Two days passed, and Friday came, rainy, and the prisoners were confined to their corridor. As they were taking their noon-day recreation, a delegate of the Commune appeared, and, standing in their midst, called off fifteen names. F. Olivaint was the first. “Present,” he answered, crossing the corridor. F. Caubert was second, and F. de Bengy third. This last name was badly written, and worse pronounced. “If you mean to say de Bengy,” he replied, “it is I, and I am here.”
The condemned men asked to be allowed to go for a moment to their cells, as some had slippers on, and no hats. “No,” was the response, “for what remains for you to do you are well enough as you are.” New victims were added from other parts of the prison until there were fifty in all, the number required by the Commune.
These were taken a long road to Belleville, a faubourg at a great [pg 520] distance, in order, probably, to excite the passions of the mob, and rouse them once more.
The procession started at about four o'clock from La Roquette. First came a guard bareheaded, who loudly announced that these were Versaillais, made prisoners that morning. The escort consisted of five hundred armed men, National Guards, to whom were added, for this genial occasion, the Enfants Perdus of Bergeret and rowdies under various names. Presently the women, veritable furies, and the children joined in, howling, shrieking, imprecating, blaspheming. The crowd increasing in numbers and insolence, the guards were obliged to interfere to protect the prisoners, not from insult, but from extreme violence. The fury of the mob constantly demanded the moment of execution; a military band was added to the procession to drown the clamor and make the crowd more willing to wait. Finally they reached the entrance to the Cité Vincennes. The passage is narrow, the crowd was enormous, and growing ever more furious as they neared the end. An aged priest, who could not keep up, was shot and killed by a woman, and dragged to the place of general execution. After a time, they found some grounds laid out for country parties or picnics, and an enclosure, uncovered, which was intended for a dancing-hall. The fifty prisoners were forced into this, jammed savagely against the walls, while the crowd showered maledictions upon them. Then, at about six o'clock, there took place a scene absolutely indescribable; not an execution, but a slaughter. They were not shot, but massacred. One discharge followed another; there was an attempt made to fire by platoons, but it was badly managed. The heroines of the Commune climbed the walls, urging on the men and insulting the priests. The tumult at its height lasted for about fifteen minutes. At seven o'clock all was ended. The bodies were left stretched upon the ground until the next day, when they were thrown into a cellar or vault.
It was the death-throe of the Commune. The blood of the just had cried to heaven, and France lifted up her head. The next day was Pentecost; the Commune was crushed, the doors of Roquette were opened, the bodies of the martyrs were recovered, and on Wednesday, May 31, the Jesuit church, for two months closed like the rest, was opened once more, and the funeral ceremonies of the five of their order whose imprisonment we have so hastily followed celebrated with the utmost solemnity. Their remains now repose in the Jesuit chapel of the Rue de Sèvres.
“There must be victims; it is God who has chosen them.” They recognized the divine call, and went forth rejoicing. Ibaut gaudentes.
Antar And Zara; Or, “The Only True Lovers.” III.
An Eastern Romance Narrated In Songs.
By Aubrey De Vere.