FALSE FREEDOM. A TALE OF THE BEIGN OF TERROR.

New Zealand Tablet, Volume XVIII, Issue 31, 26 November 1886, Page 7

FALSE FREEDOM. A TALE OF THE BEIGN OF TERROR.

(From tbe French by Mrs. Casbel Hoey.)

CHAPTER XX.- (Continued.)

" Ah," cried a harmonious and sonorous voice, " so they have come to trying corpses, and condemning the dead to the guillotine ! ' The president turned in a fury to tbe side of the amphitheatre whence the voice had issued. Bernard-Emile rose, and made him a low bow. " As for you," said Dumaß, •' I shall talk to you by-and-by. Take away that carrion, and bring it to life by some means or other — by hot iron — do you hear f To-morrow his case shall be disposed of. And bow, let me see. Here, you, girl, what have you to say for yourself ?"' " Citizen President," began Lise " Enough, enough ; yon are the daughter of this scoundrel, whose guilt, if it were not quite rertaio already, would be proved by his terror. You are his beloved daughter, then you are his accomplice. What answer have you to make to this ? None Sit down. Thema.ter is heard." " Citizen President," said Lise, " I swear to you that my virtuous father is calumniated. There has never been a citizen more devoted to the Republic, to tbe demecracy " " They all say tnat. poor fool I You are not cunning, at least. Tuih ! When the Uepubhc was not strong they threw mud at her. Now they tremble, and, like vile hypocrites as they are, they embrace that they may stifle her. And you. eitizeD. who have such a glib tongue, who are you ? En ?" Bernard-Emile rose, and at the same moment a pellet of chewed and s'icky paper, flung by Vlate. one of the jury, and accompanied by a roar of laughter, hit him in the face. This pleasantry w-.s lmlta'ed by some of Vlate's colleagues, while the others frowned at the proceeding. The fact was tnat Dubarran had succeeded in getting the ear of a c -rtain number of the jury, and reckoned upon the acquittal of his ?on. " I am named Bernard-Emile La Raison, Chef de Baiaillon in the Army in the Nortn. 1 was sent to Pans on a mission to trie National Convention, to relate to the fathers of the country the ex~ ploits of those brve men who have shed tbeir blood in us defence." •' Ah, indeed ! That is all vtry fine, but we are not to be taken in by it. You are not accused of co-vardice ; your accomplice, Duboiß, has secured all of that commodity tbere is going to his own ■hare. As for bravery, that proves nothing. We have condemned hundreds of ariatocrats who were quite as brave as you. It iscivism that the Republic requires, and not bravery." " Courage is indeed ueelees to the Republic," answered Bernard, quietly. "I thought as much just now, looking atjou and these citizens." He pointed to Vlate and his neighbours. Dumas was frantic with rage. ''At least tell me. Citizen President, of what crime I am accused, "Of every crime, you villain 1 and notably of having endeavoured to vilhfy the National Convention. What do you say to that, brigand ? " " Nothing, except that you do not believe a word of it. But I am glad to leave a world that is governed by such fellows as you, and in which rascals like your jury represent justice." " The guillotine is not punishment enough for such wretches ; the torture must be restored." It was the gentle, kindly Piget, who uttered this sentiment . the gentle Piget, slightly compromised by bis friendship tor the virtuous Dabois. "All right," said the president, with a ghastly grin, "you may sit down. In a few hours you will hate you wish ; you shall quit this world in which rascals reign." " But in which they are not eternal ! " cried Bernard, in a voice that rang through the assembly. "It is Justice, not iniquity that is immortal. You know what is going on as well as I know it. Listen, President of Murder, listen " — he waved hia arm with a solemn gesture in the direction of the Tuileri'9 — "perhaps your own condemnation is now being signed." Dumas turned deadly pale, and shrieked out ■ " Gendarmes, gag this miserable counter-revolutionist." Then he went on with his vile task. Bernard, Lise, and twentyfour out of twenty -five of those who were accused with them, weie condemned to death, as convicted of " havng rendered themselves tbe enemies of tbe people," without any other explanation. They were taken back to the Conciergene, and there they underwent the ternble ceremony known as " the toilet of the condemned." At three o'clock, according to tbe usual custom, tumbrils were brought to the foot of the staircase by which the condemned prisoners left the Conciergerie. The court were the tumbrils were stationed was separated from the street by an iron gate which was kept shut. For some time, indeed, the Comite de Surete Generate had grudged

tbe condemned the farewell looks that they had exchanged with auch of their friends as had the courage to approach the funeral eqaipages, and accordingly the public bad been deprived of access to this court. The crowd pressed against the gate, awaiting the coming out of the tumbrils. The tbrong was lesi numerous than usual on this particular day, | and for the following reas -n : I There existed at that time in Paris a class of citiz°ns who devoted themselves entirely to the common weal. They were both i men and women, base and sordid successors of the enthusiasts of '89. supreme and typical representatives of civism, the sole Republican virtue. The greatest of the duties which the r love of the Revolution had imposed on them, was that of escorting the tumbril?, with dancing, singing, and filthy insults to the condemned. They attended • all the executions, stood with the r feet in the blood with which the I Place de la Revolution was inundated, and applaud- d every time that the knife fell. On special days they formed rings, danced round the sc&fitold, an 4 then went their way, praising the grandeur and the beneficence of the Republic. But these, although the gravest, were not the only duties which the first-barn of the Revolution bad to fufil. They represented the Sovereign People at manifestations, and in the galleries of the Convention and the Committees. On a day like tbe 9th Tfisrmidor, when the sitting of the Convention was a solemn one, when the Commune hai been calling the people to arms since eight o'clock in the morning, and the assemblies of the Sections began to be disturbed, these men and women had a great deal of , business on hand ; their curiosity was attracted to many sides at once, they had to figure as the People in several places at the same time. Thus it came about that a smaller number than usual was gathered about the purlieus of the Palais de Justice. On the other hand, faces were to be seen among the crowd which were Dot familiar theie. By the side of the two caretakers and old Merluchon, regular attendants, were Pi> D r et aud Baliiere, whose occupatkm did not admit of their assisting at the noble spectacle so punctually as they would have wished, and at a little distance were Li Bus&iete, Paul Crassus, and Domi igo. Qaite close to the iron gite, and &np1 porting herself on the aim of Rtquain, probably witnout knowing what she was doing, stood Emilie Crassus, wuh wild eyes, dis.orted countenance, and a livid complexion. There were six tumbrils ; hence it was concluded that there would be more than forcy victims, for each vehicle usually contained eight condemned persons. This was a good" batch," and the public had nothing to complain of on the score of numbers. Nevertheless tney howled, because ibe condemned did not make their appearance. The " moving coffins' as tl.e playful populace called the raimbnls, had betu drawn up in 'he conrt for nearly an hour; but tne doors which opened on the staircase leading to the court remained shut , nothing came out of the C'onciergerie. The clamor, abuse, and imprecations ol tue cro yd mcreased in violence. A sinister rumour that there would be no execution at all that day began to circulate. It was said — and this was the case — that Robespierre had been arrested and was to be accused by the Convention. Didier, one of XJaximihau'a own body-guard, had just spread this report, and be was now calling the people to arms to avenge so great a crime. At ihe Commune, Payan, the National Agent, had been seized ■ and bent to La Force. At length it became known that Dumas, the President of the Revolutionary Tribunal, had been arrested, while 1 actually sitting, before the close of tbe audience. Certain friends of ! the condemned had gout: to Fouquier-Tinville, and laid all these cirI cumstances before him, saying f at no one could tell how tnings would turn out. and that it might be the wibest tuing he could do to defi.r the execution for one day. Fouquier was acquainted with the resources of the Commam, with its nxed intention, to resist the Convention, and the chances of I its doing so successfully. He had already compromised himself sufficiently by refusing to speak against Bernard. He therefoie answered, rougbly, that all this was nothing to him ; that these rascals, having been condemned, ought, according to the law, to be executed within I twenty -four hours. Moreover, he added, let who would be the victor | in the pending conflict, that victor would be a revolutionist ; that is to say, a man, or a party, who would not pardon the sparing of the lives of forty-five enemies of the Revolution. After all, the Committees were the masters, and it was for them to give Dim a contrary order; all he could do was to wait a little before despatching the aristocrats. 1 hereupon the unhappy Dubarran strove, like a desperate man, to I obtained this reprieve from his colleagues. ButaUthecornaiißßariesdespised or detested erch other, and Dubarran, who was held to be only moderately blooithnsty, had no authority. The general situation I was sufficiently dangerous to reduce the lives of forty-five indivi- | duals to no importance whatsoever. But tbe great argument was, that if humanity were now shown, the Moderates would take advantage of it to raise their heads ouce more, while tbe men of the Commune would demonstrate that the Committees were composed of ' indulgents," inspired by anti-revolutionary ideas. During this time a portion of the curious crowd waiting in the i street grew tired of watching for what did not come. The heat was stifling, the atmosphere was overpoweringly heavy, although sullen gray clouds veiled the rays of me sun. The growling of thunder was heard in the distance, and it was evident that a great storm was about to break upon Paris. About 4 o'clock, atter a whole hour of expectation, and just as some of the expectants were moving away from the place, a woman's cry, a sharp and joyous cry, like that of a wild beast at sight of its j prey, was heard, and followed by applause. Emihe had given the , signal, and the democratic crowd thanked the Genius of Liberty for granting it tbe customary feast of massacre. (7b be Continued,) " Rough on Catarrh " corrects offensive odours at once. Complete cu.e of worst enronic cases ; also unequalled as gargle for j diphtheria, sore throat, foul breath.