at the new comer. She then threw herself on
his breast, sobbing, and kissing him; called him
by his name, and entreated his forgiveness.
She had been deceived. Her brother was
equally moved, kissed her, and forgave her. A
similar scene occurred with the three other
sisters. The witnesses gradually agreed that
their judgment had been misled, and that this
was the real Martin Guerre. All that now
remained, was to confront Bertrande with the
new claimant. She stopped at the threshold as
soon as she saw the unexpected man, and evinced
sudden and powerful emotion. She burst into
tears, threw herself at his feet, stretched out
her arms, and, sobbing loudly, she begged his
forgiveness. He was her lost husband, the
real Martin Guerre. No more evidence was
required. The mystery was held to be solved.
Even the impostor saw that the game was up,
and, without being put to the torture, made full
confession of his guilt.

On the 12th of September, 1560, the High
Court of Toulouse passed sentence on Arnold
Tilh. The sentence of the court of Rieux was
quashed, as execution with the sword had been
decreed: which was not adjudged to low
criminals. Arnold Tilh was sentenced, because he
had assumed the name, rank, and person, of
Martin Guerre, claimed his wife, appropriated and
spent her property, and contaminated her
marriage, to go on his knees from the church door of
Artigues, in his shirt, with uncovered head and
bare feet, a rope round his neck, and a burning
taper in his hand, asking pardon of God, the
king, the authorities, Martin Guerre, and
Bertrande of Rols; then to be led through all the
streets of the town, and finally to be hanged
and strangled in front of Martin Guerre's house,
and his body then to be publicly burnt. The
sentence was carried out on the 16th of
September. Under the gallows erected in front of
Martin Guerre's house, Arnold Tilh implored
the forgiveness of Martin and of his wife.

According to Arnold Tilh's statement made
before his death, he and Martin Guerre had
served together in the army, sharing the same
tent. Martin had repeatedly related all his affairs
to him, and every circumstance connected with his
parents, his home, his wife, his friends, his flight;
in a drunken fit he had even told him the
various circumstances of his marriage. On his
return home, Tilh had been repeatedly addressed
as Martin Guerre. He had at first treated it
as a joke, but afterwards resolved to turn it to
account. He made a study of it, and, thus
prepared, came to Artigues.

It is pretty obvious that this sharp impostor
must have been greatly assisted by the dulness
of his dupes. Nor is it reasonably to be doubted
that they themselves originated the remembrance
of an immense number of small circumstances,
which remembrance they afterwards
ascribed to him, and he readily appropriated.
It does not appear that, when he began to be
seriously mistrusted, any of the hesitating people
about him tried him with a few pretended
recollections of occurrences that had never
happened. The neglect of so simple an expedient
is expressive of the general level of acuteness
at Artigues in those days. The case is so
famous that we present it from the original
records; but it appears to us to be far more
remarkable for the simplicity of the believers,
and for the extraordinary personal resemblance
(in detail) between the real man and the false,
than for any extraordinary ability on the
part of the latter. If the latter had been a
man with a most wonderful memory—as he
must have been if his last statement were
the whole truth—he would surely, at one time
or other, have given some previous proof of it;
but no such proof is forthcoming against him,
though the prosecution inquires closely into
his former character. One would say, too, that
a man with a most wonderful memory would
have picked up for so special a purpose more
than "a few words" of the Basque dialect.

On the whole, we take the main interest of
this well-known case to lie in its being a leading
example of the extent to which the believers in
a deception become its innocent accomplices.
Two or three London seasons ago, we heard
much—greatly too much—of the praises of a
certain male "Medium" who raised Spirits at
so much a sitting. Under a modest incognito,
we obtained an appointment from this gentleman,
on payment of certain guineas; and then
repaired to M. ROBIN, the excellent conjuror
at that time at the Egyptian Hall, and begged
the favour of his accompanying us to the other
world. "Willingly," said M. Robin. "But
observe. I know my art, and I know what
this man can do. He can do nothing unless
you help him. His visitors really do his tricks,
not he. No plan or test is necessary. Tell him
not a word, make no gesture of assent or
dissent, guide him by no expression of face, and
he will do absolutely nothing." The visit was
made, and he did nothing. In offering a sort of
forlorn apology for his dismal failure when we
took the liberty of remarking on it at the close
of the proceedings, said the discomfited Medium,
indicating M. Robin who had sat on his right
hand: "But at least the Spirits did spell the
name of Valentine, which was written by this
gentleman."—"Ah!" said M. Robin, checking
him with the politest little action of the hand in
the world. "O yes. Permit me. Bah! Else
why did I sit so close to you, and let you of a
purpose look over my shoulder, you know!"

Now ready, bound in cloth, price 5s. 6d.,
VOLUME THE SEVENTEENTH.