the execution
an onlooker, watching the strange procession as it approached from the far side of moutiers and slowly ascended the hill, would have found it difficult to make out the meaning of the strange jumble of men on foot and on horseback: whites in the costume made sacred by charette, cathelineau and cadoudal, blues in the republican uniform, accompanied by women, children and peasants, and rolling along in the midst of this human tide, restless as the waves of the ocean, an unknown machine—unless the spectator had seen one of coster de saint-victor's placards.
but these placards were for the time being considered merely as one of those gasconades which the parties permitted themselves at this period; and many persons had come from afar, not to see the promised execution—that would have been too much to expect—but to learn the explanation of the promise which had been made them.
moutiers was the appointed meeting place, and all the peasants in the neighborhood had been waiting in the public square of that town since eight o'clock in the morning.
suddenly they were told that the procession, which was[pg 519] growing with every step, was approaching the town. every one at once hastened to the spot indicated; and there they could see the vendéan chiefs, who formed the advance-guard, half-way up the hill. in their hands they were carrying green branches, as in the old days of expiation.
the crowd which had gathered at moutiers streamed along the road; and, like two rivers meeting, the two human floods surged against each other and mingled their waters.
there was a moment of confusion and tumult. every one fought to get near the cart which carried the scaffold and the carriage which contained goulin, the executioner and his assistant. but as they were all animated by the same desire, and as enthusiasm was perhaps greater than curiosity, those who had caught a glimpse thought it only right to fall back and give the others a chance to have an equal opportunity.
as they advanced, goulin grew paler and paler; for he realized that they were making straight for a goal which they would surely reach. moreover, he had seen, on the bill which had been thrust into his hands, that moutiers was to be the scene of his execution; and he knew only too well that the town they were approaching at every step was moutiers. he rolled his eyes around the crowd, unable to fathom this mingling of chouans and republicans, who on the previous evening were waging such furious warfare and yet in the morning united in such friendly fashion to form his escort. from time to time he closed his eyes, doubtless in the vain hope of persuading himself that it was all a dream. but then the tempestuous roaring of the crowd and the swaying of the carriage must have carried with it the suggestion of a tempest at sea. then he raised his arms, which he had succeeded in freeing from their shroud-like wrappings, beat the air like a crazy man, stood up, tried to cry out, and perhaps did cry out; but his voice was lost in the tumult, and he fell back again on the seat between his two gloomy companions. at last they reached[pg 520] the plateau of moutiers, and then there came a cry of "halt!"
they had reached their destination.
more than ten thousand persons were assembled on this plateau. the nearest houses in the village were crowded with spectators and the trees along the roadside were loaded with human freight. a few men on horseback, and a woman with her arm in a sling, towered above the crowd.
the men were cadoudal, coster de saint-victor, and the chouan leaders. the woman was mademoiselle de fargas, who, to familiarize herself with her future emotions upon the field of battle, had come in quest of the most intense of all emotions—that which is experienced by those who witness a death upon the scaffold.
when the procession had halted, and each person had placed himself as he or she wished to be placed during the execution, cadoudal raised his hand in token that he wished to speak.
every voice was hushed, and even the breath seemed to expire upon pale lips. a mournful silence ensued, and goulin's eyes were fastened upon cadoudal, of whose name and importance he was ignorant. he had none the less distinguished him from the others as perhaps the man whom he had come from afar to seek—the man who at their first meeting was to change r?les with him, to make of himself the judge and executioner, and of the judge and executioner proper the victim—if an assassin can be described as a victim, no matter what manner of death was reserved for him. cadoudal, as we have said, had signified that he wished to speak.
"citizens," said he, addressing the republicans, "as you see, i give you the title which you give yourselves—my brothers," he continued, addressing the chouans—"and i give you the name with which god receives you in his bosom—your meeting here at moutiers to-day, and its object, prove that each of you is convinced of the guilt of this man, who is deserving of the death which he is about[pg 521] to suffer. and yet, republicans, whom i hope some day to call brothers, you do not know this man as we do.
"one day, in 1793, my father and i were carrying some flour to nantes. there was a famine in the town. it was scarcely light. carrier, the infamous carrier, had not yet arrived at nantes. therefore we must render unto c?sar the things which are c?sar's, and unto goulin the things which are goulin's. it was goulin who invented the drownings.
"my father and i were going along the quai de la loire. we saw a boat on which they were loading priests. a man was driving them into it two by two, and counting them as they went aboard. he counted ninety-seven of these priests, who were bound in couples. as they entered the boat they disappeared, for they were thrown into the hold. the boat left the shore and floated out into the middle of the loire. this man stood in front with an oar.
"my father stopped his horse and said to me: 'wait and watch, something infamous is about to happen here.'
"and in fact the boat had a plug. when the boat reached the middle of the stream, the unfortunates in the hold were thrown into the water. as they came up to the surface, this man and his wretched companions struck at these heads, which already wore the halo of martyrdom, and bruised them with their oars. it was that man there who urged them on to the terrible work. two of the condemned men, however, were too far away to be struck; they made their way toward the bank, for they had found a sandbar which afforded them a foothold.
"'quick,' said my father, 'let us save those two.'
"we sprang from our horses and slipped down the bank of the loire with our knives in our hands. they, thinking that we also were murderers, tried to escape from us. but we cried out to them: 'come to us, men of god! these knives are to cut your bonds, not to strike you.'
"they came to us, and in an instant their hands were free, and we were on horseback, with them behind us, gal[pg 522]loping away. they were the worthy abbés brian?on and lacombe.
"they both took refuge with us in the forests of the morbihan. one of them died of cold, hunger and fatigue, as so many of us have died. that was the abbé brian?on.
"the other," said cadoudal, pointing to a priest who tried to conceal himself among the crowd, "recovered, and to-day serves god with his prayers, as we serve him with our arms. that other is the abbé lacombe. there he is!
"from that time," he continued, pointing to goulin, "this man, and always the same, presided at the drownings. in all the slaughter which took place at nantes, he was carrier's right arm. when carrier was tried and condemned, fran?ois goulin was tried at the same time; but he posed before the tribunal as an instrument who had been unable to refuse to obey the orders that were given him. i possess a letter written entirely by his hand."
here cadoudal drew a paper from his pocket.
"i wanted to send it to the tribunal to enlighten its conscience. this letter, written to his worthy colleague perdraux, was his condemnation, since in it he described his mode of procedure. listen, you men of hard-fought battles, and tell me if ever a war-bulletin made you shudder like this."
and amid solemn silence, cadoudal read aloud the following letter:
citizen—in the exaltation of your patriotism, you ask me how i make my republican marriages.
when i get ready for the baths, i strip the men and women, and go through their clothing to see if they have any money or jewelry. i put the clothing in a great hamper, then i tie the man and woman together, face to face, by the wrists. i bring them to the banks of the loire; they go aboard my boat, two by two, and two men push them from behind and throw them into the water, head first; then when they try to save themselves we have great clubs with which we beat them back.
that is what we call the civil marriage.
fran?ois goulin.
[pg 523]
"do you know," continued cadoudal, "what prevented me from sending that letter? it was the intercession of the good abbé lacombe. he said to me: 'if god has given this man a chance to escape, it is that he may have an opportunity to repent.'
"now, has he repented? you see him. after having drowned more than fifteen hundred persons, he seizes the moment when the terror has been revived to ask the favor of returning to this same region where he was executioner, in order to make fresh executions. if he had repented, i also would have pardoned him; but since, like the dog in the bible, he returns to his own vomit, since god has permitted him to fall into my hands after escaping those of the revolutionary tribunal, it is because god wishes him to die."
a moment of silence followed cadoudal's words. then the condemned man rose in his carriage, and cried in a stifled voice: "mercy! mercy!"
"well," said cadoudal, rising in his stirrups, "so be it. since you are standing there, look around you. there are ten thousand men who have come to see you die. if, among them, a single one asks for mercy, you shall have it."
"mercy!" cried lacombe, stretching out his arms.
cadoudal rose again in his stirrups.
"you alone, father, of us all, have no right to ask for mercy for this man. you extended mercy to him on the day when you prevented me from sending his letter to the revolutionary tribunal. you may help him to die, but that is all that i can grant you."
then in a voice which made itself heard by all the spectators, he asked for the second time: "is there one among you who asks for mercy for this man?"
not a voice replied.
"you have five minutes in which to make your peace with god," said cadoudal to fran?ois goulin; "and, unless it be a miracle from heaven, nothing can save you. father," said he, addressing lacombe, "you may give this man your[pg 524] arm, and accompany him to the scaffold." then, to the executioner, he said, "do your duty!"
the executioner, who now saw that his only part in the performance would be the execution of his ordinary functions, rose and put his hand on groulin's shoulder in token that he belonged to him.
the abbé lacombe approached the condemned man, but the latter pushed him back.
then ensued a frightful struggle between the man who would neither pray nor die and his two executioners. in spite of his cries, his bites and his blasphemies, the executioner picked him up in his arms as if he had been a child; and, while the assistant prepared the knife, he carried him from his carriage to the platform of the guillotine.
the abbé lacombe went up first, with a ray of hope, and waited for the culprit; but his efforts were vain, for goulin would not even put his lips to the crucifix.
then on this awful stage there occurred a scene which is beyond description. the executioner and his assistant succeeded in stretching the condemned man upon the fatal plank. it rocked. then the onlookers saw a flash as of lightning. it was the knife which fell. then a dull thud. it was the head which had fallen.
a deep silence followed, and in its midst cadoudal's voice could be heard, saying: "god's justice is done!"
