The Sun.
London, England, 1864-06-11 00:00:00

EXECUTION OF POMMERAIS.

PARIS, Friday.—The execution of Dr. Conty de
la Pommerais took place at six o'clock yesterday
morning. Every night since Mon Jay crowds of
people thronged the Place de la Roquette, and re•
mained until daybreak. They desired to see the
execution with their owe oyes, and resolved to
sacrifice their rest to nor curiosity, particularly
as there were rumours that a commutation of the
sentence was probable. They again went to the
ground as early as nine o'clock on Wednesday
evening, and took their station as before. The tide
advanced every hour, and soon after the prison
clock struck one their attention was roused by the
rumbling sound of approaching carts. Any doubts
they might have had were •at oace dissipated, for
the carts were laden with the pieces of the instru-
ment of punishment. As the night wore on the
multitude grew more dense, and before five o'clock
there could not have been less than 30,000 people
of all classes. The bearing of many betrayed the
feeling which urged them to the foot of the
scaffold. An ignoble ballad, called " The com-
plaint of La Pommerais," had circulated for
some days past in the streets of Paris. It was
hummed, or drawled with others of the same
style, close to the place of execution ; and the
pastime was diversified with indecent jests, which
were received with loud laughter by many, and re-
proaches by a very few. Atter the fashion men,
women, and boys passed the hours till every star
had gone out, and the beams of morning fell on
the walls of the prison.
La Pommerals, who was not informed that his
petition to the Emperor was rejected, but who had
evidently lost all hope, seemed much more collected
since his sentence than he had been during his trial.
His father and wife were allowed to see him on
Wednesday. The interview took place in the par•
lour of the prison ; but they were separated by a
double grating, through which they were just able
to clasp each other's hands. The anguish of the old
man and the poor creature who was so soon to be a
widow was heartrending. She clung to the grating
as if she would not be torn from it; her husband
was more self-possessed. They lingered as long as
they could, but at last the moment for parting came.
The prisoner went to rest at the usual early hour,
and still under the supervision of the prison officials;
and he slept soundly the whole night. At half-past
5 in the morning the governor of the prison entered
the cell. La Pommerais started up in his bed, and
before he had time to speak, the governor told him
that all hope was over; that the petition for mercy
was not granted, that he must prepare for death, for
his last hour was at hand. He evinced no surprise;
he only said, "I am ready." In a few moments the
chaplain of the gaol, the Abbe Croze, entered the cell.
The guardians fell back a short distance, but not
out of sight. The convict had previously several
interviews with the Abbe, confessed his sins, and,
it is said, received the sacraments—but what he
confessed will remain a secret for ever. When the
priest made his appearance La Pommerais rose to
meet him, and threw himself into his arms. He
had hitherto been unmoved, but as the reverend
gentleman clasped him to his breast he shed tears.
While undergoing the last preparation, in which the
hair is cut close at the back of the head, he listened
apparently with attention to the exhortations of the
chaplain, and the prayer for those about to die.
When all was ready ho was asked to take some re-
freshment, but declined. Before he quitted the cell
the head of the Department of Public Security
asked him whether he had any disclosures to
make, or whether he wished to say anything.
" I have said all I had to say," was the reply.
These were his last words, and from that moment
he answered only by a nod of the head to any re-
mark that was made by those about him.

The gate of the prison was thrown open at a few
minutes to 6, and the crowd outsith, became sud-
denly silent. La Pommerais, with a paletot thrown
over his shoulders, was seen to mount the steps of
the scaffold, supported on one side by the Abbe
Croze, who held up the crucifix before his eyes, and
on the other by one of the gaolers. The cord which
bound his feet did not prevent him from moving,
and he advanced with a steady step, but with his
head bent, towards the fatal instrument. He
paused for an instant, once more embraced the
priest, gave himself up to the executioner, and was
laid on the plank. The cord that held the machine
was cut, the ponderous blade rushed down, and