The Brotherhood of Consolation

We must first remark, however, that such plotting was familiar to a man who, ever since 1794 has played a double part, who for eight years deceived the Comte de Lille and his adherents, and probably deceived at the same time the police of the Republic and the Empire: such men belong only to those who pay them most.

Bryond pushed Rifoel to crime; he instigated the attacks of armed men upon the mail-coaches bearing the moneys of the government, and the levying of a heavy tribute from the purchasers of the National domain; a tax he enforced by means of tortures invented by him which carried terror through five departments. He then demanded that a sum of three hundred thousand francs derived from these plunderings be paid to him for the liquidation of his debts.

When he met with resistance on the part of his wife and Rifoel, and saw the contempt his proposal inspired in upright minds who were acting only from party spirit, he determined to bring them both under the rigor of the law in the next occasion of their committing a crime.

He disappeared, and returned to Paris, taking with him all information as to the then condition of the departments of the West.

The brothers Chaussard and Vauthier were, as the chancellor knows, Bryond’s correspondents.

As soon as the attack was made on the diligence from Caen, Bryond returned secretly and in disguise, under the name of Le Marchand. He put himself into secret communication with the prefect and the magistrates. What was the result? Never was any conspiracy, in which a great number of persons took part, so rapidly discovered and dealt with. Within six days after the committal of the crime all the guilty persons were followed and watched with an intelligence which showed the most accurate knowledge of the plans, and of the individuals concerned in them. The immediate arrest, trial, and execution of Rifoel and his accomplices are the proof of this. We repeat, the chancellor knows even more than we do on this subject.

If ever a condemned person had a right to appeal to the Sovereign’s mercy it is Henriette Lechantre.

Though led astray by love, by ideas of rebellion which she sucked in with the milk that fed her, she is, most certainly, inexcusable in the eyes of the law; but in the eyes of the most magnanimous of emperors, will not her misfortunes, the infamous betrayal of her husband, and a rash enthusiasm plead for her?

The greatest of all captains, the immortal genius which pardoned the Prince of Hatzfeldt and is able to divine the reasons of the heart, will he not admit the fatal power of love, invincible in youth, which extenuates this crime, great as it was?

Twenty-two heads have fallen under the blade of the law; only one of the guilty persons is now left, and she is a young woman, a minor, not twenty years of age. Will not the Emperor Napoleon the Great grant her life, and give her time in which to repent? Is not that to share the part of God?

For Henriette Lechantre, wife of Bryond des Tour-Minieres, —

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.”