Le Juif errant. English

by Eugène Sue

  CHAPTER XXIII. THE POISONER.

  It is necessary to go back a little before relating the adventure ofFather d'Aigrigny, whose cry of distress made so deep an impression uponMorok just at the moment of Jacques Rennepont's death. We have said thatthe most absurd and alarming reports were circulating in Paris; not onlydid people talk of poison given to the sick or thrown into the publicfountains, but it was also said that wretches had been surprised in theact of putting arsenic into the pots which are usually kept all readyon the counters of wine-shops. Goliath was on his way to rejoin Morok,after delivering a message to Father d'Aigrigny, who was waiting in ahouse on the Place de l'Archeveche. He entered a wine-shop in the Ruede la Calandre, to get some refreshment, and having drunk two glassesof wine, he proceeded to pay for them. Whilst the woman of the house waslooking for change, Goliath, mechanically and very innocently, restedhis hand on the mouth of one of the pots that happened to be within hisreach.

  The tall stature of this man and his repulsive and savage countenancehad already alarmed the good woman, whose fears and prejudices hadpreviously been roused by the public rumors on the subject of poisoning;but when she saw Goliath place his hand over the mouth of one of herpots, she cried out in dismay: "Oh! my gracious! what are you throwinginto that pot?" At these words, spoken in a loud voice, and with theaccent of terror, two or three of the drinkers at one of the tablesrose precipitately, and ran to the counter, while one of them rashlyexclaimed: "It is a poisoner!"

  Goliath, not aware of the reports circulated in the neighborhood, didnot at first understand of what he was accused. The men raised theirvoices as they called on him to answer the charge; but he, trusting tohis strength, shrugged his shoulders in disdain, and roughly demandedthe change, which the pale and frightened hostess no longer thought ofgiving him.

  "Rascal!" cried one of the men, with so much violence that several ofthe passers-by stopped to listen; "you shall have your change when youtell us what you threw in the pot!"

  "Ha! did he throw anything into the wine-pot?" said one of the passersby.

  "It is, perhaps, a poisoner," said another.

  "He ought to be taken up," added a third.

  "Yes, yes," cried those in the house--honest people perhaps, but underthe influence of the general panic; "he must be taken up, for he hasbeen throwing poison into the wine-pots."

  The words "He is a poisoner" soon spread through the group, which, atfirst composed of three or four persons, increased every instant aroundthe door of the wine-shop. A dull, menacing clamor began to rise fromthe crowd; the first accuser, seeing his fears thus shared and almostjustified, thought he was acting like a good and courageous citizenin taking Goliath by the collar, and saying to him: "Come and explainyourself at the guard-house, villain!"

  The giant, already provoked at insults of which he did not perceive thereal meaning, was exasperated at this sudden attack; yielding to hisnatural brutality, he knocked his adversary down upon the counter,and began to hammer him with his fists. During this collision, severalbottles and two or three panes of glass were broken with much noise,whilst the woman of the house, more and more frightened, cried out withall her might; "Help! a poisoner! Help! murder!"

  At the sound of the breaking windows and these cries of distress, thepassers-by, of whom the greater number believed in the stories aboutthe poisoners, rushed into the shop to aid in securing Goliath. Butthe latter, thanks to his herculean strength, after struggling forsome moments with seven or eight persons, knocked down two of his mostfurious assailants, disengaged himself from the others, drew near thecounter, and, taking a vigorous spring, rushed head-foremost, likea bull about to butt, upon the crowd that blocked up the door; then,forcing a passage, by the help of his enormous shoulders and athleticarms, he made his way into the street, and ran with all speed in thedirection of the square of Notre-Dame, his garments torn, his head bare,and his countenance pale and full of rage. Immediately, a number ofpersons from amongst the crowd started in pursuit of Goliath, and ahundred voices exclaimed: "Stop--stop the poisoner!"

  Hearing these cries, and seeing a man draw near with a wild and troubledlook, a butcher, who happened to be passing with his large, empty trayon his head, threw it against Goliath's shins, and taken by surprise, hestumbled and fell. The butcher, thinking he had performed as heroic anaction as if he had encountered a mad dog, flung himself on Goliath,and rolled over with him on the pavement, exclaiming: "Help! it is apoisoner! Help! help!" This scene took place not far from the Cathedral,but at some distance from the crowd which was pressing round thehospital gate, as well as from the eating-house in which the masqueradeof the cholera then was. The day was now drawing to a close. On thepiercing call of the butcher, several groups, at the head of which wereCiboule and the quarryman, flew towards the scene of the struggle,while those who had pursued the pretended poisoner from the Rue de laCalandre, reached the square on their side.

  At sight of this threatening crowd advancing towards him, Goliath,whilst he continued to defend himself against the butcher, who held himwith the tenacity of a bull-dog, felt that he was lost unless he couldrid himself of this adversary before the arrival of the rest; with afurious blow of the fist, therefore, he broke the jaw of the butcher,who just then was above him, and disengaging himself from his hold, herose, and staggered a few steps forward. Suddenly he stopped. He sawthat he was surrounded. Behind him rose the walls of the cathedral; tothe right and left, and in front of him, advanced a hostile multitude.The groans uttered by the butcher, who had just been lifted from theground covered with blood, augmented the fury of the populace.

  This was a terrible moment for Goliath: still standing alone in thecentre of a ring that grew smaller every second, he saw on all sidesangry enemies rushing towards him, and uttering cries of death. As thewild boar turns round once or twice, before resolving to stand at bayand face the devouring pack, Goliath, struck with terror, made one ortwo abrupt and wavering movements. Then, as he abandoned the possibilityof flight, instinct told him that he had no mercy to expect from a crowdgiven up to blind and savage fury--a fury the more pitiless as it wasbelieved to be legitimate. Goliath determined, therefore, at least tosell his life dearly; he sought for a knife in his pocket, but, notfinding it, he threw out his left leg in an athletic posture, andholding up his muscular arms, hard and stiff as bars of iron, waitedwith intrepidity for the shock.

  The first who approached Goliath was Ciboule. The hag, heated and outof breath, instead of rushing upon him, paused, stooped down, andtaking off one of the large wooden shoes that she wore, hurled it at thegiant's head with so much force and with so true an aim that it struckhim right in the eye, which hung half out of its socket. Goliath pressedhis hands to his face, and uttered a cry of excruciating pain.

  "I've made him squint!" said Ciboule, with a burst of laughter.

  Goliath, maddened by the pain, instead of waiting for the attack, whichthe mob still hesitated to begin, so greatly were they awed by hisappearance of herculean strength--the only adversary worthy to cope withhim being the quarryman, who had been borne to a distance by the surgingof the crowd--Goliath, in his rage, rushed headlong upon the nearest.Such a struggle was too unequal to last long; but despair redoubledthe Colossus's strength, and the combat was for a moment terrible. Theunfortunate man did not fall at once. For some seconds, almost buriedamid a swarm of furious assailants, one saw now his mighty arm rise andfall like a sledge hammer, beating upon skulls and faces, and now hisenormous head, livid and bloody, drawn back by some of the combatantshanging to his tangled hair. Here and there sudden openings and violentoscillations of the crowd bore witness to the incredible energy ofGoliath's defence. But when the quarryman succeeded in reaching him,Goliath was overpowered and thrown down. A long, savage cheer in triumphannounced this fall; for, under such circumstances, to "go under" is "todie." Instantly a thousand breathless and angry voices repeated the cryof "Death to the poisoner!"

  Then began one of those scenes of massacre and torture, worthy ofcannib
als, horrible to relate, and the more incredible, that they happenalmost always in the presence, and often with the aid, of honest andhumane people, who, blinded by false notions and stupid prejudices,allow themselves to be led into all sorts of barbarity, under the ideaof performing an act of inexorable justice. As it frequently happens,the sight of the blood which flowed in torrents from Goliath's woundsinflamed to madness the rage of his assailants. A hundred fists struckat the unhappy man; he was stamped under foot, his face and chest werebeaten in. Ever and anon, in the midst of furious cries of "Death to thepoisoner!" heavy blows were audible, followed by stifled groans. It wasa frightful butchery. Each individual, yielding to a sanguinary frenzy,came in turn to strike his blow; or to tear off his morsel of flesh.Women--yes, women--mothers!--came to spend their rage on this mutilatedform.

  There was one moment of frightful terror. With his face all bruised andcovered with mud, his garments in rags, his chest bare, red, gaping withwounds--Goliath, availing himself of a moment's weariness on the part ofhis assassins, who believed him already, finished, succeeded, by one ofthose convulsive starts frequent in the last agony, in raising himselfto his feet for a few seconds; then, blind with wounds and loss ofblood, striking about his arms in the air as if to parry blows that wereno longer struck, he muttered these words, which came from his mouth,accompanied by a crimson torrent: "Mercy! I am no poisoner. Mercy!" Thissort of resurrection produced so great an effect on the crowd, that foran instant they fell hack affrighted. The clamor ceased, and a smallspace was left around the victim. Some hearts began even to feel pity;when the quarryman, seeing Goliath blinded with blood, groping beforehim with his hands, exclaimed in ferocious allusion to a well-knowngame: "Now for blind-man's-bluff."

  Then, with a violent kick, he again threw down the victim, whose headstruck twice heavily on the pavement.

  Just as the giant fell a voice from amongst the crowd exclaimed: "It isGoliath! stop! he is innocent."

  It was Father d'Aigrigny, who, yielding to a generous impulse, wasmaking violent efforts to reach the foremost rank of the actors in thisscene, and who cried out, as he came nearer, pale, indignant, menacing:"You are cowards and murderers! This man is innocent. I know him. Youshall answer for his life."

  These vehement words were received with loud murmurs.

  "You know that poisoner," cried the quarryman, seizing the Jesuit by thecollar; "then perhaps you are a poisoner too.

  "Wretch," exclaimed Father d'Aigrigny, endeavoring to shake himselfloose from the grasp, "do you dare to lay hand upon me?"

  "Yes, I dare do anything," answered the quarryman.

  "He knows him: he's a poisoner like the other," cried the crowd,pressing round the two adversaries; whilst Goliath, who had fracturedhis skull in the fall, uttered a long death-rattle.

  At a sudden movement of Father d'Aigrigny, who disengaged himself fromthe quarryman, a large glass phial of peculiar form, very thick, andfilled with a greenish liquor, fell from his pocket, and rolled closeto the dying Goliath. At sight of this phial, many voices exclaimedtogether: "It is poison! Only see! He had poison upon him."

  The clamor redoubled at this accusation, and they pressed so close toAbbe d'Aigrigny, that he exclaimed: "Do not touch me! do not approachme!"

  "If he is a poisoner," said a voice, "no more mercy for him than for theother."

  "I a poisoner?" said the abbe, struck with horror.

  Ciboule had darted upon the phial; the quarryman seized it from her,uncorked it and presenting it to Father d'Aigrigny, said to him: "Nowtell us what is that?"

  "It is not poison," cried Father d'Aigrigny.

  "Then drink it!" returned the quarryman.

  "Yes, yes! let him drink it!" cried the mob.

  "Never," answered Father d'Aigrigny, in extreme alarm. And he drew backas he spoke, pushing away the phial with his hand.

  "Do you see? It is poison. He dares not drink it," they exclaimed.Hemmed in on every side, Father d'Aigrigny stumbled against the body ofGoliath.

  "My friends," cried the Jesuit, who, without being a poisoner, foundhimself exposed to a terrible alternative, for his phial containedaromatic salts of extraordinary strength, designed for a preservativeagainst the cholera, and as dangerous to swallow as any poison, "my goodfriends, you are in error. I conjure you, in the name of heaven--"

  "If that is not poison, drink it!" interrupted the quarryman, as heagain offered the bottle to the Jesuit.

  "If he does not drink it, death to the poisoner of the poor!"

  "Yes!--death to him! death to him!"

  "Unhappy men!" cried Father d'Aigrigny, whilst his hair stood on endwith terror; "do you mean to murder me?"

  "What about all those, that you and your mate have killed, you wretch?"

  "But it is not true--and--"

  "Drink, then!" repeated the inflexible quarryman; "I ask you for thelast time."

  "To drink that would be death," cried Father d'Aigrigny.

  "Oh! only hear the wretch!" cried the mob, pressing closer to him; "hehas confessed--he has confessed!"

  "He has betrayed himself!"(40)

  "He said, 'to drink that would be death!'"

  "But listen to me," cried the abbe, clasping his hands together; "thisphial is--"

  Furious cries interrupted Father d'Aigrigny. "Ciboule, make an end ofthat one!" cried the quarryman, spurning Goliath with his foot. "I willbegin this one!" And he seized Father d'Aigrigny by the throat.

  At these words, two different groups formed themselves. One, led byCiboule, "made an end" of Goliath, with kicks and blows, stones andwooden shoes; his body was soon reduced to a horrible thing, mutilated,nameless, formless--a mere inert mass of filth and mangled flesh.Ciboule gave her cloak, which they tied to one of the dislocated anklesof the body, and thus dragged it to the parapet of the quay. There, withshouts of ferocious joy, they precipitated the bloody remains intothe river. Now who does not shudder at the thought that, in a time ofpopular commotion, a word, a single word, spoken imprudently, even byan honest man, and without hatred, will suffice to provoke so horrible amurder.

  "Perhaps it is a poisoner!" said one of the drinkers in the tavern ofthe Rue de la Calandre--nothing more--and Goliath had been pitilesslymurdered.

  What imperious reasons for penetrating the lowest depths of the masseswith instruction and with light--to enable unfortunate creaturesto defend themselves from so many stupid prejudices, so many fatalsuperstitions, so much implacable fanaticism!--How can we ask forcalmness, reflection, self-control, or the sentiment of justice fromabandoned beings, whom ignorance has brutalized, and misery depraved,and suffering made ferocious, and of whom society takes no thought,except when it chains them to the galleys, or binds them ready for theexecutioner! The terrible cry which had so startled Morok was utteredby Father d'Aigrigny as the quarryman laid his formidable hand upon him,saying to Ciboule: "Make an end of that one--I will begin this one!"

  (40) This fact is historical. A man was murdered because a phial fullof ammonia was found upon him. On his refusal to drink it, the populace,persuaded that the bottle contained poison, tore him to pieces.