LES GRANDS JOURS D'AUVERGNE.

New Zealand Spectator and Cook's Strait Guardian, Volume IV, Issue 306, 5 July 1848, Page 3

LES GRANDS JOURS D'AUVERGNE.

The following interesting and remarkable story is taken from the review, in a recent number of the Quarterly Review, of a publication of a recently 1 * discovered manuscript memoir by the celebrated Flechier, Bishop of Nismes, of the Grand Jours, or Supreme Court held in 1665, at Clermont in Au"vergne, m the time of Louis XIV for the suppression of the crimes and disorders of that district. ' The reviewer observes that the story "in the hands of a Walter Scott would be as romantic as Waverley, as wild as Rob Roy, and as terrible as the Bride of Lammermuir, and the various details of which will exhibit in the strongest light the depravation of manners, and the degradation of the law in those rude districts and ruder times" :—: — Charles Gaspard Baron d'Espinchal* was a man of very noble family, large possessions, and extraordinary talents ; his personal advantages were equally remarkable : a hot and audacious spirit was in society veiled under such gentle and seductive manners, that he was, says Flechier, 'as much t e favourite of all the women as the terror of all the men ;' and of his success with the ladies -the Abbe gives some strange explanations. In 1644 he married a Mdlle. de Chateau- Morand — like himself, high-born, rich, and handsome, and 'who thought herself happy in having carried off from her fair rivals le plus gallant homme de la province.* His marriage, however, did not, it seems, much interrupt his other amours ; though he treated his wife for some years with personal kindness and consideration, which she repaid — in spite of all his subsequent misconduct, his accusations against her character, and his violence on her person — with unalterable duty and affection — a proof, as the Baron alleged, that he had not been guilty of the offences against her of which he was accused. This exculpatory allegation is found in the Appendix to this work, in letters-patent for a general pardon registered in the Parliament of Paris in 1678, which recite the memorial on which he grounded his claims to pardon. He in that document had given, for the reasons stated in the case of M. de la Mothe, a copious though apologetical version of the various transactions alleged against him ; and this version, far from impugning Flechier's najative, confirms it — establishing the main facts beyond question, aud leaving, in spite of M. d'Espinchal's excuses, little doubt as to the culpability of his motives. Prior, however, to his marriage, he had distinguished himself by several criminal affairs. One of the more remarkable was, that in 1642 he had killed a neighbouring gentleman, M. de Baux, in a rencontre on the high roid — d'Espinchal and a friend against the antagonist and five servants : the real cause, a personal feud about property — the pretence, that they had ridden past each other on the high road without the courtesy of a salutation ; upon which each turning back to resent the incivility, M. de Baux wa3 killed and M. d'Espinchal badly wounded. While he was under prosecution for this affair before the Parliament of Paris, the marriage of Louis. XlV. gave occasion for an amnesty, in which d'Espinchal was included. In 1645 we find him justifying himself against charges of extortion and violence on his tenants, and of plundering the clergy, and seizing to his own use the tithes of certain districts — all capital crimes in the legislation of those days, and chargeJ, as we have said, upon M. de Senegas, and indeed everybody ; but in answer to which M. d'Espinchal alleged — as M. de Senegas and M. de Canillac had done — that he had only called in old debts, vindicated ancient territorial rights, and executed the legal powers cf his hereditary jurisdiction. In 1650 he had the misfortune to kill another neighbour of the name of d'Oreille in a kind of pitched battle. His ov/n version of this

• The family was so ancient, as to have, we believe, no surname but their title of Etpinchal, a mountain parish and barony in the wildest part of Auvergne. It was stated, we observe, in a debate in the National Assembly on (he division of France into departments, in January, 1790, ihat Espenchal (sic) and four adjoining parishes were so high in the mountains, as to be even then inaccessible during the greater part of the year. Mattiac is a considerable town on the edge of the highlands, where the Barons d'Espinchal had their lowland seat, from which the eldest son took the title of Marquis.

affair was, that being in command of a regiment of cavalry (raised, it seems, on his own estates), and intending to join the army of the Count d'Harcourt in Guienne, he set out from his chateau of Massiac with one office md twenty-four troopers towards tbe general rendezvous, intending to quarter that night in the village of Malompise — the owner of which protested against this invasion, and call id out his peasantry to resist it, placing them in a wood in front of the town, whence they fired on d'Espinchal's party as they were on the march ; upon which aggression he, with no object, as he said, but to seize the rioters and bring them to justice, charged and routed the adverse party, and with his own hand, as it seems, shot their leader ; • and this, he, as the injured party, reported, he says, at the time to the legal authorities of the province; whose acknowledgments, however, of his zeal for the public tranquillity he did not think proper to await in person, but hurried away to the army of Italy, where he states himself, to have had a high command ; and there is no doubt that he was a distinguished soldier. On his return home, however, in 1652, he became the chief actor in a tragedy so strange in all its circumstances, that we should have hesitated to give credit to Flechier's relation, if it were not in many essential points confirmed and in some exceeded by d'Espinchal's own apology. Though he was very general in his amours, his wife either did not or seemed not to know of his infidelity ; while he, on his part, appears to have had a proper respect ior and confidence in her. But, unfortunately, one of his paramours, a lady of family, piqued at his fondness for bis wife, or (like a female Iago) in vengeance for some personal offence, resolved to excite his jealousy against her, by acquainting him — as a duty of friendship, and with a variety of circumstances which she had contrived to pick up — that he was dishonoured by a page who, in his long and numerous absences, was the consolation of Madame d'Espinchal. With this poison rankling in his mind he set himself to observe the conduct of his wife, and her innocent kindnesses for the page confirmed his suspicions to such a degree that he at last required her to dismiss the youth ; but as he would give no reason, and as she bad (it seemed) no suspicion of the real one, she re.sisted. This completed his conviction and his fury. He entered her bed-room one morning with a loaded pistol and a cup of poison, reproached her with her crime, and offered her the choice of deaths. After a long expostulation and protestations of hejr. innocence, she was at last forced to take the poison, and he, rushing out of the room, hastened to another residence to execute the rest of his meditated revenge. The first effect of the poison was to make the lady sick, and her stomach rejected a great portion of it. The fatnily doctor, residing in the castle, was summoned, and his remedies helping nature her life was preserved ; but she was forced by a long seiies of barbarous usage to return to her father's house, and subsequently to lake refuge in a convent. After administering the poison to his wife, d'Espinchal proceeded to his chateau- of Ternes, where he seized the page, and having subjected him to a cruel mutilation, hung him up to the ceiling — but not by the neck — and so left him to die a' lingering death ; having, before those violences, taken the precaution of making him sign letters, dated from Italy two or three years forward, to be subsequently produced, if necessary, to disprove that he had been murdered at that time or place. Such is the summary of the story as told by Flechier, who could have little thought, while recording these rumours in his private journal, that they were destined to be confirmed to a great degree by a subsequent avowal of the culprit himself. In tbe recital of the letters patent d'Espinchal states that a lady informed him of his wife's incontinence with not one, but two of his servants — one, the page, Lagarde by name, the other, called Bonnevie ; — that as prudence required, he secured these persons with a view to their legal examination) and set a guard over them in his chateau of Ternes, while he proceeded to question his wife, who was at another residence ; — that in his absence these men made a forcible escape, in resisting which the Baron's valet- de-chambre, who had charge of them, wounded the page, of which wound he languished, and died in a distant part of the country ; he further admits that long after, and when he was unable to collect the witnesses of the original transaction (Bonnevie having fled and keeping out of tbe way), he was charged with having hung the page ; but he protests that the fact really was as he relates it. As to his wife, he admits that her family persuaded her to indict him for poisoning her ; but says that in truth she was far gone in pregnancy when the story about the servants excited the fracas, and that the consequences of a premature labour were mistaken for poison. He does not deny that under that prosecution be tacitly submitted to be condemned by the Parliament of Paris to banishment for ten years, to a separation from

Bis wife, and to the repayment of her dower — but protests that he did so only to spare himself and his family the shame of so scandalous a trial. He then states that his innocence is proved by a subsequent reconciliation with his wife, and her having lived with him twenty-six years in perfect health and matual affection : but, he adds, that it being a rule of law that pardon can only be granted in I cases where the party acknowledges his guilt* he in that view is willing to admit that he had attempted her life. In the midst of these affairs occurred another highway battle between him and the Marquis de Saillans — or, as he represented it, a sudden quarrel between their attendants as the masters were peaceably riding together — in which d'Espinchal was worsted, two of his followers killed, and himself disarmed, but dismissed by the generosity of M. de Saillans. Though d'Espinchal admits that he fired a pistol at one of the opposite party, he thinks it very hard that he should have been prosecuted for this affair, as he had not begun the fray, and had missed his man. In the same memorial he relates a charge which Flechier does not notice, of violence, in 2652, to the person of a young woman whom he found trespassing in one of his woods in company with some men, who made their escape. He says he confined the girl in his house till she confessed the name of the trespassers, which having done, she was next day dismissed; and that it was not till five years after that she and her father made complaint of the personal injury — which, it is observable, he neither directly admits nor denies. In 1662, again, having assaulted (he says very slightly) the son of the innkeeper of his own town of Massiac cc seditieuxfit sonner le toxin,a.nd raised the country against him, and there happening to be a kind of fraternity of peasants assembled, to the number of 400, to celebrate St. John's day, this mob attacked his house, and he, with his son, (styled the Marquis de Massiac) twelve years old, had but barely time to escape their fury, and then only by his servants killing one of the assailants, to protect his retreat — an act which the local magistrate, he complains, pretended that he had committed with his own hand. But though he denies this as matter of fact, yet, for the technical, reasons before alleged, he admits it as matter of law ; and therefore confesses that he killed the man. Hitherto the anarchy of the civil wars had enabled d'Espinchal to evade, by occasional flight, chicane, and terror, the vengeance of the law ; but Louis XIV, having now taken the government in his own vigorous hands, and the local magistracy having resolved to bring this manifold offender at last to justice, and issued a warrant for his arrest for this last murder, he found it necessary to leave Auvergne and conceal himself in Paris. The trial, however, proceeded in his absence, and, on the 28th August, 1662, he and his son the Marquis were condemned, par contumace, to death, and executed in effigy. His property was confiscated, and his houses, and particularly his chateau in .Massiac, levelled with the ground. 'It was in vain,' says the Editor, ' that his virtuous wife and his beautiful cousins, the Duchesses ofEtampesand \alancey, and his numerous relations, solicited his .pardon.' The great Conde himself who honoured him with a peculiar regard, could obtain no remission. Amidst all these difficulties he exhibited, even while lurking in Paris, his characteristic audacity and art. There was still living in the capital Charles Duke of Guise, once so formidable as the head of the Ligue, and still important by his rank and power, and the great party attached to his name. D'Espinchal hired a house with a back opening into the Hotel de Guise, where, if molested in his own residence by the myrmidons of the Jaw, he might find a ready asylum. But he had also bolder resources against his adversaries. Before his retreat from Auvergne he had committed violences (their nature not detailed) upon a young gentleman whom he suspected (justly enough, it seems) of rivalling him in the good graces of one of his mistresses. This gentleman, unable to obtain redress in the country, followed him to Paris, and there obtained access to the king to implore justice on d'Sspinchal. The king, very ready to listen to all such complaints, assured the plaintiff of protection and redress. But as he was leaving the Louvre, well satisfied with his success, he was arrested by some police officers and forced into a post chaise, which drove off with great speed. The poor man, knowing neither why he iras arrested nor whither he was going, made a great outcry, and called so loud for assisttance that, as they were passing one . of the gates of Paris into the country, the guard stopped the chaise to see what the matter was : — being informed that the prisoner was a notorious offender, arrested by order of the king, they were satisfied, and the chaise allowed to proceed ; but some suspicion arising in the mind of the officer of the guard, he pursued and overtook it, upon which the pretended policemen took to flight, and the poor prisoner was delivered,

having recognised at the last interruption in the commander of his escort one of d'Espinchal's followers. This affair excited strongly the king's indignation, and was one of the first causes of the resolution to send the Grand Jours into Auvergne. About this time, too (1664), the Duke of Guise died, and his house affording no longer an asylum, d'Espinchal found himself obliged to provide for his safety either by biding himself in the recesses of his mountains or by expatriation. He began with the former expedient ; but his first step in this direction was a temerity of which no explanation is given, and which indeed seems inexplicable. He came publicly into Auvergne, and rode boldly and openly into the town of Riom, where sentence of death, so lately pronounced, was hanging over his head, with warrants out for his apprehension, and every hand ready to help to seize him. He waited on the Lieutenant Criminel, the first executive officer of the province, and on each of the Judges of the Court seriatim, and by producing to them a tin box such as letters patent are inclosed in, announced that his Majesty had been pleased to grant him a general pardon under the great seal, which he held in his hands, and would present it in person at the sitting of the court next day, in order that it might be verified and registered. After this circle of visits he mounted his horse and rode home. Next day he so far kept his word that he sent the tin box to the assembled court ; but on opening it, it was found empty ! The design of this farce is, as we have said, unexplained. Some thought that it was the consequence of a wager, which he thus won ; others believed that he had no object but to insult, ridicule, and defy his judges. But the Grand Jours were announced. D'Espinchal buried himself in the fastnesses of the woods and mountains ; and all the authorities of Auvergne were on the alert to apprehend so celebrated a criminal. In vain : he eluded and defeated them — harrassed them by false intelligence, long useless inarches, and every species of evasion and mystification. He would give information that he was to be found on a certain day in some distant and difficult locality, wh ; ch, being carefully surrounded by the armed force, was found as empty as the patent box. When on one occasion he perecived that the toils were drawing close around him, he spread a rumour that he had been seen in Guienne and was only plaguing the Grands Jours by false reports of bis presence in Auvergne. In another strait he wrote a letter to the King in council, imploring his Majesty's pity and pardon for an unfortunate gentleman whom the officers of justice had arrested at Bordeaux, and were dragging to Auvergne, with circumstances of great hardship and cruelty. On this evidence of course all pursuit in Auvergne ceased, and d'Espinchal was from day to day anxiously expected at Clermont in custody of the police of Bordeaux! But while he was thus eluding and laughing at the formidable tribunal of the Grand Jours, he became the, for once involuntary, cause of as lamentable a legal tragedy as any we have yet seen. In one of those skirmishes by which neighbours in those days settled what in ours would be debated by law, a M. d' Arena killed a M . Dufour. The case was less culpable than usual ; it was an open fight — rather provoked by Dufour, who had collected and led on a large body of supporters against Arena and four friends. Of these, two were brothers of the name of Combalibceuf, who, though Arena had actually killed the man, fell themselves in danger of the Grands Jours as accessories, and fled to the mountains with him — where, like d'Espinchal, they contrived to elude the officers of justice. At this time the judges of the Grands Jours grew exceedingly piqued at N not being able to seize d'Espinchal, whose insolence offended them as much as his crimes, and it was proposed amongst them to endeavour to get him into their hands by engaging, on a promise of pardon, some of his accomplices to betray him. This was agreed to, and an overture was made to the father of the young Combalibceufs to obtain the safety of his sons on condition of the capture of d'Espinchal or Arena — these youths being considered the fittest objects of mercy because they had not personally committed any crime, and were merely, and perhaps accidentally, accessories to.tbat of Arena. A promise to this effect was accordingly made, both personally and in writing, by the President Novion. Old Combalibceuf knew that his sons were too much men of honour to listen to any such proposal — he therefore kept it a profound secret from them, intending to employ them innocently and unknowingly in his design. For this purpose, confiding in the written protection of the President, he sent to one of his sons to return secretly home. The son obeyed ; his return was by some means discovered ; the local officers, knowing nothing of the secret treaty, were proud to make a capture of the young man, and he was lodged in the gaol of Clermont, in spite of the remonstrances of his

father, and the production of the President's letter, which the local magistrate affected to consider as a forgery. The father, having thus unfortunately betrayed one son into the lion's den, became still more alarmed and anxious for the safety of both, and wrote to the other to acquaint him with his brother'i danger, and to implore him in the most urgent and pathetic terms to quit the countiy altogether, and avert the present danger in the hope of pardon in more favourable times, he further urged him to impress the same advice on his friend Arena, and he appointed a place where he might bid them farewell before their exile. The design was well conceived, and so far succeeded that the two friends arrived at the rendezvous, where an ambuscade of officers had been stationed ; but the unhappy father's device was again destined to recoil on himself — only Combalibosuf was taken. Arena, more wary and more active, saw symptoms of danger, and made his escape — while his unfortunate friend was sent to join his brother in the prison of Clermont. The two youths were hastily brought to trial and condemned. The President declared himself released from his promise of pardon by the escape of Arena — the youths died on the scaffold — and the unfortunate father saw his children perish through the very efforts he had made to save them. This was the last blood shed by the Grands Jours ; and a more cruel and unscrupulous instance of bad faith and blind severity, on the part of the President at least, can hardly be imagined. Even Flechier, with all his abbelike and obsequious complaisance, is forced to hint that M. de Novion's proceedings in this deplorable case were' severely criticised. There ends Flechier's account of Gaspard Baron d'Espinchal — but our readers will be curious to hear the conclusion of so strange a history. The fate of the Combaliboeufs convinced him that it was high time to escape from Auvergne, and indeed from France ; and with great difficulty and by extraordinary address and courage, he succeeded in reaching Bavaria. With so copious an account of his crimes, it is odd that we should have so little of his earlier military career : but it appears, incidentally, that he had risen, before his condemnation at Riorn, to considerable reputation, and to the rank of Lieutenant-General. As to the sequel, we are told that, on his reaching Bavaria, the Elector Ferdinand, being then at war with France, was delighted to obtain the services of a soldier of such eminence, and immediately appointed him Colo-nel-General and Captain of bis Guards. In a short time he became Generalissimo of the Bavarian forces, and had what the editor calls the 'funeste honneur' of defeating his countrymen on the banks of the Lech. At the peace of 1679 his intermediation contributed to the marriage of the Grand Dauphin, eldest son ofLouisXlV., with the Princess Mary of Bavaria. Thiseventprocured him his pardon — his reinstatement™ the rank of Lieutt.-General — the restoration of his confiscated property, and the erection of his estate of Massiac into a comU. The king, moreover, gave him, with his own hands, his portrait set in diamond;, which the family still possess. • Committunt eadem diverso crimina fato ; Ille crucem pretium sceleris tulit — Me diademma/ It was to give full effect to the letters of pardon, that d'Espinchal found himself under the necessity of making that strange and copious confession of the errors and crimes of his former life, which we have abridged. Advanced in fortune and titles — happy, the editor tells us, in his excellent wife, with a numerous family, who made distinguished alliances, the savage outlaw and rebel became a veuerable country gentleman, built a new residence at Massiac (the old ch&teau having been demolished by sentence of the court, 1662), and died in 1686, full of years and honours ; having atoned for his former conduct by an exemplary old age and pious death, and recommending to his children with his latest breath their duties to God, the king, and their country.