds for this stroke of religious policy,

he relied on the help of the Duc d’Angouleme, who in the course of a

tour through the South was almost immediately expected at Nimes.

On the 5th of November the prince made his entry into the city, and

having read the reports of the general to the King Louis XVIII, and

having received positive injunctions from his uncle to pacify the

unhappy provinces which he was about to visit, he arrived full of the

desire to displays whether he felt it or not, a perfect impartiality; so

when the delegates from the Consistory were presented to him, not only

did he receive them most graciously, but he was the first to speak of

the interests of their faith, assuring them that it was only a few days

since he had learned with much regret that their religious services had

been; suspended since the 16th of July. The delegates replied that in

such a time of agitation the closing of their places of worship was, a

measure of prudence which they had felt ought to be borne, and which had

been borne, with resignation. The prince expressed his approval of this

attitude with regard to the past, but said that his presence was a

guarantee for the future, and that on Thursday the 9th inst. the two

meeting-houses should be reopened and restored to their proper use. The

Protestants were alarmed at, having a favour accorded to them which was

much more than they would have dared to ask and for which they were

hardly prepared. But the prince reassured them by saying that all

needful measures would be taken to provide against any breach of the

public peace, and at the same time invited M. Desmonts, president, and

M. Roland-Lacoste, member of the Consistory, to dine with him.

The next deputation to arrive was a Catholic one, and its object was to

ask that Trestaillons might be set at liberty. The prince was so

indignant at this request that his only answer was to turn his back on

those who proffered it.

The next day the duke, accompanied by General Lagarde, left for

Montpellier; and as it was on the latter that the Protestants placed

their sole reliance for the maintenance of those rights guaranteed for

the future by the word of the prince, they hesitated to take any new

step in his absence, and let the 9th of November go by without

attempting to resume public worship, preferring to wait for the return

of their protector, which took place on Saturday evening the 11th of

November.

When the general got back, his first thought was to ask if the commands

of the prince had been carried out, and when he heard that they had not,

without waiting to hear a word in justification of the delay, he sent a

positive order to the president of the Consistory to open both places of

worship the next morning.

Upon this, the president carrying self-abnegation and prudence to their

extreme limits, went to the general’s quarters, and having warmly

thanked him, laid before him the dangers to which he would expose

himself by running counter to the opinions of those who had had their

own way in the city for the last four months. But General Lagarde

brushed all these considerations aside: he had received an order from

the prince, and to a man of his military cast of mind no course was open

but to carry that order out.

Nevertheless, the president again expressed his doubts and fears.

"I will answer with my head," said the general, "that nothing happens."

Still the president counselled prudence, asking that only one place of

worship at first be opened, and to this the general gave his consent.

This continued resistance to the re-establishment of public worship on

the part of those who most eagerly desired it enabled the general at

last to realise the extent of the danger which would be incurred by the

carrying out of this measure, and he at once took all possible

precautions. Under the pretext that he was going to-have a general

review, he brought the entire civil and military forces of Nimes under

his authority, determined, if necessary, to use the one to suppress the

other. As early as eight o’clock in the morning a guard of gens d’armes

was stationed at the doors of the meeting-house, while other members of

the same force took up their positions in the adjacent streets. On the

other hand, the Consistory had decided that the doors were to be opened

an hour sooner than usual, that the bells were not to be rung, and that

the organ should be silent.

These precautions had both a good and a bad side. The gens d’armes at

the door of the meetinghouse gave if not a promise of security at least

a promise of support, but they showed to the citizens of the other party

what was about to be done; so before nine o’clock groups of Catholics

began to form, and as it happened to be Sunday the inhabitants of the

neighbouring villages arriving constantly by twos and threes soon united

these groups into a little army. Thus the streets leading to the church

being thronged, the Protestants who pushed their way through were

greeted with insulting remarks, and even the president of the

Consistory, whose white, hair and dignified expression had no effect

upon the mob, heard the people round him saying, "These brigands of

Protestants are going again to their temple, but we shall soon give them

enough of it."

The anger of the populace soon grows hot; between the first bubble and

the boiling-point the interval is short. Threats spoken in a low voice

were soon succeeded by noisy objurgations. Women, children, and men

brake out into yells, "Down with the broilers!" (for this was one of the

names by which the Protestants were designated). "Down with the

broilers! We do not want to see them using our churches: let them give

us back our churches; let them give us back our churches, and go to the

desert. Out with them! Out with them! To the desert! To the desert!"

As the crowd did not go beyond words, however insulting, and as the

Protestants were long inured to much worse things, they plodded along to

their meeting-house, humble and silent, and went in, undeterred by the

displeasure they aroused, whereupon the service commenced.

But some Catholics went in with them, and soon the same shouts which had

been heard without were heard also within. The general, however, was on

the alert, and as soon as the shouts arose inside the gens d’armes

entered the church and arrested those who had caused the disturbance.

The crowds tried to rescue them on their way to prison, but the general

appeared at the head of imposing forces, at the sight of which they

desisted. An apparent calm succeeded the tumult, and the public worship

went on without further interruption.

The general, misled by appearances, went off himself to attend a

military mass, and at eleven o’clock returned to his quarters for lunch.

His absence was immediately perceived and taken advantage of. In the:

twinkling of an eye, the crowds, which had dispersed, gathered together

in even greater numbers and the Protestants, seeing themselves once more

in danger, shut the doors from within, while the gens d’armes guarded

them without. The populace pressed so closely round the gens d’armes,

and assumed such a threatening attitude, that fearing he and his men

would not be able to hold their own in such a throng, the captain

ordered M. Delbose, one of his officers, to ride off and warn the

general. He forced his way through the crowd with great trouble, and

went off at a gallop. On seeing this, the people felt there was no time

to be lost; they knew of what kind the general was, and that he would be

on the spot in a quarter of an hour. A large crowd is invincible through

its numbers; it has only to press forward, and everything gives way,

men, wood, iron. At this moment the crowd, swayed by a common impulse,

swept forward, the gens d’armes and their horses were crushed against

the wall, doors gave way, and instantly with a tremendous roar a living

wave flooded the church. Cries of terror and frightful imprecations were

heard on all sides, everyone made a weapon of whatever came to hand,

chairs and benches were hurled about, the disorder was at its height; it

seemed as if the days of the Michelade and the Bagarre were about to

return, when suddenly the news of a terrible event was spread abroad,

and assailants and assailed paused in horror. General Lagarde had just

been assassinated.

As the crowd had foreseen, no sooner did the messenger deliver his

message than the general sprang on his horse, and, being too brave, or

perhaps too scornful, to fear such foes, he waited for no escort, but,

accompanied by two or three officers, set off at full gallop towards the

scene of the tumult. He had passed through the narrow streets which led

to the meeting-house by pushing the crowd aside with his horse’s chest,

when, just as he got out into the open square, a young man named

Boisson, a sergeant in the Nimes National Guard, came up and seemed to

wish to speak to him. The general seeing a man in uniform, bent down

without a thought of danger to listen to what he had to say, whereupon

Boisson drew a pistol out and fired at him. The ball broke the

collar-bone and lodged in the neck behind the carotid artery, and the

general fell from his horse.

The news of this crime had a strange and unexpected effect; however

excited and frenzied the crowd was, it instantly realised the

consequences of this act. It was no longer like the murder of Marshal

Brune at Avignon or General Ramel at Toulouse, an act of vengeance on a

favourite of Napoleon, but open and armed rebellion against the king. It

was not a simple murder, it was high treason.

A feeling of the utmost terror spread through the town; only a few

fanatics went on howling in the church, which the Protestants, fearing

still greater disasters, had by this time resolved to abandon. The first

to come out was President Olivier Desmonts, accompanied by M.

Vallongues, who had only just arrived in the city, but who had

immediately hurried to the spot at the call of duty.

M. Juillerat, his two children in his arms, walked behind them,

followed by all the other worshippers. At first the crowd,

threatening and ireful, hooted and threw stones at them, but at the

voice of the mayor and the dignified aspect of the president they

allowed them to pass. During this strange retreat over eighty

Protestants were wounded, but not fatally, except a young girl

called Jeannette Cornilliere, who had been so beaten and ill-used

that she died of her injuries a few days later.

In spite of the momentary slackening of energy which followed the

assassination of General Lagarde, the Catholics did not remain long in a

state of total inaction. During the rest of the day the excited populace

seemed as if shaken by an earthquake. About six o’clock in the evening,

some of the most desperate characters in the town possessed themselves

of a hatchet, and, taking their way to the Protestant church, smashed

the doors, tore the pastors’ gowns, rifled the poor-box, and pulled the

books to pieces. A detachment of troops arrived just in time to prevent

their setting the building on fire.

The next day passed more quietly. This time the disorders were of too

important a nature for the prefect to ignore, as he had ignored so many

bloody acts in the past; so in due time a full report was laid before

the king. It became known the same evening that General Lagarde was still

living, and that those around him hoped that the wound would not prove

mortal. Dr. Delpech, who had been summoned from Montpellier, had

succeeded in extracting the bullet, and though he spoke no word of hope,

he did not expressly declare that the case was hopeless.

Two days later everything in the town had assumed its ordinary aspect,

and on the 21st of November the king issued the following edict:—

"Louis, by the grace of God, King of France and of Navarre,

"To all those to whom these presents shall come, greeting:

"An abominable crime has cast a stain on Our city of Nimes. A seditious

mob has dared to oppose the opening of the Protestant place of worship,

in contempt of the constitutional charter, which while it recognises the

Catholic religion as the religion of the State, guarantees to the other

religious bodies protection and freedom of worship. Our military

commandant, whilst trying to disperse these crowds by gentle means

before having resort to force, was shot down, and his assassin has till

now successfully evaded the arm of the law. If such an outrage were to

remain unpunished, the maintenance of good government and public order

would be impossible, and Our ministers would be guilty of neglecting the

law.

"Wherefore We have ordered and do order as follows:

"Art. 1. Proceedings shall be commenced without delay by Our attorney,

and the attorney-general, against the perpetrator of the murderous

attack on the person of Sieur Lagarde, and against the authors,

instigators, and accomplices of the insurrection which took place in the

city of Nimes on the 12th of the present month.

"Art. 2. A sufficient number of troops shall be quartered in the said

city, and shall remain there at the cost of the inhabitants, until the

assassin and his accomplices have been produced before a court of law.

"Art. 3. All those citizens whose names are not entitled to be on the

roll of the National Guard shall be disarmed.

"Our Keeper of the Seals, Our Minister of War, Our Minister of the

Interior, and Our Minister of Police, are entrusted with the execution

of this edict.

"Given at Paris at Our Castle of the Tuileries on the 21st of November

in the year of grace 1815, and of Our reign the 21st.

"(Signed) Louis"

Boissin was acquitted.

This was the last crime committed in the South, and it led fortunately

to no reprisals.

Three months after the murderous attempt to which he had so nearly

fallen a victim, General Lagarde left Nimes with the rank of ambassador,

and was succeeded as prefect by M. d’Argont.

During the firm, just, and independent administration of the latter, the

disarming of the citizens decreed by the royal edict was carried out

without bloodshed.

Through his influence, MM. Chabot-Latour, Saint-Aulaire, and Lascour

were elected to the Chamber of Deputies in place of MM. De Calviere, De

Vogue, and De Trinquelade.

And down to the present time the name of M. d’Argont is held in

veneration at Nimes, as if he had only quitted the city yesterday.

*MARY STUART—1587*

CHAPTER I

Some royal names are predestined to misfortune: in France, there is the

name "Henry". Henry I was poisoned, Henry II was killed in a tournament,

Henry III and Henry IV were assassinated. As to Henry V, for whom the

past is so fatal already, God alone knows what the future has in store

for him.

In Scotland, the unlucky name is "Stuart". Robert I, founder of the

race, died at twenty-eight of a lingering illness. Robert II, the most

fortunate of the family, was obliged to pass a part of his life, not

merely in retirement, but also in the dark, on account of inflammation

of the eyes, which made them blood-red. Robert III succumbed to grief,

the death of one son and the captivity of other. James I was stabbed by

Graham in the abbey of the Black Monks of Perth. James II was killed at

the siege of Roxburgh, by a splinter from a burst cannon. James III was

assassinated by an unknown hand in a mill, where he had taken refuge

during the battle of Sauchie. James IV, wounded by two arrows and a blow

from a halberd, fell amidst his nobles on the battlefield of Flodden.

James V died of grief at the loss of his two sons, and of remorse for

the execution of Hamilton. James VI, destined to unite on his head the

two crowns of Scotland and England, son of a father who had been

assassinated, led a melancholy and timorous existence, between the

scaffold of his mother, Mary Stuart, and that of his son, Charles I.

Charles II spent a portion of his life in exile. James II died in it.

The Chevalier Saint-George, after having been proclaimed King of

Scotland as James VIII, and of England and Ireland as James III, was

forced to flee, without having been able to give his arms even the

lustre of a defeat. His son, Charles Edward, after the skirmish at Derby

and the battle of Culloden, hunted from mountain to mountain, pursued

from rock to rock, swimming from shore to shore, picked up half naked by

a French vessel, betook himself to Florence to die there, without the

European courts having ever consented to recognise him as a sovereign.

Finally, his brother, Henry Benedict, the last heir of the Stuarts,

having lived on a pension of three thousand pounds sterling, granted him

by George III, died completely forgotten, bequeathing to the House of

Hanover all the crown jewels which James II had carried off when he

passed over to the Continent in 1688—a tardy but complete recognition of

the legitimacy of the family which had succeeded his.

In the midst of this unlucky race, Mary Stuart was the favourite of

misfortune. As Brantome has said of her, "Whoever desires to write about

this illustrious queen of Scotland has, in her, two very, large

subjects, the one her life, the other her death," Brantome had known her

on one of the most mournful occasions of her life—at the moment when she

was quitting France for Scotland.