At this question everybody began to laugh—the prince, the judges, the prisoner, even the skull on the table. The chair alone remained grim and dignified.
"I can't remember any more of my names," was the prisoner's reply.
SECOND QUESTION:
"What is your religion?"
"I was born an Augsburg Confession heretic. When I went to Cracow I became a Socinian; in the Ukraine I joined the Greek church; afterward I became an orthodox Catholic; later, a Rosicrucian; then a Quaker. I have also professed the faith of Brahma; and once I was a member of the community of Atheists and devil-worshipping Manichees, called also Cainists."
"A fine array, truly!" commented the chair, as the notary entered the list in the register.
THIRD QUESTION:
"What is your occupation, prisoner?"
"I have been ensign; prisoner; slave; robber-chief; parasite; ducal grand-steward; mendicant friar; recruiting sergeant; sacristan; knight; shell-fish dealer; stock-jobber; ship-captain; viceroy; pirate; teacher; knacker's assistant; conjuror; bocksritter; hangman; pikeman; quack-doctor; prophet; constable—"
"Stop! Stop!" interrupted the chair. "The notary cannot keep up with you."
Again the court-room resounded with laughter; the prisoner on the rack, as well as the skull on the table, again joined in the merriment. Everybody seemed in a good humor—that is, everybody but the mayor. He alone was grave.
After the signal to the executioner the fourth question followed:
"Of what crimes are you guilty?"
(For the purpose of greater perspicuity the chair dictated to the recording secretary the Latin nomenclature of the crimes confessed.)
Prisoners: "I was a member of a band of robbers and incendiaries."
"Primo, latrocinium," dictated the chair.
Prisoner: "I won the affections of my benefactor's wife."
Chair: "Secundo, adulterium."
Prisoner: "I robbed a church."
Chair: "Tertio, sacrilegium."
Prisoner: "I masqueraded as a nobleman under a false name."
Chair: "Quarto, larvatus."
Prisoner: "I committed a forgery."
Chair: "Quinto, falsorium."
Prisoner: "I killed my friend in a duel."
Chair: "Sexto, homicidium ex duello."
Prisoner: "I cheated my partners in business."
Chair: "Septimo, stellionatus."
Prisoner: "I betrayed state secrets confided to me."
Chair: "Octavo, felonia."
Prisoner: "I used for my own purpose money belonging to others."
Chair: "Nono, barattaria."
Prisoner: "I worshipped idols."
Chair: "Decimo, idololatria."
Prisoner: "I married a second wife while the first was still living."
Chair: "Undecimo, bigamia."
Prisoner: "I also took a third, fourth, fifth and sixth wife."
Chair: "Eodem numero trigamia, polygamia."
Prisoner: "I murdered a king."
Chair: "Decimo secundo, regicidium."
Prisoner: "I have been a pirate."
Chair: "Decimo tertia, pirateria."
Prisoner: "I killed my first wife."
Chair: "Decimo quarto, uxoricidium."
Prisoner: "I practiced conjuring."
Chair: "Decimo quinto, sorcellaria."
Prisoner: "I have been in league with Satan."
Chair: "Decimo sexto, pactum diabolicum implicitum."
Prisoner: "I have coined base money."
Chair: "Decimo septimo, adulterator monetarium."
Prisoner: "I preached a new faith."
Chair: "Decimo octavo, hæresis schisma."
Prisoner: "I have been a quack doctor."
Chair: "Decimo nono, veneficus."
Prisoner: "I betrayed a fortress intrusted to my guardianship."
Chair: "Vigesimo, crimen traditorum."
Prisoner: "I have eaten human flesh."
Chair: "Vigesimo primo, anthropophagia. Cannibalismus!" cried the mayor in a loud tone, bringing his fist with considerable force down on the pandects lying before him on the table. The perspiration was rolling in great beads over his forehead.
The prisoner on the rack laughed heartily; but this time no one laughed with him. The executioner had mistaken the chief's wink for a signal to turn the wheel, which he did, and the sound which came from the victim's throat was a strange mixture of merriment and agony—as if he were being tickled and strangled at the same moment.
What the chief's dictation was really intended to signify was that the proceedings were concluded for the day; that the accused should be released from the rack and taken back to his dungeon.
It was a most unusual case—unique in the annals of the criminal court. Never before had a prisoner acknowledged himself guilty of, or accessory to, so many crimes. It was the first time such a combination of misdemeanors had come before the tribunal. The accused would certainly have to be tried without mercy; no extenuating circumstances would be allowed to interfere with justice.
The prince was extremely interested in the case. He was curious to learn the coherence between the individual transgressions, in what manner one led to the other, and gave orders that the trial should not be resumed the next day until he should arrive in court.
The prisoner had cause for laughter. Before his confession reached its conclusion, before he could relate the history of his one-and-twenty crimes, the Frenchmen would capture Coblentz and release him from imprisonment and death.
But one may laugh too soon!
What was to be done with this fellow?
That the death penalty was his just desert was unquestionable; but in what manner should it be imposed? Had he confessed only the crime for which he was now under arrest—treason—the matter might be settled easily enough: he would be shot in the back. But with so many transgressions to complicate the matter it was going to be difficult exceedingly to pronounce judgment.
For instance: the wheel is the punishment for robbery; the polygamist must be divided into as many portions as he has wives; the regicide must be torn asunder by four horses. But how are you going to carry out the last penalty if the accused has already been carved into six portions? Also, it is decreed that the right hand of a forger be cut off; the servitor of Satan must suffer death by fire. But if the accused has been consumed by flames, how will it be possible to bray him to pulp in a mortar for having committed uxoricide? or, how carry out the commands of the law which prescribes death by starvation for the wretch who is guilty of cannibalism?
After much deliberation the prince, with the wisdom of