ON July 27, in the year 1889, the Parisian police were informed of the disappearance2 of one Gouffe, a bailiff. He had been last seen by two friends on the Boulevard Montmartre at about ten minutes past seven on the evening of the 26th, a Friday. Since then nothing had been heard of him, either at his office in the Rue3 Montmartre, or at his private house in the Rue Rougemont. This was surprising in the case of a man of regular habits even in his irregularities, robust4 health, and cheerful spirits.
Gouffe was a widower5, forty-two years of age. He had three daughters who lived happily with him in the Rue Rougemont. He did a good trade as bailiff and process-server, and at times had considerable sums of money in his possession. These he would never leave behind him at his office, but carry home at the end of the day's work, except on Fridays. Friday nights Gouffe always spent away from home. As the society he sought on these nights was of a promiscuous6 character, he was in the habit of leaving at his office any large sum of money that had come into his hands during the day.
About nine o'clock on this particular Friday night, July 26, the hall-porter at Gouffe's office in the Rue Montmartre heard someone, whom he had taken at first to be the bailiff himself, enter the hall and go upstairs to the office, where he remained a few minutes. As he descended7 the stairs the porter came out of his lodge8 and, seeing it was a stranger, accosted9 him. But the man hurried away without giving the porter time to see his face.
When the office was examined the next day everything was found in perfect order, and a sum of 14,000 francs, hidden away behind some papers, untouched. The safe had not been tampered10 with; there was, in short, nothing unusual about the room except ten long matches that were lying half burnt on the floor.
On hearing of the bailiff's disappearance and the mysterious visitor to his office, the police, who were convinced that Gouffe had been the victim of some criminal design, inquired closely into his habits, his friends, his associates, men and women. But the one man who could have breathed the name that would have set the police on the track of the real culprits was, for reasons of his own, silent. The police examined many persons, but without arriving at any useful result.
However, on August 15, in a thicket11 at the foot of a slope running down from the road that passes through the district of Millery, about ten miles from Lyons, a roadmender, attracted by a peculiar12 smell, discovered the remains14 of what appeared to be a human body. They were wrapped in a cloth, but so decomposed15 as to make identification almost impossible. M. Goron, at that time head of the Parisian detective police, believed them to be the remains of Gouffe, but a relative of the missing man, whom he sent to Lyons, failed to identify them. Two days after the discovery of the corpse16, there were found near Millery the broken fragments of a trunk, the lock of which fitted a key that had been picked up near the body. A label on the trunk showed that it had been dispatched from Paris to Lyons on July 27, 188—, but the final figure of the date was obliterated17. Reference to the books of the railway company showed that on July 27, 1889, the day following the disappearance of Gouffe, a trunk similar in size and weight to that found near Millery had been sent from Paris to Lyons.
The judicial18 authorities at Lyons scouted19 the idea that either the corpse or the trunk found at Millery had any connection with the disappearance of Gouffe. When M. Goron, bent20 on following up what he believed to be important clues, went himself to Lyons he found that the remains, after being photographed, had been interred21 in the common burying-ground. The young doctor who had made the autopsy22 produced triumphantly23 some hair taken from the head of the corpse and showed M. Goron that whilst Gouffe's hair was admittedly auburn and cut short, this was black, and had evidently been worn long. M. Goron, after looking carefully at the hair, asked for some distilled24 water. He put the lock of hair into it and, after a few minutes' immersion25, cleansed26 of the blood, grease and dust that had caked them together, the hairs appeared clearly to be short and auburn. The doctor admitted his error.
Fortified27 by this success, Goron was able to procure28 the exhumation29 of the body. A fresh autopsy was performed by Dr. Lacassagne, the eminent30 medical jurist of the Lyons School of Medicine. He was able to pronounce with certainty that the remains were those of the bailiff, Gouffe. An injury to the right ankle, a weakness of the right leg, the absence of a particular tooth and other admitted peculiarities31 in Gouffe's physical conformation, were present in the corpse, placing its identity beyond question. This second post-mortem revealed furthermore an injury to the thyroid cartilage of the larynx that had been inflicted32 beyond any doubt whatever, declared Dr. Lacassagne, before death.
There was little reason to doubt that Gouffe had been the victim of murder by strangulation.
But by whom had the crime been committed? It was now the end of November. Four months had passed since the bailiff's murder, and the police had no clue to its perpetrators. At one time a friend of Gouffe's had been suspected and placed under arrest, but he was released for want of evidence.
One day toward the close of November, in the course of a conversation with M. Goron, a witness who had known Gouffe surprised him by saying abruptly33, "There's another man who disappeared about the same time as Gouffe." M. Goron pricked34 up his ears. The witness explained that he had not mentioned the fact before, as he had not connected it with his friend's disappearance; the man's name, he said, was Eyraud, Michel Eyraud, M. Goron made some inquires as to this Michel Eyraud. He learnt that he was a married man, forty-six years of age, once a distiller at Sevres, recently commission-agent to a bankrupt firm, that he had left France suddenly, about the time of the disappearance of Gouffe, and that he had a mistress, one Gabrielle Bompard, who had disappeared with him. Instinctively35 M. Goron connected this fugitive36 couple with the fate of the murdered bailiff.
Confirmation37 of his suspicions was to come from London. The remains of the trunk found at Millery had been skilfully38 put together and exposed at the Morgue in Paris, whilst the Gouffe family had offered a reward of 500 francs to anybody who could in any way identify the trunk. Beyond producing a large crop of anonymous39 letters, in one of which the crime was attributed to General Boulanger, then in Jersey40, these measures seemed likely to prove fruitless. But one day in December, from the keeper of a boarding-house in Gower Street, M. Goron received a letter informing him that the writer believed that Eyraud and Gabrielle Bompard had stayed recently at his house, and that on July 14 the woman, whom he knew only as "Gabrielle," had left for France, crossing by Newhaven and Dieppe, and taking with her a large and almost empty trunk, which she had purchased in London. Inquires made by the French detectives established the correctness of this correspondent's information. An assistant at a trunk shop in the Euston Road was able to identify the trunk—brought over from Paris for the purpose—as one purchased in his shop on July 12 by a Frenchman answering to the description of Michel Eyraud. The wife of the boarding-house keeper recollected41 having expressed to Gabrielle her surprise that she should buy such an enormous piece of luggage when she had only one dress to put into it. "Oh that's all right," answered Gabrielle smilingly, "we shall have plenty to fill it with in Paris!" Gabrielle had gone to Paris with the trunk on July 14, come back to London on the 17th, and on the 20th she and Eyraud returned together to Paris From these facts it seemed more than probable that these two were the assassins so eagerly sought for by the police, and it seemed clear also that the murder had been done in Paris. But what had become of this couple, in what street, in what house in Paris had the crime been committed? These were questions the police were powerless to answer.
The year 1889 came to an end, the murderers were still at large. But on January 21, 1890, M. Goron found lying on his table a large letter bearing the New York postmark. He opened it, and to his astonishment42 read at the end the signature "Michel Eyraud." It was a curious letter, but undoubtedly43 genuine. In it Eyraud protested against the suspicions directed against himself; they were, he wrote, merely unfortunate coincidences. Gouffe had been his friend; he had had no share whatever in his death; his only misfortune had been his association with "that serpent, Gabrielle Bompard." He had certainly bought a large trunk for her, but she told him that she had sold it. They had gone to America together, he to avoid financial difficulties in which he had been involved by the dishonesty of the Jews. There Gabrielle had deserted45 him for another man. He concluded a very long letter by declaring his belief in Gabrielle's innocence—"the great trouble with her is that she is such a liar13 and also has a dozen lovers after her." He promised that, as soon as he learnt that Gabrielle had returned to Paris, he would, of his own free will, place himself in the hands of M. Goron.
He was to have an early opportunity of redeeming46 his pledge, for on the day following the receipt of his letter a short, well-made woman, dressed neatly47 in black, with dyed hair, greyish-blue eyes, good teeth, a disproportionately large head and a lively and intelligent expression of face, presented herself at the Prefecture of Police and asked for an interview with the Prefect.
Requested to give her name, she replied, with a smile, "Gabrielle Bompard." She was accompanied by a middle-aged48 gentleman, who appeared to be devoted49 to her. Gabrielle Bompard and her friend were taken to the private room of M. Loze, the Prefect of Police. There, in a half-amused way, without the least concern, sitting at times on the edge of the Prefect's writing-table, Gabrielle Bompard told how she had been the unwilling50 accomplice51 of her lover, Eyraud, in the murder of the bailiff, Gouffe. The crime, she stated, had been committed in No. 3 in the Rue Tronson-Ducoudray, but she had not been present; she knew nothing of it but what had been told her by Eyraud. After the murder she had accompanied him to America; there they had met the middle-aged gentleman, her companion. Eyraud had proposed that they should murder and rob him, but she had divulged52 the plot to the gentleman and asked him to take her away. It was acting53 on his advice that she had returned to France, determined55 to give her evidence to the judicial authorities in Paris. The middle-aged gentleman declared himself ready to vouch56 for the truth of a great part of this interesting narrative57. There they both imagined apparently58 that the affair would be ended. They were extremely surprised when the Prefect, after listening to their statements, sent for a detective-inspector who showed Gabrielle Bompard a warrant for her arrest. After an affecting parting, at least on the part of the middle-aged gentleman, Gabrielle Bompard was taken to prison. There she soon recovered her spirits, which had at no time been very gravely depressed59 by her critical situation.
According to Eyraud's letters, if anyone knew anything about Gouffe's murder, it was Gabrielle Bompard; according to the woman's statement, it was Eyraud, and Eyraud alone, who had committed it. As they were both liars—the woman perhaps the greater liar of the two—their statements are not to be taken as other than forlorn attempts to shift the blame on to each other's shoulders.
Before extracting from their various avowals, which grew more complete as time went on, the story of the crime, let us follow Eyraud in his flight from justice, which terminated in the May of 1890 by his arrest in Havana.
Immediately after the arrest of Gabrielle, two French detectives set out for America to trace and run down if possible her deserted lover. For more than a month they traversed Canada and the United States in search of their prey60. The track of the fugitive was marked from New York to San Francisco by acts of thieving and swindling. At the former city he had made the acquaintance of a wealthy Turk, from whom, under the pretence61 of wishing to be photographed in it, he had borrowed a magnificent oriental robe. The photograph was taken, but Eyraud forgot to return the costly62 robe.
At another time he was lodging63 in the same house as a young American actor, called in the French accounts of the incident "Sir Stout64." To "Sir Stout" Eyraud would appear to have given a most convincing performance of the betrayed husband; his wife, he said, had deserted him for another man; he raved65 and stormed audibly in his bedroom, deploring66 his fate and vowing67 vengeance68. These noisy representations so impressed "Sir Stout" that, on the outraged69 husband declaring himself to be a Mexican for the moment without funds, the benevolent70 comedian71 lent him eighty dollars, which, it is almost needless to add, he never saw again. In narrating72 this incident to the French detectives, "Sir Stout" describes Eyraud's performance as great, surpassing even those of Coquelin.
Similar stories of theft and debauchery met the detectives at every turn, but, helped in a great measure by the publicity73 the American newspapers gave to the movements of his pursuers, Eyraud was able to elude74 them, and in March they returned to France to concert further plans for his capture.
Eyraud had gone to Mexico. From there he had written a letter to M. Rochefort's newspaper, L'Intransigeant, in which he declared Gouffe to have been murdered by Gabrielle and an unknown. But, when official inquiries75 were made in Mexico as to his whereabouts, the bird had flown.
At Havana, in Cuba, there lived a French dressmaker and clothes-merchant named Puchen. In the month of February a stranger, ragged76 and unkempt, but evidently a fellow-countryman, visited her shop and offered to sell her a superb Turkish costume. The contrast between the wretchedness of the vendor77 and the magnificence of his wares78 struck Madame Puchen at the time. But her surprise was converted into suspicion when she read in the American newspapers a description of the Turkish garment stolen by Michel Eyraud, the reputed assassin of the bailiff Gouffe. It was one morning in the middle of May that Mme. Puchen read the description of the robe that had been offered her in February by her strange visitor. To her astonishment, about two o'clock the same afternoon, she saw the stranger standing79 before her door. She beckoned80 to him, and asked him if he still had his Turkish robe with him; he seemed confused, and said that he had sold it. The conversation drifted on to ordinary topics; the stranger described some of his recent adventures in Mexico. "Oh!" exclaimed the dressmaker, "they say Eyraud, the murderer, is in Mexico! Did you come across him? Were you in Paris at the time of the murder?" The stranger answered in the negative, but his face betrayed his uneasiness. "Do you know you're rather like him?" said the woman, in a half-joking way. The stranger laughed, and shortly after went out, saying he would return. He did return on May 15, bringing with him a number of the Republique Illustree that contained an almost unrecognisable portrait of Eyraud. He said he had picked it up in a cafe. "What a blackguard he looks!" he exclaimed as he threw the paper on the table. But the dressmaker's suspicions were not allayed81 by the stranger's uncomplimentary reference to the murderer. As soon as he had gone, she went to the French Consul1 and told him her story.
By one of those singular coincidences that are inadmissable in fiction or drama, but occur at times in real life, there happened to be in Havana, of all places, a man who had been employed by Eyraud at the time that he had owned a distillery at Sevres. The Consul, on hearing the statement of Mme. Puchen, sent for this man and told him that a person believed to be Eyraud was in Havana. As the man left the Consulate82, whom should he meet in the street but Eyraud himself! The fugitive had been watching the movements of Mme. Puchen; he had suspected, after the interview, that the woman would denounce him to the authorities. He now saw that disguise was useless. He greeted his ex-employe, took him into a cafe, there admitted his identity and begged him not to betray him. It was midnight when they left the cafe. Eyraud, repenting83 of his confidence, and no doubt anxious to rid himself of a dangerous witness, took his friend into an ill-lighted and deserted street; but the friend, conscious of his delicate situation, hailed a passing cab and made off as quickly as he could.
Next day, the 20th, the search for Eyraud was set about in earnest. The Spanish authorities, informed of his presence in Havana, directed the police to spare no effort to lay hands on him. The Hotel Roma, at which he had been staying, was visited; but Eyraud, scenting84 danger, had gone to an hotel opposite the railway station. His things were packed ready for flight on the following morning. How was he to pass the night? True to his instincts, a house of ill-fame, at which he had been entertained already, seemed the safest and most pleasant refuge; but, when, seedy and shabby, he presented himself at the door, he was sent back into the street. It was past one in the morning. The lonely murderer wandered aimlessly in the streets, restless, nervous, a prey to apprehension85, not knowing where to go. Again the man from Sevres met him. "It's all up with me!" said Eyraud, and disappeared in the darkness. At two in the morning a police officer, who had been patrolling the town in search of the criminal, saw, in the distance, a man walking to and fro, seemingly uncertain which way to turn. Hearing footsteps the man turned round and walked resolutely86 past the policeman, saying good-night in Spanish. "Who are you? What's your address?" the officer asked abruptly. "Gorski, Hotel Roma!" was the answer. This was enough for the officer. Eyraud was know{sic} to have passed as "Gorski," the Hotel Roma had already been searched as one of his hiding-places. To seize and handcuff "Gorski" was the work of a moment. An examination of the luggage left by the so-called Gorski at his last hotel and a determined attempt at suicide made by their prisoner during the night proved conclusively87 that to the Spanish police was the credit of having laid by the heels, ten months after the commission of the crime, Michel Eyraud, one of the assassins of the bailiff Gouffe.
On June 16 Eyraud was delivered over to the French police. He reached France on the 20th, and on July 1 made his first appearance before the examining magistrate88.
It will be well at this point in the narrative to describe how Eyraud and Gabrielle Bompard came to be associated together in crime. Gabrielle Bompard was twenty-two years of age at the time of her arrest, the fourth child of a merchant of Lille, a strong, hardworking, respectable man. Her mother, a delicate woman, had died of lung disease when Gabrielle was thirteen. Even as a child lying and vicious, thinking only of men and clothes, Gabrielle, after being expelled as incorrigible89 from four educational establishments, stayed at a fifth for some three years. There she astonished those in authority over her by her precocious90 propensity91 for vice54, her treacherous92 and lying disposition93, and a lewdness95 of tongue rare in one of her age and comparative inexperience. At eighteen she returned to her father's house, only to quit it for a lover whom, she alleged96, had hypnotised and then seduced97 her. Gabrielle was singularly susceptible98 to hypnotic suggestion. Her father implored99 the family doctor to endeavour to persuade her, while in the hypnotic state, to reform her deplorable conduct. The doctor did his best but with no success. He declared Gabrielle to be a neuropath, who had not found in her home such influences as would have tended to overcome her vicious instincts. Perhaps the doctor was inclined to sympathise rather too readily with his patient, if we are to accept the report of those distinguished100 medical gentlemen who, at a later date, examined carefully into the mental and physical characteristics of Gabrielle Bompard.
This girl of twenty had developed into a supreme101 instance of the "unmoral" woman, the conscienceless egoist, morally colour-blind, vain, lewd94, the intelligence quick and alert but having no influence whatever on conduct. One instance will suffice to show the sinister102 levity103, the utter absence of all moral sense in this strange creature.
After the murder of Gouffe, Gabrielle spent the night alone with the trunk containing the bailiff's corpse. Asked by M. Goron what were her sensations during this ghastly vigil, she replied with a smile, "You'd never guess what a funny idea come into my head! You see it was not very pleasant for me being thus tete-a-tete with a corpse, I couldn't sleep. So I thought what fun it would be to go into the street and pick up some respectable gentleman from the provinces. I'd bring him up to the room, and just as he was beginning to enjoy himself say, 'Would you like to see a bailiff?' open the trunk suddenly and, before he could recover from his horror, run out into the street and fetch the police. Just think what a fool the respectable gentleman would have looked when the officers came!"
Such callousness104 is almost unsurpassed in the annals of criminal insensibility. Nero fiddling105 over burning Rome, Thurtell fresh from the murder of Weare, inviting106 Hunt, the singer and his accomplice, to "tip them a stave" after supper, Edwards, the Camberwell murderer, reading with gusto to friends the report of a fashionable divorce case, post from the murder of a young married couple and their baby—even examples such as these pale before the levity of the "little demon," as the French detectives christened Gabrielle.
Such was Gabrielle Bompard when, on July 26, exactly one year to a day before the murder of Gouffe, she met in Paris Michel Eyraud. These two were made for each other. If Gabrielle were unmoral, Eyraud was immoral107. Forty-six at the time of Gouffe's murder, he was sufficiently108 practised in vice to appreciate and enjoy the flagrantly vicious propensities109 of the young Gabrielle. All his life Eyraud had spent his substance in debauchery. His passions were violent and at times uncontrollable, but unlike many remarkable110 men of a similar temperament111, this strong animalism was not in his case accompanied by a capacity for vigorous intellectual exertion112 or a great power of work. "Understand this," said Eyraud to one of the detectives who brought him back to France, "I have never done any work, and I never will do any work." To him work was derogatory; better anything than that. Unfortunately it could not be avoided altogether, but with Eyraud such work as he was compelled at different times to endure was only a means for procuring113 money for his degraded pleasures, and when honest work became too troublesome, dishonesty served in its stead. When he met Gabrielle he was almost at the end of his tether, bankrupt and discredited114. At a pinch he might squeeze a little money out of his wife, with whom he continued to live in spite of his open infidelities.
Save for such help as he could get from her small dowry, he was without resources. A deserter from the army during the Mexican war in 1869, he had since then engaged in various commercial enterprises, all of which had failed, chiefly through his own extravagance, violence and dishonesty. Gabrielle was quick to empty his pockets of what little remained in them. The proceeds of her own immorality115, which Eyraud was quite ready to share, soon proved insufficient116 to replenish117 them. Confronted with ruin, Eyraud and Gompard hit on a plan by which the woman should decoy some would-be admirer to a convenient trysting-place. There, dead or alive, the victim was to be made the means of supplying their wants.
On further reflection dead seemed more expedient118 than alive, extortion from a living victim too risky119 an enterprise. Their plans were carefully prepared. Gabrielle was to hire a ground-floor apartment, so that any noise, such as footsteps or the fall of a body, would not be heard by persons living underneath120.
At the beginning of July, 1889, Eyraud and Bompard were in London. There they bought at a West End draper's a red and white silk girdle, and at a shop in Gower Street a large travelling trunk. They bought, also in London, about thirteen feet of cording, a pulley and, on returning to Paris on July 20, some twenty feet of packing-cloth, which Gabrielle, sitting at her window on the fine summer evenings, sewed up into a large bag.
The necessary ground-floor apartment had been found at No. 3 Rue Tronson-Ducoudray. Here Gabrielle installed herself on July 24. The bedroom was convenient for the assassins' purpose, the bed standing in an alcove121 separated by curtains from the rest of the room. To the beam forming the crosspiece at the entrance into the alcove Eyraud fixed122 a pulley. Through the pulley ran a rope, having at one end of it a swivel, so that a man, hiding behind the curtains could, by pulling the rope strongly, haul up anything that might be attached to the swivel at the other end. It was with the help of this simple piece of mechanism123 and a good long pull from Eyraud that the impecunious124 couple hoped to refill their pockets.
The victim was chosen on the 25th. Eyraud had already known of Gouffe's existence, but on that day, Thursday, in a conversation with a common friend, Eyraud learnt that the bailiff Gouffe was rich, that he was in the habit of having considerable sums of money in his care, and that on Friday nights Gouffe made it his habit to sleep from home. There was no time to lose. The next day Gabrielle accosted Gouffe as he was going to his dejeuner and, after some little conversation agreed to meet him at eight o'clock that evening.
The afternoon was spent in preparing for the bailiff's reception in the Rue Tronson-Ducoudray. A lounge-chair was so arranged that it stood with its back to the alcove, within which the pulley and rope had been fixed by Eyraud. Gouffe was to sit on the chair, Gabrielle on his knee. Gabrielle was then playfully to slip round his neck, in the form of a noose125, the cord of her dressing126 gown and, unseen by him, attach one end of it to the swivel of the rope held by Eyraud. Her accomplice had only to give a strong pull and the bailiff's course was run.(17)
(17) One writer on the case has suggested that the story of the murder
in bed with the woman. But the purchase of the necessary materials in
and pulley.
At six o'clock Eyraud and Bompard dined together, after which Eyraud returned to the apartment, whilst Bompard went to meet Gouffe near the Madeline Church. What occurred afterwards at No. 3 Rue Tronson-Ducoudray is best described in the statement made by Eyraud at his trial.
"At a quarter past eight there was a ring at the bell. I hid myself behind the curtain. Gouffe came in. 'You've a nice little nest here,' he said. 'Yes, a fancy of mine,' replied Gabrielle, 'Eyraud knows nothing about it.' 'Oh, you're tired of him,' asked Gouffe. 'Yes,' she replied, 'that's all over.' Gabrielle drew Gouffe down on to the chair. She showed him the cord of her dressing-gown and said that a wealthy admirer had given it to her. 'Very elegant,' said Gouffe, 'but I didn't come here to see that.'
"She then sat on his knee and, as if in play, slipped the cord round his neck; then putting her hand behind him, she fixed the end of the cord into the swivel, and said to him laughingly, 'What a nice necktie it makes!' That was the signal. Eyraud pulled the cord vigorously and, in two minutes, Gouffe had ceased to live."
Eyraud took from the dead man his watch and ring, 150 francs and his keys. With these he hurried to Gouffe's office and made a fevered search for money. It was fruitless. In his trembling haste the murderer missed a sum of 14,000 francs that was lying behind some papers, and returned, baffled and despairing, to his mistress and the corpse. The crime had been a ghastly failure. Fortified by brandy and champagne130, and with the help of the woman, Eyraud stripped the body, put it into the bag that had been sewn by Gabrielle, and pushed the bag into the trunk. Leaving his mistress to spend the night with their hateful luggage, Eyraud returned home and, in his own words, "worn out by the excitement of the day, slept heavily."
The next day Eyraud, after saying good-bye to his wife and daughter, left with Gabrielle for Lyons. On the 28th they got rid at Millery of the body of Gouffe and the trunk in which it had travelled; his boots and clothes they threw into the sea at Marseilles. There Eyraud borrowed 500 francs from his brother. Gabrielle raised 2,000 francs in Paris, where they spent August 18 and 19, after which they left for England, and from England sailed for America. During their short stay in Paris Eyraud had the audacity131 to call at the apartment in the Rue Tronson-Ducoudray for his hat, which he had left behind; in the hurry of the crime he had taken away Gouffe's by mistake.
Eyraud had been brought back to Paris from Cuba at the end of June, 1890. Soon after his return, in the room in which Gouffe had been done to death and in the presence of the examining magistrate, M. Goron, and some fifteen other persons, Eyraud was confronted with his accomplice. Each denied vehemently132, with hatred133 and passion, the other's story. Neither denied the murder, but each tried to represent the other as the more guilty of the two. Eyraud said that the suggestion and plan of the crime had come from Gabrielle; that she had placed around Gouffe's neck the cord that throttled134 him. Gabrielle attributed the inception135 of the murder to Eyraud, and said that he had strangled the bailiff with his own hands.
Eyraud, since his return, had seemed indifferent to his own fate; whatever it might be, he wished that his mistress should share it. He had no objection to going to the guillotine as long as he was sure that Gabrielle would accompany him. She sought to escape such a consummation by representing herself as a mere44 instrument in Eyraud's hands. It was even urged in her defence that, in committing the crime, she had acted under the influence of hypnotic suggestion on the part of her accomplice. Three doctors appointed by the examining magistrate to report on her mental state came unanimously to the conclusion that, though undoubtedly susceptible to hypnotic suggestion, there was no ground for thinking that she had been acting under such influence when she participated in the murder of Gouffe. Intellectually the medical gentlemen found her alert and sane136 enough, but morally blind.
The trial of Eyraud and Bompard took place before the Paris Assize Court on December 16, 1890. It had been delayed owing to the proceedings137 of an enterprising journalist. The names of the jurymen who were to be called on to serve at the assize had been published. The journalist conceived the brilliant idea of interviewing some of these gentlemen.
He succeeded in seeing four of them, but in his article which appeared in the Matin newspaper said that he had seen twenty-one. Nine of them, he stated, had declared themselves in favour of Gabrielle Bompard, but in some of these he had discerned a certain "eroticism of the pupil of the eye" to which he attributed their leniency138. A month's imprisonment139 was the reward of these flights of journalistic imagination.
A further scandal in connection with the trial was caused by the lavish140 distribution of tickets of admission to all sorts and kinds of persons by the presiding judge, M. Robert, whose occasional levities141 in the course of the proceedings are melancholy142 reading. As a result of his indulgence a circular was issued shortly after the trial by M. Fallieres, then Minister of Justice, limiting the powers of presidents of assize in admitting visitors into the reserved part of the court.
The proceedings at the trial added little to the known facts of the case. Both Eyraud and Bompard continued to endeavour to shift the blame on to each other's shoulders. A curious feature of the trial was the appearance for the defence of a M. Liegeois, a professor of law at Nancy. To the dismay of the Court, he took advantage of a clause in the Code of Criminal Instruction which permits a witness to give his evidence without interruption, to deliver an address lasting143 four hours on hypnotic suggestion. He undertook to prove that, not only Gabrielle Bompard, but Troppmann, Madame Weiss, and Gabrielle Fenayrou also, had committed murder under the influence of suggestion.(18) In replying to this rather fantastic defence, the Procureur-General, M. Quesnay de Beaurepaire, quoted a statement of Dr. Brouardel, the eminent medical jurist who had been called for the prosecution144, that "there exists no instance of a crime, or attempted crime committed under the influence of hypnotic suggestion." As to the influence of Eyraud over Bompard, M. de Beaurepaire said: "The one outstanding fact that has been eternally true for six thousand years is that the stronger will can possess the weaker: that is no peculiar part of the history of hypnotism; it belongs to the history of the world. Dr. Liegeois himself, in coming to this court to-day, has fallen a victim to the suggestion of the young advocate who has persuaded him to come here to air his theories." The Court wisely declined to allow an attempt to be made to hypnotise the woman Bompard in the presence of her judges, and M. Henri Robert, her advocate, in his appeal to the jury, threw over altogether any idea of hypnotic suggestion, resting his plea on the moral weakness and irresponsibility of his client.
(18) Moll in his "Hypnotism" (London, 1909) states that, after Gabrielle
Bompard's release M. Liegeois succeeded in putting her into a hypnotic
state, in which she reacted the scene in which the crime was originally
suggested to her. The value of such experiments with a woman as
mischievous145 and untruthful as Gabrielle Bompard must be very doubtful.
No trustworthy instance seems to be recorded in which a crime has
been committed under, or brought about by, hypnotic or post-hypnotic
suggestion, though, according to Moll, "the possibility of such a crime
cannot be unconditionally146 denied."
In sheer wickedness there seems little enough to choose between Eyraud and Bompard. But, in asking a verdict without extenuating147 circumstances against the woman, the Procureur-General was by no means insistent148. He could not, he said, ask for less, his duty would not permit it: "But I am ready to confess that my feelings as a man suffer by the duty imposed on me as a magistrate. On one occasion, at the outset of my career, it fell to my lot to ask from a jury the head of a woman. I felt then the same kind of distress149 of mind I feel to-day. The jury rejected my demand; they accorded extenuating circumstances; though defeated, I left the court a happier man. What are you going to do to-day, gentlemen? It rests with you. What I cannot ask of you, you have the right to accord. But when the supreme moment comes to return your verdict, remember that you have sworn to judge firmly and fearlessly." The jury accorded extenuating circumstances to the woman, but refused them to the man. After a trial lasting four days Eyraud was sentenced to death, Bompard to twenty years penal150 servitude.
At first Eyraud appeared to accept his fate with resignation. He wrote to his daughter that he was tired of life, and that his death was the best thing that could happen for her mother and herself. But, as time went on and the efforts of his advocate to obtain a commutation of his sentence held out some hope of reprieve151, Eyraud became more reluctant to quit the world.
"There are grounds for a successful appeal," he wrote, "I am pretty certain that my sentence will be commuted152.... You ask me what I do? Nothing much. I can't write; the pens are so bad. I read part of the time, smoke pipes, and sleep a great deal. Sometimes I play cards, and talk a little. I have a room as large as yours at Sevres. I walk up and down it, thinking of you all."
But his hopes were to be disappointed. The Court of Cassation rejected his appeal. A petition was addressed to President Carnot, but, with a firmness that has not characterised some of his successors in office, he refused to commute153 the sentence.
On the morning of February 3, 1891, Eyraud noticed that the warders, who usually went off duty at six o'clock, remained at their posts. An hour later the Governor of the Roquette prison entered his cell, and informed him that the time had come for the execution of the sentence. Eyraud received the intelligence quietly. The only excitement he betrayed was a sudden outburst of violent animosity against M. Constans, then Minister of the Interior. Eyraud had been a Boulangist, and so may have nourished some resentment154 against the Minister who, by his adroitness155, had helped to bring about the General's ruin. Whatever his precise motive, he suddenly exclaimed that M. Constans was his murderer: "It's he who is having me guillotined; he's got what he wanted; I suppose now he'll decorate Gabrielle!" He died with the name of the hated Minister on his lips.
The End
The End
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1
consul
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| n.领事；执政官 | |
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2
disappearance
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| n.消失，消散，失踪 | |
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3
rue
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| n.懊悔，芸香，后悔；v.后悔，悲伤，懊悔 | |
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4
robust
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| adj.强壮的，强健的，粗野的，需要体力的，浓的 | |
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5
widower
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| n.鳏夫 | |
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6
promiscuous
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| adj.杂乱的，随便的 | |
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7
descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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8
lodge
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| v.临时住宿，寄宿，寄存，容纳；n.传达室，小旅馆 | |
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9
accosted
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| v.走过去跟…讲话( accost的过去式和过去分词 )；跟…搭讪；（乞丐等）上前向…乞讨；（妓女等）勾搭 | |
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10
tampered
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| v.窜改( tamper的过去式 )；篡改；（用不正当手段）影响；瞎摆弄 | |
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11
thicket
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| n.灌木丛，树林 | |
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12
peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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13
liar
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| n.说谎的人 | |
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14
remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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15
decomposed
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| 已分解的，已腐烂的 | |
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16
corpse
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| n.尸体，死尸 | |
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17
obliterated
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| v.除去( obliterate的过去式和过去分词 )；涂去；擦掉；彻底破坏或毁灭 | |
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18
judicial
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| adj.司法的，法庭的，审判的，明断的，公正的 | |
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19
scouted
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| 寻找，侦察( scout的过去式和过去分词 )； 物色（优秀运动员、演员、音乐家等） | |
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20
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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21
interred
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| v.埋，葬( inter的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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22
autopsy
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| n.尸体解剖；尸检 | |
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23
triumphantly
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| ad.得意洋洋地；得胜地；成功地 | |
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24
distilled
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| adj.由蒸馏得来的v.蒸馏( distil的过去式和过去分词 )；从…提取精华 | |
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immersion
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| n.沉浸；专心 | |
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cleansed
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| 弄干净，清洗( cleanse的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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27
fortified
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| adj. 加强的 | |
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28
procure
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| vt.获得，取得，促成；vi.拉皮条 | |
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29
exhumation
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| n.掘尸，发掘；剥璐 | |
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30
eminent
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| adj.显赫的，杰出的，有名的，优良的 | |
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peculiarities
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| n. 特质, 特性, 怪癖, 古怪 | |
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32
inflicted
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| 把…强加给，使承受，遭受( inflict的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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33
abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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34
pricked
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| 刺，扎，戳( prick的过去式和过去分词 )； 刺伤； 刺痛； 使剧痛 | |
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35
instinctively
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| adv.本能地 | |
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36
fugitive
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| adj.逃亡的，易逝的；n.逃犯，逃亡者 | |
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37
confirmation
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| n.证实，确认，批准 | |
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38
skilfully
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| adv. (美skillfully)熟练地 | |
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39
anonymous
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| adj.无名的；匿名的；无特色的 | |
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40
jersey
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| n.运动衫 | |
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41
recollected
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| adj.冷静的；镇定的；被回忆起的；沉思默想的v.记起，想起( recollect的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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42
astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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43
undoubtedly
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| adv.确实地，无疑地 | |
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44
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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45
deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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46
redeeming
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| 补偿的，弥补的 | |
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47
neatly
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| adv.整洁地，干净地，灵巧地，熟练地 | |
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48
middle-aged
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| adj.中年的 | |
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49
devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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50
unwilling
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| adj.不情愿的 | |
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51
accomplice
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| n.从犯，帮凶，同谋 | |
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52
divulged
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| v.吐露，泄露( divulge的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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53
acting
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| n.演戏，行为，假装；adj.代理的，临时的，演出用的 | |
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54
vice
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| n.坏事；恶习；[pl.]台钳，老虎钳；adj.副的 | |
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55
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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56
vouch
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| v.担保；断定；n.被担保者 | |
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57
narrative
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| n.叙述，故事；adj.叙事的，故事体的 | |
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58
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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59
depressed
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| adj.沮丧的，抑郁的，不景气的，萧条的 | |
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60
prey
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| n.被掠食者，牺牲者，掠食；v.捕食，掠夺，折磨 | |
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61
pretence
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| n.假装，作假；借口，口实；虚伪；虚饰 | |
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62
costly
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| adj.昂贵的，价值高的，豪华的 | |
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63
lodging
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| n.寄宿，住所；(大学生的)校外宿舍 | |
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65
raved
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| v.胡言乱语( rave的过去式和过去分词 )；愤怒地说；咆哮；痴心地说 | |
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66
deploring
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| v.悲叹，痛惜，强烈反对( deplore的现在分词 ) | |
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67
vowing
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| 起誓，发誓（vow的现在分词形式） | |
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68
vengeance
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| n.报复，报仇，复仇 | |
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69
outraged
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| a.震惊的，义愤填膺的 | |
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70
benevolent
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| adj.仁慈的，乐善好施的 | |
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71
comedian
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| n.喜剧演员；滑稽演员 | |
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72
narrating
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| v.故事( narrate的现在分词 ) | |
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73
publicity
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| n.众所周知，闻名；宣传，广告 | |
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74
elude
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| v.躲避，困惑 | |
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75
inquiries
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| n.调查( inquiry的名词复数 )；疑问；探究；打听 | |
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76
ragged
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| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
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77
vendor
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| n.卖主；小贩 | |
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wares
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| n. 货物, 商品 | |
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79
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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80
beckoned
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| v.（用头或手的动作）示意，召唤( beckon的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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81
allayed
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| v.减轻，缓和( allay的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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82
consulate
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| n.领事馆 | |
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83
repenting
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| 对（自己的所为）感到懊悔或忏悔( repent的现在分词 ) | |
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84
scenting
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| vt.闻到（scent的现在分词形式） | |
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85
apprehension
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| n.理解，领悟；逮捕，拘捕；忧虑 | |
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86
resolutely
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| adj.坚决地，果断地 | |
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87
conclusively
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| adv.令人信服地，确凿地 | |
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88
magistrate
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| n.地方行政官，地方法官，治安官 | |
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89
incorrigible
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| adj.难以纠正的，屡教不改的 | |
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precocious
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| adj.早熟的；较早显出的 | |
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propensity
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| n.倾向；习性 | |
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92
treacherous
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| adj.不可靠的，有暗藏的危险的；adj.背叛的，背信弃义的 | |
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93
disposition
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| n.性情，性格；意向，倾向；排列，部署 | |
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94
lewd
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| adj.淫荡的 | |
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95
lewdness
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| n. 淫荡, 邪恶 | |
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96
alleged
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| a.被指控的，嫌疑的 | |
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97
seduced
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| 诱奸( seduce的过去式和过去分词 )； 勾引； 诱使堕落； 使入迷 | |
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98
susceptible
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| adj.过敏的，敏感的；易动感情的，易受感动的 | |
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99
implored
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| 恳求或乞求（某人）( implore的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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100
distinguished
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| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
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101
supreme
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| adj.极度的，最重要的；至高的，最高的 | |
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102
sinister
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| adj.不吉利的，凶恶的，左边的 | |
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103
levity
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| n.轻率，轻浮，不稳定，多变 | |
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104
callousness
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105
fiddling
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| 微小的 | |
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inviting
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| adj.诱人的，引人注目的 | |
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107
immoral
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| adj.不道德的，淫荡的，荒淫的，有伤风化的 | |
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108
sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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109
propensities
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| n.倾向，习性( propensity的名词复数 ) | |
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remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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111
temperament
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| n.气质，性格，性情 | |
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112
exertion
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| n.尽力，努力 | |
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113
procuring
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| v.（努力）取得， （设法）获得( procure的现在分词 )；拉皮条 | |
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114
discredited
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| 不足信的，不名誉的 | |
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115
immorality
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| n. 不道德, 无道义 | |
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116
insufficient
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| adj.(for，of)不足的，不够的 | |
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117
replenish
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| vt.补充；(把…)装满；(再)填满 | |
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118
expedient
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| adj.有用的，有利的；n.紧急的办法，权宜之计 | |
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119
risky
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| adj.有风险的，冒险的 | |
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120
underneath
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| adj.在...下面，在...底下；adv.在下面 | |
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121
alcove
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| n.凹室 | |
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122
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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123
mechanism
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| n.机械装置；机构，结构 | |
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124
impecunious
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| adj.不名一文的，贫穷的 | |
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noose
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| n.绳套，绞索（刑）；v.用套索捉；使落入圈套；处以绞刑 | |
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126
dressing
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| n.(食物)调料；包扎伤口的用品，敷料 | |
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127
mitigate
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| vt.（使）减轻，（使）缓和 | |
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128
guilt
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| n.犯罪；内疚；过失，罪责 | |
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129
motive
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| n.动机，目的；adv.发动的，运动的 | |
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130
champagne
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| n.香槟酒；微黄色 | |
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131
audacity
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| n.大胆，卤莽，无礼 | |
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vehemently
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| adv. 热烈地 | |
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133
hatred
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| n.憎恶，憎恨，仇恨 | |
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134
throttled
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| v.扼杀( throttle的过去式和过去分词 )；勒死；使窒息；压制 | |
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135
inception
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| n.开端，开始，取得学位 | |
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sane
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| adj.心智健全的，神志清醒的，明智的，稳健的 | |
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137
proceedings
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| n.进程，过程，议程；诉讼(程序)；公报 | |
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138
leniency
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| n.宽大（不严厉） | |
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139
imprisonment
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| n.关押，监禁，坐牢 | |
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140
lavish
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| adj.无节制的；浪费的；vt.慷慨地给予，挥霍 | |
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141
levities
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| n.欠考虑( levity的名词复数 )；不慎重；轻率；轻浮 | |
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142
melancholy
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| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
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143
lasting
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| adj.永久的，永恒的；vbl.持续，维持 | |
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144
prosecution
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| n.起诉，告发，检举，执行，经营 | |
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145
mischievous
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| adj.调皮的，恶作剧的，有害的，伤人的 | |
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146
unconditionally
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| adv.无条件地 | |
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147
extenuating
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| adj.使减轻的，情有可原的v.（用偏袒的辩解或借口）减轻( extenuate的现在分词 )；低估，藐视 | |
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148
insistent
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| adj.迫切的，坚持的 | |
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149
distress
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| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
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150
penal
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| adj.刑罚的；刑法上的 | |
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151
reprieve
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| n.暂缓执行（死刑）；v.缓期执行；给…带来缓解 | |
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152
commuted
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| 通勤( commute的过去式和过去分词 )； 减（刑）； 代偿 | |
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153
commute
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| vi.乘车上下班；vt.减(刑)；折合；n.上下班交通 | |
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154
resentment
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| n.怨愤，忿恨 | |
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155
adroitness
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