Regarding the death of President Bonjean, the Abbé de Marsay said—“That
gentleman carried his scruples so far that he would not avail himself
of forty-eight hours’ leave on _parole_, fearing he could not get back
in time; thus did not see his family.”
The Abbé Perni, a venerable man with a white beard, who had been a
missionary said:
“On Wednesday, the 24th of May, we were ordered back to our cells at La
Roquette at an earlier hour than usual, and at about four o’clock in
the afternoon a battalion of federates noisily occupied the passage
into which our cells opened. They spoke at the topmost pitch of their
voices. One of them said, ‘We must get rid of these Versailles
banditti.’ Another replied, ‘Yes; let us bowl them over, put them to
bed.’ I understood what this meant, and prepared for death. Soon after
the door next mine was opened, and I heard a man asking if M. Darboy
was there. The prisoner replied in the negative. The man passed before
my door without stopping, and I soon heard the mild voice of the
archbishop answering to his name. The hostages were then dragged put of
the lobby; ten minutes later I saw the mournful _cortège_ pass in front
of my windows; the federates were walking along in a confused way,
making a noise to cover the voice of their victims, but I could hear
Father Allard exhorting his companions to prepare for death. A little
after I heard the report of the muskets, and understood that all was
over. On Thursday (the 25th) the day passed off quietly, but on Friday
shells began to fall on the prison, and at about half-past four in the
afternoon a corporal, named Romain. came up, and with a joyful face
told us we would soon be free. He said answer to your names; I must
have 15. He had a list in his hand, and I must confess a feeling of
terror came over us all. Ten hostages answered to their names. One of
them, a father of the order of Picpus, asked if he could take his hat.
Romain replied, ‘Oh, it’s no use; you are only going to the
registrar’s.’ None of these unfortunate men ever returned. On Saturday
(the 27th) we learnt that several of the prisoners had been armed with
hammers, files, &c. They threw us some of these in at the windows. We
were then informed that several members of the Commune had arrived at
La Roquette. I cannot say whether Ferré was among them. We were taken
back to our cellars, where we expected to be put to death every minute.
At about four o’clock the cells of the common prisoners were opened,
and they escaped, shouting ‘Vive la Commune!’ Our keeper himself had
disappeared, and a turnkey presently opened our cells, and recommended
us to run away. We were afraid this was a trap, but as it might afford
a chance we determined to avail ourselves of it. Those amongst us who
had plain clothes hurried them on, and I must say the gaolers behaved
admirably in this emergency; they lent clothes to such of us as had
none, and we were thus all enabled to escape. As for myself, after
wandering for about an hour in the streets about the prison, and being
unable to find shelter anywhere, and afraid of being murdered in the
streets, I determined to return to La Roquette. As I reached it I met
the archbishop’s secretary, two priests, and two gendarmes, who, like
myself, had been driven to return to the prison. One of the keepers
told us that the safest for us was the sick ward. We dressed up in the
hospital uniform and hid in bed. At eight in the evening the federates,
who were not aware that we had escaped, came back and called on the
gaolers to produce us. They were told we had gone; fortunately they
believed it. On Sunday the troops came in, and I left La Roquette for
good this time. In reply to a further question the witness said that as
the hostages marched past his windows, on their way to execution, he
saw President Bonjean raising his hands, and heard him say, ‘_Mon Dieu,
mon Dieu!_’