, 1861-10-31
The Midnight Banquet.

VI all fATls pTIsOhs tnlS Is the gloomlesL-
this is the Conciergerie. What o host of vic
Tins are brought before our minds, by the men.
tion of this one word" Conciergerie" 1t is
the oldest of all the prisons. Turn over the
leaves of its ancient entry-book, and you will
find page after page Of its records made iegible
till at length our eyes discern this record Of
Ravillac, dated May 16, 1910. And here is his
sentence: ITO be conducted to the Place de
Greve, and there, upon the scaflold, to have his
breast and arms, thighs and calves Of his legs
lacerated with red.hot pinchers; his right hand,
which held the knife with which he had com.
mitted the said parricide,' to be burned off in
fire of sulphur; and into all his wounds to be
thrown melted lead, burning oil, burning pitch,
and wax and sulphur mingled. This done, his
body to be drawn and dismembered by four
horses. and afterwards consumed by fire, and
bis ashes thrown TO the windsw
And now, as we turn page after page we can
clearly read names Of illustrious men and beau
tiful and innocent women. Here is the name Of
Louis the Sixteenth, and there that Of Marie
Autoinette.
It is a remarkable fact that Louis the Six.
teeth was the first monarch who really interesed
himself in the improvement Of prisons
A little farther on, and twenty-five illustrious
names are grouped together. Verginaud's heads
the list, and with his name We call to mind the
reign Of Jacobin fury, and the destruction Of the
Girondists. How much Of the history Of Paris
is written in her prisons! What strange scenes
these walls witnessed If "the stone could cry
out Of the wall, aud the beam out of the timber
could answer it," would not our lips turn pale,
and our blood run cold, at the terrible recital Of
mortal suffering?
The cells Of the Girondists remain just as
they were left on the execution morning The
walls arc covered with writing-but the writing
ic ttnifl ink l.Nl, ia d..
and drawing nearer, we find it even so, and read
with interest sentences like these: "True liberty
is that Of the SOUL" "Even God may look with
pleasure upon brave man struggling against
adversely" "The day is not more pure than
my heart" And here is one in larger letters
and boldcr hand: 1t is Verginaud's own,
written with his blood: Death is preferable to
dishOnor."
Il was midnight Of October 30th, 1903, when
the little band Of patriots were led from their
mock trial back to their gloomy cells To give
the death blow to this party thirty Of the most
illustrious had been arrested. Five made their
escape, but the others scorned fight and re-
solved to meet their death with the unflinchng
fortitude which they had displayed through all
their dangers Weary months were spent in
prison, till their prison garments were all in tat
tsrs, and their long boards and tangled hair hung
about their haggard faces.
At length the time Of their trial draws near.
II Is but mock trial, yet there fingers in the
breasts Of some Of them faint hope Of pardon
-ohi kOp taintl II is only the last chickering's
Of hope before il dies out forever.
IGuity" Is the verdict upon them all. As
the fatal sentence is pronounced, ValaZe draws q
little dagger from its breast and plungng il into
his heart, falls lifeess to the ground. His COM
panions gather around him-all Of them pale as
death.
The sentence goes forth, that the lifeless body
shall be taken back to prison, with his compah-
ions, and on the morrow be carried to the scaf-
fold, where the cruel axe shall fall upon the cold,
stiff neck, that his enemies may have their full
triumph, and satisfy their fendish hate. Vergi-
maud refuses to take the poison, secretly con-
veyed to him by his friends, choosing, rather, to
follow his brave companions
Midnight in the Conciergeriei dark, silent,
cherries as the grave Here and there a priso-
ner waits and listens anxiOusly for the return Of
the doomed. Soon their voices are heard through
the long corridors like funeral dirge. The pris-
oners start from their sleep; hope dies within
them for this Is the signal agreed upon il con-
domination is passed. Many q wretched man
presses against the grating Of his cell-door to
take his last look and bid farewell to his patriot
friends
And now . strange scene Is enacted, which Is
transmitted to us by the Able Lambert who
came to administer to them the consultations Of
religion. Through the halEopened door he
watches their every look and action, and records
their words The oaken table is covered with
rich cloth. Servants hurry in and out, bearing
lights and richest dishes and beautiful flowers
in few moments d rich banquet Is before them.
This feast has been prepared by o wealthy friend,
who was concealed in Paris, and who knew not
whether 1t would be joyful banquet or feast
Of death. II Is the feast Of death, and death it.
self is there Valaze's corpse lies on the floor.
How the light fckers upon these haggard
faces as they gather around the table. They
nerve themselves to calmness; some even jest
and sing, and raise the loud laugh. Fearfully
the laugh echoes from the naked walls, sending
thrill Of horror even to the heart Of him that
raised Il.
As the costly dishes are carried from the
room, and wine and flowers alone grace the Ia
bic. the doomed to die turn to one another for
support.
What shall we be doing tomorrow at this
time 2" says one.
sleeping the sleep that knows no wakingl"
answers a clear, firm voice. fI
A moments pause, during which those who
have called cold philosophy to their aid sit calm
and unmoved; and then deep voice breaks the
| silence:
"No, no! humiliation is not our destiny. We
arc immortal These bodies may perish. These
living thoughts, these houndless aspirations can
never die. Tomorrow. far away into another
world, We shall think, and feel, and act, and
solve the problems Of the immaterial destiny OF
the human mind"
The song is hushed forced laughter dies
away. The beating Of the heart can almost be
heard as il strikes against the prison-walls, and
pants for immortality. OH there was not God
created soul there that did not NJ that moment