The New York Herald Newspaper, May 16, 1873, Page 4

4 NEW YORK HERALD, FRIDAY, MAY 16, 1873—TRIPLE NANI’S END 5 The Italian Wife Murderer Executed at Morristown, N. J., Yesterday. | eS STORY OF THE CRIME. | A Tale of Love, Jealousy, Deser- tion and Revenge. pL eee THE TRIAL, CONVICTION AND SENTENCE, ——-——— Mow the Repeated Efforts to Save the Prisoner's Life Failed. ——EEE THE LAST DAYS OF THE MURDERER, He Spends His Time im Sing- ing and Prayer. The Closing Scenes in the Condemned Cell. The March to the Scaffold and Execution. FIGHTING FOR THE DEAD MAN'S BODY. Morristown, N. J., May 15, 1873. At twenty-five minutes past eleven o’clock this morning Luigi Lusignani, the Italian, was exe- cuted, in the presence of about two hundred peo- ple, for the murder of his wife. STORY OF THE CRIME. The crime for which Lusignani has offered up his fife was committed on the 7th of November last, The actors in the tragedy, besides Lusignani, were Philip Massalini, Giovanni Bariotti and Johanna Moosi, The parties were all Italians, possessing in a marked degree the fiery and tmpetu- ous tempers which are characteristic of the children of the sunny Southern clime. Two or three years ago Luigi Lusignani was in Italy, living with his aged father and mother in his native province of Bobia. He was one of thirteen children, twe of whom now only survive—a sister, and a priest who lives near Rome. The early portion of Lusignani’s life had been adventurous and stormy. He worked while quite young on a plantation near his father’s home, and while here one of the great risings in the cause of Italian liberty took place under the leadership of Garibaldi, The martial youth of Italy, fired with ideas of patriotism and dreams of freedom, were everywhere flocking to the standara of the great leader, and Lusignani, sharing the infection, enrolled himself as a soldier in the Garibaldian ranks. From the stories told by him- self and others of the campaign in which he bore a part, itis evident he acquitted himself bravely, and a wound which he received in battle, slightly laming him for life, bore evidence to his valor. When the brief war was over and Garibaldi had re- turned to his home in Caprera, Lusignani re- turned to his native piace, but feeling restless and unsatisfied, he manifested a desire to emigrate to America. His parents tried to dissuade him from this resolution, but as his mind was fillea with visions of what he fondly hoped was an El Dorado, he would not consent to remain at home, and some two years ago he arrived in this country. He tried his hand at a variety of employments, but leit them in succession until he went to work in the shop of Giovanni Bariotti, an Italian like himself, and the future source of all his future miseries, who kept a shoe shop in Centre street. THE MEETING WITH JOHANNA MOOST. Ifthe career of Lusignani in America, up to this date, had not been very prosperous, it was, at the least, happy; but the fates were about to gather around him, and the circumstances beginning to develop themselves which led to his untimely and ignominious death on the scaffold to-day. Like most of the Italian residents of this city, Luigt boarded in the Sixth ward, and in the classic pre- cincts of Baxter street he met the woman who was afterward to be his wife and his ruin—Johanna Moosi. Johanna was a splendid type of the pe- culiar style of beauty for which the peasant women of Italy are so justly celebrated. She was of medium height, but her form was rounded to perfection, and her step was like that of a queen, She had glorious black bair, a set of pearly teeth, small hands and feet, and a broad, intelligent forehead. She was just such a ‘weman as would make a deep impression upon a young and ardent nature like that of Lusignant, and the poor fellow, who was easily moved to fury or to laughter, to tears or to love, adored Jehanna with all the strength of his hot Italian blood. Whether Johanna really loved Luigi or not cannot be ascertained, but she lent a willing ear to his suit, and, after a brief courtship, the couple were married by an Italian priest in Hoboken, and commenced keeping house on Baxter street, Lusig- nani still continuing to work im the shop of Bariott, THE BEC NG OF THE END. For a short honeymoon all went merry as a marriage bell. Luigi was indus- trious, Johanna a good housekeeper, ave fair promise of happiness, already gathering and the t was about to be rudely dis- m to lose his business in and her wedded ite But the clouds were dream of contentm pelled. Bartotti Centre street, and sold out his st . and Went to live in the mining € e@ iine of the Delaware and | Lackawanna Railroad. While Luigi was working in the shop of Bariotti, Johanna was in the habit of bringing hin his me and bariotti began to jook with unholy e upon the swarthy beauty. She received his advances graciously, and when he left Centre street sh splayed consider- able regret, which did not escape the ervation | of her husband, When he had gone ay the true | nature of Johanna began to manifest itself. She shunned the company of Luigi, and commenced to frequent the low Italian drinking saloons of Baxter | street. Not satisfied with this, she displayed a marked preference for other men over her hus- band, and the latter was at length compelled to interfere and, if possible, rescue the woman irom the downward course which he saw she was rapidly pursuing. He remonstrated with her, at first gently but irmly, but she refused to listen to him, and rows became of frequent occurrence, Which sometimes ended in blows, Lusignani in- variably coming out of these encounters second best. Finding that remonstrances and threats were of no use, Lusignani had recourse to a stratagem, and one day, when Johanna was out, he having previously procured apartments jn the upper part of the city, had her clothes removed to the new residence. He hoped, by removing her from the contaminating intuence of the neigh- borhood, to work @ reformation in her character; but in this he was doomed to disappointment. When Johanna heard of the rnse which had been practised upon her she became furions and de manded back her effects. Luigi very préperly re- fused to give them to her; and, having given vent to her indignation, she suddenly disappeared—ieft the city—and for months Lusignani could find no trace of her. JOHANNA AND HER PARAMOUR, Luigi left no stone unturned to obtain some cine to the whereabouts of the missing woman, but for a long time he was unsuccessful. Atlength fortune befriended. A wandering Italian organ grinder, passing through Dover in his rambles, recognized | in the streets Johanna and Bariottl He made | inquiries about them, and heard that they were living together as man and wife. When he returned to New York he communicated the intelligence to Luigi, Who at once deter- mined, if possible, to recover bis wife, and with this end in view he consulted a lawyer, who advised him to write to the woman, He wrote twice, offering her forgiveness if she would return, but his letters were unanswered, and in consequence he determined to proceed to Dover himself. An old friend of Its childhood, Philip Massolint, con- penal to accompany him, and on the 7th of No- vember they took the early train trom Hoboken. They arrived tn Dover about ten o'clock in the morning, and the first news they heard was that Bariott! had become bankrupt, and that ip aski to be released from the consequences of his bank- Tuptey he had sworn that he was a married man, securing himself $750 by his oath. THE DEATH STRUGGLE. finally became so baa that he | residence of Bariotti on hearing this news. The house oceupied by the latter consisted of a single room, the rear of which was used jor sleeping and the iront by the shoe shop. Bariottt was sitting workin whea the couple entered and Johanna waain the rear cutting a piece of meat prepare: tory for cooking. (What follows in the story Luigt himsel! tells, and there ts no reason to believe it ts untrue.) ‘The parties all looked at each other tn si- lence, asilence ominous of the approaching tragedy. At length Luigi spoke, and, addressing Johanna, asked her to return with nim to New York, This she flatly refused to do; but Luigi renewed his en- treaties and asked to speak to her privately, and as there was uo inner apartment the unhappy pair came out upon the stoop to talk. They conversed in Italian, and as their conversation waa getting to be very exciting, Bartottt came out and said that Uf Lusignani would return to New York he would promise that his wife shouid follow him. ‘This did nos satisfy. Luigt, and he still urged the woman to retura, but she became savage, accused Luigi of robbing and il-treating her, saying that ho persuasion could induce her to ever live with him again. Massolini all this time sat upon a bench and did not interfere. When the ill-mated husband and wife had taiked some time upon the stoop they returned into the house again, While Luigi was eae r 2 with bis back to Johanna, she suddenly (as he stated) raised the carving knife and inflicted a wound in the abdo- men, the mark of which he has carricd with him te bis grave. Me was at the same time Struck behind the ear with a hammer. He grasped her around the waist and fiercely strug- gled for the possession of the knife. In the en- counter the woman received a cut upon the breast. Luigi got the knife and Johanna suddenly threw herself forward and attempted to seize a shoe- maker's knite which lay upon Bariotti’s bench, Luigi's fierce blood was inflamed to an ungovernable degree, and, while his wile was bending forward, he struck her a terrioie blow, the knife penetrating far into the back, and she fell to the floor a cor When Johanna tell Bariotu sprang upon Luigi, but the latter, with the bloody knife, inflicted two wounds in his stomach, which disabled him trom further combat, lini, who had sat through the tragedy in astapefied state, at this point jumped up and wrested the knile from the hands of Luigt and flung it into the street. They were both soon afterwards arrested, and when the Coronor's inquest had been hela they were sent to the County Jail at Morristown, Bariotti's lite was for some time despaired of, but youth and skilful treatment triumphed and he re- covered, THE TRIAL AND SENTENCE. Lusignanit was brought to trtal on the 17th of February, Massalini having been previously dis- charged, and after an impartial hearing, which oc- cupied tour days, the case was given to the jury. Krom the many extenuating circumstances con- nected with the case no one surmised that a heavter verdict than murder in the second degree or manslaughter in the first degree would have been rendered; but the jury thought different, and, to the surprise and consternation of nearly every one in Court, a verdict of murder tn the first de- gree was brought in. Messrs. Wurts & Childs, counsel for the prisoner, asked to have the verdict set aside on account of irregularities connected with the jury, and Judge Dalrymple, suspending sentence, appointed aday for the hearing of the argument in the matter. The arguments were heard, and after three weeks’ consultation the mo- tion was denied and Lusignani was sentenced te be hanged en the Ist of May. When sentence was pronounced the prisoner became greatly excited, and, in his broken English, denounced the Judge and jury, saying that because he was poor he must be hanged. THE FIGHT FOR LIFE. The devoted counsel of Lusignant were deter- mined that he should not perish without a strong efort being made on his behalf. A petition was drawn up, which was signed by nearly all the in- habitants of Morristown, including every man of respectability and note, and presented to the Governor. The case was laid before the Court of Pardons, but the Court refused to interfere, and orders were given that the ipreneranlons for the execution should be proceeded with. The day pre- ceding the execution Governor Parker, who was said to be personally in favor of com- mutation of sentence, granted a reprieve of two weeks on strong representations which had been brought to bear upon him by prisoner's counsel, and the case was again taken before the Court of Pardons, but that body was inex- orable, and the Sheriff was notified that Lusignant must die when his reprieve had terminated. LUSIGNANI’S PRISON LIFE. Since sentence was pam Lusignani has acted strangely, but many of the stories which have been pple’ relative to his conduct are entirely false. 118 courage never for an instant drooped, and he displayed no terror at the thought of his approach. ing end. Te those persons who had befriended him he was deeply grateiul, and manifested his grat- itude by eloquence of voice and gesture. The people of Morristown had become greatly attached to him, and he has, since sentence was passed, not been compete toeat the prison fare, delicacies of all kinds being treely supplied to him by the Sherif and others. Father Vassalo, an Italian priest from Orange, has been with him nearly all the time, and the Sisters of Charity from the St. Elizabeth Convent have been unwearied in their labor ot love. ach igen frequently talked of the disgrace his execution would bring upon his fam- ily, but for himself, he said, death had no terrors, as he had faced it like a soldier and would die like asoldier. When speaking of his soldiering life he would frequently break out into one of the pa- triotic songs of his country, and his deep, rich voice could be heard from the street by the passers-by. He was visited by the Italian Consul of this city, who exhorted him to die like @ man, which he promised to do. Father Sheeran, the parish clergy- man, and Father Hickey, of Hackensack, have also been frequent visitors in the condemned cell. THE LAST DAY. Yesterday the scaffold was erected in the rear of the jail. There was no raised platform, but, instead, plain boards were gen along the ground. In place of having the weights which held the rope run over to the north end of the scaf- fold, a patent spring was attached to the weights, which the Sherif could, by touching, work so as to make the weights drop. This is the first time this contrivance has been used in the State of New Jersey. The yardrin which the scaffold was erected was screened from view upon all sides. The Court House conceals it from the street. The Clerk’s and Surrogate’s offices form the rear, and @ high wooden wail runs along either side. The cell window of the prisoner looks out upon the yard, and the condemned had an op- eats of Witnessing the awful preparations, He was notin the least affected by the sight, but laughed, and said to the Sherif, “Me go out and dig hole; dig deep.’’ There was very little excite- ment in Morristown during the day, but toward evening the late trains brought in numbers of strangers, and a strong force of reporters made the town look more animated, Father Vassalo, who stayed with the prisoner ior three or four days eo the execution; Fathers Ronaldo and lickey, of Hackettstown; Father Sberan, of Mor- ristown, and = two Sisters of Charity were wih the prisoner during the entire day. In the morning a barber came and made the last tollet o1 the unhappy man, and on leaving was stupid enough to leave his scissors behind him, Luigi picked them up and sent for the Sheritt, When the Sheriff came he produced the scissors and said, “If me Want to Kill myself, look here! But no; don’t jose ay soul; Lam a good Catholic.” Every now and then he would burst into snatches of sacred song, and as he had a natural gift for | poetry he would composegand sing at the same | ume, dragging in every little incident that was | transpiring around, He seemed to be in the best of spirits, and laughed and joked incessantly, his gayety communicating to his visitors, notwith- | Standing THE SOLEMNITY OF THE OCCASION. He once brought out and sang “Shoo fy, don't bodder me,"’ but recollecting himself he changed this melody foran Italian hymn. During the day a young lady named Carting, of Monmouth county, who has remained a faithiul friend to Lusignani during all bis triais, visited him in the cell, and on parting th both wept luke children, When the hole had been dug and before the scaffola was erected & screen was placed in front ofthe window to conceal aoe from view. Every time Lusignani would hear the noise of the hammering he would say, passionately clasping the crucifix to his breast, “Me no afraid to die; me 0 to heaven young.’ He would then break into fervent praying in his native tongue, which would be followed by singing. At six o'clock the Sisters of Charity left him for the night. He bade them farewell with great fortitude, Aiter they had lett he called for his supper and ate a hearty meal of beefsteak and pie. Soon atter, the priests left nim alone for a little while and went to supper. While they were away Lusignant amused himself by sing- ing, and in his voice there Was not the slightest quaver. THE LAST NIGHT. At ten o'clock the three priests returned to pass the night with the prisoner. They were accom- panied by a reporter of the HERALD, who was warmly greeted by Lusignani on entering the cell. The prisoner was dressed in deep mourning and wore a white rose in his button-hole. His counte- nance Was ghastly pale, but Peat tana was regular and his heart beat at its usual rate. He taiked rationally upon the subjects connected with his ex- ecution, and spoke of his trial and of the people who had befriended him. At times he would get very excited, and when thinking of his family he would press ‘his hands to his temples with a took of intense agony. A bottle of Rhine wine of a weak quality was upon the table beside him and from this he would drink fre- quently. He kept continually repeating that in was oe ae 2 silty ar ae ngers upon his throat, poin' 0 itas the place where the rope would go. He asked the HERALD reporter to contradict the stories which had been ubiisoed of his profanity, as caey vere entirely incorrect, What made people lieve he was swearing was the habit he kad of repeat- ing = prayer’ which Father Sheran had taught him—“My God, my God, forgive me for’ my crime.’ This was mistaken by the | people whe heard him for blasphemy. The | hervous fits which seized the prisomer were some- tunes very severe, but they generally were over in & moment. Me said that they were not the result of fear, but that they came upon him when he thonght of his fami Once when he became excited he struck the chair with his fist, and said, “TAM MAN, NoT WooD,’”? and I must feel. The Sherif at tis time came into the cell to bid the prisoner good night, and Lusig- nani sprung up and kissed him on the cheek, @ay- ing, ‘You sorry for me, Sheriff, | sorry for you.” He said he was grateful te the Sherif for his ktnd+ ness, and thanked him since He said to the EERALD reporter, “Stay here all night, L boss of thia cell." Lusignant and Massolini at once proceeded to the At eleven o'clock the three priests engaged in i Drayer with him, He joined devoutly in the re- sponses, and when the prayers were concluded he asked for some wine, as he wanted to go tosicep. After drinking the wine he walked rest- lessly up and down the cell, and about midnight he threw himself on the bed and tried to sleep. He lay still for a few moments and the priests thought he had fallen into a dose, but be suddenly jumped from the bed and asked for more wine, which was given him, He then said it was impossible for him to sieep, and prayer was again engaged in. For half an hour or so Lusignani remained very quict, but at the end of that time one of his nervous bts came upon him and he burst into a paroxysm of prayer and called God and his confessor to witness that he had been guilty of no crime; that what he did was done in an un guarded moment, without any thought of the con- sequences, About one o'clock he became ex- hausted and he again tried to sleep, but he could not, and Fatuer litckey aud his associace priests again prayed, Lusignant leaning his head upon the knees of Father Vassalo. He centinued praying jor some tune, and when he had concluded felt considerably relieved. He lighted a cigar and com- menced pacing up and down the cell. When tie had smoked the cigar he sung snatcnes of hymrs, and by turns conversed with the priests. At three o'clock he drank more wine, and made gsnother ineffectual effort to obtain some repose. He fell into a dose, for the first time during the night, but it only lasted a few moments, as he sprang up, Wildly exclaiming, “Oh, my mother! my mother! I die! I die!’ ‘ther Vas- salo put his arm around the poor fellow, and tried to quiet him, but his agitation was 80 great that tt was some minutes before he could be pacified, and when the fit had passea he dropped into a chair, completely exhausted. At four o’glock the priests made another effort to induce Lusignani to si¢ep, but he reused, saying, ‘I sieep only once more; I want no sle DIE LIKE A MAN.’ He continued to pace the cell furiously and would not sit still for a moment in the same place, He frequently sung, and prayed often, Clasping the crucifix to hia breast and lipa atintervals, At about half-paat four the sun commenced torise, and it poured a flood of pale light into the cell, bringing into bold relief the snadow of the scaffold tn the rear, Father Vassalo extinguishea the light, and Lisignani, looking up, said, ‘That ia my last sun; it shines for me to-day in heaven.” ‘The orb of day gradually rose and soon shone with all its brightness upon the weary watchers, The countenance of Lusignani was very ale, and hts eee leeked wild and wandering, but e@ talked collectedly, and readily answered all questions which were asked him. About five o'clock one of the most nervous attacks of the hr came upon him. He was praying with the priesta, when, in a moment, he struck his forchead with nis clenched fst, and then burted hus face in the chair, exclaiming in a heart-rending voice :— “My poor parents! Oh, my poor parenta!”’ His frame for some moments shook with agony, but it was agony for others, not for himself. | He remained in this way for some time, but he gradually quieted down, and Father Hickey, leaving at this time the other priests, knelt down and prayed menvently: They remained in prayer for nearly an hour, Lusignani listened attentively, every now and then throw- ing himself into the lap of the priest. He held up a cross when iat arose, and said, ‘Me die by this; me no airaid.” He was quiet for a little time and he then got wila again. He lit a cigar, but threw it away after smoking a minnte or two and drank some wine. When he had drank the wine he seemed to be stronger, and sangin @ loud, clear voice, the “Miserere,” after which he sank into a chair. THE LAST HOURS. The Sisters of Charity arrived at the jail shortly after six o'clock, and relieved Father Vassalo, who jeft to procure some breakfast. The HERALD re- porter left atthe same time and came out upon the street. The morning was beautiful; the sun was pouring a perfect flood of glory upen the houses and squares, and all nature seemed rejoic- ing as if in mockery of the unhappy man within the prison walls. By this time the town commenced to get alive with excitement, people beginning to come in from the country in the vain hope of ob- taining a view of the proceedings. About one hun- dred and twenty-five passes were issued by the Sherif, the reporters having to trast to Providence and an officer named John Moore to obtain ad- mission. THE LAST MEAL, At seven o'clock the HERALD reporter returned to the cell of the prisoner, Lusignani was sitting upon the bed waiting for hie breakfast. He had asked some time before for something to eat, and said he would like chicken; but he changed his mind and ordered some beefsteak and toast. This was provided for him and he made a hearty meal, observing that it was the last one he should ever eat. alf-past sever o'clock Father Vassalo re- turned to the jail and administered the last rites of the Roman Catholic Chureh to Luigi. He seemed to be greatly strengthened by the ceremony, and he sang the ‘“‘Stabat Mater"’ with peculiar sweetness, ‘atheras Sherans and Hickey soon afterward came, and all the priests robed themselves in their vestments. A raging thirst seemed to possess Lusignani, and he called frequently for wine, which was invariably furnishe: him, but as it was not much stronger than water it did not have much effect upon him. He ad- dressed himself to the HeRaLp reporter, the only reporter who was admitted to the cell during the morning, and asked to have it stated that he did not tremble and was not afraid to die. Rising and waiking the cell, he said, “My God, forgive me for my crime. You died upon the cross: give me strength to die like a soldier of the cross.” He utterance to many more beautiiul sentiments, some of which were very poetical, asking for wings to fly up to heaven, and saying that he would be with tne angels praying for his friends before night. He sang eprom sonnets about the priests and every one in the room, and Herta ie the Sheriff, said he was good and bad provided him with everything necessary to die, NEARING THE END. At nine o’clock the priests engaged in prayer, Lusignant kneeling at Father Vussalo’s knee, de- voutly repeating after the priests. While thus en- gaged another nervous fit came upon him, and he poured forth a hurricane of talk in his native lan- guage about his crime and his friends in Italy. He particularly wished his brother to be informed that he died penitent and a good Catholic, This attack lasted longer than any other, and it was nearly an hour before he was himself again. He turned to the reporter and sald, “Me no afraid,” putting his hand upon his breast. “Me heart all right. If door would open and some one wouid say, Luigi, prison for life, me would no care, Tam reconciled to my God, and am willing to die.” Father Hickey at this moment put his hand upon the head of the prisoner, and said to him, ‘Luigt, I wish I was going with you where you are going to-day.” Luigi turned round and playfully answered, ‘Well, take my place; me go under the bed.” Father Sheeran said, “Luigi, I have said mass for you this morning,” at which Luigi eb- served he would pray for all present in heaven to- morrow. THE PROCESSION TO THE SCAFFOLD It_ was now ten o'clock, and, with the exception of the priests, every one, including the Sisters of Charity, whom Luigi tenderly embraced at part- ing, left the cell. Outside the preparations had been all completed. Company A, of the Fifteenth regt- ment of New Jersey, arrived from Orange at about nine o'clock, and surrounded the Court House at all points. All who were not prepared with passes were refused admission, and it was with great dimeculty that some of the members ot the press got into the Court House, Every vantage ground in the vicinity had been eagerly seized upow, and the adjoining trees and housetops were alive with spectators. The windows of the clerk's office opening upon the yard were filled, as were also the Court House win- dows. One side of the yard was set aside for reporters bad the Sheri ‘There were in the yard altogether about two hundred and fifty persons. At haif-past ten Luigi couid be heard singing in a clear, firm voice, “My God, my God, forgive me.”’ As his life came to be counted by minutes he prayed earnestly with the priests, but showed no sign of faltering. At a few minutes past eleven o'clock the Sheriff entered Lusignant’s cell and said to him, “Lusige nani, your hour has arrived.” Lusignani said, “Me allready; me want to die quick.” Mr. Eastman, the Jailer, then commenced to pinion the prisoner, at which the latter became very indignant, thinking that the act implied that he wanted to run When he was informed that it necessary to pinion him he quietly submitted, and when his arms had been tied he turned to the Sheriff and said:—“Hang me quick; me say noth- ing.” A guard of soldiers now surrounded the scaffold and the passage jeading from the rear of the Court House to the gallows was cleared. In the cell the priests commenced to chant the prayers for the lying, and in a few seconds the voice of Lusignani could be heard singing the “Miserere’’ as he advanced from hia cell. When the mounful procession came into view the sight was peculiarly affecting. Lusignant walked between the noble form of Father Vassalo and the venerable one of Father Sheran. His step for but an instant faltered, but he speedily recovered himself, and, sti) singing, reached the scaffold and bis head was fixed under the noose. THE LAST SCRNE OF ALI. The face of Father Vassalo was wrung with an- guish and the tears were running down the cheeks of Fathers Hickey and Sheran ; but Lusignani never quailed, and he stood firm and steadfast, without twitch or tremor. As he stepped upon the board he said, in a voice of exultation :—“Me no trembie; no afraid to die; me good Catholicim.” He said rapidiy, in [tallan:—‘God forgive me and forgive all whe injured me. I am going to heaven." The black cap Was upon his head, but was not drawn over nis eyes, and, recognizing several per- sons in the crowd, he said to the Sheri, “Goodby, Sheriff,” and he spoke to the priests, missing them upon the cheeks 4s he bade them goodby, When the rope was about to be adjusted it was found that it was too short. A box Was hastily and placed under the doomed man . fret tte jumped upon |t with 4 bound, stamping his foot Fn ying, poiating to the rope, mt u eh he got Npon tae box he again sate ‘Die me partons (ded perion me), nd added some otier words in Italian. While he was yet speaking the biack cap was pulled over his face, and the rope was sprung at th me instant. The body of Lusignant was shot violentiy up, and the crucifix which he held in bis land dropped to the ground. He died very easily, and with the excep. tion of @ few nervons twitches tn his back and artog he showed — uc sO of sugering, In two minutes alter the rope was sprung hid pulse beat 140, in four minutes it waa To, and in seven minutes and @ fialfthe pulse lad ceased to beat and lite wasextinet, Alter the ody bad been Suspended about thitty minutes it was cut down oo. Qlaced io Colin, The teatures were perectiv calm and there was no appearance of discoloration. Death was caused by strangulation. The body was covered with black, and a plate in the form ofa cross pore the inscription ;— MON AEICOELEIOLOIELOLODEIDIODOLE RE TELE DOOE: LUIST LUSIGNANI, Died May 15, 1873, Aged 24 years, PODEIPOELEDIOE RL LEDPOL ILE OD OOE ne nenene. $ Dreccennnerecer sens FIGHTING FOR THE BODY, According to arrangements made by the priests the boay waa to be interred in the Catholic grave- | yard and services were to be held tn the church, When the body was placed in the coffin Father Vassalo asked that it be delivered up to tum, but he met with an unexpected ‘The doctors insisted that @ post-mortem examination should be made betore & certificate of the cause of death was given. «Father Vassalo in- dignantly objected to this being done, and very properly, too, a8 it was altogetuer unnecessary, as it was guggested with no other motive than to gratify the curiosity of the doctors, Notwithstand- ing the protests of the priests the body was taken into the cell and the coffin-lid and clothing taken off. ‘The two Ltaltan priests were very much excited, and after formally protesting they left and said they would abandon the body, and would not bury it after it had been mutilated, They left and the post mortem waa made, The neck of Lusignani was cut Open and it was found that it was not broken or dislocated, and that death had resulted from asphyxia. A certificate was granted to this elfect, and the body was replaced jo the coffin and taken out into the Court House hall, where it lay unt! iate in the afternoon, when it was carried to the town cemetery and placed in a vault. The conduct of the doctors isa severely commented upon, and their action is gen- erally condemned. So ended the laat scene in connection with a crime which, with its origin tn love, was prompted by jealousy and consummated by revenge. Lusig-. nani ts the first Italian who has ever beem executed in this county. AMUSEMENTS. Central Park Garden—Opening ot Theo- dore Thomas’ Summer Season. Perhaps the rush after postal cards is the only recent pleasant public excitement to which the attendance and excitement witnessed on the opening of Central Park Garden, and the reappear- ance of Mr. Theodore Thomas and his celebrated band can be fitly compared. The changes that have been made in the hall and its adjacent corridors are not important beyond the banishment of the ornate mirrors, which had the »questionabie advantage of re- minding one of @ defunct ice cream saloon, which had long since known its palmiest days. Everything susceptible of looking better beneath a fresh coat of paint had been thus recomplexioned, and a variety of plants were picturesquely disposed in vases and slender festoons, The appropriate- ness of letting well enough alone has seldom been more felicitously illustrated. This thin embroidery of leafage, accentuated here and there with a heavier alerete of flowers, set off the large room lightly and airily, and insinuated a conviction of Summer much more ea cierpptte than a pre- ponderance of looking glasses could do, It we cannot have Summer here in reality, let us, by all means, aid imagination, We do not propose giving a formal report of the manner in which Mr. Taomas and his band inter- preted the programme. The average New York audience may be Oyrenaic in its passion for change; but a New York audience that is fond of music—and such was the character of the audience at Central Park Garden last night—desires no more novelty than Mr. Thomas gives it, and last evening he eertainly gave it nothing that can be called absolutely new. There was French and Italian and German music, and selections from Auber and Weber and Beethoven, contrasted with melody from Schubert and the sparkling phrensy of Strauss. There were movements as rich as the red-flushed russet of Autumn, and har- monies a8 eingle, and unpretending as the buttercup’s infant simplicity, For Mr. Thomas presided, and the orchestra he commanded is composed of instfmentalists who have worked together tong ecb oah! to coalesce with as much perfection as the different proportions in a tem- perament, From the overture to ‘‘Masaniello,” with which the concert began, to the “March” by Michaelis, with which it ended, the orchestral in- terpretations were beautifull i firm and even. There were no tantalizing undulations of effort, resulting in proficiency in one number and medi- ocrity in the next, The rich stateliness and har- monic treatment of Weber, as evinced in the selec- tion trom “Precioso,”’ received as adequate and con- sclentious Seo anies the eighth Symphony of Beethoven, which, quite as much as any other ofthat liber composer’s symphonies, is the exponent of i8 spiritual experience during the years he was deprived o1 that exquisite sense which he lavished his existence in gratifying in others. The “Ama- ryllis” air, composed by Louis XIIL, is very much what might be expected to proceed from the in- vention of an effeminate and eccentric monarch, so chaste in reputation that no scandal ever at- tached to the court ladies who became hus favor- ites, yet so abnormal in the amours that he did have that even his accomplishments, like his taste for musical composition, for instance, were tinged with @ bizarre sensuousness. The rendition of this air was not among the shining successes of the evening, being greatly eclipsed by the overture to “William Tell” and Strauss’ waltz, “Wine, Woman and Song.” These garden concerts have now obtained a hold which entitle them to rank as institutions. It is something to have within easy distance a hand- some and respectable resort, where music, moon- shine and Moselle may be enjoyed simultaneeusly ; where we may applaud ‘Martha’ while we sip Markobrunner, and imbibe equal proportions of “Lohengrin” and lemonade. Amid such surround- ings even the business man finds himself mellow- ing Into momentary romance, and we should searcely be amazed to hear that Mr. Gosche him- self, overpowered by the lights, the music, the flowers and the Rudesheimer, sometimes wishes that managing the financial pane of garden concerts were compatible with his being a boy again. Some cynic declares that all our joys are somewhat like those 4 creatures that, when- ever they are watched, roll themselves up into a ball and pretend to be dead. Atany rate, \nis does not appear to be the case with the joy of earces con- certs. Another cyhic, this time a poeti marks :— For not to man on earth is given The ripe fulfilment of desire : esire of heaven itself is heaven, Unless the passion faint and tire. Evidently the passion for Thomas and his Summer concerts has not yet fainted and grown tired, though we cannot precisely think that the wish to fausy them 13 quite tantameunt to the enjoyment elt, ical one, re- Masical and Dramatic Notes. On Saturday evening Terrace Garden Theatre, on Third avenue and Fifty-eighth street, will be opened for a Summer season of operetta and light comedy. There is sad need of reform in the management of the choirs of some of our leading churches, In many cases the music is an insult to religion, and would be unworthy of the smallest concert hall, Mr. William A. Lilliendahl, the business manager of Wood's Museum, takes his first benefit at that establishment this afternoon and evening. Mr. Lalhendaal has many friends, who will turn out en masse to-day. Mr, Gye, of Covent Garden, has announced the name of Mme. Lucca as one of the attractions of his present season, although that lady has not the slightest intention of crossing the Atlantic this Summer. She goes to Narragansett Pier on the 29th. Mme. Natalie Testa, one of the best contraltos that ever appeared in opera at the Academy of Music, is stopping for a few days at the Fifth Ave- nue Hotel. many & crowded audience to the Irving place Opera House. Mile. Louise Liebhardt has a benefit at Steinway Hall this evening, at which Rubinstein, Miss Mehlig, Mile. Pauline Canissa, Mile. Drasdil, M. Sauret and Mr. Millard will appear. The feature of the concert will be Schumann’s “Andante” ana variations for two pianos, Which will be interpreted by Rubinstein and Miss Mehiig. ‘This is the benefit season for the artists and at- tachés of the theatres. Mr. D. H. Harkins, stage manager at the Union Square, takes his benefit thisevening. Miss Fanny Davenport, of the Fifth Avenue Theatre, 14 to play “Frou-Frou,” Miss Etne! being still too #ick to appear, The Board of Education seems to have forgotten entirely the question of music in the public schools. A good, sound musician, who has proved himself worthy of @ foremost rank in art, should be selected as superintendent of music, and the results would be highly beneficial. It is @ disgrace to the me- tropolis that, through the shortsightedness of a few persons, the chiluren attending the public schools showld be left in complete ignorance of the divine art. As for the ill-directed efforts of em- bryo music teachers, they do more harm than good. There has been a@ friendiy contest out West be- tween the admirers of Mme, Lucca and Miss Kel- loge. The latter was presented with a valuable set of jewelry in St. Louis, and a few days after the Germans of Chicago decorated the “Kleine Pauline” with a diamond cross, Of course both ladies made nice little speeches, pressed the de- sirable gifts to their hearts, looked forward with pleasure to the time they should return and brushed away a few tears. These are pleasant episodes during @ prima donna’s season and are never regarded as intrusive. In fact, the more freauent the more welcome they prove to be. Her fame some six years ago drew | SHEET. THE SHADOW OF DEATH. Solemn Approach of Nixon's | Fearful Fate. Perera THE LAST DEAR DAY. Pathetic Parting from His Wife and Children---A Child’s Love. HE GLANCES AT THE GALLOWS. “I Feel That the Hand of God Is Upon Me.” RESIGNATION AND DESPAIR. The Murderer’s Prayers to His Maker. Full Text of His Last Will and Testament. Yesterday was @ sad day for Nixon, the mur- derer, He received the news that the General Term of the Supreme Court had aftirmed the judg- ment of the Court of Oyer and Terminer sentencing him “to be hanged by the neck till he was dead.” He passed a sleepless night. He went to bed at eleven o’clock and got up at five o'clock yesterday morning. The two Deputy Sheriffs watched him very closely, but Nixon was very quiet. He lay in bed all night, and asked several times for some cold water to bathe his hot, throbbing forehead with. How wild, how strange he looked as he cast his eyes up to see if day was breaking! The pale light stole through the slunt- ing chink in the wall as he tossed both his hands out of bed and buried his face in them. He raised himself into a sitting posture. “Not yet daylight?” he said, in a strange, hollow voice. “Will the night last forever ?”’ What a night it must have been. hope yet, but HE FELT THAT HE MUST DIR. In @ few hours he would know his fate. Die! He looked up and felt the warm rays of the sun streaming in, and thought, “How beautiful is life!” He thought of his wife, his dear littie children, of the bright days of his youth and the fond visions of his future. He paced his cell, and then sat down on the bed. “So it is too late!” he sighed. The Deputy Sheriffs said nothing. They looked at him aghast. His cheeks were hollow, his eyes Stared wildly out before him, his hair streaked his forehead, his hands trembled as he tried to dress. There was something terrible in his whole appear- ance. He remarked that it was @ beautiful day, and glanced up at the chink in the wall. Whata long look! He must have thought of the hundreds nd thousands who were now stirring in the beau- tiful sunlight, animated by hope and pleasure and joy, and he in the cold cell, with the gallows before him! Father McKenna, Father Duranquet, Father Mc- Bride, ef Mott street church, and ether priests came to sce him. He greeted them reverently. They asked him how he felt. “T am happy,” he replied. The words were spoken in a VOICE THAT WAS INFINITELY SAD. “We'll ge to mass,"’ Father Duranquet said. “Oh, yes; ('ll go to mass,” said the doomed man, his face lighting up. They went across to the female prison, where the chapel is. How many prisoners have attended mass there and beard the prayers that were being offered for their souls! Nixon listened calmly to the solemn prayer. His lips were compressed, his face became whiter yet, but not a sound escaped his lips. He partook of the communion and looked almost cheerful as he did so, It seemed to relieve him, and he grasped the hands of the priests when they had finished. He returned to his cell, As he walked through the yard the sun shone brightly upon his head, He drew a long breath. There was something delight- ful even in the tainted air of the prison yard. He looked up at the sky. How glorious it looked! He looked at the grim walls of the prison that had held so many men who had died on the gallows be- fore him. His chin sunk on his breast. He sighed and he quietly walked back to his cell. He stretched himself on the bed and shut his eyes. He was tired, having been unable to sleep a wink during the night. He put his hands before his eyes as though he were shutting out SOME DRRADFUL, HIDEOUS SIGHT. What could it have been that made him shudder | and start? Was it some wild picture that rose up before him? Perhaps he saw his own lifeless corpse dg the coffin at which he had looked the day before. Perhaps he felt the tight gripe of the rope, for he started up and grasped his neck, God! what could | he have thought of ? After two hours he rose and the priests spoke to him again in accents of Kindness and sympathy. He listened to them attentively and clasped his | hands and breathed a prayer toward heaven. They all prayed; they prayed that he might not die for- ever, that he might be forgiven, that he might not part from his beloved ones forever, but that he might again meet them in heaven. Nixon believed every word he uttered; there never was a more fervent prayer. He was asked to partake of some breakfast, but shook his head and did not seem to understand what had been said to him. His thoughts were | wandering far, far away. He recalled himself, “Oh, yes,” he said, | He was able to eat something; but what asad | preeriese it was! He knew that ina little more an TWENTY-FOUR HOURS IE WOULD BE DEAD. The sound of hammering broke upon bis ear. He became still more white. Were they erecting the gallows on which he was to be hanged ? He prayed again, and spoke to nis Maker. No one can tell what he said to his God as he knecled on the foor, his face thrilling with an expression of the most intense emotion. No one in the cell spoke while he was praying: in whispers. liis low tones of anguish fell sadly on the ears of the priests, but no one ould hel; him—no one bat God. All earthly hope had fled, Mr. Hummel, assoctate counsel with Mr. Howe, came to tell Nixon that there was no hope, The little | counsellor was pale and agitated. Nixon started | ups his counsel entered. ere was yet a gieam | hope. How hard’ it 1s to accustom one’s self to the thought of death! There was rar yet. Per- haps his counsel might bi him joyful tidings. Mr. Hummel grasped his hand, “Welly? Nixon asked, in a tone of intense anxiety. How much he said in that one litte word! Life and death WERE TREMBLING IN THE BALANCE. Mr. Hummel scarcely had the heart to speak, “Tam sorry,’’ he said, ‘‘but—" “What!? Nixon cried, springing to his feet and uttering a yell of terror, “What, all hope is not gone *” That one cry was enough to make one’s heart bleed. Here was this poor wretch still clinging to life, and instead of lite and hope tue gallows loomed up before him. ‘Mr. Hummel pressed his hand. “1 am tell you,” he said; “but there is no hope.’ Nixon staggered and held is hand to his fore- head, as though he were afraid of becoming crazed. There was a gloomy silence. ‘All hope is not gone ?"’ he asked, “All hope gone," echeed the counselior. Nixon was silent for several minutes, There was a feverish quivering of his lips and a nervous work- ing of the muscles of the face, but he uttered not & syllable, “Q, | knew that my case was @ hopeless one,” he said, faintly, aiter a while, *) ;, My Huminel told him that Mr. Hewe (Nixon's JeadTng counsel) had becn prostrate ever since he heard of THE FIVAL DECISION IN THE CAS! Nixon thanked him tor the trouble, he to save his life, “Yes; Lalwaya felt that I should have to suffer for this crime,’ Nixon said, gloomily. Two Sisters of Mercy were in the room. They had spoken to him as t ough they were his own Sisters—in such words of kindness and love and He had some Sorry to La had taken forbearance, “Oh, my child,",said one now, In a one of dyed BYEADATAY, “YQ Ayal Bot, Luigk of woadiy affairs, you must be prepared to mneet your “Yes, [must,”’ he replied sadly, as his eyes en- countered those of the Kind sister. “Be @ man,” she said; “remember that Christ is still your Saviour, still your Redeemer." He drew along breath; he folded his hands and Said, with a faint amile—it was the first smule that had lighted up his face for many a day— “Oh, yes; after all, [ could never die happier than now.” (He tooked up, and hia lips trembled a8 he spoke.» “Ifeelasitthe hand of God were upon me. a then asked that Mr. Hummel might take care o $3 DEAR WIPE AND HIS SWEET CHILDREN, shall take care of them,’ one of she gentle Sis! interposed, aud @ tear trembled in her eye, “we shall take care of them—we and God Al- mighty." He thanked her and satd:—That's all now. T have nothing mere upon my mind.” His counsel parted from him, and old friends and relatives came to bid him goodby, Now they re- called old times, Now they recalled the time when he was a child, when he was happy and blessed with the love of kind parents. He talked of those days with some of his playmates, and his eyes be- came dimmed with tears of sorrow, But even now it was happiness to think of that time when he was haunted by no terrible spectre—when life seemed but one bright vision of gladness. He remembered the time when he played’ with these men and women—himself a mere child. He remembered his school days, the teachings of his parents, his Promises, his earliest sorrows, his greatest joys. Alter all, life had been sweet, and how hard it was to look death in the face. And now came THE SADDEST HOUR OF HIS LIFR, - His wife had brought his little children and he waa to bid them Gooaby forever. Forever! what # terrible word itt is. He tried to compose himseif, aud walked to the counsel room, where the children. were, The dear little ones! One was a mere baby in the arms of the mother, who kissed it fondly. ‘The curly-headed darling did not understand mother’a grief, but she wept, and the child cried, too, There was the little girl, a child of two years, with a happy, innocent , and she ran mer- rily into her father’s arms as he entered, There was the eldest, a little girl of seven, whose face hada singularly sweet expression. She seemed to be of an exceedingly sensitive and loving disposi- Kon, Bue understood her mother's grief and wept erly. ‘Dear, dear father!” she cried, in an agony of tears, as he clasped her in his arms. She laid her head against his heart and wept bitter tears. He caressed her gently and smoothed her hair; but THE TRARS RAN DOWN HIS HAGGARD CHERES and trickled on the girl's forehead, “Ol! don't cry, father, dear father!” she cried, with all che passion that her childish nature was capable of; “dear, dear father, don’t cry!" He bent his head and stooped down. She kissed him fondly, and she kissed away the tears that were coursing down his tace; but, the wilder her grief the more bitter his anguish, and the tears almost blinded him as he sank in a chair and hugged her to his heart. The poor child! she clasped her arms tighter round his neck, and laid her head on his shoulder and sobbed. A heart of stone would have been moved. But what was her grief to that of her mother, who lost ner sole protector and tully knew how much she lost. ‘The babe in her arms cried as she kissed it and gave it into his hands. “My dear, dear child!” he exclaimed passion- ately, as he looked upon the babe’s features through @ mist of tears. He smothered it with kisses, and the little one clung to him and cried still more as he gave it back into her hands, And then came the partmg moment. ‘The faithful wife held out her hana, but HE DREW HER TO HIS HEART. “Goodby,” he said; ‘‘goodby, May God protect ‘ou.’ He motioned her to go away, but she had not the heart to leave him. ‘No, no! I cannot leave you « 80,” she shrieked in an agony of despair; “my good, kind husband.”” it is impossible to describe such a scene of woe. The children had to be literally torn from him ere he could leave them, and the mother seemed more dead than alive when she left the prison. Nixon walked back to his cell. He had to pasa the gallows, which had already been erected. He paused and looked at it. Looked! There never ‘was 80 much hatred, agony, despair, in one glance as glared out of his dimmed and sunken eyes. “I have seen many a condemned man look at the guove on which he was to be hung,” said Mr. lcCaffery, the keeper, “but I have never seena man loo! at the gallows with such a flerce glare— never. Evening closed in, and the Sisters were still pray- ing in the cell. His mournful voice broke the still- ness of the night, and ata late hour, when all the other prisoners fad gone to sleep, he still paced bis ceil, thinking of that terrible fate that awaited him—thinking of death. NIXON'S LAST WILL, The following is Nixon’s last will: In the name of God, amen. T, Michael Nixon, of the city and county of New York, being of sound mind and memory and considering the uncertainty of this life, do therefore make. ordain, publish and declare this to be my last will and testament. That ix to te first, after all my lawful debts are paid and dis- charged, 1 give and bequcath unto my daughter Catha- rine Nixon and unto her heirs, executors and assigns for- ever, all that certain piece or parcel of land lying and being in the village and town of Isiip, county of Suffolk and State of New York, and known and described as follows, to wit:—Beginning at a point in the northerly line of Pine street, distant 350 feet ur easterly from Centre avenue. and running thence northerly parallel with Centre avenue 100 feet; thence easterly parallel with Pine street 100 feet; thence southerly parallel, with Centre avenue 100 feet to the northerly line ot Pine street, and thence westerly along the northerly line of Pme street 100 feet to the point of beginning, being lots Nos 47. 48 49 and 90 in block No. 1,on a certain map made by R. B. Wheeler, Surveyor, filed in the office of the Clerk of Suffolk county and entitled, “Map showing the outline of a tract of land at Islip belonging to William Nicoll, as laid out in city lots; together with all my right, title and interest in and to the same, and to all the hereditaments and appur- Samer thereunto belonging or in anywise apper- ining, Serond—I give and bequeath unto my beloved wife, Marla Nixon, her heirs, executors and assigns, torever, all my monéys, dues, debts, bonds, interest in the bill 1 business, bill-board signs, materials appertaining thereto and all the rest, residue and remainder of my roperty, both personal and real, of every kind and na- ture whatsoever. Likewise I make, constitute and ap- point my beloved wife, Maria Nixon, 'to be executrix of this, my last will and testament, hereby revoking all former “wills by me made: and I do further order and request that my said wite, Maria Nixon, shall not be re- quired to furnish any bond or security tor the perform- ance of her duties as executrix herein. In witmess whereof I have hereunto subscribed my name and affixed my seal this 15th day of May, in the year of our Lord 1873. MICHAEL NIXON, itwe: Winntay F. Hows. \- HUMMEL. Subscribed by Michael Nixon, the testator named, in the presence of each of us, and at the time of making such subscription the above instrument was declared by the said testator to be his last will and testament, and each of us, at the request of the said testator and in our presence, and in the presence of each other, signs bis Rame as a witness thereto at the pe of the will, ¥. HOWE. A. iH. MEL. , The Affirmation of Judgment in the je of Nixon. Before Judges Ingraham and Brady. On the opening of the Supreme Court yesterday, Judga Ingraham, who on the day previous sat on the bench with. Jutge Davis and heard the argument in the case of Nixon, ¢2¥e their joint decision in the matter. The de- cision was embodied in a written opinion, prepared by Judge Ingrahap, is @ succinct, clear and able exposition. ot the “qnestions ‘of “law volved in the case, but as the unfortunate Nix will have suffered the extreme pe time this is read by the majority he HeRALD readers the points considered will have lost their public interest, It is only necessary to state that the exceptions presente at the trial—the first to the panel, the second. to_part of the evidence and the third to.a portion of Judge Brady's charge—were each overruled and the judgment of Court of Oyer and Terminer affirmed. ART MATTERS, Antiquities at Clinton Hall—Secona Evening’s Sale To-Night. The premonition which these May evenings begin to give of June’s nearness did not prevent @ large number of connoisseurs assembling last evening at Clinton Hall, for the sake of partaking in the sale of those antiquities to which attention Was asked in Tuesday’s HERALD. The more salient articles, however, are reserved for this and to- morrow evenings, and among the members which will then solicit the suffrages of the public are@ unique and elegant collection of antique stone intaglios, many of them set in eighteen carat solid red ee A large majority of these are of Etrascan workmanship, and illustrate those mythological fictions with Which the World is familiar, taking us back, as they do, te the golden age and the rich simplicity of Arcadia; but, beau- tiful and valuable as these intaglios are, they ought not to be mentioned to the exclusion of the coins, bronzes and medals; the engravings on copper, the enamelled ware, the snuff boxes, the water colors in Gonasche, the shell cameos, the oj] paint- ings, the medieval carvings, the antique chests, the ivory miniatures and the innumerable conven relics. We have never seen so large a collection that was less of @ heterogenous jumble, and yet sufficiently miscellaneous to come within the cate- gory ef an important cabinet selection. As to- night and to-morrow night will close the sale no more pointed allusion than a mere reference to that fact can be necessary. . JUDGE LAWRENCE NOT A RAILROAD OAN- DIDATE, New York, May 15, 1973, To THe Epirok or THE HERALD: Sir—Your extract from the Chicago Times in this morning's paper in reference to Chief Justice Lawrence and subsequent criticism does injustice toagentieman of spotless integrity. Judge Law- rence is not the candidate of the railroad com nies, but when urged by the entire Bar of The State to allow his name to be put forward for re- election consented. At an opinion given some months since by the Supreme Court of Illinois and delivered by the Chief Justice the farmers took umorage, have had several conventions, bitterly denouncing Mr. Law- rence and advocating the election of a candidate who shall be pledged to their interests—a state of things which Judge Lawrence, in his letter of acceptance to the Bar, justly terms without par- allel in this or amy other country. By giving these facts in your valuable and widely Tread paper you will confer a [qvor “yon the friends Of truth qd iusto VERITAS. OO —_ SS