Her defender, Bordin, Barrister of the Lower Court of the Department of
the Seine.
This dreadful drama disturbed the little sleep that Godefroid took. He
dreamed of that penalty of death such as the physician Guillotin
has made it with a philanthropic object. Through the hot vapors of a
nightmare he saw a young woman, beautiful, enthusiastic, enduring the
last preparations, drawn in that fatal tumbril, mounting the scaffold,
and crying out, “Vive le roi!”
Eager to know the whole, Godefroid rose at dawn, dressed, and paced his
room; then stood mechanically at his window gazing at the sky, while
his thoughts reconstructed this drama in many volumes. Ever, on that
darksome background of Chouans, peasants, country gentlemen, rebel
leaders, spies, and officers of justice, he saw the vivid figures of the
mother and the daughter detach themselves; the daughter misleading the
mother; the daughter victim of a monster; victim, too, of her passion
for one of those bold men whom, later, we have glorified as heroes, and
to whom even Godefroid’s imagination lent a likeness to the Charettes
and the Georges Cadoudals,--those giants of the struggle between the
Republic and the Monarchy.
As soon as Godefroid heard the goodman Alain stirring in the room above
him, he went there; but he had no sooner opened the door than he closed
it and went back to his own apartment. The old man, kneeling by his
chair, was saying his morning prayer. The sight of that whitened head,
bowed in an attitude of humble reverence, reminded Godefroid of his own
forgotten duties, and he prayed fervently.
“I expected you,” said the kind old man, when Godefroid entered his room
some fifteen minutes later. “I got up earlier than usual, for I felt
sure you would be impatient.”
“Madame Henriette?” asked Godefroid, with visible anxiety.
“Was Madame’s daughter!” replied Monsieur Alain. “Madame’s name is
Lechantre de la Chanterie. Under the Empire none of the nobiliary titles
were allowed, nor any of the names added to the patronymic or original
names. Therefore, the Baronne des Tours-Minieres was called Madame
Bryond. The Marquis d’Esgrignon took his name of Carol (citizen Carol);
later he was called the Sieur Carol. The Troisvilles became the Sieurs
Guibelin.”
“But what happened? Did the Emperor pardon her?”
“Alas, no!” replied Alain. “The unfortunate little woman, not twenty-one
years old, perished on the scaffold. After reading Bordin’s appeal, the
Emperor answered very much in these terms: ‘Why be so bitter against the
spy? A spy is no longer a man; he ought not to have feelings; he is a
wheel of the machinery; Bryond did his duty. If instruments of that
kind were not what they are,--steel bars,--and intelligent only in the
service of the power employing them, government would not be possible.
The sentences of criminal courts must be carried out, or the judges
would cease to have confidence in themselves or in me. Besides, the
women of the West must be taught not to meddle in plots. It is precisely
in the case of a woman that justice should not be interfered with. There
is no excuse possible for an attack on power?’ This was the substance
of what the Emperor said, as Bordin repeated it to me. Learning a little
later that France and Russia were about to measure swords against each
other, and that the Emperor was to go two thousand miles from Paris to
attack a vast and desert country, Bordin understood the secret reason of
the Emperor’s harshness. To insure tranquillity at the West, now full of
refractories, Napoleon believed it necessary to inspire terror. Bordin
could do no more.”
“But Madame de la Chanterie?” said Godefroid.
“Madame de la Chanterie was sentenced to twenty years’ imprisonment,”
replied Alain. “As she was already transferred to Bicetre, near Rouen,
to undergo her punishment, nothing was attempted on her behalf until
every effort had been made to save Henriette, who had grown dearer than
ever to her mother during this time of anxiety. Indeed, if it had not
been for Bordin’s assurance that he could obtain Henriette’s pardon,
it is doubtful if Madame could have survived the shock of the sentence.
When the appeal failed, they deceived the poor mother. She saw her
daughter once after the execution of the other prisoners, not knowing
that Madame Bryond’s respite was due to a false declaration of
pregnancy, made to gain time for the appeal.”
“Ah! I understand it all now,” exclaimed Godefroid.
“No, my dear child, there are things that no one can imagine. Madame
thought her daughter living for a long time.”
“How was that?”
“When Madame des Tours-Minieres learned from Bordin that her appeal was
rejected and that nothing could save her, that sublime little woman had
the courage to write twenty letters, dating them month by month after
the time of her execution, so as to make her poor mother in her prison
believe she was alive. In those letters she told of a gradual illness
which would end in death. They covered a period of two years. Madame
de la Chanterie was therefore prepared for the news of her daughter’s
death, but she thought it a natural one. She did not know until 1814
that Henriette had died on the scaffold. For two years Madame was herded
among the most depraved of her sex, but thanks to the urgency of the
Champignelles and the Beauseants she was, after the second year, placed
in a cell by herself, where she lived like a cloistered nun.”
“And the others?” asked Godefroid.
“The notary Leveille, Herbomez, Hiley, Cibot, Grenier, Horeau, Cabot,
Minard, and Mallet were condemned to death, and executed the same day.
Pannier, condemned to hard labor for twenty years, was branded and sent
to the galleys. The Chaussards and Vauthier received the same sentence,
but were pardoned by the Emperor. Melin, Laraviniere and Binet, were
condemned to five years’ imprisonment. The woman Bourget to twenty
years’ imprisonment. Chargegrain and Rousseau were acquitted. Those who
escaped were all condemned to death, except the girl Godard, who was no
other, as you have probably guessed, than our poor Manon--”
“Manon!” exclaimed Godefroid.
“Oh! you don’t know Manon yet,” replied the kind old Alain. “That
devoted creature, condemned to twelve years’ imprisonment, gave herself
up that she might take care of Madame de la Chanterie, and wait upon
her. Our dear vicar was the priest at Mortagne who gave the last
sacraments to the Baronne des Tours-Minieres; he had the courage to go
with her to the scaffold, and to him she gave her farewell kiss. That
courageous, noble priest had also accompanied the Chevalier du Vissard.
Our dear Abbe de Veze has therefore known all the secrets of those
days.”
“I see why his hair is so white,” said Godefroid.
“Alas! yes,” said Alain. “He received from Amedee du Vissard a miniature
of Madame des Tours-Minieres, the only portrait of her that exists;
therefore, the abbe became almost sacred in Madame de la Chanterie’s
eyes when she re-entered social existence.”
“When did that happen?” asked Godefroid.
“Why, at the restoration of Louis XVIII., in 1814. The Marquis du
Vissard, eldest brother of the Chevalier, was created peer of France and
loaded with honors by the king. The brother of Monsieur d’Herbomez was
made a count and receiver-general. The poor banker Pannier died of grief
at the galleys. Boislaurier died without children, a lieutenant-general
and governor of a royal chateau. Messieurs de Champignelles, de
Beauseant, the Duc de Verneuil, and the Keeper of the Seals presented
Madame de la Chanterie to the king. ‘You have suffered greatly for me,
madame la baronne; you have every right to my favor and gratitude,’ he
said to her. ‘Sire,’ she replied, ‘your Majesty has so many sorrows to
console that I do not wish that mine, which is inconsolable, should be
a burden upon you. To live forgotten, to mourn my daughter, and do some
good, that is my life. If anything could soften my grief, it is the
kindness of my king, it is the pleasure of seeing that Providence has
not allowed our long devotion to be useless.’”
“And what did Louis XVIII. do?” asked Godefroid.
“He restored two hundred thousand francs in money to Madame de la
Chanterie, for the estate of Saint-Savin had been sold to pay the costs
of the trial. In the decree of pardon issued for Madame la baronne and
her servant the king expressed regret for the suffering borne in his
cause, adding that ‘the zeal of his servants had gone too far in its
methods of execution.’ But--and this is a horrible thing; it will
serve to show you a curious trait in the character of that monarch--he
employed Bryond in his detective police throughout his reign.”
“Oh, kings! kings!” cried Godefroid; “and is the wretch still living?”
“No; the wretch, as you justly call him, who concealed his real name
under that of Contenson, died about the close of the year 1829 or the
beginning of 1830. In trying to arrest a criminal who escaped over a
roof, he fell into the street. Louis XVIII. shared Napoleon’s ideas
as to spies and police. Madame de la Chanterie is a saint; she prays
constantly for the soul of that man and has two masses said yearly for
him. As I have already told you, Madame de la Chanterie knew nothing of
the dangers her daughter was incurring until the day when the money
was carried to Alencon; nevertheless she was unable to establish her
innocence, although defended by one of the greatest lawyers of that
time. The president, du Ronceret, and the vice-president, Blondet,
of the court of Alencon did their best to save our poor lady. But the
influence of the councillor of the Imperial Court who presided at her
trial before the Criminal and Special Court, the famous Mergi, and that
of Bourlac the attorney-general was such over the other judges that they
obtained her condemnation. Both Bourlac and Mergi showed extraordinary
bitterness against mother and daughter; they called the Baronne des
Tours-Minieres ‘the woman Bryond,’ and Madame ‘the woman Lechantre.’
The names of accused persons in those days were all brought to one
republican level, and were sometimes unrecognizable. The trial had
several very extraordinary features, which I cannot now recall; one
piece of audacity remains in my memory which will serve to show you what
sort of men those Chouans were. The crowd which assembled to hear the
trial was immense; it even filled the corridors and the square before
the court-house. One morning, after the opening of the court-room and
before the arrival of the judges, Pille-Miche, a famous Chouan, sprang
over the balustrade into the middle of the crowd, elbowing right and
left, ‘charging like a wild boar,’ as Bordin told me, through the
frightened people. The guards and the gendarmes dashed after him and
caught him just as he reached the square; after that the guards were
doubled. A picket of gendarmerie was stationed in the square, for they
feared there were Chouans on the ground ready to rescue the prisoners.
As it was, three persons were crushed to death on this occasion. It was
afterwards discovered that Contenson (neither my friend Bordin nor I
could ever bring ourselves to call him the Baron des Tours-Minieres, nor
Bryond which is the name of an old family),--it was, I say, discovered
that this wretch Contenson had obtained sixty thousand francs of the
stolen money from the Chaussards; he gave ten thousand to the younger
Chaussard, whom he took with him into the detective police and
innoculated with his vices; his other accomplices got nothing from him.
Madame de la Chanterie invested the money restored to her by the king in
the public Funds, and bought this house to please her uncle, Monsieur
de Boisfrelon, who gave her the money for the purpose, and died in
the rooms you now occupy. This tranquil neighborhood is near the
archbishop’s palace, where our dear abbe has duties with the cardinal.
That was one of the chief reasons why Madame agreed to her uncle’s wish.
Here, in this cloistral life, the fearful misfortunes which overwhelmed
her for twenty-six years have been brought to a close. Now you can
understand the majesty, the grandeur of this victim--august, I venture
to call her.”
“Yes,” said Godefroid, “the imprint of all the blows she has received
remains and gives her something, I can scarcely describe it, that is
grand and majestic.”
“Every wound, every fresh blow, has increased her patience, her
resignation,” continued Alain; “but if you knew her as we know her you
would see how keen is her sensibility, how active the inexhaustible
tenderness of her heart, and you would almost stand in awe of the tears
she had shed, and the fervent prayers she had made to God. Ah! it was
necessary to have known, as she did, a brief period of happiness to bear
up as she has done under such misfortunes. Here is a tender heart,
a gentle soul in a steel body hardened by privations, by toil, by
austerities.”
“Her life explains why hermits live so long,” said Godefroid.
“There are days when I ask myself what is the meaning of a life like
hers? Can it be that God reserves such trials, such cruel tests, for
those of his creatures who are to sit on the morrow of their death at
his right hand?” said the good Alain, quite unconscious that he was
artlessly expressing the whole doctrine of Swedenborg on the angels.
“And you tell me,” said Godefroid, “that in prison Madame de la
Chanterie was put with--”
“Madame was sublime in her prison,” said Alain. “For three whole years
she realized the story of the Vicar of Wakefield, and was able to
convert many of the worst women about her. During her imprisonment she
observed the habits and customs of these women, and was seized with that
great pity for the sorrows of the people which has since filled her soul
and made her the angel of Parisian charity. In that dreadful Bicetre
of Rouen, she conceived the plan to the realization of which we are now
devoted. It was, she has often told us, a delightful dream, an angelic
inspiration in the midst of hell; though she never thought she should
realize it. When, in 1819, peace and quietude seemed really to return
to Paris, her dream came back to her. Madame la Duchesse d’Angouleme,
afterwards the dauphine, the Duchesse de Berry, the archbishop, later
the chancellor, and several pious persons contributed liberally the
first necessary sums. These funds have been increased by the addition
of our own available property, from which we take only enough for our
actual needs.”
Tears came into Godefroid’s eyes.
“We are the ministers of a Christian idea; we belong body and soul to
its work, the spirit of which, the founder of which, is the Baronne de
la Chanterie, whom you hear us so respectfully call ‘Madame.’”
“Ah! let me belong to you!” cried Godefroid, stretching out his hands to
the kind old man.
“Now you understand why there are some subjects of conversation which
are never mentioned here, nor even alluded to. You can now see the
obligations of delicacy that all who live in this house contract towards
one who seems to us a saint. You comprehend--do you not?--the influence
of a woman made sacred by such sorrows, who knows so many things, to
whom anguish has said its utmost word; who from each adversity has drawn
instruction, in whom all virtues have the double strength of cruel trial
and of constant practice; whose soul is spotless and without reproach,
whose motherhood knew only grief, whose married love knew only
bitterness; on whom life smiled for a brief time only, but for whom
heaven reserves a palm, the reward of resignation and of loving-kindness
under sorrow. Ah! does she not even triumph over Job in never murmuring?
Can you wonder that her words are so powerful, her old age so young,
her soul so communicative, her glance so convincing? She has obtained
extraordinary powers in dealing with sufferers, for she has suffered all
things.”
“She is the living image of Charity!” cried Godefroid, fervently. “Can I
ever be one of you?”
“You must first endure the tests, and above all BELIEVE!” said the old
man, gently. “So long as you have no faith, so long as you have not
absorbed into your heart and mind the divine meaning of Saint Paul’s
epistle upon Charity, you cannot share our work.”