carriage, which had not been able to pass along the Quai-Napoleon, the pavement of which was up, had ventured among the intricate streets of the city, and now arrived in the square of Notre-Dame on its way to the other side of the Seine.Like many others, its owners were flying from Paris, to escape the pestilence which decimated it.A man-servant and a lady's maid were in the rumble, and they exchanged a glance of alarm as they passed the Hospital, whilst a young man seated in the front part of the carriage let down the glass, and called to the postilions to go slowly, for fear of accident, as the crowd was very dense at that part of the square.This young man was Lord Morinval, and on the back seat were Lord Montbron and his niece, Lady Morinval.The pale and anxious countenance of the young lady showed the alarm which she felt; and Montbron, notwithstanding his firmness of mind, appeared to be very uneasy; he, as well as his niece, frequently had recourse to a smelling-bottle filled with camphor.
During the last few minutes, the carriage had advanced very slowly, the postilions managing their horses with great caution, when a sudden hubbub, at first distant and undefined, but soon more distinct, arose among the throng, as it drew near, the ringing sound of chains and metal, peculiar to the artillery-wagons, was plainly audible, and presently one of these vehicles came towards the travelling-carriage, from the direction of the Quai Notre-Dame.It seemed strange, that though the crowd was so compact, yet at the rapid approach of this wagon, the close ranks of human beings opened as if by enchantment, but the following words which were passed from mouth to mouth soon accounted for the prodigy: "A wagon full of dead! the wagon of the dead!" As we have already stated, the usual funeral conveyances were no longer sufficient for the removal of the corpses; a number of artillery wagons had been put into requisition, and the coffins were hastily piled in these novel hearses.
Many of the spectators regarded this gloomy vehicle with dismay, but the quarryman and his band redoubled their horrible jokes.
"Make way for the omnibus of the departed!" cried Ciboule.
"No danger of having one's toes crushed in that omnibus," said the quarryman.
"Doubtless they're easy to please, the stiff-uns in there."
"They never want to be set down, at all events."
"I say, there's only one reg'lar on duty as postilion!"
"That's true, the leaders are driven by a man in a smock-frock."
"Oh! I daresay the other soldier was tired, lazy fellow! and got into the omnibus with the others--they'll all get out at the same big hole."
"Head foremost, you know."
"Yes, they pitch them head first into a bed of lime."
"Why, one might follow the dead-cart blind-fold, and no mistake.It's worse than Montfaucon knacker-yards!"
"Ha! ha! ha!--it's rather gamey!" said the quarryman, alluding to the infectious and cadaverous odor which this funeral conveyance left behind it.
"Here's sport!" exclaimed Ciboule: "the omnibus of the dead will run against the fine coach.Hurrah! the rich folks will smell death."
Indeed, the wagon was now directly in front of the carriage, and at a very little distance from it.A man in a smock-frock and wooden shoes drove the two leaders, and an artilleryman the other horses.The coffins were so piled up within this wagon, that its semicircular top did not shut down closely, so that, as it jolted heavily over the uneven pavement, the biers could be seen chafing against each other.The fiery eyes and inflamed countenance of the man in the smock-frock showed that he was half intoxicated; urging on the horses with his voice, his heels, and his whip, he paid no attention to the remonstrances of the soldier, who had great difficulty in restraining his own animals, and was obliged to follow the irregular movements of the carman.Advancing in this disorderly manner, the wagon deviated from its course just as it should have passed the travelling-carriage, and ran against it.The shock forced open the top, one of the coffins was thrown out, and, after damaging the panels of the carriage, fell upon the pavement with a dull and heavy sound.The deal planks had been hastily nailed together, and were shivered in the fall, and from the wreck of the coffin rolled a livid corpse, half enveloped in a shroud.
At this horrible spectacle, Lady Morinval, who had mechanically leaned forward, gave a loud scream, and fainted.The crowd fell back in dismay;
the postilions, no less alarmed, took advantage of the space left open to them by the retreat of the multitude; they whipped their horses, and the carriage dashed on towards the quay.As it disappeared behind the furthermost buildings of the Hospital, the shrill joyous notes of distant trumpets were heard, and repeated shouts proclaimed: "The Cholera Masquerade!" The words announced one of those episodes combining buffoonery with terror, which marked the period when the pestilence was on the increase, though now they can with difficulty be credited.If the evidence of eyewitnesses did not agree in every particular with the accounts given in the public papers of this masquerade, they might be regarded as the ravings of some diseased brain, and not as the notice of a fact which really occurred.
"The Masquerade of the Cholera" appeared, we say, in the square of Notre-
Dame, just as Morinval's carriage gained the quay, after disengaging itself from the death-wagon.
[37] It is well-known that at the time of the cholera, such placards were numerous in Paris, and were alternately attributed to opposite parties.
Among others, to the priests, many of the bishops having published mandatory letters, or stated openly in the churches of their diocese, that the Almighty had sent the cholera as a punishment to France for having driven away its lawful sovereign, and assimilated the Catholic to other forms of worship.
[38] It is notorious, that at this unhappy period several persons were massacred, under a false accusation of poisoning the fountains, etc.
