The Return of Martin Guerre

Davis discusses in this chapter the outcomes of the new Martin’s appeal. The Parlement of Toulouse judged both civil and criminal cases on appeal, “also deciding what to do about anti-Catholic image breakers in Toulouse” (73). The Criminal Chamber employed ten or eleven judges and two or three presidents, and the case of Martin Guerre included “the learned Jean de Coras” (74).

This group of officials were divided in their religious beliefs; three judges, including Jean de Coras, “soon emerged as strong Protestants” as well as a few others who “were at least sympathetic to the Reformed cause” (74). The role of Jean de Coras was “reporter for the proceedings, which meant that he would look closely into the issues and finally prepare a report on all the arguments and make a recommendation for the sentence” (75).

Bertrande began her hearing with a statement that attempted to clear her honor: “she had never been the prisoner’s accomplice” (75). Her husband supported this statement with such strength that Bertrande and Pierre both were also imprisoned because, according to the report by Coras, “‘there were few judges present who were not persuaded that the prisoner was the true husband and that the imposture came from the side of the wife and the uncle’” (76).

Coras recorded the testimony by even more witnesses, but none of this information made the situation clearer. “Coras was ‘in great perplexity’” (79) because a court needed proof of a crime in order to find a person guilty, and this proof was elusive: “The more he reflected on the evidence, the more likely it seemed that the defendant was who he said he was and that the sentence of the judge in Rieux should be reversed” (79).

Apparently, Coras gave more thought to the positions of Bertrande de Rols and Pierre Guerre: “It seemed probable, as Bertrande had earlier been heard to claim herself, that she had been coerced into bringing a false accusation” (80). Pierre had shown himself to be a liar as well, and “[h]is conspiracy with his wife and his sons-in-law to have the defendant killed has been described by ‘several witnesses’” (80), which means there “was sufficient proof to warrant an order to torture Pierre Guerre to see if he would confess to attempted murder” (80). The efforts of Bertrande and Pierre to misrepresent the new Martin was a crime, “a grave and too frequent crime, a deliberate plan to do evil to one’s neighbor against God’s eighth commandment” (80).

The new Martin had the supportive testimony of his four sisters to give Coras and the Criminal Chamber reason to believe his story. As well, “the tested fact of the prisoner’s assured and perfect recall of everything about the life of Martin Guerre” (81) and the Roman principle of law that stated “‘it was better to leave unpunished a guilty person than to condemn an innocent one’” (81) meant that Arnaud du Tilh very nearly escaped condemnation. But, just as the Criminal Chamber was making a final judgment, “a man with a wooden leg appeared at the buildings of the Parlement of Toulouse. He said his name was Martin Guerre” (81).

In this chapter, Davis ponders what might have motivated Martin Guerre to come back to Artigat after twelve years. He had been living “as a lay brother in one of the houses of the military order of Saint John of Jerusalem…a small part of an all-male world dominated by aristocrats” (82). Davis believes that Martin had heard the news of the trial, so his timely arrival was unlikely a coincidence.

Coras reported that Arnaud, the new Martin, challenged Martin as soon as the hearings began anew, accusing him of being a paid interloper arranged by Pierre Guerre. As the hearing continued, amazingly, “the man with the wooden leg remembered events in the house of Martin Guerre less well than the prisoner” (84).

According to Coras’s record, Pierre, Martin’s four sisters and Bertrande all wept at the arrival of Martin, but “Martin Guerre showed not a single sign of sorrow at the tears of Bertrande de Rols” (86), dismissing her emotions and blaming her for not knowing her husband and for “‘the disaster that which has befallen our house’” (86). He accepted no guilt for abandoning her in the first place.

Arnaud du Tilh was soon found guilty, and “condemned to perform an amende honorable, a public apology, and then be put to death in Artigat” (86). Prison time was not a possibility for Arnaud, but other possible punishments could have included “fines, various kinds of physical punishment (whipping, branding, mutilation), banishment, a term rowing in the king’s galleys” (87). Crimes similar to Arnaud’s had been punished with consequences less harsh than death, but “Du Tilh’s was a more serious crime…[i]t involved stealing a heritage” (88). As well, “he had committed adultery, a crime that Coras thought should be punished more severely and consistently in general” (88).

Though Arnaud would hang for his crime, the court “treated the interests of Arnaud du Tilh with consideration” (89): his daughter Bernarde was deemed legitimate, his belongings and property were not confiscated, and he was not sentenced to torture in order to name his accomplices. Bertrande de Rols was not prosecuted for fraud nor for bigamy nor adultery, and Martin Guerre was also determined to be innocent as “his departure could be attributed to his youth” (90). Pierre Guerre was not prosecuted for his lies and misrepresentations. Arnaud du Tilh maintained his innocence until after he was sentenced: “He would start his public apology in front of the church of Artigat and then be led through the village and executed before the house of Martin Guerre” (91). On the day of his death, he confessed and explained that he had been “hailed as Martin Guerre by the two men at Mane” (92) and this moment had inspired him to steal Martin’s identity. Arnaud du Tilh admitted his real name and made no mention of Bertrande’s role in the matter. He died moments after “preaching to the man who would take his place not to be harsh with Bertrande” (93).