"Gentlemen," he said, "my wife is a jealous woman! Ten years ago, when I
left her, she had formed these suspicions; they were the cause of my
voluntary exile. To-day she again accuses me of, guilty relations with
the same person; I neither deny nor acknowledge them, but I affirm that
it is the blind passion of jealousy which, aided by my uncle's
suggestions, guided my wife's hand when she signed this denunciation."
Bertrande remained silent.
"Do you dare," he continued, turning towards her,--"do you dare to swear
before God that jealousy did not inspire you with the wish to ruin me?"
"And you," she replied, "dare you swear that I was deceived in my
suspicions?"
"You see, gentlemen," exclaimed the prisoner triumphantly, "her jealousy
breaks forth before your eyes. Whether I am, or am not, guilty of the
sin she attributes to me, is not the question for you to decide. Can you
conscientiously admit the testimony of a woman who, after publicly
acknowledging me, after receiving me in her house, after living two
years in perfect amity with me, has, in a fit of angry vengeance,
thought she could give the lie to all her wards and actions? Ah!
Bertrande," he continued, "if it only concerned my life I think I could
forgive a madness of which your love is both the cause and the excuse,
but you are a mother, think of that! My punishment will recoil on the
head of my daughter, who is unhappy enough to have been born since our
reunion, and also on our unborn child, which you condemn beforehand to
curse the union which gave it being. Think of this, Bertrande, you will
have to answer before God for what you are now doing!"
The unhappy woman fell on her knees, weeping.
"I adjure you," he continued solemnly, "you, my wife, Bertrande de
Rolls, to swear now, here, on the crucifix, that I am an impostor and a
cheat."
A crucifix was placed before Bertrande; she made a sign as if to push it
away, endeavoured to speak, and feebly exclaimed, "No," then fell to the
ground, and was carried out insensible.
This scene considerably shook the opinion of the magistrates. They could
not believe that an impostor, whatever he might be, would have
sufficient daring and presence of mind thus to turn into mockery all
that was most sacred. They set a new inquiry on foot, which, instead of
producing enlightenment, only plunged them into still greater obscurity.
Out of thirty witnesses heard, more than three-quarters agreed in
identifying as Martin Guerre the man who claimed his name. Never was
greater perplexity caused by more extraordinary appearances. The
remarkable resemblance upset all reasoning: some recognised him as
Arnauld du Thill, and others asserted the exact contrary. He could
hardly understand Basque, some said, though born in Biscay, was that
astonishing, seeing he was only three when he left the country? He could
neither wrestle nor fence well, but having no occasion to practise these
exercises he might well have forgotten them. The shoemaker--who made his
shoes afore-time, thought he took another measure, but he might have
made a mistake before or be mistaken now. The prisoner further defended
himself by recapitulating the circumstances of his first meeting with
Bertrande, on his return, the thousand and one little details he had
mentioned which he only could have known, also the letters in his
possession, all of which could only be explained by the assumption that
he was the veritable Martin Guerre. Was it likely that he would be
wounded over the left eye and leg as the missing man was supposed to be?
Was it likely that the old servant, that the four sisters, his uncle
Pierre, many persons to whom he had related facts known only to himself,
that all the community in short, would have recognised him? And even the
very intrigue suspected by Bertrande, which had aroused her jealous
anger, this very intrigue, if it really existed, was it not another
proof of the verity of his claim, since the person concerned, as
interested and as penetrating as the legitimate wife; had also accepted
him as her former lover? Surely here was a mass of evidence sufficient
to cast light on the case. Imagine an impostor arriving for the first
time in a place where all the inhabitants are unknown to him, and
attempting to personate a man who had dwelt there, who would have
connections of all kinds, who would have played his part in a thousand
different scenes, who would have confided his secrets, his opinions, to
relations, friends, acquaintances, to all sorts of people; who had also
a wife--that is to say, a person under whose eyes nearly his whole life
would be passed, a person would study him perpetually, with whom he
would be continually conversing on every sort of subject. Could such an
impostor sustain his impersonation for a single day, without his memory
playing him false? From the physical and moral impossibility of playing
such a part, was it not reasonable to conclude that the accused, who had
maintained it for more than two years, was the true Martin Guerre?
There seemed, in fact, to be nothing which could account for such an
attempt being successfully made unless recourse was had to an accusation
of sorcery. The idea of handing him over to the ecclesiastical
authorities was briefly discussed, but proofs were necessary, and the
judges hesitated. It is a principle of justice, which has become a
precept in law, that in cases of uncertainty the accused has the benefit
of the doubt; but at the period of which we are writing, these truths
were far from being acknowledged; guilt was presumed rather than
innocence; and torture, instituted to force confession from those who
could not otherwise be convicted, is only explicable by supposing the
judges convinced of the actual guilt of the accused; for no one would
have thought of subjecting a possibly innocent person to this suffering.
However, notwithstanding this prejudice, which has been handed down to
us by some organs of the public ministry always disposed to assume the
guilt of a suspected person,--notwithstanding this prejudice, the judges
in this case neither ventured to condemn Martin Guerre themselves as an
impostor, nor to demand the intervention of the Church. In this conflict
of contrary testimony, which seemed to reveal the truth only to
immediately obscure it again, in this chaos of arguments and conjectures
which showed flashes of light only to extinguish them in greater
darkness, consideration for the family prevailed. The sincerity of
Bertrande, the future of the children, seemed reasons for proceeding
with extreme caution, and this once admitted, could only yield to
conclusive evidence. Consequently the Parliament adjourned the case,
matters remaining in 'statu quo', pending a more exhaustive inquiry.
Meanwhile, the accused, for whom several relations and friends gave
surety, was allowed to be at liberty at Artigues, though remaining under
careful surveillance.
Bertrande therefore again saw him an inmate of the house, as if no
doubts had ever been cast on the legitimacy of their union. What
thoughts passed through her mind during the long 'tete-a-tete'? She had
accused this man of imposture, and now, notwithstanding her secret
conviction, she was obliged to appear as if she had no suspicion, as if
she had been mistaken, to humiliate herself before the impostor, and ask
forgiveness for the insanity of her conduct; for, having publicly
renounced her accusation by refusing to swear to it, she had no
alternative left. In order to sustain her part and to save the honour of
her children, she must treat this man as her husband and appear
submissive and repentant; she must show him entire confidence, as the
only means of rehabilitating him and lulling the vigilance of justice.
What the widow of Martin Guerre must have suffered in this life of
effort was a secret between God and herself, but she looked at her
little daughter, she thought of her fast approaching confinement, and
took courage.
One evening, towards nightfall, she was sitting near him in the most
private corner of the garden, with her little child on her knee, whilst
the adventurer, sunk in gloomy thoughts, absently stroked Sanxi's fair
head. Both were silent, for at the bottom of their hearts each knew the
other's thoughts, and, no longer able to talk familiarly, nor daring to
appear estranged, they spent, when alone together, long hours of silent
dreariness.
All at once a loud uproar broke the silence of their retreat; they heard
the exclamations of many persons, cries of surprise mixed with angry
tones, hasty footsteps, then the garden gate was flung violently open,
and old Marguerite appeared, pale, gasping, almost breathless. Bertrande
hastened towards her in astonishment, followed by her husband, but when
near enough to speak she could only answer with inarticulate sounds,
pointing with terror to the courtyard of the house. They looked in this
direction, and saw a man standing at the threshold; they approached him.
He stepped forward, as if to place himself between them. He was tall,
dark; his clothes were torn; he had a wooden leg; his countenance was
stern. He surveyed Bertrande with a gloomy look: she cried aloud, and
fell back insensible; . . . she recognised her real husband!
Arnauld du Thill stood petrified. While Marguerite, distracted herself,
endeavoured to revive her mistress, the neighbours, attracted by the
noise, invaded the house, and stopped, gazing with stupefaction at this
astonishing resemblance. The two men had the same features, the same
height, the same bearing, and suggested one being in two persons. They
gazed at each other in terror, and in that superstitious age the idea of
sorcery and of infernal intervention naturally occurred to those
present. All crossed themselves, expecting every moment to see fire from
heaven strike one or other of the two men, or that the earth would
engulf one of them. Nothing happened, however, except that both were
promptly arrested, in order that the strange mystery might be cleared
up.
The wearer of the wooden leg, interrogated by the judges, related that
he came from Spain, where first the healing of his wound, and then the
want of money, had detained him hitherto. He had travelled on foot,
almost a beggar. He gave exactly the same reasons for leaving Artigues
as had been given by the other Martin Guerre, namely, a domestic quarrel
caused by jealous suspicion, the desire of seeing other countries, and
an adventurous disposition. He had gone back to his birthplace, in
Biscay; thence he entered the service of the Cardinal of Burgos; then
the cardinal's brother had taken him to the war, and he had served with
the Spanish troops; at the battle of St. Quentiny--his leg had been
shattered by an arquebus ball. So far his recital was the counterpart of
the one already heard by the judges from the other man. Now, they began
to differ. Martin Guerre stated that he had been conveyed to a house by
a man whose features he did not distinguish, that he thought he was
dying, and that several hours elapsed of which he could give no account,
being probably delirious; that he suffered later intolerable pain, and
on coming to himself, found that his leg had been amputated. He remained
long between life and death, but he was cared for by peasants who
probably saved his life; his recovery was very slow. He discovered that
in the interval between being struck down in the battle and recovering
his senses, his papers had disappeared, but it was impossible to suspect
the people who had nursed him with such generous kindness of theft.
After his recovery, being absolutely destitute, he sought to return to
France and again see his wife and child: he had endured all sorts of
privations and fatigues, and at length, exhausted, but rejoicing at
being near the end of his troubles, he arrived, suspecting nothing, at
his own door. Then the terror of the old servant, a few broken words,
made him guess at some misfortune, and the appearance of his wife and of
a man so exactly like himself stupefied him. Matters had now been
explained, and he only regretted that his wound had not at once ended
his existence.
The whole story bore the impress of truth, but when the other prisoner
was asked what he had to say he adhered to his first answers,
maintaining their correctness, and again asserted that he was the real
Martin Guerre, and that the new claimant could only be Arnauld du Thill,
the clever impostor, who was said to resemble himself so much that the
inhabitants of Sagias had agreed in mistaking him for the said Arnauld.
The two Martin Guerres were then confronted without changing the
situation in the least; the first showing the same assurance, the same
bold and confident bearing; while the second, calling on God and men to
bear witness to his sincerity, deplored his misfortune in the most
pathetic terms.
The judge's perplexity was great: the affair became more and more
complicated, the question remained as difficult, as uncertain as ever.
All the appearances and evidences were at variance; probability seemed
to incline towards one, sympathy was more in favour of the other, but
actual proof was still wanting.
At length a member of the Parliament, M. de Coras, proposed as a last
chance before resorting to torture, that final means of examination in a
barbarous age, that Bertrande should be placed between the two rivals,
trusting, he said, that in such a case a woman's instinct would divine
the truth. Consequently the two Martin Guerres were brought before the
Parliament, and a few moments after Bertrande was led in, weak, pale,
hardly able to stand, being worn out by suffering and advanced
pregnancy. Her appearance excited compassion, and all watched anxiously
to see what she would do. She looked at the two men, who had been placed
at different ends of the hall, and turning from him who was nearest to
her, went and knelt silently before the man with the wooden leg; then,
joining her hands as if praying for mercy, she wept bitterly. So simple
and touching an action roused the sympathy of all present; Arnauld du
Thill grew pale, and everyone expected that Martin Guerre, rejoiced at
being vindicated by this public acknowledgment, would raise his wife and
embrace her. But he remained cold and stern, and in a contemptuous
tone--
"Your tears, madame," he said; "they do not move me in the least,
neither can you seek to excuse your credulity by the examples of my
sisters and my uncle. A wife knows her husband more intimately than his
other relations, as you prove by your present action, and if she is
deceived it is because she consents to the deception. You are the sole
cause of the misfortunes of my house, and to you only shall I ever
impute them."
Thunderstruck by this reproach, the poor woman had no strength to reply,
and was taken home more dead than alive.
The dignified language of this injured husband made another point in his
favour. Much pity was felt for Bertrande, as being the victim of an
audacious deception; but everybody agreed that thus it beseemed the real
Martin Guerre to have spoken. After the ordeal gone through by the wife
had been also essayed by the sisters and other relatives, who one and
all followed Bertrande's example and accepted the new-comer, the court,
having fully deliberated, passed the following sentence, which we
transcribe literally:
"Having reviewed the trial of Arnauld du Thill or Pansette, calling
himself Martin Guerre, a prisoner in the Conciergerie, who appeals from
the decision of the judge of Rieux, etc.
"We declare that this court negatives the appeal and defence of the said
Arnauld du Thill; and as punishment and amends for the imposture,
deception, assumption of name and of person, adultery, rape, sacrilege,
theft, larceny, and other deeds committed by the aforesaid du Thill, and
causing the above-mentioned trial; this court has condemned and condemns
him to do penance before the church of Artigue, kneeling, clad in his
shirt only, bareheaded and barefoot, a halter on his neck, and a burning
torch in his hand, and there he shall ask pardon from God, from the
King, and from justice, from the said Martin Guerre and Bertrande de
Rolls, husband and wife: and this done, the aforesaid du Thill shall be
delivered into the hands of the executioners of the King's justice, who
shall lead him through the customary streets and crossroads of the
aforesaid place of Artigues, and, the halter on his neck, shall bring
him before the house of the aforesaid Martin Guerre, where he shall be
hung and strangled upon a gibbet erected for this purpose, after which
his body shall be burnt: and for various reasons and considerations
thereunto moving the court, it has awarded and awards the goods of the
aforesaid Arnauld du Thill, apart from the expenses of justice, to the
daughter born unto him by the aforesaid Bertrande de Rolls, under
pretence of marriage falsely asserted by him, having thereto assumed the
name and person of the aforesaid Martin Guerre, by this mans deceiving
the aforesaid de Rolls; and moreover the court has exempted and exempts
from this trial the aforesaid Martin Guerre and Bertrande de Rolls, also
the said Pierre Guerre, uncle of the aforesaid Martin, and has remitted
and remits the aforesaid Arnauld du Thill to the aforesaid judge of
Rieux, in order that the present sentence may be executed according to
its form and tenor. Pronounced judicially this 12th day of September
1560."
This sentence substituted the gallows for the decapitation decreed by
the first judge, inasmuch as the latter punishment was reserved for
criminals of noble birth, while hanging was inflicted on meaner persons.
When once his fate was decided, Arnauld du Thill lost all his audacity.
Sent back to Artigues, he was interrogated in prison by the judge of
Rieux, and confessed his imposture at great length. He said the idea
first occurred to him when, having returned from the camp in Picardy, he
was addressed as Martin Guerre by several intimate friends of the
latter. He then inquired as to the sort of life, the habits and
relations of, this man, and having contrived to be near him, had watched
him closely during the battle. He saw him fall, carried him away, and
then, as the reader has already seen, excited his delirium to the utmost
in order to obtain possession of his secrets. Having thus explained his
successful imposture by natural causes, which excluded any idea of magic
or sorcery, he protested his penitence, implored the mercy of God, and
prepared himself for execution as became a Christian.
The next day, while the populace, collecting from the whole
neighbourhood, had assembled before the parish church of Artigues in
order to behold the penance of the criminal, who, barefoot, attired in a
shirt, and holding a lighted torch in his hand, knelt at the entrance of
the church, another scene, no less painful, took place in the house of
Martin Guerre. Exhausted by her suffering, which had caused a premature
confinement, Bertrande lay on her couch of pain, and besought pardon
from him whom she had innocently wronged, entreating him also to pray
for her soul. Martin Guerre, sitting at her bedside, extended his hand
and blessed her. She took his hand and held it to her lips; she could no
longer speak. All at once a loud noise was heard outside: the guilty man
had just been executed in front of the house. When finally attached to
the gallows, he uttered a terrible cry, which was answered by another
from inside the house. The same evening, while the body of the
malefactor was being consumed by fire, the remains of a mother and child
were laid to rest in consecrated ground.
----