At the trial of FerrÉ, August 10, Dr. Puymoyen, physician to the prison for juvenile offenders, opposite La Roquette, gave the following graphic evidence:—

“Immediately after the insurgents, driven back by the troops, had occupied La Roquette, they installed a court-martial at the children’s prison opposite, where I live. It was from thence I saw the poor wretches whom they feigned to release, ushered in to the square, where they encountered an ignoble mob, that ill-treated them in the most brutal manner. I was told that FerrÉ presided over this court-martial. Its proceedings were singular. I saw an unfortunate gendarme taken to the prison; he had been arrested near the Grenier d’Abondance, on a denunciation. He wore a blouse, blue trousers, and an apron, and was charged with having stolen them. The mob wanted to enter the prison along with him, but the keepers, who behaved very well, prevented the invasion of the courtyard. The escort was commanded by a young woman carrying a Chassepot, and wearing a chignon. I entered the registrar’s office with this unfortunate gendarme. One Briand, who was charged to question the prisoners summarily, asked him where his clothes came from. The man was very cool and courageous, and his perfect self-possession disconcerted this juge d’instruction. He was asked if he were married, and had a family. He replied, ‘Yes, I have a wife and eight children.’ He was then shown into the back office, where the ‘judges’ were. These judges were mere boys, who seemed quite proud of the part they were playing, and gave themselves no end of airs, I asked the governor of the gaol soon afterwards what had been done with the gendarme. He told me that they were going to shoot him. I replied, ‘Surely it can’t be true. I must see the president—we can’t allow a married man with eight children to be murdered in this way.’ I tried to get into the room where the court-martial was sitting, but was prevented. One of the National Guards on duty at the door told me ‘Don’t go in there, or you’re done for (N’y entrez pas, ou vous Êtes f—).’ I made immediately further inquiries about M. Grudnemel, and was told he was in ‘a provisional cell.’ I trembled for him, for I knew that meant he would be given up to the mob, which would tear him to pieces. When they said, ‘This man is to be taken to a cell,’ that meant that he was to be shot. When they said, ‘Put him in a provisional cell,’ it meant that he should be delivered over to the mob for butchery, I continued to plead the gendarme’s cause with the National Guard, dwelling on the fact of his having eight children. Thereon, the Woman above referred to, who appeared to be in command of the detachment, exclaimed, ‘Why does this fellow go in for the gendarme?’ One of her acolytes replied, ‘Smash his jaw.’ This woman seemed to understand her business. She minutely inspected the men’s pouches to ascertain that they had plenty of ammunition. She would not hear of the gendarme being reprieved, and she had her way. I understood that I had better follow the governor’s advice and keep quiet. A mere boy was placed as sentry at the door of the court-martial. He told me, ‘You know I sha’n’t let you in.’ When I saw the poor gendarme leave the room he looked at me imploringly; he had probably detected in my eyes a look of sympathy. And when he was told that he might go out—hearing the yells of the mob—he turned towards me and said, ‘But I shall be stoned to death;’ and, in fact, it was perfectly fearful to hear the shouts of the crowd outside. I could not withstand the impulse, and I took my place by his side, and tried to address the crowd. ‘Think on what you are going to do—surely you won’t murder the father of eight children.’ The words were hardly out of my mouth when a kind of signal was given. I was shoved back against the wall, and one National Guard, clapping his hand on his musket, ejaculated, ‘You know, you old rascal, there is something for you here,’ and he drove his bayonet through my whiskers. The unfortunate gendarme was taken across the place, close to the shop where they sell funeral wreaths, but there was no firing party in attendance. He then took to his heels, but was pursued, captured, and put to death. I began to feel rather bewildered, and some one urged me to return to the prison, which I did. A young linesman was then brought in. He was quite a young fellow, barely twenty; his hands were tied behind his back. They decided to kill him within the prison. They set upon him, beat him, tore his clothes, so that he had hardly a shred of covering left; they made him kneel, then made him stand up, blindfolded him then uncovered his eyes; finally they put an end to his long agony by shooting him, and flung the body into a costermonger’s cart close to the gate. Several priests had got out of the prison of La Roquette. The AbbÉ Surat, on passing over a barricade, was so imprudent as to state who he was, and showed some articles of value he had about him. He had got as far as about the middle of the Boulevard du Prince EugÈne, when he was arrested and taken back to the prison, where they prepared to shoot him. But the young woman whom I have before mentioned, with a revolver in one hand and a dagger in the other, rushed at him exclaiming, ‘I must have the honour of giving him the first blow.’ The abbÉ instinctively put his hands out to protect himself, crying, ‘GrÂce! grÂce!’ Whereon this fury shouted, ‘GrÂce! grÂce! en voilÀ un maigre,’ and she discharged her revolver at him. His body was not searched, but his shoes were removed. Afterwards his pastoral cross and 300 francs were found about him. The boys detained in the prison were set at liberty. The smaller ones were made to carry pails of petroleum, the others had muskets given them, and were sent to fight. Six of them were killed; the remainder came back that night, and on the following day. About a hundred boys were taken to Belleville by a member of the Commune, quite a young man; they were wanted to make sand-bags, to be filled with earth to form barricades.”