ART AND LITERATURE

Wellington Independent, Volume I, Issue 15, 21 May 1845, Page 4

ART AND LITERATURE

MARRIAGE A LA MORT. (A Passage from the Annals of the Reign of Terror.) (Concluded from our last.) Jean Baptist Carrier, the pro-consul, was originally a low unprincipled attorney in one of the Auvernoise villages, and eavly distinguished himself by his ferocious conduct during fhe various movements of the Revolution. He joyfully accepted the mission to Nantes, and bade hia colleagues mark the energy of his acts. Informal trials gave his victims to the guillotine in daily crowds; the inhabitants wept at the unprecedented slaughter, but the insatiate Carrier grumbled at the inanity of his death dealings, and dispensing with all show of trial, doomed thousauds to the grave. The three Vendean soldiers were concealed in the covered way of the old ramparts by the girl, Pernelle Brive, at the hazard of her life. This heroic creature obtained a poor living by trimnrng the better kind of hats of Nantese manufacture, famous throughout the west of France. Her scanty means were unable to furnish the additional food required by the new comers; and she was ultimately compelled to state her impossibility of providing another meal. It was resolved that one of the party should venture from the place of concealment, and, in disguise, perambulate the city, to obtain, if possible, the means of existence for his starving comrades.

The choice feil upon Andre Bezas, who returned empty-handed from his day's stroll. lie had been unable to procure the requisite change of clothing to eflect a perfect disguise; he was therefore fearful of venturing in the crowded avenues, lest he should be recognized by the busy foe. He was too proud to beg, and too honest to rob, even for the bread of life. Jeiin Brive's wounded face was reckoned too remarkable to be trusted in the public streets. The third peasant, Raoul Moyse, unwillingly went forth, with many an oath, upon the necesnary but fearful task. He returned with a basket of the choicest food—with a hamper of wine—with a purse of gold! He refused to explain to his comrades the cause of his success; and, despite their honest cautions, boldly yen tured to walk the busiest streets at all hours of the day. Pernelle Brive was a well-made buxom lass, and her cheerful looks and kindly attention made a powerful impression on the plastic mind of Andre Bezas. The horror of the times had driven the timid Cupid from the haunts of men; but in the damp recesses of the ancient warpaths the little god found welcome. Andre told his amorous plaint in the seciecy of.his' dark hiding-place, and saw not the blush that irradiated Pernelle's brown cheek when she listened to his welcome tale of love. Her brother gave his sanction to Andre's claim, and the willing maiden consented to bestow her hand whenever ber lover dared boldly to claim his prize.

Raoul Moyse had also beheld the ruddy beauties of Pernelle with an amorous eye, and scrupled not to prefer his claim. He offered her a_ variety of choicest trinkets—jewels that the richest of the Nantes ladies might have worn with pride—hut the honest girl rejected his presents and his vows. The fellow pointed to the tri-coloured cockade, which he had been compelled to assume in his disguise, and, with a grin of peculiar malignity, went forth into the crowded square.

CHAPTER 111. —THE CARNAGE. Few persons in Vendean army knew the particulars of Itaoul's life. He claimed La Vendee as his birth-place, and it was known that he had done good service to the cause. One of the small islands on the westren coast was in fact the natal spot; and for many years he belonged to a gang of desperate wreckers that haunted the troubled shores of Biscay. When the civil war first reared its head in La Vendee, he joined the banner of the royalists at the command of a seigneur, to whom he had been obliged for protection in more than one of his suspicious deeds. The excitment of a soldier's life gratified his active disposition ; and, as the peculiar mode of warfare adopted by the Vendeans permitted him to change his leader at his will, he rambled from post tv post unquestioned, and at last achieved a character for patriotism and bravery. On the day when he first quitted the vaults to seek for food, he encountered one of his brother islanders, who was then high in command in the army of the Convention, and deep in the confidence of Carrier, the pro-consul of the doomed city. Raoul kept his own secret, and his friend made him an oiler of service. Ere the day had passed, Raoul was an officer in Carrier's own corps—a corps composed of Parisian thieves, convicts released from jail, galley slaves, the refuse of the provincial cities, the scum of the Revolutionary army—the executioners of rapine and of murder!

On the morning of the twenty-first of January, 1794, Carrier was standing in one of the public squares of Nantes, superintending the execution of nearly two hundred human beings of all ages. The condemned were placed in columns, to be mowed down by grapeshot—in line, to he murdered by the musketry of his pets, as he denominated the assassins under his command. The word was given—the cannon roared —a band of music afruck up a gay and martial air, to drown the victims'shrieks. The mus' keteers poured in their fire—the cavalry dashed in among the dying and the dead, and, with their sabres, cut the maimed sufferers to earth. The servile wretches that composed the staff of Carrier turned pale with horror and affright. A smile of triumph lighted the eyes of the chief demon of the group, and his thin lips quivered with joy. An old man, decrepit, time-bowed wretch, with a seamed and wrinkled face, and long white

hair, now dabbled with blood, escaped the aim of the marksmen with a flesh wound, and skillfully parried with his staff the sabre of the dragoon who tried to cut him down. He staggered to the feet of Carrier, and implored, not mercy, but time for one brief prayer to God! 'There is no God! , said the atheist with a sneer. ' Prayer theiefore would be a waste of time.' Two of Carrier's ruffians drove their bayonets into the old man's body, as he knelt at' Carrier's feet.

The old man started up, and his'life-blood trickled unchecked from liis gaping'wounds. His piple (reble seemed changed to the rich full voice of his youth, as he said — ' I stand on the treshold of eternity! There is a God I He has summoned me to his presence, and I summon thee to meet me there ere another year be added to thy life !'* For a moment the old man wavered as he stood. A smile unlivened his worn and pallid lineaments; the vividness of death passed away, and he dropped motionless at Carrier's feet. The group stood aghast! The chief placed his foot upon the old man's corse, and, taking a pinch of snuff, quietly exclaimed — ' My pets must be looked to —they are hecoming careless, or this poor wretch would not have escaped to trouble us with his nonsense. Take care, gentlemen, or your feet will get wet; and he pointed to the creeping gore of the old man as it was winding its little stream among his murderers as they stood.

'The soldiers are too woll paid,'said Raoul Moyse. 'We have difficulties innumerable in keeping them to their duties. Women and wine will ruin them.'

'Ah, they must have wine—their business requires it. The women will but soften their hearts. Let every fille-de-joie in Nantes be arrested, and their gallants shall shoot them down here, in open day, in my presence. This is not a time for love-making.' The horrors of that day ended not with the slaughter of the people by the soldiery; the gullotine pursued its unceasing work upon the quay, and a stream of blood filled the kennels of the street. The assistant executioners refused to proceed; they were worn out with fatigue. The chief executioner, a man gray in the service of the law, once more ascended the scaffold. He was to slay a group of women and children! Babes at the breast were theregirls budding into womanhood, the teeming wife, the widow, and the matron, alike unconscious of a crime either to God or man.

The executioner refused to slay again. His trade was death, but he was a father—a husband! He went home, and died that night from horrible agony of mind ! The city authorities remonstrated with the pro-consul, hut he threatened them with the guillotine, and issued an edict forbidding, on pain of death, any interference on behalf of the accused.

The legion of ruffians that constituted the corps of military executioners, had been despatched on errands of rapine and murder to several of the chateaux near Nanter. The regular troops refused to 3re upon the untried victims, and rumours of dissatisfaction among the officers were currently afloat. Colonel Legare, a man of influence with the Convention, was desired to have his men in parade order in the University Square rarlynext morning.

# ' Citizen Carrier, , was ihp reply, ' let me advise you to wait till your own hang-dogs are at leisure. My men are soldier*, not executioners; they have expressed a preitybold opinion of passing events. I am under your commandmy men are at the disposal of my will. If you desire it, I shall parade them in the morning; but if they are ordered i o fire, I cannot be answerable for the destination of their bullets.' It was at this moment, when the stream of blood seemed almost cheeked in its course, that Raoul Moyse stepped forward, and bound the pro-consul in the ties of service. He volunteered his aid in working the guillotine; he suggested other plans of examination, and undertook the controul of Carrier's proudest manoeuvre, the establishment of the Noyades a scheme that was to be atu-mpted that evening for the first time.

CHAPTER IV.—TIiF, NOYADES. The cares of the vari-uis seigneuries in La Vendee were of much importance in these intestine struggles, and ranked, in the estimation of the peasantry, with the leaders of the partisan bands. Throughout the Ibcage, the pastors espoused the side of the nudists; and, havin* incited their flocks to acli n, accompanied the levies into the field of battlr- Nearly a hundred of these reverend victims fiilled the walls of L Entrepot, and Carrier res. Ked to make their tale an example to other priests. While Carrier despised the tenets of the priests he pretended to dread the ecclesiastical influence; he promised to rescue them from th° hands of the Convention—to land them on the Loire on the road to their beloved La Vendee* —desiring only the prayers of the holy men as a reward. Raoul Moyse was entrusted with the care of embarkation. The moon gave a brilliancy to the stone-walled buildings as he journed from ramparts towards the jail. He still dwelt with the maiddn Pernelle; for her charms yet held possession of his heart. On the steps, and beneath the walls of the jail, in the shade of the ancient trees—wherever, in fact, a glimpse of the prison windows could he obtained—sat hundreds of women, watching with the fond ao-onv of love, for a sight—a glance only—of the husbands, fathers, sons, brothers and lovers who were immured within the cells. The whips of the jailers, who several times essayed to clear the avenue—the bayonets of the guard—the piercing blasts of a January night—were all alike unheaded. Many victims were picked from the groups and thrust into noisome cells, to await a' certain death, for uttering treasonous expres-sjons-buUhe body of the watchers moved nottheir all ot love, of life, was locked within "the jail, and the trusting heart of women heeded not the pains of self.

"l^d^hUellsounded, andß»oulliedlthe feat Hβ entered a boat with hal a dozen of his island comrades, and towc-d the* barge, to the very centre of the stream. Casting off.the to vrope, he passed his boat along the side of the barge, and removed various plugs which pioiected a few inches below water-mark. The departure of the boat for the city shore, and he rushing of the water into the barge, to d the unhappy priests their doom. A wild shriek gave vent to their despair—it was answered by a shout from the murderous Carrier and his start. A silence of a few awful moments then ensued, when the solemn peal of ' Jubilate' ascended from the doomed barge, and continued to swell the echoes of the night, till a sudden silence following a rushing surge, told the end of La Vendee's holy sone.

CHAPTER V. —THE IDIOT GIRL. *«j. The destruction of t\\efilles-de-joie consummated the deeds of horror conceived by the demon Carrier. Above three hundred of these unfortunates, divested of every particle of clothing : were driving at the bayonet's point, into the ' river, in open daylight. The banks of the Loire were crowded with the pro-consul's ruffians, who fired at the females that succeeded in struggling toward the shore. They grumbled audibly at being compelled to murder their mistresses; but Carrier quieted them, by allowing each revolutionary soldier the privilege of selecting a wife, at will, from the crowds of the noyades that were daily doomed.

Raoul Moyse, who was termed by Carrier le grand amiral, conducted in person, under the pro-consul's superversion, the whole of these hideous details. At one point of the quay, the drowned bodies were washed into a heap, and one girl struggled with the water till she attained a seat on the corses of her companions. She soon attracted the attention of the soldiery by the extravagance of her actions. It was evident that her sense of reason had departed—a dozen muskets were levelled at her, when the voice of command was given by Raoul, and the gibbering idiot was borne ashore.

Raoul placed the rescued female in a covered fourgon, and drove to the house of Pernelle Brive. A few words of explanation sufficed ; she recognised in the idiot the person of her sister Benotte, who had accompanied the royalists in their perilous campaign.

The history of the poor girl, and it is a matter-of-fact narration, combines a singular mixture of devoted love, courage, and superstition. She had placed her affections on Guillaume Roland, a handsome domestic in the service of the seigneur or lord of the domain. He feasted with her at les rillen, sat in the same pew at church, atid danced with her on the Sabbath evenings. When the tocsin sounded, she determined to follow her lover to the wars. Previous to the disastrous battle of La Mans, Guillaume received a severe kick from a horse, and was unable to share in the perils of the war. The faithful Benotte, strong in her virtuous love, sat by the side of his cottage couch, and listened to the clamours of the battle-field. The victory was gained by the republicans; the owner of the cottage fled from his home in fear, but Benotte refused to quit the guardianship of the man she loved.

i# The priests of the Bocage, with the peculiar iicense of their creed, had promised miracles in support of their cause. The war was for a holy purpose, inasmuch as the first cause-of dissatisfaction in La Vendee was the removal of the cures to make place for the creatures of the Convention. A joyful resurrection was to be the fate of all who fell in this sacred fight; the .understanding of the peasantry gave but one well-known meaning to the phrase, and the pastors confirmed the people in the error. In three days the slain warrior was to rise again from the dead!

Benotte gazed on her wounded lover, and feared that he would die. His hurt had not been received in battle, the enemies of his party had not dealt the blow j he had no claim to the honour of martyrdom, and dare not anticipate a restoration to life. Flying parties of the bluecoated troops of the Convention were seen searching the adjacent wood for the defeated Vendeans. A thought darted across her mind, and the ignorant and superstitious girl received it as an emanation from Heaven— would it not ensure the future life of her beloved Guillaume it she could induce the republican soldiers to slay him in his weakness—as an enemy—a warrior in the holy cause? Her determination was soon made. She loaded her lover's musket and with a cool and deliberate aim, fired from the window at a party of the enemy who were passing within-a few yards of the cottage. She saw a soldier fall, bbc dropped the musket, herself beneath the bed, uuheedin" the feeble inquiries of the alarmed Guillaume° In one minute the blue-coats burst into thooltajrethe musket on the floor told the tale : and Benotte heard the discharge of the gun that announced the fate of her lover; his death-struggles shook the bed above her, as he writhed under thrusts of the soldiers' bayonets With a throbbing hear, Benotte gazed at the mutilated form ot him she loved. His manly features were sadly mangled by the furious doings of the enemy, but she wiped the gore from his wounds, ana sat down satisfied with the result of her plan. It was a piteous sight to behold thatfond but erring creature, confiding absolutely in the promise of her priest, watch! ing for many aweary hour in the dull chamber of tha lonely hut, for the advent of the returning spuit of her beloved one. On the evening of tne third day, having removed every trace of Mood from the chamber, she illuminated the little room of the cottage, and donnin* her prettiest gown and showiest tooue, a«"<3 S c resuscjtauon of that cold and scarrej coSe. The n ght was passed in excitement bordering on delirium, and when the morning sun S vinced her that the flesh's decay forbadX possibility of restoration to life, her overworked Te?TZu S T Waj 7 the dreadful nSSiof nei act mshed upon her m nd, and she fieri from the hut a cureless idiot.

How she contrived to reach the city could never be discovered. She was seen rambline about the streets on the night the girl a were ar rested, and with them she was thrust into the common jail. CHAPTER VI. —THE MAIfUIAaG IN DEATH. ' I have saved your sister from a dreadful death Penielle, , said Riioul Moyse. ' f have kept secret the hiding place of the smooth-spoken Andre Bezas, lest his discovery should affect the safety of your brother Jean, and do an injury to * you. I have done all this at the imminent risk of my own life to win your love. Shall I not be paid for my labour? , Pernelle knew not what to say. Itaonl spoke the truth; but with the patriotic daring of a Vendean, she despised the traitor, and wished to tell him so. ■ ' The nation must rule the few, and it were folly longer for the Vendeans to contend with the army of the Convention. Persuade Jeaii to join with me in the service of Carrier. I stand high in his favour. lam rich. I have made some handsome pickings lately; and am to command a party of investigation about to proceed to Paimbceuf. I love you—will make you hap~ py—' ' Happy and the wife of a common executioner! Love a man crimson with the blood of his countrymen! Wed a traitor and a murderer! J would sooner die the horrid death from which you rescued yonder senseless girl.', 'Come, come Pernelle, you know not what you say. What if I leave the service of Carrier?' ' Raoul, I never can be yours. My hand is sworn to Andre Bezas, a man I'm not ashamed to love.' Raoul, strode rapidly from the house. His plans of revenge were speedily formed. He would denounce the whole party to Carrier the fugitive Vendeans would be instantly doomed to death, and the girl Pernelle would grace the list of the noyades for having harboured the rebellious peasants. ' Let the men drown —I care not. I can demand the girl as my wife, even on the river's brink. They must give her to me, and she daree not refuse my claim. In the course of the next hour, Pernelle Brive and her idiot sister, her wounded brother, and the brave Andre, were stretched on the rotten straw of the crowded jail. With demoniac mirth, Carrier resolved to extend the mockery of marriage to the whole body of the Noyades. A young girl and aged priest were stripped and tied together; they received a nuptial benediction, and amid the shouts of the soldiery, were thrust into the waves. The most opposite and ill-assorted matches excited the loudest mirth—the death shriek of the doomed were lost in the laughter of the executioners. 'A lovely morning this, for a water party!' said Raoul Moyse, as he stepped aboard the bateau with his victims. ' Come, cheer up, citizens; do not look so gloomy on your weddingday. . Despite this attempt at folatrerie, Raoul was unable to meet the calm gaze of the maid Pernelle, or encounter the stern but honest looks of his former companions in arms. Carrier had given orders to prepare a large vessel for the reception of his party of Noyade?, and in compliance with the requisionof the municipality, the craft was moored some distance below the city bridges, in the deepest water of the Loire. About two hundred of the doomed were to be immured in the hold of this vessel; the hatches were to be fastened down, and the waters were to be admitted by means of holes previously prepared in the sides of the ship. The sun shone cheerily/and the ripples of the river gave their silver edges merrily to the light, as boat succeeded boat, in delivering their freights of human suffering to the care of the officer commanding the larger craft. Raoul Moyse handed his patty up the vessel's side, and whispering in Pernelle's ear, said— 'I have brought you thus far, Pernelle on the way to death, that you may more deeply appreciate the value of my interference. I claim yon as my wife. Nothing else can save you from instant annihilation. Bid your sister and brother farewell, and hasten back with me.' Pernelle threw herself into the manacledarms of her lover Andre, and said, ' I would rather die.' 'I have no time to lose with this sickly sentiment,' said Raoul. 'Take this woman back to the boat—l chim her as my wife. Tie this wounded man to his idiot sister—such unions is not forbiden in our marriage code. Couple this scowling fellow wiih the old hag in yonder boat My friend Andre is anxious to be wedded; and as I am depming him of one wife, it is but honourable that I slmuld provide him with another. .

Jean Bnve and the idiot Benotte were fastened, together, and thrust below. Andre Bezas. bearing a heavy load of fetter, the peculiar favour of Raotil, watched the motions of his enemy with a keen observance. The ruffian stood leaning on the bulwark, bearing the senseless form of Pemelle in his arms, and shouting to his men to bring up his boat, which had fallen astern from the action of the tide. With dreadtul oaths he hurried them in their work, and went to the open gangway to enforce his orders, lnemfnans on deck were about to seize the devoted Andre, and tie him to his noyade bride —but with an agile bound he eluded their grasp, rushed fiercely on Raoul Moyse, and seizing him with an iron gripe, threw himself over the vessel s side. The open gangway afforded no protection ; Raoul was unable to withstand the impetus, and retaining the girl Pemelle in his arms, was dragged into the waters of the Loire. Ihe weight of Andre's chains prevented the possibility of rescue-a loud splash, and theand tIT , tOld! /he lover retained 'his grasp, and the stream flowed quietly over the bodies of the lover, the rival, and the bride.