Connecticut western news., 1880-02-11


 hour has come." "Would you execute me without judgment ?" was the pris- oner's reply. "You have known me a long time, and you know that I have always done my duty as Republican, as good citizen and as an honest man. I have wife and child" His appeal was cut short by Rigault's blasphemies. The guard was called, he was dragged to the prison-yard and ordered to stand beside lantern hung on the prison wall. Summoning his resolution, he cried in firm voice, " "Vive Ia Repub- lique! Fire !" and he rolled to the ground corpse. In the same way Rigault went to the prison where the venerable Ch1ef-Justice Boniean was sleeping on his pallet of straw. "Get up old man," he shouted, "for to- morrow we will cut your throat. |" Young man," replied M. Bonjean, Sit is wrong that you should come to insult me thus. I am your prisoner. You see that am an old man. Leave me-" On the next night he fell, pierced with balls.
 The members of the Commune were most desperate and debauched scoun- drels, but some of them were educated and cultivated men. Their internal be- nests were remorselessly executed by the National Guard, and the record of destruction that they caused was fright full. Yet through it all it always was the same Paris. The shops kept open, with their wares displayed with taste that has captivated foreigners in all times. The streets and the theatres were crowded, and the artists were never more superb. A concert was given every Sunday in the gardens of the Tuilleries, and the mob passed freely through the historic halls of that grand palace. It was time of overcoming sensations. Weddings and balls were constantly taking place. Titles were prohibited. Everybody was citizen or citizeness. The blackest of the crimes of the Com. mune was the imprisonment and murder of the Archbishop of Paris. He had many opportunities to leave the city, but he declined to go, considering it his duty to remain with his people. "I made," said the lecturer, Gan unfortu- nately unsuccessful attempt to save the life of the illustrious prelate. visited h1m many times in prison and told him the news of the day and brought him newspapers and wine. He was man of spare body, the result of long illness, and wore long beard. His manners were gentle and sweet. He was one of the most charming of men, beloved by all, rich and poor, for he had spent his life in acts of charity and he was dis tinguished for his liberal views and his catholic spirit. No words of bitterness towords his persecutors ever escaped his lips, but he seemed rather to find excuses for his beloved Parisians. He told me that he was awaiting patiently the logic of events and praying that Providence might find solution of the terrible crisis without the shedding of more human blood. He added, in &C., cents which will never be effaced from my memory: T have no fear of death. It costs but little to die. I am ready. The last time I visited him was two days before his murder. The jailers, who had previously been very polite to me, refused to let me see him in his cell, but brought him into the corridor. He seemed depressed by his surroundings, and did not exhibit his usual cheerful ness. For my part, I had little to say to him of an encouraging nature. The jailers manifesting impatience, I was obliged to take leave of him. It was the last time he grasped friendly hand. Two days later he was fendishly mur. dered and his body cast into ditch, whence it was exhumed in a few days, and all Paris wept for their kindest, most devoted, and most steadfast friend"