At one o’clock this morning, the 5th of April, on my return from one of
these nightly excursions through Paris, I was following the Rue du Mont
Thabor so as to gain the boulevards, when on crossing the Rue
Saint-Honoré I perceived a small number of National Guards ranged along
the pavement. The incident was a common one, and I took no notice of
it. In the Rue du Mont Thabor not a person was to be seen; all was in
silence and solitude. Suddenly a door opened a few steps in front of
me; a man came out and hurried away in the direction opposite to that
of the church. This departure looked like a flight. I stopped and lent
my attention. Soon two National Guards rushed out by the same door,
ran, shouting as they went, after the fugitive, who had had but a short
start of them, and overtaking him, without difficulty brought him back
between them, while the National Guards that I had seen in the Rue
Saint-Honoré ran up at the noise. The exclamations and insults of all
kinds that were vociferated led me to ascertain that the man they had
arrested was the Abbé Deguerry, _curé_ of the Madeleine. He was dragged
into the house, the door was shut, and all sank into silence again.
That morning I learned that Monseigneur Darboy, the Archbishop of
Paris, was taken at the same hour and in almost similar circumstances.
[Illustration: ABBÉ DEGUERRY, Curé of the Madeleine.]
The arrests of several other ecclesiastics are cited. The _curé_ of St.
Séverin and the _curé_ of St. Eustache have been made prisoners, it is
said; the first in his own house, the second at the moment when he was
leaving his church. The _curé_ of Notre-Dame-des-Victoires was to have
been arrested also, but warned in time, he was able to place himself in
safety.
Monseigneur Darboy, being conducted to the ex-prefecture (why the
_ex_-prefecture? It seems to me it works just as well as when it was
purely and simply a prefecture), was cross-examined there by the
citizen delegate Rigault. It must be said that Monsieur Rigault had
begun to make himself talked about during these last few days. He is
evidently a man who has a natural vocation for the employment he has
chosen, for he arrests, and arrests, and still arrests. He is young,
cold, and cynical. But his cynicism does not exclude him from a certain
gaiety, as we shall see. It was the Citizen Rigault, then, who examined
the Archbishop of Paris. I am not inordinately curious, but I should
very much like to know what the cynical member of the Commune could ask
of Monseigneur Darboy. Having committed apparently but one crime, that
of being a priest, and having no inclination to disguise it, it is
difficult to know what the interrogatory could turn upon. Monsieur
Rigault’s imagination furnished him no doubt with ample materials for
the interview, and he has probably as much vocation for the part of a
magistrate as for that of a police officer. But however it may be, the
journals of the Commune record this fragment with ill-disguised
admiration.
[Illustration: Raoul Rigault[36]]
[Illustration: Monseigneur Darboy, Archbishop of Paris.]
“My children”—the white-haired Archbishop of Paris is reported to have
said at one moment.
“Citizen,” interrupted the Citizen Rigault, who is not yet thirty, “you
are not before children, but before magistrates.”
That was smart! And I can conceive the enthusiasm with which Monsieur
Rigault inspires the members of the Commune. But this excellent citizen
did not confine himself to this haughty repartee. I am informed (and I
have reason to believe with truth) that he added: “Moreover, that’s too
old a tale. You have been trying it on these eighteen hundred years.”
Now everyone must admit that this is as remarkable for its wit as for
its elegance, and it is just what might be expected of the amiable
delegate, who, the other day, in a moment of exaggerated clemency,
permitted an abbé to visit a prisoner in the Conciergerie, and
furnished him with a _laisser-passer_ that ran thus: “Admit the bearer,
who styles himself the servant of one of the name of God.” Oh! what
graceful, charming wit!