liberty, as was intended, either he would have remained silent, knowing that he had done no more than was just (his fear of exposure would have besides prevented him from making complaints), or, if he did this, it would only be necessary to destroy the drafts. The defence concluded by declaring that already, before the arrival of Ragouleau, they had begun to be frightened at their own actions, and by imploring the mercy of the jury for the mother.
Mother and daughter were, however, found guilty of an attempted extortion; the question as to homicide was negatived. Their sentence was, we cannot help thinking, as the public did at that time, one of needless severity. They were condemned to twenty years of hard labour and to public exposure before the Palais de Justice, and this sentence was rigorously carried out. They were confined in the prison of Saint Lazare, and bore their punishment with exemplary resignation.
Lefebvre and Jacotin were at first found to be accomplices of the attempt, but without having begun the execution of the crime—a distinction of great weight in the French law. On appeal, the case was sent for fresh trial, when they were condemned to five years of hard labour.
Thus the attempt of a foolish girl and a still more foolish woman to act a chapter out of a sensationalist novel ended in a trial which illustrates a knotty question in French law—where does the commencement of execution of a premeditated crime of this kind actually take place?
LEGENDS OF CHARLEMAGNE’S CITY.
NO. III.—THE SKELETON GUESTS.
On his return from the Saxon wars, Charlemagne brought Sigrick to Aix-la-Chapelle. He had beaten that valiant heathen in many battles, and now Sigrick, and a number of the chief men of his people, declared themselves ready to receive the Christian faith from their victor.
The good folk of Aix were expecting their Emperor with as much pleasure as he himself felt in returning, now that his desire had been accomplished by the finishing of the Minster. He had already magnificently supplied it with the greatest abundance of sacred vessels of gold and silver for the service of God, and with the costliest vestments of silk and velvet. In his own royal palace he was plain and homely in his mode of life and attire, caring little for festive banquets and gorgeous raiment; but when God was to be honoured, no outlay was too great, no sum of gold or silver too excessive. He gave all with a willing heart. And now that his costly temple was finished, he wanted to have it consecrated with fitting splendour.
For this purpose, in the year 804, Pope Leo III., at Charlemagne’s request, came to Aix-la-Chapelle.
All the high dignitaries of the realm, chieftains and counts, the flower of his Frankish nobles, bishops and prelates, came thronging from far and near to share in the great festival. The Emperor had set his heart on securing the presence of as many bishops as there are days in the year, but all in vain. Mighty and hospitable as he was, he failed. On the very eve of the festival, there were but 363 in the town, and there was not the least apparent chance of the two more coming to complete the number. But the Lord would not disappoint his servant’s harmless wish, and worked a miracle in his behalf.
Miles away, in the church of St. Gervais, at Maestricht, two saintly bishops, Monulph and Gondulph, slept in their coffins of stone. The night before the consecration of the Minster of Aix-la-Chapelle, an angel appeared in St. Gervais’ Church, and called with a loud voice, “Monulph and Gondulph, arise, and go to Aix to the consecration of the Minster.” And the dead men arose, and set out on their journey. They were clad in their vestments, but though their souls had for the time returned to their earthly tenements, the flesh had not grown on their bones, and they stalked onward, two skeleton forms, as they had started from the grave. Gliding rapidly along, they reached the street close by the Minster, then called James’s Street, but as they drew near the noble pile a thrill of joy made their dry bones rattle and rattle again. The people rushed out and saw the awful sight of the moving skeletons, and heard the awful rattling of their fleshless bones. But heedless of the horror-stricken crowd they went their way, entered the Minster gate, and took their places. Then in good truth there were as many bishops as there are days in the year. It would be idle to tell the Emperor’s delight at this miraculous fulfilment of his wish, or the awe which fell upon the stately assembly of the mighty ones of Church and State, at the sight of these holy but ghastly guests from the world beyond the grave. Suffice it to say that Pope Leo himself consecrated the new Minster, and that the ceremony was magnificent and imposing beyond the power of words to tell.
When the service was ended, Monulph and Gondulph went their way as they had come, and then these men of God laid themselves down in their resting-place in the vaults at Maestricht, their mortal remains to rest in peace thenceforth until the angel’s summons on the Last Day. So great an impression did their mysterious coming produce, that the street through which they had passed on that momentous night when the rattling of their bones was heard was at once called the “Klapper-Gasse,” the street of the rattling, a name which it bears even unto the present day.
In Maestricht, also, the memory of the miraculous rising of the two bishops has not been suffered to pass away, and in token of it there is the image of an angel over the very spot in the vaults of St. Gervais’ Church. It bears in its hands a scroll, with the uncouth rhyme, in old Dutch:
Monulphe, Gondulphe, staat ober, vaart,
Wit Aken dat Münster, seyt God en gepaart.
NO. IV.—DANKO, THE BELL-FOUNDER.
