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CO 


v7<i. 


SANSON'S    MEMOIRS, 


VOL   II. 


l.OKDON  :    PRINTED    BY 

SPOTTISWOODE       AND      CO.,       NKW-STKEET      SQIJAKE 

AND   PARLIAMENT   STREET 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  SANSONS 

[i688-(i847.n 

EDITED    BY 

HENRY   SANSON, 

LAIE    EXECUTIONER    OF    THE    COURT    OF    JUSTICE    OF    I'ARIS. 

AV    TWO    VOLUMES,— VOL.   IL 


CHATTO   AND   WINDUS,   PICCADILLY. 


/553 


CONTENTS 

OF 

THE  SECOND  VOLUME. 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

XXVII,     An  Expiatory  Mass i 

XXVIII.     The  La  Rouerie  Conspiracy 29 

XXIX.     Charlotte  Corday 34 

XXX.     CusTiNE 42 

XXXI.     The  Queen 49 

XXXII.     The  Gtrondins 58 

XXXIII.  Adam  Lux. — The  Duke  of  Orleans  .         ,        .71 

XXXIV.  Madame  Roland  and  Bailly 77 

XXXV.     Charles  Henri  Sanson's  Diary  ....  90 

XXXVI.     Charles  Henri  Sanson's  Diary  {continued)     .    .  112 

XXXVII.     Charles  Henri  Sanson's  Diary  {continued)         .  125 

XXXVIIL     Trial  of  Danton,  Camille  Desmoulins,  West- 

ermann,  etc.,  etc 130 

XXXIX.     Charles  Henri  Sanson's  Diary  {continued)         .  135 

XL.     Charles  Henri  Sanson's  Diary  {continued)     .    .  145 


vi  CONTENTS   OF  THE  SECOND    VOLUME. 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

XLI.     Charles  Henri  Sanson's  Diary  {continued)    .        .158 

XLII.     Charles  Henri  Sanson's  Diary  {contitiued)        .    .  id'j 

XLIH.     My  Father  goes  into  the  Artillery.— His  MS.  182 

XLIV.     Arrest  of  my  Father  and  Great-Uncle  after 

the  <^th  OF  Thermidor 191 

XLV.     The  Death  of  Robespierre    .        .        .        .         .197 

XLVI.     Lesurques      .        . 212 

XLVII.     My  Vocation 223 

XLVni.     My  Education       .        . 228 

XLIX.     My  First  Execution 241 

L.     LouvEL 247 

LI.     My  Executions 253 

APPENDIX .  287 


MEMOIRS    OF  THE    SANSONS. 

CHAPTER   XXVII. 

AN    EXPIATORY    MASS. 

The  death  of  Louis  XVI.  profoundly  disturbed  Charles 
Henri  Sanson.  I  do  not  know  whether  I  have  shown 
this  extraordinary  man  in  sufficient  relief.  Charles 
Henri  was  a  true  descendant  of  his  stoical  grandmother. 
He  had  been  imbued  with  her  ideas  and  principles,  and 
beheved  in  the  legitimacy  of  his  profession  and  social 
mission.  He  regarded  himself  as  invested  with  stern 
and  painful,  yet  withal  necessary,  functions.  This  con- 
viction had  given  him  enough  strength  and  courage  to 
discharge  duties  which,  I  have  every  reason  to  believe, 
clashed  with  his  natural  disposition.  His  sense  of  duty 
had,  however,  been  confirmed  by  forty  years'  experience. 
At  times  the  cruelty  of  certain  punishments,  as  in  the 
case  of  Damiens,  had  slightly  shaken  his  strong  faith  ; 
but  a  sentiment  of  obedience  prevailed  in  the  end,  and 
his  scruples  vanished  before  the  certainty  that  the  judges 
were  responsible  for  the  sentences  which  he,  as  their 
blind  instrument,  carried  out. 

With  such  a   theory  he  could   not   but  regard  the 
VOL.  II.  B 


2  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  SANSONS. 

reprobation  in  which  his  functions  were  held  as  a 
prejudice  of  the  worst  description :  hence  his  petitions 
to  Parliament  and  the  National  Assembly.  I  may  add 
that,  in  the  case  of  the  latter  tribunal,  my  grandfather 
was  so  dissatisfied  with  the  arguments  suggested  against 
his  plea,  that  he  immediately  wrote  the  following  letter 
to  the  members  of  the  National  Assembly  : 

'Gentlemen, — For  a  long  time  the  executioners  of 
criminal  judgments  have  complained  of  the  injustice  of  a 
prejudice  which  partly  awards  to  them  the  disgrace  of 
the  crimes  which  justice  punishes  through  their  instru- 
mentality. They  have  hitherto  suffered  the  humiliation, 
and  found  sufficient  consolation  in  their  consciences.  It 
is  now  attempted  to  sanction  this  prejudice  by  declaring 
them  unfit  to  hold  civil  rights.  Such  is,  at  least,  the  in- 
tention expressed  by  the  Abbe  Maury  in  the  sitting  of 
the  23  rd  of  the  present  month. 

'  The  Abbe  Maury's  motion  has  caused  us  considerable 
alarm,  and  we  are  convinced  that  justice  must  be  de- 
prived of  its  executive  strength  if  the  motion  is  carried. 

*  The  executioner  of  Paris,  Charles  Henri  Sanson, 
who  hereby  presents  to  you  his  most  respectful  remon- 
strances, declares  (and  all  his  confrhes  will  follow  his 
example)  that  he  will  tender  his  resignation  if  you 
declare  that  executioners  are  not  citizens, 

*  The  petitioner  trusts  that  you  will  deign  to  examine 
the  question  with  the  attention  it  deserves.  At  a  time 
when  justice  prevails,  you  will  not  suffer  it  to  be  over- 
looked. 

'  (Signed)         SANSON, 

*  Executioner  of  criminal  sentences  in  the  town  of  Paris.' 


AN  EXPIATORY  MASS.  3 

I  said  before  that  the  Assembly  gave  no  decision 
respecting  the  petition  presented  by  the  executioners. 
The  Assembly  allowed  the  decree  to  stand  as  it  had 
been  previously  worded,  thus  leaving  the  executioners 
to  infer  that  they  had  gained  their  point.  They 
were,  in  fact,  henceforth  treated  as  citizens ;  and  we 
have  seen  my  grandfather  and  father  in  the  meetings  of 
their  sections  and  holding  grades  in  the  National 
Guard. 

Such  had  been,  up  to  the  death  of  the  King,  Charles 
Henri  Sanson's  feelings  concerning  what  he  styled  the 
honour  of  his  profession.  The  blood  which  flowed 
freely  under  the  Convention  altered  his  sentiments. 
Seeing  an  edifice  he  had  been  taught  to  respect  falling, 
he  began  to  doubt  whether  he  had  a  right  to  believe 
in  the  scaffold  after  the  overthrow  of  the  throne ; 
whether  the  destruction  of  royalty  did  not  call  for  the 
abolition  of  the  office  of  executioner.  These  doubts  es- 
pecially harassed  him  on  the  night  that  preceded  the 
execution  of  the  King.  His  state  of  mind  can  easily  be 
imagined  when  it  is  remembered  that  he  had  sympathy 
for  Louis  XVI.  More  than  once  he  thought  of 
running  away  ;  but  thereby  he  would  have  exposed  his 
family  to  great  danger. 

On  January  21  my  grandfather,  who  seldom  left  his 
home  except  when  he  was  obliged,  only  spent  a  few 
moments  with  his  wife  and  children.  He  came  to  see 
them  after  the  execution,  and  then  hurried  away  and 
returned  after  midnight.  My  grandmother  was  be- 
coming very  uneasy  at  his  absence  when  Chesneau,  who 

B  2 


4  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  SANSONS. 

was  still  living  under  Charles  Henri  Sanson's  roof,  told 
her  that  his  old  friend  had  asked  him  the  address  of  an 
aged  priest  and  two  nuns  he  knew,  and  that  he  had  pro- 
bably gone  to  see  them.  My  grandmother  understood  the 
object  of  such  a  visit.  She  knew  her  husband's  religious 
feelings,  and  guessed  that,  in  spite  of  the  perils  and  diffi- 
culties of  the  adventure,  he  was  in  quest  of  a  remedy  for 
his  troubled  conscience. 

Charles  Henri  Sanson  returned  at  two  o'clock  in 
the  morning,  and  before  his  friends  had  time  to  question 
him,  he  said  : 

*  Chesneau,  I  have  seen  your  proteges.  It  is  bitterly 
cold.  You  must  take  some  provisions  to  them  to- 
morrow. You  will  provide  them  with  victuals  every 
week.  But  I  do  not  want  you  to  say  whence  these 
provisions  come. — I .  have  seen  two  nuns  who  are  very 
miserable,  my  dear  Mary,'  he  added,  turning  to  my 
grandmother  ;  *  if  you  can  give  them  some  clothing  you 
will  do  them  a  good  turn  and  oblige  me.' 

Charles  Henri  Sanson  retired  after  giving  the  above 
explanation  of  his  absence.  On  the  following  day  he 
related  to  his  wife  that  he  had  found  in  a  miserable  hut 
of  La  Villette  a  priest  who  had  escaped  from  the 
massacres  of  the  Carmelites,  and  two  nuns  who  had 
been  driven  away  from  their  convent ;  that  the  priest 
had  promised  him  that  he  would  celebrate  a  mass,  far 
less  for  the  repose  of  the  soul  of  the  King  than  for  the 
peace  of  his  (Sanson's)  conscience. 

The  secret  of  this  expiatory  mass  was  kept  during 
the  remainder  of  my  grandfather's  life ;  but  after  his 


AN  EXPIATORY  MASS.  5 

death,  my  grandmother  and  my  father,  believing  that 
the  anecdote  would  redound  to  his  credit,  related  it  to 
some  of  their  friends.  It  came  to  the  knowledge  of  an 
illustrious  writer,  Honore  de  Balzac,  who  begged  my 
father  to  confirm  its  authenticity.  His  behest  was 
granted,  and,  with  the  help  of  the  additional  elements 
furnished  to  him  by  my  father,  he  wrote  the  following 
moving  account :  ^ 

Towards  the  end  of  the  month  of  January  1793 
an  old  lady  was  descending  the  incline  which  leads  to 
the  St.  Laurent  Church,  in  the  Faubourg  St  Martin. 
It  was  about  eight  o'clock  in  the  evening.  Snow  had 
fallen  in  the  morning,  so  that  the  sound  of  footsteps 
could  hardly  be  heard.  It  was  very  cold.  The  streets 
were  lonely,  and  the  natural  fear  inspired  by  the  silence 
that  prevailed  was  intensified  by  the  terror  which,  at  the 
time,  was  pervading  the  whole  of  France.  The  old 
lady  had  met  no  one.  Her  weak  sight  was  even  unable 
to  detect  in  the  distance,  by  the  light  of  the  lanterns,  a 
few  loiterers  scattered  like  shadows  along  the  immense 
thoroughfare.  She  was  fearlessly  crossing  this  solitude, 
as  if  old  age  were  a  talisman  which  could  preserve  her 
from  any  mishap. 

After  she  had  passed  the  Rue  des  Morts  she  thought 
she  could  detect  the  heavy  and  firm  step  of  a  man 
behind  her.  The  idea  that  she  was  followed  frightened 
her,  and  she  stepped  forward  more  briskly,  so  as  to 
reach    a  well-lighted  shop,  hoping  then  to  descry  her 

^  This  account  has  been  reprinted  in  the  edition  of  Balzac's  complete 
works. 


6  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  SANSONS. 

follower.  As  soon  as  she  reached  the  first  ray  of  hori- 
zontal light  which  issued  from  the  shop,  she  suddenly- 
turned  round  and  saw  a  man  whose  form  she  could  but 
just  discern  through  the  fog.  The  indistinct  vision  was 
enough  for  her.  She  tottered  under  the  terror  where- 
with she  was  filled  ;  for  she  did  not  doubt  that  she 
had  been  followed  by  the  stranger  ever  since  she  had 
left  her  abode.  The  desire  to  escape  from  her  silent 
persecutor  gave  her  strength,  and,  without  reasoning,  she 
went  faster,  as  if  she  could  get  out  of  the  reach  of  a  man 
who,  obviously,  could  easily  keep  up  with  her.  After 
running  for  a  few  minutes,  she  reached  a  pastrycook's 
shop,  rushed  in,  and  fell,  rather  than  sat  down,  on  a 
chair  before  the  counter. 

As  she  entered,. a  young  woman  who  was  darning 
looked  up.  Recognising  the  old-fashioned  shape  of  a 
violet  silk  cloak  which  covered  the  old  lady's  shoulders, 
she  hastened  to  open  a  drawer,  as  if  to  take  out  some- 
thing she  was  to  remit  to  her.  The  young  woman's 
gesture  and  face  betrayed  a  desire  to  get  rid  of  the 
unknown  as  soon  as  possible,  as  if  she  had  been  one  of 
those  persons  whom  it  is  no  pleasure  to  meet.  She 
made  a  gesture  of  impatience  on  finding  the  drawer 
empty,  and,  without  looking  at  the  lady,  she  hurriedly 
left  the  counter,  entered  the  back  shop,  and  called  her 
husband,  who  suddenly  appeared. 

'Where  have  you  put V  she  asked  with  an  air 

of  mystery,  designating  the  old  lady  by  a  glance. 

She  did  not  finish  her  query.  Although  the  pastry- 
cook could  only  see  the  large  black  silk  cap,  adorned 


i 


AN  EXPIATORY  MASS,  mj  ,   /i 

with  bows  of  violet  ribbon,  he  disappeared,  after  lookirrg-^n/^  <l^ 
at  his  wife  in  a  manner  which  seemed  to  signify  :      lX^tJ//^ 

'Do  you  think  I  am  stupid  enough  to  leave  it  on 
your  counter  ? ' 

Astonished  at  the  silence  and  stillness  of  the  old  lady, 
the  woman  returned  to  her ;  and,  upon  looking  at  her, 
she  was  seized  with  compassion,  or  rather  with  curiosity. 

Although  the  unknown  lady's  face  was  naturally 
livid,  as  that  of  a  person  addicted  to  austere  habits,  it 
was  easy  to  see  that  some  recent  emotion  had  overcast 
it  with  extraordinary  pallor.  Her  head  gear  was  so  con- 
trived as  to  conceal  her  hair,  doubtless  silvered  by  age  ; 
for  the  cleanliness  of  her  collar  showed  that  she  did  not 
wear  powder.  Absence  of  any  ornament  gave  her  an 
appearance  of  religious  severity.  Her  features  were 
grave  and  proud.  In  former  times  the  manners  and 
habits  of  the  upper  class  were  so  different  from  those 
belonging  to  other  classes  that  it  was  easy  to  recognise 
a  person  of  birth.  The  young  woman  was  therefore 
convinced  that  the  unknown  was  a  ci-devanty  and  that 
she  formerly  belonged  to  the  Court. 

'  Madam,'  said  she,  instinctively  and  with  respect, 
forgetting  that  this  appellation  was  prohibited. 

But  the  old  lady  made  no  answer.  Her  eyes  were 
fixed  on  the  panes  of  the  shop,  as  if  she  saw  a  frightful 
apparition  behind  them. 

'  What  is  the  matter  with  you,  citoyenne } '  enquired 
the  master  of  the  house,  reappearing  and  calling  the  old 
lady's  attention  by  handing  her  a  small  cardboard  box 
wrapped  in  blue  paper. 


8  .  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  SANSONS. 

*  Nothing — nothing,  friends/  she  answered,  in  a  soi 
voice. 

She  looked  up  and  thanked  the  pastrycook  ;  but  on 
perceiving  the  red  cap  he  wore,  she  uttered  a  scream. 

'  You  have  betrayed  me ! ' 

The  young  woman  and  her  husband  answered  with 
a  gesture  of  horror  which  brought  a  blush  to  the  un- 
known lady's  countenance. 

'Excuse  me,*  she  said,  with  childish  gentleness. 
Then  taking  a  louis  from  her  pocket,  she  presented 
it  to  the  pastrycook. 

'  Here  is  the  price  you  mentioned.' 

There  is  a  kind  of  poverty  which  the  poor  alone  can 
guess.  The  pastrycook  and  his  wife  looked  at  each 
other,  pointing  to  the  old  woman,  and  exchanged  the 
same  thought.  This  louis  was  probably  the  last  she 
had.  Her  hands  trembled  when  she  offered  it.  She 
looked  at  it  intently,  but  without  avarice.  Fasting  and 
hardship  were  as  visibly  imprinted  on  her  features  as  fear 
and  ascetic  habits.  In  her  dress  could  be  detected 
vestiges  of  splendour — worn-out  silk ;  a  clean  although 
faded  cloak ;  carefully  mended  lace,  rags  of  opulence. 
The  tradesman  and  his  wife,  hesitating  between  pity  and 
love  of  gain,  began  by  allaying  their  consciences  in  kind 
words. 

'  But,  citoyenne,  you  seem  very  faint.' 

'  Would  madam  take  something } '  exclaimed  the 
wife,  interrupting  her  husband. 

'We  have  some  excellent  broth,'  said  the  pastry- 
cook. 


AN  EXPIATORY  MASS,  9 

'  It  is  so  cold. — Madam  was  probably  taken  unwell 
when  she  came,  but  you  can  remain  here  and  warm 
yourself.* 

Encouraged  by  these  kind  expressions,  the  lady 
admitted  that  she  had  been  followed  by  a  man,  and  was 
afraid  to  return  home  alone. 

'  Is  that  all }  Wait  a  moment,  citoyenne  ! '  said  the 
man  with  the  red  cap. 

He  handed  the  louis  to  his  wife,  and  impelled  by 
the  peculiar  gratitude  that  fills  a  tradesman  when  he 
receives  an  exorbitant  price  for  merchandise  of  moderate 
value,  he  retired,  put  on  his  uniform  of  National  Guards- 
man, took  up  his  hat  and  his  musket,  and  reappeared. 

But  his  wife  had  had  time  to  reflect,  and  reflection 
drove  away  her  compassion.  Fearful  that  her  husband 
should  meddle  with  some  mysterious  and  dangerous 
business,  she  tried  to  pull  him  by  his  coat-tail  ;  but  the 
pastrycook  had  already  offered  to  escort  the  old  lady. 

'The  man  who  followed  the  lady  is  still  lurking 
around  the  shop,'  exclaimed  the  young  woman. 

'  I  think  he  is,'  candidly  answered  the  old  lady. 

*■  Perhaps  he  is  a  spy !  There  may  be  some  con- 
spiracy !     Don't  go  ; — and  take  the  box  away  from  her.' 

These  words  whispered  in  the  pastrycook's  ear  by 
his  wife  deprived  him  of  the  slight  courage  he  already 
possessed. 

*  I'll  go  and  speak  to  him,  and  get  rid  of  him 
directly ! '  cried  the  pastrycook,  rushing  into  the  street. 

The  old  lady,  as  passive  as  a  child,  and  quite  bewil- 
dered, sat  down  again. 


lo  MEMOIRS  OF  THE   SANSONS.  ^ 

The  honest  tradesman  soon  returned.  His  face, 
which  was  naturally  red  and  inflamed  by  the  heat  of 
his  oven,  had  suddenly  turned  pale,  and  he  was  so 
terrified  that  his  legs  shook  like  those  of  a  drunkard. 

'  Do  you  want  to  get  us  guillotined,  you  aristocrat  ? '  he 
shrieked  furiously,  and  with  a  thick  utterance.  '  Show  us 
your  heels — never  come  here  again,  and  don't  expect 
that  I'll  ever  furnish  you  with  elements  of  conspiracy.' 

And  the  pastrycook  tried  to  gain  possession  of  the 
small  box,  which  the  lady  had  thrust  into  one  of  her 
pockets. 

Hardly  had  the  man's  trembling  hands  touched  her 
clothes  than  the  unknown,  preferring  the  dangers  of  the 
street,  with  God  as  her  only  protection,  to  the  loss  of 
that  which  she  had  just  purchased,  recovered  the  activity 
of  her  youth.  She  sprang  to  the  door,  opened  it  and 
disappeared,  to  the  amazement  of  her  trembling  ag- 
gressors. 

The  unknown  walked  on  quickly,  but  her  momentary 
vigour  soon  collapsed.  She  could  hear  the  spy,  who  was 
still  following  her,  and  whose  step  cracked  on  the  snow 
which  he  pressed  down  under  his  heavy  feet.  She  was 
obliged  to  stop.  He  stopped  also.  She  dared  neither  to 
look  at  him  nor  to  speak  to  him,  either  out  of  fear  or  of 
inability  to  find  words.  She  then  resumed  her  way  with 
a  slower  step,  and  he  slackened  his  progress  so  as  to 
remain  at  a  reasonable  distance.  He  seemed  to  be  the 
old  woman's  very  shadow.  The  church  clock  was 
striking  nine  when  the  silent  couple  passed  again  before 
St.  Laurent. 


AN  EXPIATORY  MASS,  il 

But  It  is  in  the  nature  of  the  soul,  even  in  the  most 
infirm,  that  calmness  should  follow  a  fit  of  violent 
agitation.  It  was  probably  due  to  this  that  the  unknown 
lady,  receiving  no  harm  at  the  hands  of  her  supposed 
persecutor,  imagined  that  he  was  a  secret  friend  who 
merely  wished  to  afford  her.  protection.  She  remembered 
all  the  circumstances  which  had  attended  the  stranger's 
appearance,  as  if  to  find  support  for  this  consoling 
opinion  ;  and  thus  she  began  to  think  that  his  intentions 
were  good.  Forgetting  the  terror  evinced  at  his  sight 
by  the  pastrycook,  she  advanced  with  a  firm  step  along 
the  higher  regions  of  the  Faubourg)  St.  Martin. 

After  half  an  hour's  walk,  she  reached  a  house 
situate  near  the  cross  formed  by  the  principal  street 
of  the  faubourg  and  the  *  road  which  leads  to  the 
gate  of  Pantin.  This  place  was  one  of  the  most  lonely 
in  Paris.  The  wind,  passing  over  the  Buttes-Chaumont 
and  Belleville,  hissed  between  the  houses,  or  rather  the 
huts,  scattered  in  this  desolate  vale.  No  blackness  could 
be  more  discouraging  than  that  which  pervaded  this 
spot,  which  seemed  the  natural  refuge  of  poverty  and 
despair.  The  man  who  relentessly  pursued  the  poor 
creature  who  was  bold  enough  to  traverse  these  dark  and 
deserted  parts,  appeared  struck  with  the  sight.  He 
stopped,  thoughtful  and  hesitant.  The  faint  light  of  a 
lantern,  dimly  shining  through  the  fog,  revealed  his  form 
but  imperfectly ;  but  fear  improved  the  old  woman's 
sight ;  and  as  she  imagined  that  the  man's  face  was 
sinister,  her  terror  returned.  Whilst  her  pursuer  was 
still  hesitating,  she  glided,  in  the  shadow,  towards  the 


12  MEMOIRS   OF   THE   SANS  ON S. 

door  of  the  solitary  house,  turned  the  lock,  and  disap- 
peared with  marvellous  rapidity. 

The  man  was  still  motionless,  looking  at  the  house. 
It  had  the  aspect  of  ^the  buildings  which  give  so  miser- 
able an  appearance  to  the  suburbs  of  Paris.  It  looked  so 
dilapidated  that  a  gust  of  wind,  to  all  appearance,  might 
have  scattered  it.  The  brown  tiles  of  the  roof,  covered 
with  moss,  seemed  ready  to  sink  under  the  weight  of 
the  snow.  Each  landing  had  three  windows,  so  rotten 
and  antiquated  that  the  wind  ffeely  entered  the  rooms. 
The  general  appearance  of  the  old  house  was  that  of  a 
tower  of  which  the  elements  were  achieving  the  over- 
throw. A  faint  light  could  be  seen  through  the  three 
upper  windows,  and  the  remainder  of  the  house  was 
plunged  in  complete  darkness. 

It  was  not  without  effort  that  the  old  woman  ascended 
the  steep  and  broken  staircase,  along  which  ran  a  rope 
in  lieu  of  balustrade.  She  gave  a  gentle  tap  at  the  door 
of  the  upper  apartment,  and  sat  down  in  the  chair 
which  an  old  man  hastened  to  present  to  her. 

*  Hide  yourself — quick  ! '  said  she,  breathlessly  ;  '  for, 
although  we  do  not  often  go  out,  our  refuge  is  discovered 
and  our  steps  are  tracked.' 

*  What  is  the  matter } '  enquired  another  old  woman, 
who  was  seated  near  the  fire. 

*  The  man  who  has  been  lurking  about  the  house 
for  the  last  few  days,  followed  me  this  evening.' 

At  these  words  the  three  inhabitants  of  the  garret 
looked  at  each  other  with  every  token  of  profound 
terror.     The  old  man  was  the  least  agitated,  perhaps 


AN  EXPIATORY  MASS.  13 

because  he  was  in  greater  peril  than  his  female  com- 
panions. When  a  brave  man  labours  under  a  great 
misfortune,  or  feels  under  the  yoke  of  constant  persecu- 
tion, he  submits  to  impending  death,  considering  his  days 
of  respite  as  so  many  victories  gained  over  fate. 

The  two  women's  looks  were  directed  towards  the  old 
man,  and  showed  that  he  was  the  only  cause  of  their  fear. 

*  Why  should  you  not  confide  in  God,  my  sisters  1 ' 
he  said,  in  a  low  but  unctuous  voice.  '  We  sang  His 
praises  amidst  the  cries  uttered  by  the  murderers  and 
the  murdered  in  the  Convent  of  Carmelites.  If  it  was 
His  will  that  I  should  be  saved,  it  was  doubtless  to 
provide  for  me  a  fate  which  I  am  bound  to  accept 
without  a  murmur.  God  protects  His  ministers,  and 
can  act  with  them  as  He  likes.  You  must  think  of 
yourselves,  not  of  me.' 

'  Nay,  do  not  say  so,'  exclaimed  the  two  old  women. 

*  I  considered  myself  as  dead  from  the  day  on  which 
I  left  the  Abbey  of  Chelles,'  cried  the  one  of  the  two  nuns 
who  was  sitting  near  the  fire. 

'  Here  is  the  Host,'  said  the  other,  handing  to  the 
priest  the  small  box  she  had  found  so  much  trouble  in 
procuring. 

*■  But,'  she  cried,  '  I  hear  a  step  on  the  staircase  ! ' 

At  these  words  all  three  listened.  The  noise  sub- 
sided. 

'  Do  not  be  frightened,'  said  the  priest, '  if  some  one 
tries  to  enter.  A  person  on  whose  fidelity  we  can 
reckon  is  preparing  to  cross  the  frontier,  and  will  take 
the   letters    I    have   written    to   the   Duke   de   Lorges 


14  MEMOIRS   OF   THE   SANSONS. 


I 


and  the  Marquis  de  Bethune,  in  which  I  beg  them  to 
think  of  the  means  of  removing  you  from  this  horrible 
country — from  death  and  misery,  which  are  our  con- 
stant attendants.' 

'  Will  you  not  come  with  us,  then  ? '  asked  the  nuns 
with  a  kind  of  despair. 

*  My  place  is  among  victims  ! '  said  the  priest  with 
simplicity. 

They  remained  silent,  eyeing  their  companion  with 
admiration. 

*  Sister  Martha,'  said  he  to  the  nun  who  had  brought 
the  Host,  *  the  envoy  I  was  speaking  of  is  to  answer  Fiat 
vohmtas  to  the  word  Hosannah' 

*■  Some  one  is  coming  up  the  stairs  ! '  exclaimed  the 
other  nun,  opening  a  place  of  concealment  cleverly 
built  under  the  roof 

This  time  it  was  easy  to  hear,  amidst  profound 
silence,  the  steps  of  a  man  striking  against  pieces  of  hard 
mud  which  covered  the  stairs.  The  priest  hastily  entered 
a  kind  of  cupboard,  and  the  nun  threw  some  clothes  over 
him. 

'You  can  close  the  cupboard  now.  Sister  Agatha,' 
said  he,  in  a  low  voice. 

Hardly  was  the  priest  out  of  sight  when  three 
raps  at  the  door  startled  the  two  poor  creatures.  They 
looked  at  each  other  without  daring  to  utter  a  word. 

Construing  their  silence  In  his  own  way,  the  man  who 
was  knocking  pushed  open  the  door  and  suddenly  ap- 
peared. The  two  nuns  shuddered  when  they  recognised 
the  person  who  for  the  last  five  or  six  days  had  been 


I 


AN  EXPIATORY  MASS.  15 

lurking  around  the  house.  They  moved  not,  and  eyed 
him  with  uneasy  curiosity,  in  the  manner  of  shy  children 
who  silently  observe  strangers. 

The  man  was  of  middle  height  and  rather  portly ; 
but  nothing  in  his  demeanour  or  in  his  face  indicated 
malignity.  He  neither  advanced  nor  spoke,  but  ex- 
amined the  room.  Two  straw  mats,  stretched  out  on 
the  fioor,  were  the  only  couch  of  the  nuns.  There 
was  a  table  in  the  middle  of  the  room.  Thereon 
was  placed  a  brass  candlestick,  a  few  plates,  three 
knives,  and  a  round  loaf  The  fire  was  not  of  the 
brightest,  and  a  few  pieces  of  wood,  heaped  up  in  a 
corner,  showed  the  poverty  of  the  inmates.  The  walls,, 
which  were  painted  over,  betrayed  the  decrepid  state 
of  the  roof,  for  brownish  stains  showed  that  water 
trickled  down  from  above.  A  relic,  saved  probably  from 
the  sack  of  the  Abbey  of  Chelles,  was  deposited  on  the 
mantelpiece.  The  remainder  of  the  furniture  consisted 
of  three  chairs,  two  boxes,  and  an  old  chest  of  drawers. 
A  door  near  the  mantelpiece  indicated  that  there  was 
another  room  on  the  same  floor. 

This  enumeration  was  made  in  a  few  seconds  by  the 
stranger  who  had  appeared  under  such  sinister  auspices. 
A  feeling  of  compassion  was  visible  on  his  countenance, 
and  he  looked  benevolently  upon  the  two  women.  He 
seemed  at  least  as  embarrassed  as  they  were,  and  the  pause 
which  followed  lasted  a  full  minute;  At  length  the  visitor 
perceived  the  moral  weakness  and  inexperience  of  the 
poor  creatures,  and  he  said  to  them  in  a  voice  of  which 
he  tried  to  soften  the  tone  : 


i6  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  SANSONS, 

*■  I  do  not  come  here  as  an  enemy,  sisters.  If  some 
misfortune  were  to  happen  to  you,  do  not  attribute  any 
share  of  it  to  me.     I  have  a  favour  to  ask.' 

They  remained  silent. 

'  If  I  annoy  you — if  I  cause  you  any  inconveni- 
ence— speak  fearlessly,  I  will  retire  ;  but  know  that  I 
am  entirely  devoted  to  you,  and  that  if  I  can  be  of  any 
service  you  can  employ  me  without  fear.' 

There  was  such  an  accent  of  truth  in  these  words 
that  Sister  Agatha,  who  belonged  to  the  family  of 
Bethune,  and  whose  manners  seemed  to  indicate  that 
in  former  days  she  had  known  the  gaiety  of  fetes  and 
breathed  the  atmosphere  of  the  Court,  pointed  to  a 
chair,  as  if  inviting  the  speaker  to  sit  down.  The  un- 
known manifested  a  kind  of  joy  not  unmingled  with 
sadness,  when  he  understood  the  gesture ;  and  he 
waited  until  the  two  nuns  themselves  were  seated  before 
he  accepted  the  invitation. 

'  You  have  given  shelter,'  he  resumed, '  to  a  venerable 
priest,  who  miraculously  escaped  from  the  massacre  of 
the  Carmelites.' 

'  Hosannah  !  '  exclaimed  Sister  Agatha,  interrupting 
the  stranger. 

*  That  is  not  his  name,  I  think,'  answered  he. 

*  But,  sir,  we  have  no  priest  here,'  said  Sister  Martha, 
'and ' 

'You  should  be  more  careful,'  continued  the 
stranger,  in  a  gentle  tone  ;  and  he  stretched  out  his 
hand  and  took  up  a  breviary.  '  You  do  not  know  Latin, 
and ' 


AN  EXPIATORY  MASS.  17 

He  stopped,  for  the  extraordinary  emotion  which 
appeared  on  the  features  of  the  two  nuns  showed  him 
that  he  was  going  too  far.  They  trembled  and  their  eyes 
were  full  of  tears. 

'  Be  reassured/  said  the  unknown  visitor,  with  a  frank 
voice.  *  I  know  the  name  of  your  guest  and  yours  also. 
Five  days  ago  I  heard  of  your  distress,  and  of  your  devo- 
tion to  the  venerable  Abbe  de ' 

*  Hush  ! '  said  Sister  Agatha,  with  candour,  putting  up 
a  finger. 

'  You  may  perceive,  sisters,  that  if  I  had  the  horrible 
intention  of  betraying  you,  I  might  have  done  so  ere 
this.' 

Hearing  these  words,  the  priest  emerged  from  his 
hiding-place  and  advanced  towards  the  stranger. 

'  I  cannot  believe,  sir,'  said  he  to  him,  '  that  you  are 
one  of  our  persecutors,  and  I  do  not  distrust  you. 
What  do  you  want  t ' 

The  priest's  simple  manner  and  the  noble  expression 
of  his  features  might  have  disarmed  even  assassins.  The 
mysterious  individual  who  had  given  animation  to  this 
scene  of  misery  looked  for  a  few  moments  at  the  group 
formed  by  these  three  beings,  and,  assuming  a  tone  of 
confidence,  he  spoke  to  the  priest  in  the  following  terms  : 

'  Father,  I  came  to  beseech  you  to  say  a  mass  for 
the  repose  of  the  soul  of  a  person  whose  body — whose 
body  shall  never  be  buried  in  hallowed  ground.' 

The  priest  shuddered  ;  and  the  nuns,  not  understand- 
ing yet  what  the  stranger  wanted,  remained,  with  out- 
stretched necks,  in  an  attitude  of  curiosity. 
VOL.  II.  C 


i8  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  SANSONS. 

The  priest  scanned  the  stranger's  features.  Evident 
anxiety  could  be  seen  there,  and  his  looks  were  humble 
and  beseeching. 

*  Well,'  answered  the  priest,  '  return  at  midnight :  I 
shall  then  be  ready  to  celebrate  the  only  funeral  service 
we  can  offer  in  expiation  of  crime.' 

The  stranger  started  ;  but  a  gentle  and  grave  satis- 
faction overspread  his  features,  and,  after  bowing  respect- 
fully to  the  old  priest  and  to  the. nuns, he  disappeared, 
manifesting  a  kind  of  silent  gratitude  which  was  under- 
stood by  these  generous  souls. 

The  stranger  returned  two  hours  after,  and,  after 
discreetly  knocking  at  the  door,  he  was  introduced 
by  Mdlle.  de  Charost.  She  led  him  to  the  second  room 
on  the  same  landing,  where  everything  was  prepared 
for  the  ceremony. 

Between  two  shafts  the  nuns  had  placed  the  old  chest 
of  drawers,  of  which  the  old-fashioned  shape  was  con- 
cealed by  an  altar-covering  of  green  moire.  A  large 
crucifix  of  ebony  and  ivory,  attached  to  the  yellow  wall, 
showed  off  the  nudity  of  the  room  and  attracted  the  eyes. 
Four  small  thin  tapers  which  the  sisters  had  fixed  with 
yellow  wax  upon  this  improvised  altar  furnished  a  pale 
and  flickering  light.  These  tapers  hardly  lighted  the 
other  parts  of  the  room,  but  it  made  the  holy  objects 
discernible,  and  thereby  looked  like  rays  descending 
from  Heaven  on  this  unadorned  altar.  The  floor  was 
damp.  The  roof,  which  steeply  descended  on  both 
sides,  as  is  usual  in  garrets,  was  cracked,  and  an  icy 
wind  penetrated  through  the  openings.     Nothing  could 


'  AN  EXPIATORY  MASS.  19 

be  less  pompous,  and  yet  never,  perhaps,  was  anything 
more  impressive  than  this  gloomy  ceremony.  Profound 
silence  overcast  the  scene  with  a  kind  of  dark  majesty; 
and  the  grandeur  of  the  act  so  strongly  contrasted  with 
the  poverty  of  the  display  that  a  sentiment  of  religious 
awe  prevailed. 

The  two  old  nuns  were  kneeling  on  either  side  of  the 
altar,  and,  regardless  of  the  dampness  of  the  floor,  they 
joined  in  the  prayers  of  the  priest  who,  clad  in  his 
pontifical  vestments,  was  holding  up  a  gold  pyx  studded 
with  precious  stones — a  sacred  vase  saved,  no  doubt, 
from  the  pillage  of  the  Abbey  of  Chelles.  Then,  next 
to  this  pyx,  the  wine  and  the  water  reserved  for  the  holy 
sacrifice  were  contained  in  two  glasses  scarcely  worthy 
of  the  lowest  wine-shop.  As  he  had  no  missal,  the 
priest  had  placed  his  breviary  on  a  corner  of  the  altar. 
A  common  plate  was  provided  for  the  laving  of  the 
innocent  and  bloodless  hands.  Everything  was  im- 
mense though  small,  poor  though  noble,  profane  and 
holy  at  the  same  time. 

The  stranger  piously  kneeled  between  the  two 
nuns  ;  but,  suddenly  perceiving  a  crape  around  the  pyx 
and  the  crucifix,  he  was  assailed  by  a  recollection  so 
painful  that  drops  trickled  down  his  brow. 

The  four  silent  actors  in  this  scene  looked  at  each 
other  mysteriously ;  and  then  their  souls,  acting  in 
unison,  exchanged  their  religious  sentiments,  and  joined 
with  each  other  in  religious  commiseration. 

It  seemed  as  if  their  thoughts  had  evoked  the 
martyr  whose  remains  had  been  devoured  by  quicklime. 


20  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  SANSONS. 

and  as  if  his  shadow  was  before  them  in  all  its  majesty. 
They  celebrated  an  Obit,  without  the  body  of  the  defunct. 
Under  these  tiles  and  disjointed  rafters  four  Christians 
were  about  to  intercede  with  God  for  a  King  of  France, 
and  to  go  through  the  funeral  service  without  his 
coffin.  It  was  the  purest  of  devotions,  an  astonishing 
act  of  faithfulness  accomplished  without  fear.  The 
whole  Monarchy  was  there,  in  the  prayer  of  a  priest 
and  two  poor  women  ;  and  perhaps  the  Revolution  was 
also  represented  by  this  man,  whose  face  betrayed  too 
much  remorse  not  to  make  believe  that  he  was  actuated 
by  boundless  repentance. 

Instead  of  pronouncing  the  Latin  words  introibo  ad 
altare  Dei,  &c.,  the  priest,  by  a  divine  inspiration,  looked 
at  his  three  companions  who  represented  Christian 
France,  and  said  to  them  : 

'  Let  us  enter  God's  sanctuary  ! ' 

At  these  words,  uttered  with  impressive  softness, 
the  stranger  and  the  two  nuns  were  seized  with  religious 
awe.  God  could  not  have  appeared  more  majestic 
under  the  cupola  of  St.  Peter's  at  Rome  than  He  then 
appeared  to  these  Christians  in  this  refuge  of  misery. 

The  stranger's  fervour  was  sincere.  The  sentiment 
which  united  the  prayers  of  these  four  servants  uf  God 
and  the  King  was  unanimous.  The  holy  words  sounded 
like  celestial  music.  When  the  Pater  noster  was  said, 
tears  came  to  the  stranger's  eyes.  To  this  prayer  the 
priest  added,  '  And  forgive  the  regicides  as  Louis  XVI. 
himself  forgave  them.' 

The  two  nuns  saw  two  large  tears  rolling  down  the 


AN  EXPIATORY  MASS.  21 

stranger's  manly  cheeks.  The  mass  for  the  dead  was 
recited.  The  Domine  salvtim  fac  regent,  sung  in  a  low 
voice,  moved  these  faithful  Royalists.  They  thought 
that  the  child  King  on  whose  behalf  they  were  imploring 
was  in  the  hands  of  his  enemies. 

When  the  service  was  terminated,  the  priest  made  a 
sign  to  the  two  nuns,  who  retired.  As  soon  as  he  was 
alone  with  the  stranger,  he  went  up  to  him  with  a 
gentle  and  paternal  air,  and  said  to  him,  sadly : 

'  My  son,  if  you  dipped  your  hands  in  the  blood  of 
the  King,  confide  in  me — there  is  no  fault  that  cannot 
be  forgiven  by  a  repentance  so  sincere  and  so  touching 
as  yours.' 

At  the  priest's  first  words,  the  stranger  made  a 
movement  indicating  terror ;  but  he  regained  his  self- 
possession,  and  looking  calmly  at  the  astonished  ecclesi- 
astic : 

'  Father,'  said  he,  '  none  is  more  innocent  of  the 
crime  than  I  am.' 

'  I  am  bound  to  believe  you  ! '  said  the  priest. 

There  was  a  pause,  during  which  he  examined  his 
penitent.  Then,  still  believing  him  to  be  one  of  those 
timorous  members  of  the  Convention  who  sacrificed  a 
royal  head  in  order  to  preserve  their  own,  he  observed 
in  a  grave  voice  :  '  Remember,  my  son,  that  it  is  not 
enough  not  to  have  taken  part  in  this  great  crime  to  be 
absolved.  Those  who  could  defend  the  King  and  moved 
not  a  finger  in  his  defence,  shall  have  a  heavy  account 
to  answer  for  before  the  King  of  Heaven.  A  heavy 
account  indeed,'  added  the  priest,  shaking  his  head,  *  for 


22  MEMOIRS   OF  THE  SANSONS. 

they  became  the  unwiUing  accompHces  of  this  horrible 
deed.' 

'  Do  you  think,'  enquired  the  stranger,  with  astonish- 
ment, '  that  indirect  participation  will  be  punished  ? 
Is,  then,  the  soldier  who  attended  the  execution  guilty 
of  a  crime?  ' 

The  priest  hesitated. 

Happy  at  the  embarrassment  in  which  he  had 
plunged  this  puritan  of  royalty,  by  placing  him  between 
the  dogma  of  passive  obedience  which,  according  to  the 
partisans  of  monarchy,  should  predominate  in  the  army, 
and  the  equally  important  dogma  which  consecrates  the 
respect  due  to  the  person  of  a  King,  the  stranger 
hastened  to  construe  this  hesitation  of  the  priest  into  a 
favourable  answer  to  the  doubts  which  engrossed  him. 
He  then  said,  not  wishing  to  give  further  time  for 
reflection  to  the  venerable  Jansenist : 

*  I  cannot  offer  an  ordinary  fee  for  the  funeral  service 
you  have  just  celebrated  for  the  repose  of  the  soul  of  the 
King  and  for  the  quietude  of  my  conscience.  An  in- 
valuable boon  can  only  be  returned  by  an  equally 
invaluable  offering.  Deign  to  accept,  therefore,  this 
gift  of  a  holy  relic.  A  day  shall  come  when  you  will 
understand  its  value.' 

The  stranger,  suiting  the  action  to  the  word,  offered 
the  priest  a  very  light  and  small  box.  The  priest  took 
it,  impulsively  as  it  were  ;  for  the  gravity  of  the  man's 
words,  and  the  respect  with  which  he  held  the  box,  sur- 
prised him  very  much. 

They  then  returned  to  the  room  where  the  two  nuns 


AN  EXPIATORY  MASS.  23 

were  waiting  for  them.  '  You  live  in  a  house/  said  the 
stranger,  'of  which  the  owner,  Mucius  Ccevola,  the 
plasterer  who  lives  on  the  first  floor,  is  famous,  in  his 
section,  for  his  patriotism  ;  but  he  is  secretly  attached 
to  the  Bourbons.  Formerly  he  was  one  of  Prince  de 
Conti's  grooms,  and  what  he  possesses  he  got  from  his 
master.  If  you  remain  indoors,  you  are  safer  here  than 
anywhere  else  in  France.  Do  not  move.  Pious  people 
will  see  to  your  wants,  and  you  can  wait  for  more 
prosperous  days  without  danger.  A  year  hence,  on 
January  21  '  (in  pronouncing  these  last  words  he  could 
not  restrain  a  shudder),  *  if  you  select  this  melancholy 
shelter  for  your  abode,  I  shall  return  and  celebrate  with 
you  the  expiatory  mass.' 

He  bowed  to  the  speechless  inmates  of  the  garret, 
cast  a  final  look  on  the  symptoms  of  their  poverty,  and 
went  away. 

For  the  two  innocent  nuns,  such  an  adventure  had 
the  interest  of  a  romance.  As  soon  as  they  were  ap- 
prised of  the  mysterious  present  made  by  the  unknown 
visitor  to  the  venerable  abbe,  the  box  was  placed  on  the 
table,  and  the  three  faces,  feebly  lighted  by  the  candle, 
evinced  uncontrollable  curiosity.  Mademoiselle  de 
Charost  opened  the  box,  and  found  therein  a  rather 
large  pocket-handkerchief  of  very  fine  cambric.  It  was 
soiled  by  a  few  drops  of  perspiration.  After  looking  at 
it  with  scrupulous  attention,  they  found  a  number  of 
small  dark  spots,  as  if  the  cambric  had  received  splashes. 

'  It  is  blood  !  '  said  the  priest,  in  a  deep  voice. 

The  two  sisters  recoiled  with  horror  from  the  relic. 


24  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  SANSONS. 


I 


For  these  simple  creatures  the  mystery  which  surrounded 
the  stranger  became  unexplainable.  As  for  the  priest, 
he  did  not  even  attempt  to  clear  it.  The  three  prisoners 
soon  perceived  that,  even  in  the  darkest  days  of  the 
Reign  of  Terror,  a  powerful  hand  was  extended  over 
them.  At  first  they  received  wood  and  provisions  ; 
then  the  two  nuns  guessed  that  a  woman  was  acting  in 
unison  with  their  protector,  when  they  received  linen 
and  garments  which  enabled  them  to  walk  out  without 
attracting  attention  by  the  quaintness  of  the  old- 
fashioned  dresses  they  had  hitherto  been  compelled  to 
wear.  At  length  Mucius  Ccevola  gave  them  two  cards 
of  civism.^  They  frequently  received  communications 
concerning  the  safety  of  the  priest,  and  they  found  this 
advice  so  opportune  and  well-timed  that  they  inferred 
that  their  correspondent  must  be  familiar  with  the 
secrets  of  the  State.  In  spite  of  the  famine  which 
prevailed  in  Paris,  they  found  at  their  door  rations  of 
white  bread,  which  were  regularly  brought  by  invisible 
hands.  In  these  circumstances  the  noble  inmates  of  the 
garret  could  not  but  believe  their  protector  to  be  the 
person  who  had  caused  the  expiatory  mass  to  be  cele- 
brated in  the  night  of  January  21,  1793.  He  therefore 
became  the  object  of  peculiar  respect  to  these  three 
poor  creatures,  who  had  no  hope,  save  in  him,  and  who 
lived  solely  through  his  agency.  Morning  and  evening 
the  pious  souls  made  wishes  for  his  prosperity  and  sal- 
vation. 

\         '  The  carte  de  civisme  was  a  kind  of  passport  with  which  it  was  impos- 
j  sible  to  dispense  during  the  Reign  of  Terror. — N.  Ed. 


AN  EXPIATORY  MASS.  25 

Their  gratitude,  being,  as  it  were,  rekindled  every 
day,  was  naturally  attended  with  a  feeling  of  curiosity 
which  became  more  and  more  intense.  The  circum- 
stances that  had  accompanied  the  appearance  of  the 
stranger  formed  the  usual  subject  of  their  conversations. 
They  made  a  thousand  conjectures,  and  the  occupation 
thereby  furnished  to  them  was  an  additional  boon.  They 
were  resolved  not  to  allow  him  to  shirk  their  friendship 
when  he  returned  according  to  his  promise,  to  celebrate 
the  melancholy  anniversary  of  the  death  of  Louis  XVI. 
The  long-expected  evening  came  at  last. 

At  midnight  the  heavy  step  was  heard  again  on  the 
old  wooden  staircase.  The  room  had  been  prepared  for 
his  reception.  The  altar  was  in  its  place.  This  time 
the  sisters  hurried  to  the  door  before  the  stranger  had 
time  to  reach  the  top  landing,  and  lighted  his  way. 
Mdlle.  de  Charost  even  descended  a  few  steps,  thus 
sooner  to  catch  sight  of  her  benefactor. 

'  Come,'  said  she,  in  a  moved  and  affectionate  voice. 
'  Come  ;  you  are  expected.' 

The  man  raised  his  head,  threw  a  dark  look  at  the 
nun,  and  did  not  answer.  She  felt  as  if  a  dress  of  ice 
enveloped  her,  and  was  silent.  The  stranger  entered, 
and  at  his  sight  gratitude  and  curiosity  expired  in  every 
heart.  He  was  perhaps  less  cold,  taciturn,  and  gloomy 
than  he  had  at  first  appeared  to  these  beings,  whose 
exalted  sentiments  yearned  to  launch  into  friendship. 
The  three  poor  prisoners  understood  that  this  man 
vv^ished  to  remain  a  stranger  to  them,  and  they  sub- 
mitted.      The  priest  thought  he  detected  a  faint  smile 


26  MEMOIRS  OF   THE  SAN  SONS. 


I 


on  the  stranger's  face  when  he  saw  the  preparations  that 
had  been  made  for  his  reception.  He  heard  mass, 
prayed,  and  disappeared,  after  answering  by  a  few  words 
of  negative  politeness  to  Mdlle.  de  Charost's  invitation 
to  share  a  small  repast  she  had  prepared. 

The  expiatory  mass  was  mysteriously  celebrated  in 
the  garret  until  public  worship  was  re-established  by 
the  First  Consul.  When  the  nuns  and  the  abbe  could 
reappear  in  the  world  without  fear,  they  saw  the  unknown 
no  more. 

The '  Unknown '  was,  as  I  said  before,  Charles  Henri 
Sanson,  my  grandfather,  who  sought,  by  a  pious  cere- 
mony, to  pacify  his  troubled  conscience.  Our  family 
watched  over  these  poor  proscripts  until  the  end  of  the 
Reign  of  Terror,  and  the  abbe  and  sisters  never  knew 
the  name  of  their  protector  ;  for  the  sequel  of  the  story 
related  by  Balzac  (which  I  have  omitted)  is  not  true,  and 
was  only  written  for  the  wants  of  fiction. 

The  relic  offered  to  the  old  priest  by  Charles  Sanson 
was  the  handkerchief  the  King  held  on  reaching  the 
scaffold.  He  had  used  it  more  than  once,  on  the  way 
from  prison,  to  wipe  the  perspiration  from  his  forehead, 
and  a  few  drops  of  blood  had  stained  it  after  the  head 
had  fallen.  The  different  garments  worn  by  the  un- 
fortunate monarch  at  the  time  of  his  death  were  carefully 
preserved  by  my  grandfather.  He  was,  however,  unable 
to  withhold  some  articles  from  his  assistants,  who,  as  I 
was  told,  sold  them  for  large  sums. 

My  father  asked  for  and  obtained  the  shoes  and  the 


AN  EXPIATORY  MASS.  27^ 

collar  buckle  ;  and  he  was  only  induced  to  part  with  them 
by  an  event  which  is  worth  relating.  A  few  days  after 
the  King's  death  a  horseman,  followed  by  a  servant,  rang 
at  our  door,  and  asked  for  the  master  of  the  house.  My 
grandfather  was  out ;  so  my  father  received  the  visitor. 
The  latter  was  a  man  of  fine  appearance,  in  the  flower 
of  age  ;  he  was  dressed  in  black,  and  the  Bourbonian 
cast  of  his  features  strongly  reminded  my  father  of 
Louis  XVI. 

'  Sir !  '  said  the  new  comer,  who  appeared  much 
moved,  '  I  am  told  that  you  possess  different  objects 
which  once  belonged  to  the  late  King.  As  I  suppose 
you  wish  to  sell  them,  I  came  to  make  you  an  offer.' 

'  Sir,'  answered  my  father,  somewhat  nettled,  *we  have, 
as  you  say,  kept  a  few  articles  of  apparel  belonging  to 
the  late  King,  but  we  owe  no  explanations  to  anyone  con- 
cerning the  use  we  intend  to  make  of  them  ;  and  I  may  as 
well  tell  you  at  once  that  we  do  not  propose  to  part  with 
them,  at  any  price. 

The  visitor  looked  surprised. 

'  What !  if  I  offered  you  a  princely  ransom  for  your 
prize ' 

'  We  would  not  accept  it.' 

While  he  was  speaking,  my  father  looked  attentively 
at  the  stranger,  and  the  similarity  of  his  features  and  of 
those  of  Louis  XVL  struck  him  again.  His  features  were 
finer  than  the  unfortunate  prince's,  but  it  was  the  same 
aquiline  nose,  high  forehead,  and  thick  lips  which  formed 
the  typical  signs  of  the  race  of  the  Bourbons.  The 
visitor  glanced  around  the  room,  and,  seeing  on  the  wall 


28  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  SANSONS. 


a  very  fine  engraving  of  one  of  the  last  portraits  of 
Louis  XV.,  an  expression  of  surprise  and  emotion  ap- 
peared on  his  countenance.  This  engraving,  dated  1733, 
was  due  to  Daulle,  one  of  the  celebrated  engravers  of 
the  time. 

*  If  you  knew,'  said  he,  '  on  what  grounds  I  ask 
for  these  melancholy  souvenirs,  perhaps  you  would  not 
refuse  to  let  me  have  them.  Let  me  inform  you  that 
I  belong,  by  secret  relationship,  to  the  family  of  the 
royal  victim.  I  am  the  son  of  the  King  whose  portrait 
I  have  before  me  ;  I  am  usually  styled  the  Abbe  de 
Bourbon,' 

My  father  looked  at  the  engraving,  and  saw  that  his 
visitor  bore  a  wonderful  likeness  to  Louis  XV.  The 
Abbe  de  Bourbon,  as  he  was  called,  was  one  of  the 
illegitimate  sons  of  this  voluptuous  monarch,  who  were 
indeed  far  too  numerous  to  be  legally  recognised. 
Secretly  protected  by  Louis  XVI.,  the  young  abbe  had 
been  enabled  to  lead  a  semi-princely  life.  This  pa- 
tronage had  inspired  deep  gratitude  in  the  Abbe  de 
Bourbon  ;  and  his  desire  to  possess  some  remembrance 
of  his  beloved  protector  was  but  natural.  My  father 
could  not  resist  his  entreaties,  and  he  gave  him  the  shoes 
wHich  the  King  had  used  last,  and  his  collar  buckle.  He 
declined  to  accept  any  remuneration,  and  considered 
himself  amply  repaid  by  the  abbe's  profuse  thanks. 


29 


CHAPTER   XXVIII. 

THE  LA   ROUERIE    CONSPIRACY. 

The  tribunal  instituted  on  August  lO,  shortly  after 
the  King's  death,  was  replaced  by  the  '  Revolutionary 
Tribunal,'  and  the  guillotine,  which  for  some  days  had 
remained  bloodless,  was  again  in  daily  demand.  The 
executions  which  took  place  then  are  not  of  sufficient 
importance  to  be  recorded  in  these  memoirs  ;  and  no 
name  worth  mentioning  occurs  in  my  notes  up  to  the 
famous  conspiracy  of  La  Rouerie,  which  aimed  at 
nothing  less  than  the  overthrow  of  the  Republic. 

The  larger  portion  of  the  nobility  had  emigrated  ; 
but  a  goodly  number  of  seigneurs  still  remained  in 
France^  These  noblemen  lived  far  from  each  other  in 
their  castles  and  country-seats,  and  watched  with  fear 
the  progress  of  the  Revolution.  They  abhorred  the  new 
state  of  things,  and  longed  to  take  their  revenge  ;  but 


fear  kept  them  apart,  andlTieir  separation  prevented  them  . 

Curiously  enough,  it  was  an  obscure  individual  who 
undertook  to  bring  together  all  these  elements  which 
were  hostile  to  the  new  regime,  and  therewith  to  form 
in  the  west  of  France   a  league  sufficiently  powerful  to 


30  MEMOIRS  OF   THE  SANSONS. 

destroy  the  young    Republic.      This  man's  name  was 
Tuffin  de  la  Rouerie. 

He  was  one  of  those  bold  and  active  individuals  who 
love  adventure.  The  beginning  of  his  career  was  very 
romantic.  He  entered  the  army,  and,  after  distinguishing 
himself  as  an  officer,  he  became  a  Trappist.  But  such  a 
man  could  riot  be  content  with  wearing  the  cassock  ;  he 
left  La  Trappe,  and  took  part  in  the  American  War  of 
Independence. 

On  his  return  to  France,  he  showed  some  favour  for 
the  new  ideas  that  were  then  spreading  like  wildfire  ; 
the  danger  of  the  King,  however,  excited  his  imagination, 
and  rekindled  his  lukewarm  loyalty.  He  went  to 
Coblentz,  and  proposed  to  the  princes  to  go  and  foment 
an  insurrection  in  Brittany. 

La  Rouerie  returned  with  a  moderate  sum  of  money  ; 
and,  with  no  help  beyond  his  own  indomitable  will,  he 
undertook  to  realise  the  plan  he  had  devised. 

The  record  of  his  life  would  fill  a  volume,  during 
the  year  he  employed  in  organising  the  conspiracy 
which  extended  over  the  whole  of  Brittany,  and  which 
but  for  the  death  of  its  originator  would  have  becoir^e 
one  of  the  most  gigantic  ever  recorded  by  history.  He 
was  everywhere  and  nowhere  ;  he  was  seen  in  Jersey, 
in  London,  in  Coblentz,  and  a  few  days  after  his  steps 
were  traced  in  the  wilds  of  Brittany. 

The  plot  was  his  own  work.  He  confided  his  secret 
to  no  intermediary  ;  he  himself  visited  the  most  humble 
partisans  of  royalty,  raised  their  courage,  and  stimulated 
their  zeal.    He  showed  them  the  King's  palace  invaded, 


1 


THE  LA   ROUERIE  CONSPIRACY.  31 

the  royal  family  outraged,  the  King's  head  covered  with 
the  red  nightcap.  He  proved  to  them  the  necessity  of 
defending  royalty  by  arms.  If  age,  infirmities,  or  sex 
prevented  them  from  joining  the  civil  war,  he  very 
cleverly  obtained  a  year  of  their  income  for  the  benefit 
of  the  enterprise. 

In  the  month  of  August  1 792  the  nets  of  the  conspiracy 
extended  to  all  towns,  villages,  and  hamlets  in  Brittany, 
and  La  Rouerie  was  the  only  man  who  held  the  strings 
of  the  plot.  His  excessive  prudence  prevented  the  plot 
from  succeeding,  and  saved  France  from  great  danger. 
The  revolution  of  August  10  appalled  La  Rouerie. 
Until  then  he  had  waited  for  a  favourable  opportunity. 
The  King  was  now  a  prisoner,  the  Prussians  were  in 
full  retreat,  and  he  began  to  fear  that  the  time  was  past 
and  that  it  was  too  late. 

Sorrow,  excitement,  and,  above  all,  the  extraordinary 
fatigues  he  had  endured,  had  ruined  his  health ;  his 
^ame  gave  way,  and  he  sought  shelter  at  Lamballe  ; 
but  suspicious  faces  having  been  observed  around  the 
house  where  he  was  concealed,  he  sought  another 
refuge,  after  burying  in  the  garden  all  the  papers  he 
possessed  ;  and,  under  the  name  of  Gosselin,  he  claimed 
the  hospitality  of  a  Breton  gentleman  of  the  neighbour- 
hood, M.  Delamotte  de  Laguyomerais.  La  Rouerie 
now  felt  that  he  was  dying.  He  revealed  his  real  name 
to  his  host,  and  did  not  conceal  the  danger  to  which 
his  generous  hospitality  exposed  him.  Although  the 
local  authorities  had  no  knowledge  of  the  extent  of  the 
conspiracy,  its  existence  was  no  secret  to  them.      Two 


32  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  SANSONS. 

of  La  Rouerie's  agents,  Latouche  and  Lalligaud- 
Moriilon,  had  sold  to  Danton  the  secrets  which  had 
been  entrusted  to  them.  A  reward  had  been  offered 
for  La  Rouerie's  apprehension.  The  dying  man  stoic- 
ally indicated  to  his  host  the  precautions  he  was  to 
take  in  order  to  conceal  his  body  and  prevent  it  from 
being  identified  ;  and  shortly  afterwards  he  expired. 

M.  de  Laguyomerais  applied  to  a  surgeon  of  St. 
Servan,  named  Lemasson,  with  whom  he  was  acquainted. 
The  latter  disfigured  La  Rouerie's  corpse  by  numerous 
incisions,  and  in  the  following  night  the  conspirator  was 
deposited  in  a  neighbouring  wood,  in  a  hole  full  of  quick- 
lime. 

Unfortunately  for  M.  de  Laguyomerais,  there  was  a 
traitor  among  his  servants  ;  a  certain  Chefty  denounced 
him,  and  the  remains  of  the  proscript  were  discovered. 
It  was  ascertained  that  he  had  spent  several  days  at 
Lamballe,  at  Mdme.  de  la  Fauchais's  house  ;  and  a  search 
in  this  lady's  garden  led  to  the  discovery  of  the  papery 
which  La  Rouerie  had  consigned  to  the  earth.  La  Rouerie 
had,  however,  destroyed  the  list  of  his  accomplices. 
But  M.  de  Laguyomerais,  his  family  and  his  servants, 
the  surgeon  of  St.  Servan,  and  a  few  Breton  gentlemen 
were  arrested,  sent  to  Paris,  and  arraigned  before  the 
Revolutionary  Tribunal. 

The  trial  began  on  August  8,  and  lasted  ten  days. 
The  two  sons  of  M.  de  Laguyomerais  were  discharged  ; 
M.  de  Laguyomerais  himself,  and  his  wife,  Marie- Jeanne 
Micault ;  his  brother-in-law,  Mathurin  Micault  de 
Minville  ;  Mdme.  de   la  Fauchais  ;  the    Abbe   Thebaut 


THE  LA   ROUERIE  CONSPIRACY.  33 

de  Lachavenais,  tutor  of  Laguyomerais'  sons  ;  Anne  de 
Pontavis,  late  officer  in  the  Armagnac  regiment ;  Picot 
de  Moelan ;  Locquer  de  Granville ;  and  Gurge  de 
Fontevieux,  were  sentenced  to  death  ;  and  on  August  1 8 
they  suffered  their  fate  with  the  greatest  courage. 

Shortly  before  the  above  affair,  another  remarkable 
trial  occurred.  The  Convention  had  sent  to  the  depart- 
ment of  Jura  two  of  its  members,  Leonard  Bourdon 
and  Prost,  with  the  mission  of  watching  the  operation  of 
recruiting.  The  two  delegates  had  stopped  at  Orleans, 
where  an  attempt  was  made  to  murder  Bourdon.  The 
Convention,  indignant  at  the  treatment  offered  to  one 
of  its  members,  called  the  municipality  of  Orleans 
before  it.  Orleans  was  noted  for  its  lukewarm  republic- 
anism, and  the  Government  deemed  it  necessary  to 
make  an  example ;  the  municipality  was  suspended, 
and  a  number  of  national  guards  who  had  attacked 
Bourdon  were  arrested  and  brought  before  the  Revolu- 
tionary Tribunal.  Four  were  acquitted,  and  nine  were 
sentenced  to  death. 

My  grandfather  received  Fouquier-Tinville's  injunc- 
tion to  be  ready ;  but  public  opinion  Was  so  strongly 
bent  on  clemency  that  Charles  Henri  Sanson  himself, 
who  was  rather  sceptical  in  such  matters,  did  not  think 
the  execution  would  take  place.  Petitions  were  pre- 
sented to  the  Convention  in  favour  of  the  culprits,  but 
no  notice  of  them  was  taken,  and  the  nine  Orleanese 
were  led  to  the  scaffold.  They  were  no  exception  to  the 
rule,  and  died  with  great  firmness. 

VOL.  II.  D 


34  MEMOIRS   OF   THE  SANSONS. 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

CHARLOTTE   CORD  AY. 

On  July  13,  at  the  very  moment  when  the  corpses  of 
the  nine  Orleanese  were  being  taken  to  the  cemetery  of 
La  Madeleine,  another  representative  of  the  people  was 
murdered.  This  was  Marat,  and  the  hand  that  dealt 
the  death  blow  was  a  woman's. 

There  lived  at  Caen  a  girl  named  Marie- Anne  Char- 
lotte-de  Corday  d'Armont.  Her  family  belonged  to  the 
aristocracy,  and  one  of  her  ancestors  was  one  of  the  greatest 
national  glories  of  France.  Jacques  Frangois  de  Corday 
d'Armont,  her  father,  was  the  descendant  of  Marie 
Corneille,  sister  of  the  author  of  '  Le  Cid.'  M.  de  Corday 
was  poor ;  his  daughter  Charlotte  was  a  child  when  her 
mother  died,  and  these  circumstances  influenced  her  over- 
sensitive and  enthusiastic  nature.  She  strongly  sym- 
pathised with  the  Revolution,  and  it  was  in  a  fit  of 
revolutionary  fanaticism  that  she  determined  to  go  to 
Paris  and  kill  Marat,  whom  she  regarded  as  the  worst 
enemy  of  the  new  regime. 

She  confided  her  intention  to  no  one,  and  secretly 
left  Caen  for  Paris  on  July  9,  and   arrived  on  the  nth. 


wiMnuoTTS  comi 


CHARLOTTE   CORD  AY.  35 

On  the  following  day,  she  went  to  see  Duperret,  a 
member  of  the  Convention,  for  whom  she  had  a  letter. 
He  promised  to  take  her  on  the  following  day  to  the 
Home  Office,  where  she  wished  to  solicit  on  behalf  of 
one  of  her  friends,  Mdlle.  de  Forbin.  On  the  Saturday 
before  calling  on  Duperret  at  the  appointed  hour,  she 
wrote  a  note  to  Marat,  asking  for  an  interview. 
Charlotte  Corday  then  called  on  the  minister,  in  her 
protector's  company ;  but  Duperret  was  not  in  favour, 
and  he  could  not  obtain  an  audience.  He  accompanied 
Charlotte  as  far  as  the  Palais-Royal  and  left  her.  When 
she  was  alone  she  entered  a  cutler's  shop,  and  bought  a 
knife  with  an  ebony  handle,  and  then  returned  to  her 
hotel,  expecting  to  find  there  Marat's  answer. 

Marat  was  ill  ;  for  some  time  he  had  not  attended 
the  sittings  of  the  Convention.  It  seems  to  have  been 
Charlotte  Corday's  original  idea  to  strike  him  in  the 
very  assembly  of  which  he  was  a  member ;  but  his 
indisposition  necessitated  a  change  in  her  plans.  She 
called  at  Marat's  house  on  the  13th,  but  was  not 
admitted.  She  returned  in  the  evening,  and  on  her 
assurance  that  her  business  was  of  a  pressing  nature, 
she  was  at  length  ushered  into  Marat's  presence. 

The  '  father  of  the  people,'  as  he  was  styled,  was  in 
his  bath.  A  cloth  had  been  thrown  over  the  bath,  and 
Marat  was  writing  on  a  board,  which  he  used  as  a  desk. 
He  put  a  few  questions  to  Charlotte,  who  suddenly 
approached  the  bath  ;  leaning  over  Marat  she  struck  him 
with  her  knife.  The  blow  was  dealt  with  such  force 
that  the    weapon    entered  Marat's   bosom   up   to   the 


36  MEMOIRS   OF   THE  SANSONS. 

handle.  Marat  uttered  a  cry  and  expired  almost  in- 
stantly. 

His  .shriek  for  help  brought  in  a  commissionnaire 
named  Laurent  Basse,  and  two  female  attendants. 
Charlotte  Corday  was  standing  near  the  window,  and 
did  not  try  to  escape.  The  commissionnaire  struck  her 
down  with  a  chair ;  she  rose,  but  Basse  knocked  her 
dowTi  a  second  time,  and  held  her  to  the  ground,  while 
the  two  attendants  and  a  surgeon  were  carrying  Marat 
to  his  bed.  A  number  of  national  guards  came  up,  and 
Charlotte  Corday  was  arrested. 

The  news  was  soon  known  at  large,  and  an  immense 
crowd  assembled  around  Marat's  dwelling,  clamouring 
for  the  assassin's  head.  It  was  not  deemed  prudent  to 
take  Charlotte  to  prison  until  popular  effer\'escence  had 
subsided ;  she  was  therefore  incarcerated  in  Marat's 
apartment,  where  Guellard  du  Mesnil,  a  commissary  of 
f)ohce,  questioned  her.  She  answered  all  questions  with 
a  calmness  and  dignity  which  never  forsook  her  until  her 
death.  A  few  hours  after,  she  was  taken  to  the  Prison 
de  I'Abbaye,  where  the  members  of  the  Committee  of 
Public  Safety'  interrogated  her  several  times. 

Charlotte  appeared  before  the  Revolutionar}-  Tri- 
bunal on  July  17.  She  showed,  great  firmness  during 
the  trial,  the  result  of  which,  of  course,  was  a  foregone  con- 
clusion. After  the  jury  had  given  in  a  verdict  of  death, 
she  asked  the  gendarmes  to  take  her  to  her  counsel, 
M.  Chauveau  de  la  Garde,  whom  she  heartily  thanked 
for  his  services.  Charlotte  Corday  was  then  trans- 
ferred to  her  cell,  whence  she  was  soon  to  be  led  to  the 


I 


JEAN    PAUL   MAJLAT 
'  THK  FKorLs's  runD 


CHARLOTTE   CORDAY.  37 

Place  de  la  Revolution.  A  priest  came  forward,  but  she 
firmly  although  courteously  declined  his  services. 

She  had  hardly  been  ten  minutes  in  her  cell  when  a 
painter,  who  had  commenced  a  sketch  of  her  in  the 
course  of  the  trial,  entered  and  asked  her  permission  to 
finish  it  Charlotte  readily  acquiesced.  During  the 
sitting,  which  lasted  an  hour  and  a  half,  the  unfortunate 
creature  conversed  freely  with  the  artist,  and  she  evinced 
neither  surprise  nor  fear  when  the  door  was  again  thrown 
open,  to  admit  the  clerks  of  the  court  and  the  executioner. 
My  grandfather  had  brought  the  red  shirt  reserved  for 
parricides,  which  Charlotte  Corday  was  to  wear  on  her 
way  to  the  guillotine. 

In  a  preceding  chapter  I  stated  that  Charles  Henri 
Sanson  had,  during  a  period  of  the  revolutionary  crisis, 
kept_a__diary,  not  only  of  executions  but  also  of  his 
personal  impressions.  This  record  only  became  regular 
towards  the  end  of  Brumaire  1793  ;  but  my  grandfather 
wrote  a  circumstantial  account  of  Charlotte  Corday's 
execution.    I  give  it  here  in  full : 

'On  this  day,  Wednesday,  July  17,  first  year  of  the 
one  and  indivisible  Republic,  I  executed  Charlotte 
Corday,  of  Caen,  who  murdered  the  patriot  Marat, 
member  of  the  Convention. 

'  On  Wednesday,  17th,  as  above,  at  ten  o'clock  in  the 
morning,  I  went  to  take  the  orders  of  Citizen  Fouquier- 
Tinville.  Citizen  Fouquier  was  busy  ;  he  sent  word  for 
me  to  wait.  Meanwhile  I  went  out,  and  had  some 
breakfast.  At  one  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  a  citizen 
who  had  just  left  the  Tribunal  told  me  that  the  girl  was 


38 


MEMOIRS   OF   THE   SANSONS. 


convicted.  I  made  haste  back,  and  met  Citizen  Fouquier 
in  the  witnesses'  room.  He  was  quarreUing  with  Citizen 
Montane,  whom  he  charged  with  being  too  favourable  to 
the  accused.  They  entered  a  private  room,  and  remained 
there  an  hour  and  a  half.  On  reappearing,  Citizen 
Fouquier  saw  me  and  said  angrily,  "  What  are  you  dally- 
ing here  for  }  "  I  answered  that  he  had  given  me  no  orders. 
Citizen  Fabricius  handed  me  a  copy  of  the  judgment, 
and  we  went  to  the  Conciergerie  together.  I  spoke  to 
Richard,  the  gaoler,  and  observed  that  his  wife  was  pale 
and  frightened.  I  enquired  whether  she  was  unwell.  She 
said,  "  Wait  a  moment,  and  perhaps  your  heart  will  fail 
you  too."  Richard  conducted  us  to  the  cell  occupied  by 
the  culprit.  Citizens  Tirrasse  and  Monet,  the  clerks  of 
the  Tribunal,  entered  first.  I  remained  on  the  threshold. 
In  the  cell  were  two  persons,  a  gendarme,  and  a  citizen 
who  was  finishing  Charlotte  Corday's  portrait.  She  was 
writing  something  on  the  back  of  a  4DOok.  She  looked 
in  my  direction,  and  asked  me  to  wait.  When  she  had 
finished.  Citizens  Tirrasse  and  IMonet  read  out  the  judg- 
ment, and  meanwhile  Charlotte  Corday  folded  the  paper 
on  which  she  had  written  and  gave  it  to  Citizen  Monet, 
requesting  him  to  hand  it  to  Pontecoulant,  the  deputy. 
She  then  removed  her  chair  to  the  middle  of  the  room^ 
toolT^fif  h^r  cap,  sat  down,  and  told  me  to  cut  her  hair. 
Since  M.  de  la  Barre  I  had  not  seen  courage  equal  to^ 
JiersT^Ve  were,  in  all,  six  or  seven  men,  whose  profes- 
sion was  anythingJbut_softening ;  and  yet  she  was"Tess 
moved  than  we  were.  WhenTier  hair  was  cropped,  she 
gave  a  part  of  it  to  the  artist  who  had  taken  her  portrait, 


.U)(\Ll 


CHARLOTTE   CORD  AY.  39 

and  handed  the  remainder  to  Richard,  the  gaoler,  re-  \  ^ 
questing  him  to  give  it  to  his  wife.  I  gave  her  the  red 
shirt,  which  she  arranged  herself.  As  I  was  preparing 
to  pinion  her,  she  asked  me  whether  she  could  keep  her 
gloves,  because  those  who  had  tied  her  when  she  was 
arrested  had  tightened  the  cords  so  much  that  her 
skin  was  broken.  I  answered  that  she  could  do  as  she 
liked,  but  that  I  could  pinion  her  without  hurting  her. 
She  smiled  and  said,  "  To  be  sure  you  ought  to  know  how 
to  do  it !  "  and  held  out  her  naked  hands.  We  entered 
the  cart,  which  contained  two  chairs,  one  of  which  I  pre- 
sented to  her.  She  declined,  and  I  told  her  that  she  was 
right,  as  the  jolting  of  the  cart  was  less  trying  in  an  erect 
position.  She  smiled,  but  was  silent.  There  was  thunder 
and  rain  when  we  reached  the  quays,  but  the  crowd  was 
as  thick  as  ever.  There  had  been  a  good  many  cries 
on  our  leaving  the  Conciergerie  ;  but  these  cries  became 
less  and  less  numerous  as  we  advanced.  Insults  came 
only  from  those  who  marched  around  the  cart.  At  a  win- 
dow in  the  Rue  St.  Honore,  I  recognised  Citizens  Robes- 
pierre, Camille,  Desmoulins,  and  Danton,  members  of  the 
Convention.  Citizen  Robespierre  appeared  very  excited, 
and  spoke  a  great  deal  to  his  companions ;  but  the  latter, 
and  particularly  Citizen  Danton,  did  not  seem  to  hear  him, 
so  attentively  did  they  look  at  the  culprit.  I  myself  often 
turned  round  to  look  at  her.  And  the  more  I  saw  of  her 
the  more  I  wished  to  see.  It  was  not  on  account  of  her 
personal  beauty,  great  as  that  was  ;  but  I  thought  it  was_ 
impossible  that  she  could  remain  so  calm  and  courageous 
as  I  saw  her ;  yet  what  I  hitherto  considered  as  beyond 


40  ,     MEMOIRS   OF   THE   SANSONS. 

the  strength  of  human  nerve  happened.  During  the  two 
hours  I  spent  in  her  company  I  could  detect  no  sign  of 
anger  or  indignation  on  her  face.  She  did  not  speak ; 
she  looked,  not  at  those  who  insulted  her,  but  at  the 
citizens  who  were  at  the  windows.     The  crowd  was  so 


dense  that  our  cart  advanced  very  slowly.  As  she  was 
sighing,  I  said  to  her :  "■  You  find  the  way  very  long,  I 
fear  .^"  "  No  matter,"  she  replied  ;  "we  are  sure  to  reach 
the  scaffold  sooner  or  later."  I  rose  as  we  reached  the 
Place  de  la  Revolution,  and  stood  before  her,  in  order  to 
conceal  the  sight  of  the  scaffold  from  her;  but  she 
insisted  on  looking  at  the  machine,  saying,  "  I  have  a 
right  to  be  curious  ;  this  is  the  first  time  I  see  it  !  " 
In  stepping  out  of  the  cart,  I  perceived  that  unknown 
individuals  had  mingled  with  my  assistants.  While  I 
was  requesting  the  gendarmes  to  clear  the  place, 
Charlotte  Corday  nimbly  ascended  the  steps  of  the 
guillotine.  On  reaching  the  platform,  Fermin,  one  of  my 
men,  suddenly  snatched  away  her  neckerchief,  and  she 
stretched  out  on  the  weigh-plank  of  her  own  accord. 
Although  I  was  not  ready,  I  thought  it  would  be 
barbarous  to  prolong  the  poor  girl's  sufferings,  even  for 
a  second,  and  I  made  a  sign  to  Fermin,  who  pulled  the 
rope.  I  was  still  at  the  foot  of  the  scaffold  when  one 
of  those  who  had  tried  to  meddle  with  a  business  which 
was  not  theirs,  a  carpenter  named  Legros,  picked  up 
Charlotte  Corday's  head  and  showed  it  to  the  people. 
Although  I  was  used  to  this  kind  of  thing,  I  could 
not  help  turning  away.  It  was  by  the  murmurs  of  the . 
crowd  that  I  became  aware  that  the  rascal  had  struck 


CHARLOTTE   CORD  AY.  41 

the  head  ;  and  I  was  afterwards  told  that  the  face 
turned  red,  as  if  resenting  the  insult.  When  I  went 
home,  the  prediction  of  Richard's  wife  was  realised. 
As  I  was  sitting  down,  my  wife  said  to  me,  "  What  is 
the  matter  with  you — why  are  you  so  pale  ?  "  ' 

My  grandfather  wrote  to  the  papers,  contradict- 
ing the  statement  that  the  perpetrator  of  the  outrage 
he  has  just  related  was  one  of  his  assistants.  The 
Revolutionary  Tribunal  ordered  Legros  to  be  arrested, 
and  publicly  reprimanded  him. 


42  MEMOIRS   OF  THE   SANSONS. 


CHAPTER   XXX. 

CUSTINE. 

After  the  painful  execution  of  the  preceding  chapter, 
we  again  relapse  into  'unimportant  executions)  but  the 
quantity  makes  up  for  the  quality. 

On  July  1 8  Joseph  Mazellier,  late  officer  in  the 
cavalry  regiment  of  Royal-Piemont,  convicted  of  emigra- 
tion and  condemned  to  death  by  the  Revolutionary 
Tribunal,  was  executed. 

On  the  19th  a  working  man,  Jean  Pierre  Pelletier,  was 
sent  to  the  scaffold  for  endeavouring  to  pass  a  forged 
assignat,  which  he  knew  to  be  spurious. 

On  the  20th,  24th,  and  25th  three  emigrants  suffered  ; 
these  were  Louis  Charles  de  Malherbe,  late  infantry 
officer;  Joseph  Frangois  Coquard,  and  Francois  Charles 
Coquereau,  also  officers.  Malherbe  was  barely  twenty 
years  of  age. 

On  the  27th  Riche  Thomas  St.  Martin  perished 
for  the  crime  of  forgery. 

At  this  time  the  Tribunal  was  modified  in  a  manner, 
which  promised  a  still  more  j>lentiful  harvest  of  heads. 
The  Committee  of  Public  Safety  divided  it  into  two 
sections,  and  raised  to  thirty  the  number  of  the  judges. 


CUSTINE.  43 

Montane,  the  president  of  the  Tribunal,  had  himself  been 
arraigned  before  the  second  section  for  favouring  Char- 
lotte Corday.     He  was,  however,  g^quitted. 

From  the  ist  to  the  17th  of  August  the  two  sections 
sent  to  the  guillotine  Pierre  Maurice  Collinet  de  la 
Salle-Souville,  late  lieutenant-general,  for  corresponding 
with  his_ nephews,  who  had  emigrated;  Charles  Joseph 
Lescuyer,  late  general  of  the  Belgian  cavalry,  convicted 
of  complicity  with  Dumouriez ;  Jean-Baptiste  Tourtier^ 
a  ci-deyant_\  Andre  Jonas,  a  gendarme  of  the  twenty- 
ninth  division,  for  saying  in  a  cafe  that  when  he  heard_of 
the  King's  death  he  wanted  to  leave  his  regiment,  in 
order  not  to  serve  the  Republic ;  and  an  emigrant 
priest,  Jean-Joseph  Saunier. 

On  the  15th  General  Custine  appeared  before  the 
Tribunal. 

Republican  enthusiasm  would  not  admit  that  the 
soldiers  of  liberty  could  be  conquered  otherwise  than  by 
treason.  This  profound  and  sincere  faith  in  the  para- 
mount power  of  right  was  the  element  of  the  triumphs 
of  the  Republic,  and  the  principle  of  its  future  grandeur. 
Unfortunately  the  generals  of  the  French  army  were  far 
from  sharing  the  sublime  confidence.  They  were  for 
the  most  part  old  officers,  who  believed  in  nothing 
beyond  discipline,  tactics,  and  regular  battles,  and  who 
smiled  when  they  read  the  messages  in  which  the  Conven- 
tion decreed  victory.  The  result  was  that  the  move- 
ment of  retreat  was  followed  by  an  outburst  of  popular 
indignation,  and  the  unlucky  general  was  usually 
charged  with  wilful  neglect  of  duty. 


44  MEMOIRS   OF  THE   SANSONS, 

Dumouriez's  treason  unfortunately  justified  this 
national  mistrust.  As  to  Custine,  who  commanded  the 
army  of  the  North,  he  had  not  deemed  it  prudent  to  re- 
lieve besieged_  Valenciennes  until  his  troops  were  re- 
organised. He  was  charged  with  treason,  and  arraigned 
before  the  Revolutionary  Tribunal. 

Popular  irritation  was  very  great  against  him.  There 
can  be  no  doubt  that  Custine  was  not  faultless,  but  his 
last  campaign  had  not  been  without  glory.  While  man- 
oeuvring on  the  flanks  of  the  Prussian  army  which 
Dumouriez  was  opposing,  he  had  captured  Worms, 
Frankental,  Regensburg,  Frankfort,  &c.  ;  but  he  was  with 
reason  charged  with  not  having  turned  these  advantages  to 
profit,  and  thereby  transformed  the  retreat  of  the  Prussians 
into  a  rout.  He  had  allowed  the  enemy  to  recapture 
Frankfort ;  he  had  insufficiently  victualled  Regensburg, 
in  which  Kleber  was  bravely  holding  out.  Such  mistakes 
were  murderous  to  Kleber's  military  repute,  but  they  did 
not  deserve  death.  The  Tribunal  remained  undecided 
for  some  time,  for  the  trial  lasted  not  less  than  fourteen 
days.  But  Custine  was  not  liked,  and  the  then  powerful 
Hebert  was  his  mortal  foe.  Custine  nevertheless  re- 
tained his  presence  of  mind  ;  he  explained  his  military 
operations,  and  his  counsel,  Trenson  Ducoudray,  spoke 
eloquently  in  his  favour. 

The  Tribunal  retired  after  these  two  speeches,  and 
on  returning  gave  a  verdict  of  guilty  on  all  counts. 
Custine  could  not  jwithhold  an  expression_ofdespair 
when  sentence  of  death  was  passed,     He  recovered  his 


seH-possession^, however,  and  a  touching  letter_ta— 


■^A 


-A- 


CUSTINE.  45 

his_son^jhen  a  prisoner  at  La  Fo^.     The  execution 
was    appointed   to   take    place    on    the    following    day, 
August  28,  at  twelve.     At  nine   o'clock  Charles  Henri 
Sanson  entered  Custine's  prison.     He  found  him  on  his     .  :>^ 
knees^raying  with  the  Abbe  Lothringer,  metropolitan 
vicar,  whose  assistance  he  had  asked   for.     The  priest 
requested  my  father  to   wait  outside   for  a  few  minutes. 
Shortly   after,    Custine    himself    came    to    fetch    him. 
Custine's   countenance   was    firm ;    but   it   was   easy    to 
perceive  that  he  was  labouring  under  nervous  prostration. 
His  hair  was  cut  ;  afterwhjch  he   assumed  his   uniform,        .'~"^. 
saying  that  it___^was  thus   a  French  general  should  die.    rwo  ,/ 
He  asked  that  his  hands   should   only  be   tied  at  the    .  ^^ 
foot  of  the  scaffold,  and  his  petition  was  granted. 

He  walked  to  the  cart  so  rapidly  that  the  Abbe 
Lothringer  and  the  executioners  had  some  trouble  in 
keeping  up  with  him.  When  the  gloomy  procession 
appeared  in  the  street,  there  was  as  usual  a  loud  clamour. 
General  Custine  turned  very  pale,  and  said  several 
times  :  '  These  are  the  very  people  who  used  to  applaud 
my  victories  ! '  As  the  cries  became  more  vociferous,  he 
added  :  '  This  is  the  reward  of  my  services  I  '  and  the 
name  of  Dumouriez  came  to  his  lips.  The  Abbe 
Lothringer  besought  him  to  be  resigned.  Custine's 
eyes  filled  with  tears,  and  he  began  to  read  in  the  prayer- 
book  offered  to  him  by  the  priest. 

The  stoicism  displayed  by  Charlotte  Corday  had 
spoilt  the  mob.  Her  gentle  and  contemptuous  attitude 
was  well  remembered,  and  the  people  doubtless  expected 
that  the  general  of  their  army  would  exhibit  a  disdain 


46 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  SANSONS. 


rhmtc 


'Alffic4 


for  death  still  more  superb.  The  sight  of  a  pale  old 
man  plunged  in  prayer,  instead  of  what  was  expected, 
excited  popular  fury,  and  cries  and  curses  became 
universal. 

When  the  cart  halted  before  the  scaffold,  Custine 
turned  round,  not  to  see  the  instrument  of  death.  His 
features  were  so  discomposed  that  my  grandfather 
thought  he  was  going  to  faint ;  the  priest  was  under 
the  same  impression,  for  he  bent  towards  the  general's 
ear,  and  said  to  him  in  German  :  '  General,  'tis  only 
death,  which  you  defied  a  hundred  times  on  the  battle- 
field ;  and  yet  you  were  not  then,  as  you  are  now,  ready 
to  appear  before  your  God.'  The  general  shook  his  head, 
and  then  taking  his  confessor's  hand  :  *  You  are  right,' 
said  he,  '  and  yet  I  am  sorry  a  Prussian  cannon  ball  did 
not  do  the  work.'  He  then  looked  at  the  k«^,  which 
glittered  under  the  mid-day  sun.  While  his  hands  were 
being  tied,  he  asked  that  he  should  be  allowed  to  hold 
the  prayer-book  to  the  last.  He  then  ascended  with  a 
firm  step  the  steps  of  the  scaffold,  and  his  head  fell 
under  the  knife,  into  the  basket,  a  few  seconds  after. 
^i^  It  may  be  justifiable  to  doubt  Custine's  genius  as  a 
general  ;  but  it  is  impossible  to  deny  him  the  first  of 
military  virtues,  courage ;  his  was  proverbial  in  the 
French  army.  And  yet  he  did  not  encounter  death 
with  the  calm  bravery  which  we  found  among  ordinary 
citizens,  whose  profession  and  habits  were  quite  peace- 
ful, and  even  among  women.  This  phenomenon  shows 
the  difference  that  exists  between  nervous  excitement, 
which  can  make  a  hero  of  a  man,  and  the  manly  forti- 


CUSTINE.  47 

tude  which  remains  unshaken,  even  by  the  most  hideous  j  i/yvW^ 
of  deaths.  It  shows  the  superiority  of  civil  over  miHtary  j  "^ 
courage.  ' 

The  importance  of  Custine's  trial  had  retarded  the 
progress  of  another  case,  that  of  twenty-one  inhabitants 
of  Rouen,  accused  of  having  incited  their  countrymen  to 
civil  war,  of  having  harboured  the  white  cockade,  and 
sawed  the  tree  of  liberty.  This  interesting  case  was 
resumed  on  the  morrow  of  the  general's  death.  Ten, 
among  whom  were  two  women,  were  sentenced  to  death 
and  guillotined.^ 

The  1 6th  of  Vendemiaire  following  was  a  noteworthy! 
day  in  the  history  I  am  now  writing.  Until  then  the' 
Republic  had  only  struck  its  enemies  ;  on  the  i6th  of 
Vendemiaire  she  began  her  self-destruction  by  slaying 
one  of  those  who  had  powerfully  contributed  to  her 
establishment.  Gorsas,  deputy  and  journalist,  whose 
lawsuit  with  my  grandfather  the  reader  may  remember, 
was  the  first  member  of  the  Convention  who  ascended 
the  scaffold,  where  the  most  illustrious  among  his 
colleagues  were  soon  to  follow  him.  Gorsas  had 
evaded  the  arrest  decreed  on  June  2  against  him  and 
his  friends  of  the  Gironde.  Pethion,  Barbaroux,  Louvet, 
and  several  others  had  gone  into  the  provinces  to  raise 
an  insurrection  against  the  autocracy  of  the  capital ; 
Gorsas  had  refused  to  join  them.  He  was  an  ardent 
writer,  a  tribune  of  the  press,  and  he  understood  that  his 

'  Here  the  translator  has  omitted  a  long  list  of  executions  which,  be- 
yond testifying  to  the  completeness  of  the  present  Memoirs,  offer  no  par- 
ticular interest. 


48 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  SANSONS. 


strength  was  in  Paris.  The  decree  of  July  28,  describing 
as  a  crime  the  contempt  showed  by  the  Girondins  for 
the  so-called  national  authority,  had  declared  them  out- 
laws. Peril  could  not  induce  Gorsas  to  leave  Paris  ;  for 
three  months  he  lived  in  hiding,  but  he  was  at  length 
arrested.  He  was  taken  before  the  Revolutionary 
Tribunal,  and  from  thence  to  the  scaffold. 

Gorsas  was  brave  to  the  last.  When  my  grandfather 
saw  his  former  enemy,  he  tried  to  avoid  being  seen  by 
him  ;  but  Gorsas  espied  him  at  the  foot  of  the  scaffold, 
and  cried  to  him  in  a  loud  voice : 

'  Why  do  you  stand  aside.  Citizen  Sanson  }  Come 
and  enjoy  your  triumph.  We  thought  we  were  over- 
throwing the  Monarchy :  we  have  only  founded  your 
reign.' 

My  grandfather  made  no  reply  and  looked  down. 
Indeed  he  was  beginning  to  have  enough  of  his  royalty. 


FROM       THE  STORY  OF  MARIE-ANTCINETTE." 

MARIE-ANTOINETTE  AND   HER   CHILDREN. 


49 


CHAPTER   XXXI. 

THE   QUEEN, 

However  enthusiastic  a  great  many  people  may  be 
respecting  the  general  results  of  the  Revolution,  it  seems 
to  me  impossible  to  think  without  some  emotion  of 
a  Queen  who  in  less  than  a  year  was  deprived  of 
her  throne  and  liberty — of  a  woman  widowed  by  the 
executioner's  axe,  separated  from  her  children,  and 
treated  with  revolting  indignity.  When,  in  my  young 
days,  I  used  to  accompany  my  father  to  the  Conciergerie 
prison,  I  never  passed  before  the  unfortunate  Queen's 
cell  without  feeling  deeply  moved.  When  I  looked  at 
the  black  and  rusty  door  behind  which  Marie  Antoinette 
had  been  imprisoned  for  two  months,  I  hastily  walked 
away,  seeing  in  m.y  mind's  eye  the  awful  tragedy  which 
had  been  partly  enacted  in  the  gloomy  prison. 

After  the  death  of  Louis  XVI.  the  royal  captives  of 
the  Temple  had  not  been  forgotten.  The  hatred  of  the 
Parisians  against  the  King  was  wholly  political ;  it  was 
aimed  at  the  King,  not  at  the  man.  Against  Marie 
Antoinette  popular  hatred  was  both  political  and  per- 
sonal. The  Queen  had  found  implacable  enemies,  not 
VOL.  II.  E 


50  MEMOIRS   OF    THE  SANSONS. 

only  among  the  Revolutionists  who  wished  to  overthrow 
the  Monarchy,  but  among  her  own  courtiers,  and  even  in 
the  ranks  of  her  own  family.  None  could  forgive  her 
independent  mind,  her  elegant  tastes,  her  liking  for 
amusements  forbidden  by  etiquette.  By  traducing  her 
sentiments,  by  incriminating  her  acts,  her  enemies  had 
rendered  her  odious  to  all  other  womem  The  Revolu- 
tionists knew  the  Queen  to  be  far  more  energetic  than 
Louis  XVI.;  they  understood  that  if  some  resistance  was 
to  be  offered  to  their  designs,  such  resistance  must  come 
from  Marie  Antoinette,  and  they  gave  her  out  as  the 
bitterest  enemy  of  liberty.  They  styled  her  the  ghoul 
of  France,  and  the  accomplice  of  the  foreigner.  Una- 
nimity in  hostile  feelings  was  the  cause  of  unanimity  in 
the  calumnies  wherewith  the  Queen  was  assailed.  On 
several  occasions  the  name  of  the  captive  Queen  was 
pronounced  in  the  Convention,  and  then  the  violent 
party  of  which  Hebertwas  leader  asked  for  the  arraign- 
ment of  the  widow  of  Capet. 

Public  opinion  was  getting  too  strong  for  the  Con- 
vention. On  August  4  a  decree  sent  her  before  the 
Revolutionary  Tribunal,  and  on  the  14th  of  the  same 
month  she  was  sentenced  to  death,  after  a  trial  which  is 
too  well  known  for  me  to  recall  the  circumstances 
which  attended  the  melancholy  affair.  I  have  occasion- 
ally related  at  length  the  events  of  a  criminal's  career 
which  led  to  the  executioner's  intervention,  but  only 
when  I  might  reasonably  think  that  the  reader  was  not 
previously  acquainted  with  them.  In  Marie  Antoinette's 
case,   my  relation  can  only  dwell  upon  the  time  that 


THE   QUEEN,  51 

elapsed  between  her  condemnation  and  execution. 
Charles  Henri  Sanson  did  not  leave  us  a  complete 
account  of  the  Queen's  death  ;  and  the  omission,  which  I 
cannot  explain,  is  very  much  to  be  regretted.  The 
following  relatioiij^  however,  I  had  from  my  father^  who 
had  thgn  reached  manhood^  and  who  n^inally  asgigl:g'l:g2y 
grandfather  in  the  discharge  of  his  functions. 

Charles  Henri  Sanson  was  present  at  the  Queen's 
trial.  No  sooner  was  the  verdict  given  than  he  tapped 
at  the  door  of  Fouquier-Tinville's  closet.  Fouquier  told 
him  to  come  in,  and  he  found  himself  in  the  presence  of 
Herman,  the  president  of  the  court,  Renaudin,  a  judge, 
Nicolas,  also  a  judge,  and  Fabricius  Paris,  the  clerk  of  the 
court.  Fouquier  immediately  enquired  whether  prepara- 
tions for  Xh^  fete  (that  was  the  word  he  used)  were  com- 
plete. Charles  Henri  Sanson  having  responded  that  his 
duty  was  to  await  the  decisions  of  Justice,  and  not  anti- 
cipate them,  Fouqukrjupbraided  him  with  his  usual  vio- 
lence.  Fabricius,  the  clerk,  mingled  his  merry  jokes 
with  the  public  prosecutor's  invectives.  The  conversation 
was  assuming  a  disagreeable  turn.  To  put  an  end  to  it, 
my  grandfather  asked  for  an  order  to  procure  a  closed 
carriage  similar  to  that  in  which  the  King  had  been  I 
taken  to  the  guillotine.  This  request  thoroughly  ex- 
asperated Fouquier-Tinville  ;  he  answered  that  Charles  » 
Henri  himself  deserved  to  perish  on  the  scaffold  for 
daring  to  make  such  a  suggestion,  and  that  a  cart  was 
quite  good  enough  for  the  Austrian.  But  Renaudin 
observed  that  before  taking  any  decision  it  was  desirable 
to  consult  the  Committee  of  Public  Safety,  or  some  of  its 


52 


MEMOIRS  OF   THE  SANSONS. 


members ;  and  after  some  discussion  Fouquier  acquiesced. 
Nourry,  alias  Grammont,  formerly^n  actor  of  the_Mon- 
tansler  Theatre,  had  just  entered.  He  undertook  the 
errand,  and  on  returning  said  that  he  had  consulted 
Robespierre  and  CoUot,  but  that  neither  would  give 
an  opinion  on  the  matter,  on  the  plea  that  Fouquier 
had  power  to  act  as  he  thought  fit.  It  was  finally- 
decided  that  the  Queen  should  be  taken  to  the  scaffold 
in  a  cart. 

It  was  five  o'clock  in  the  morning  when  my  grand- 
father left  the  Tribunal.  All  were  asleep  when  he 
entered  his  house.  He  made  only  a  short  appearance  in 
his  bedroom,  and  was  walking  out  on  tiptoe,  for  fear  of 
waking  his  wife,  when  the  latter,  who  slept  lightly,  called 
him  to  her  bedside,  and,  on  looking  in  his  face,  she  at 
once  guessed  the  issue  of  the  Queen's  trial.  She  was  so 
deeply  affected  that  Charles  Henri  had  to  call  his  son 
to  his  assistance.  He  dared  not  let  any  one  else  see  her. 
Her  tears  were  a_crime  in  the  eyes  of  the  man  in  power, 
and  most  of  his  assistants  tried  to  obliterate  the  dis- 
honour of  their  profession  by  the  fervency  of  their 
democratic  opinions. 

This  occurrence  so  unmanned  Charles  Henri  Sanson, 
that  his  son  prepared  to  accompany  him.  So  they  went 
together  to  the  Place  de  la  Revolution,  to  see  that  the 
scaffold  was  in  good  order.;  and  from  thence  they  re- 
paired to  the  Conciergerie,  where  they  arrived  at  ten 
o'clock.  The  prison  was  already  surrounded  by  armed 
men.  My  father  and  grandfather  were  joined  by  citizen 
Eustache   Nappier,  one  of  the  ushers  of  the  Revolu- 


THE  QUEEN. 


53 


tionary  Tribunal,  who  was  to  be  present  throughout  the 
proceedings. 

They  entered   the  prison,  and   were   taken   to   the 
Queen's  presence.     Marie  Antoinette  was  in  the  *  Hall 


ofjthe  Dead.'  reclining  on  a  seat,  her  head  against  the 
wall ;  the  two  gendarmes  who  watched  her  were  stand- 
ing within  a  few  steps,  with  Bault,  the  turnkey,  whose 
daughter  was  standing  before  Marie  Antoinette,  weeping 
bitterly. 

When  the  messengers  of  death  entered,  the  Queen 
rose  and  made  a  step  to  meet  them,  but  she  was  stopped 
by  Bault's  daughter,  whom  she  embraced  with  much 
tenderness.     She  wore   a  white  dress :   a  white   hand- 


kerchief covered  her  shoulders  ;  and  her  hair  was  sur- 
mounted  by  a  cap  tied  with  a  black  ribbon.  She  was 
pale,  but  not  out  of  apprehension,  for  her  lips  were  red 
and  her  eyes  brilliant. 

My  grandfather  and  father  took  their  hats  off;  many 
others  bowed  ;  Nappier  the  usher,  and  a  few  gendarmes, 
were  the  only  persons  who  abstained  from  giving  so 
slight  a  token  of  deference.  Before  any  one  had  time 
to  speak,  the  Queen  advanced,  and  in  a  dry  voice  she 
said  : 

'  Gentlemen,  I  am  ready.     We  can  set  out.' 

Charles  Henri  Sanson  observed  that  a  few  formali- 
ties had  yet  to  be  fulfilled.  Marie  Antoinette  showed 
the  back  of  her  neck,  where  the  hair  had  been  cut. 

'  That  will  do,  I  think  t '  said  she  to  him. 

At  the  same  time  she  held  out  her  hands  for  him  to 
bind  them.     While  my  father  was  so  occupied,  the  Abbe 


a 


54 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  SANSONS. 


■A 


W 


Lothrlnger  entered  the  room  and  asked  her  leave  to 
accompany  her.  The  abbe,  who  had  taken  the  oath  of 
fidelity  to  the  Republic,  had  already  proffered  his  services, 
but  they  had  been  declined.  His  repeated  request 
visibly  displeased  the  Queen,  who  however  answered  : 

*  You  can  come  with  me  if  you  like.' 
^    The    cortege    immediately    moved    forward.       The 
gendarmes  preceded  the  queen,  by  whose  side  was  the 
abbe  ;  behind  came  the  clerk,  the  executioners,  and  more 
gendarmes.  , 

On  reaching  the  court,  Marie  Antoinette  saw  the 
cart ;  she  came  to  a  sudden  halt,  and  a  strong  feeling  of 
horror  appeared  on  her  features.  She,  however,  mastered 
her  emotion,  and  was  helped  up  by  my  grandfather 
and  his  son.  The  gates  were  slowly  opened,  and  the 
Queen  of  France  appeared  before  the  people.  There  was 
an  immense  clamour  of  maledictions,  a  torrent  of  curses, 
and  cries  of '  Death  ! '  The  crowd  was  so  compact  that  the 
cart  could  hardly  move,  and  the  horse  reared  and  backed. 
There  was  so  terrible  a  moment  of  confusion  that  both 
my  grandfather  and  father  rose  and  placed  them- 
selves before  Marie  Antoinette.  At  two  different  points 
men  had  broken  through  the  rank  of  the  escort,  and 
instead  of  driving  them  back,  or  trying  to  calm  popular 
effervescence,  the  gendarmes  joined  in  their  vocifera- 
tions. The  son  of  Nourry-Grammont,  who,  like  his 
father,  was  an  officer  in  the  army,  had  the  cowardice 
to  threaten  the  Queen's  face  with  his  clenched  fist.  The 
Abb6  Lothringer  pushed  him  back,  and  upbraided  him 
for  his  unworthy  conduct. 


THE  QUEEN. 


1% 


This  scene  lasted  two  or  three  minutes.     Never,  myl 
fatherjoften  toldjne^  appear  morej 

dignifiedjdian  ^^didjhen.  Grammont,  the  father,  went 
forward  with  a  few  horsemen  and  cleared  the  way. 
From  time  to  time  cries  and  curses  partly  subsided.' 
A  few  cries  of  '  Death  to  the  A  iistrian !  Death  to 
Madame  Veto ! '  rose  from  the  crowd ;  but  these  ex- 
clamations became  rarer  and  rarer. 

Marie  Antoinette  stood  erect  in  the  cart ;  the  Abbe   r^t^^ 
Lothringer  was  speaking  to  her,  but  she  did  not  answer,   MjtA.sRi 
and  did  not  even  seem  to  hear  him.     When  the  Palais 
Egalite  was  passed,  she  began  to  manifest  some  uneasiness. 
She  looked  at  the  numbers  of  the  houses  with  more  than 
commonplace  curiosity.     The  Queen  had  foreseen  thatf 
no  priest  of  her  religion  would  be^allowed  to  accompany^         ^ 
her ;  and  a  proscribed   ecclesiastic,  with  whom  she  had 


communicated,  had  promised  to  be  in  a  house  of  the 


Rue  St.  Honord  on  the  day  of  the  execution,  and  to 


give  her  from  a  window  absolution  in  extremis.  The 
number  of  the  house  had  been  designated  to  Marie 
Antoinette,  and  that  was  what  she  was  looking  for.  She 
discovered  it ;  and  then,  at  a  sign  which  she  alone  under- 
stood, having  recognised  the  priest,  she  bent  her  head 
and  prayed.  After  this  she  breathed  more  freely,  and 
a  smile  came  to  her  lips. 

On  reaching  the  Place  de  la  Revolution,  the  cart 
halted  precisely  ojpposite  the  large  walk  of  the  Tulleries  ; 
for  a  few  moments  the  Queen  was  plunged  in  painful 
contemplation  ;  her  colour  faded  away,  her  eyelids  trem- 
bled, and  she  was  heard  to  murmur : 


56  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  SANSONS. 


\ 


*  My  daughter  !  my  children  !  *_ 
The  sight  of  the  scaffold  recalled  her  to  herself,  and 

she  prepared  to  descend.  My  grandfather  and  my 
father  supported  her.  As  she  placed  her  foot  on  the 
ground,  Charles  Henri  Sanson,  who  was  bending  towards 
her,  said  in  her  ear : 

*  Have  courage,  Madame  ! ' 
The  Queen  looked   round,  as   if  surprised  to   find 

pity  in  the  heart  of  the  man  who  was  about  to  put 
her  to  death,  and  answered  : 
'  Thank  you,  sir,  thank  you.' 

A  few  yards  separated  the  cart  from  the  guillotine. 
My  father  offered  to  continue  to  support  her,  but  she 
declined,  saying : 

'■  No ;  I  am,  thank  Heaven,  strong  enough  to  walk 
that  short  distance.* 

She  advanced  slowly,  but  with  a  firm  step,  and 
mounted  the  scaffold  as  majestically  as  if  the  steps 
of  the  guillotine  had  been  those_of_the  grand  staircase  at 
Versailles. 

Her  arrival  on  the  platform  produced  some  confusion. 
The  Abbe  Lothringer,  who  had  followed  her,  was  going 
on  with  his  useless  exhortations.  My  father  thrust  him 
aside,  wishing  to  finish  the  execution  without  the  loss  of 
ffliZ  iW'^Vi^  second.  The  assistants  took  possession  of  Marie 
jjj^jOJjJ^  I  Antoinette.  While  they  were  tying  her  down  to  the 
'^jAk  iweigh-plank,  sEe'exclaimed,  in  aloud  voice  : 
tiHK\iOy^^  * Farewell^my  children;  I  am  going  to  join  your 
y^f  ^iatheiT^ 
l/jivVU-i<  1      'pj^g   plank   was   replaced   in   its   original    position. 


ia>Wvva)1 


THE  QUEEN.  57 

and  the  knife  came  down  upon  the  neck  with  a  heavy 
thump. 

Some  cries  of  *  Vive  la  Republiqite !'  were  heard  around 
the  scaffold,  and  Grammont  ordered  Charles  Henri  ta 
showjhe  head  to  the  people.  One  of  the  assistants  went 
through  the  horrible  formality.  The  Queen^s_body  was. 
placed  in  a  coffin  of  common  wood  and  burnt  in  quick- 
lime^in  the  cemetery  of  La  Madeleine.  Her  clothing 
was  given  to  the  poor. , 


58  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  SANSONS. 


CHAPTER   XXXII. 

THE   GIRONDINS. 

After  the  Queen's  trial  came  that  of  the  inhabitants  of 
Armentieres,  charged  with  conspiracy  with  the  enemy, 
with  the  purpose  of  betraying  the  town  into  their  hands. 
Six  prisoners  were  discharged :  but  Pierre  Frangois 
MaHngie,  {oxm.^x\y  juge-de-paix  of  Armentieres  ;  Pellerin 
Guy  Jouar,  merchant ;  Joseph  Delattre,  merchant ;  and 
Paul  Francois  Clarisse,  hatter,  were  sentenced  to 
capital  punishment,  and  executed  on  the  27th  of  Ven- 
demiaire. 

On  the  1st  of  Brumaire  (October  22)  came  the  turn 
of  Louis  Armand  Pernon,  manager  of  the  national  pot- 
tery, charged  with  having  corresponded  with  the  rebels 
of  Lyons ;  and  on  the  2nd  that  of  Pierre  Hippolyte 
Pastourel,  a  priest. 

On  the   5th  the  Tribunal  sent  an  emigre,  Jacques^ 
Andre  Frangois  d'Ouzonville,  and  his  wife,  to  the  guillo- 
tine.    Public  attention  at  the  time  forsook  the  Place  de  la 
Revolution,  engrossed  as  it  was  by  a  trial  of  the  highest 
importance — that  of  the  Girondins. 

This  trial  was  as  loudly  asked  for  by  the  clubs  and  the 
Commune  as  that  of  the  Queen  had  been ;  but  the  charge 


THE  GIRONDINS.  59 

against  the  deputies,  arrested  on  account  of  their 
moderate  and  just  republicanism,  was  difficult  to  make 
out.  Those  of  the  Girondins  who  had  not  taken  to  flight 
had  committed  no  reprehensible  act.  In  this  predica- 
ment it  was  resolved  to  consider  their  opinions  as  being 
criminal,  and  the  accusation  was  drawn  up.  Fouquier- 
Tinville  received  it  on  the  1 2th  of  Brumaire,  and  on  the 
1 3th  the  prisoners  were  transferred  from  the  Prison  des 
Carmes  to  laConciergerie,  the  lastjialting-place  on  the 
way  to  the  _scaffold^ 

The  flight  of  Petion,  Barbaroux,  Guadet,  and  a  few 
others,  had  left  a  gap  in  the  ranks  of  the  twenty- 
arraigned  deputies  ;  to  complete  the  figure  consecrated 
by  the  insurrection  of  June  2,  other  deputies  were 
chosen  among  those  who  had  since  then  been  arrested, 
and  twenty-one  prisoners,  who  with  Gorsas  (who  had 
been  executed  some  time  before)  made  up  the  requisite 
number,  appeared  before  the  Revolutionary  Tribunal. 

These  were : 

Jean  Pierre  Brissot,  aged  39,  man  of  letters  and 
deputy  of  Eure-et-Loire. 

Pierre  Victorin  Vergniaud,  aged  35,  deputy  of  la 
Gironde. 

Arnaud  Gensonne,  aged  35,  deputy  of  la  Gironde. 

Claude  Romain  Loze  Duperret,  aged  46,  deputy  of 
Bouches-du-Rhone. 

Jean  Louis  Carra,  aged  50,  man  of  letters  and  deputy 
of  Saone-et-Loire. 

Jean  Francois  Martin  Gardien,  aged  39,  deputy  of 
Indre-et-Loire. 


6o  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  SANSONS. 

Charles  Eldonore  Dufriche  Valaze,  aged  42,  deputy 
of  Orne. 

Jean  Duprat,  aged  38,  deputy  of  Bouches-du-Rh6ne. 

Charles  Alexis  Bruslard  (formerly  Marquis  de 
Sillery),  aged  57,  deputy  of  laSomme. 

Charles  Fauchet,  aged  49  (formerly  a  bishop),  deputy 
of  Calvados. 

Jean  Frangois  Ducos,  aged  28,  man  of  letters,  deputy 
of  la  Gironde. 

Marie  David  Lasource,  aged,  39,  deputy  of  Tarn. 

Benoit  Lesterpt-Beauvais,  aged  43,  deputy  of  Haute- 
Vienne. 

Gaspard  Du  Chastel,  aged  27,  deputy  of  Deux- 
Sevres. 

Pierre  Mainvieille,  aged  28,  deputy  of  Bouches-du- 
Rh6ne. 

Jacques  Lacase,  aged  42,  deputy  of  la  Gironde. 

Pierre  Lehardy,  aged  35,  deputy  of  Morbihan. 

Jacques  Boileau,  aged  41,  deputy  of  Yonne. 

Charles  Louis  Antiboul,  aged  40,  deputy  of  Van 

Louis  Frangois  Sebastin  Vigie,  aged  iG,  deputy  of 
Mayenne-et-Loire. 

On  the  3rd  of  Brumaire  they  appeared  before  the 
Tribunal.  Fabricius,  the  clerk  of  the  court,  read  the 
indictment,  in  which  it  was  attempted  to  show  that  the 
accused  had  conspired  against  the  unity  and  indivisi- 
bility of  the  Republic  and  the  safety  of  the  nation.  Most 
of  the  witnesses  heard  for  the  prosecution  were  those 
who  had  directed  the  revolutionary  movement  of  May 
31,  and  whose  hostility  to  the  Girondins  was  manifest 


THE  GIRONDINS.  6r 

and  well  known.  The  trial,  which  lasted  several  days, 
was  a  kind  of  farce.  It  is  not  within  my  province  to 
relate  it,  and  I  will  therefore  pass  it  over.  When  the  jury 
had  delivered  a  verdict  of  guilty  against  all  the  arraigned 
Girondins,  the  latter  were  brought  in  to  receive  sen- 
tence. They  had^hown  indomitable  courage  during  the 
whole  trial,  _and  few  among  them  yielded  to  despair  or 
discouragement.  Boileau  threw  up  his  hat,  exclaiming  : 
*  I  die  innocent.'  Sillery,  who  was  lame,  threw  away 
his  crutches  and  said  :  '  This  day  is  the  finest  in  my  life.' 
Boyer  Fonfrede  embraced  Ducos,  his  brother-in-law, 
saying :  *  My  friend,  I  led  you  to  this.'  Fauchet  and 
Duprat  were  rather  cast  down  ;  but  Carra  retained  his 
self-possession  ;  Lasource  addressed  a  few  words  to  the 
jury,  that  could  not  be  heard  in  the  tumult  then  pre^ 
vailing ;  as  to  Vergniaud,  the  noblest  and  most  eloquent 
of  ail,  he  lost  nothing  of  the  admirable  serenity  he  had 
displayed  throughout  the  ordeal  ;  then  all  rose  simul- 
taneously, crying  *  Vive  la  Repuhliqiie !  we  are  inno- 
cent ! '  A  cry  of  death,  however,  rose  higher  than  this 
clamour  ;  a  voice  said  '  I  am  dying.'  The  president  of 
the  Tribunal  directed  the  gendarmes  to  lead  away  the 
prisoners.  One,  however,  did  not  move  ;  it  was  Dufriche 
Valaze  who  had  said  '  I  am  dying,'  after  stabbing 
himself  to  the  heart. 

This  painful  scene  had  created  the  utmost  confusion. 
Camille  Desmoulins,  who  was  present,  ran  out  of  the  hall 
in  an  agony  of  grief,  charging  himself  with  the  death  of  the 
Girondins.  The  foreman  of  the  jury  was  as  pale  as  death. 
Fouquier-Tinville,  the  public  prosecutor,  alone  was  calm. 


62 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  SANSONS. 


In  a  cold  voice  he  asked  that  Valaze's  corpse  should 
be  placed  in  one  of  the  executioner's  carts,  to  be  burned 
'i/nico  j  with  the  bodies  of  his  'accomplices'  after  execution. 
^  YhjhjL  ^^  early  as  the  8th  of  Brumaire,  that  is  to  say  four 
t4^r/lM?<iays  before  the  actual  condemnation  of  the  Girondins, 
Fouquier-Tinville  had  directed  the  executioner  to  pro- 
vide for  the  emergency  of  an  extraordinary  execution. 
My  grandfather  had  therefore  sought  assistants.  By  a 
singular  contrast,  which  shows  the  instinctive  horror  of 
the  masses  for  the  punishment  which  was  then  so  fre- 
quently inflicted,  he  had  the  greatest  difficulty  in  recruit- 
ing auxiliaries  for  the  service  of  the  scaffold.  Fouquier 
had  informed  my  grandfather  that  at  least  twelve  assist- 
ants were  necessary.  Charles  Henri,  with  the  greatest 
trouble,  found  three  men  ;  and  as  he  was  going  in  quest 
of  another  man,  a  protege  of  Hebert  presented  himself, 
/and  proposed  to  act  as  executioner's  valet.  This  indi- 
vidual's garrulity  and  his  grimacing  and  sinister  counte- 
nance displeased  Charles  Henri  Sanson,  who  refused 
to  engage  him.  One  of  those  who  were  present  at  the 
interview  assured  my  grandfather  that  the  man  was  a 
mountebank,  who,  under  the  name  of  Jacot,  performed 
on  the  Boulevard  du  Temple,  and  Charles  Henri  was. 
congratulating  himself  on  having  got  rid  of  him,  when 
Fouquier-Tinville  summoned  him  to  his  presence,  and,, 
after  charging  him^  with  neglect  of  duty,  ordered  him  to 
engage  Jacot. 

On  the  following  day,  lOth  Brumaire  (October  30), 
my  grandfather  passed  his  auxiliaries  in  review.  They 
consisted  of  ten  assistants,  properly  speaking,  and  five 


THE  GIRONDINS.  63 

cart  drivers,  with  their  carts.  H^bert's/r^/^^/was  present. 
Charles  Henri  Sanson  thought  he  perceived  a  red  waist-- 
coat  under  his  carmagnole^  but  he  paid  Httle  attention 
to  the  circumstance.  At  eight  o'clock  in  the  morning' 
he  set  out  for  the  Conciergerie  with  my  father  and  six 
assistants  ;  two  more  went  to  the  Place  de  la  Revolution, 
and  two  remained  to  take  care  of  the  carts ;  Jacot  was 
one  of  the  latter.  A  great  many  soldiers  already 
surrounded  the  prison.  Two  clerks  of  the  Tribunal, 
Nappier  and  Monet  (the  same  who  had  attended 
Charlotte  Corday  to  the  scaffold),  had  already  arrived, 
and  were  waiting  for  the  executioner  in  the  porter's 
lodge.  They  repaired  together  to  the  Palais  de  Justice, 
where  they  took  their  final  orders;  and  then  they 
prepared  to  appear  before  the  unfortunate  Girondins. 

It  had  been  decided  that  preparations  for  the  execution 
should  take  place  in  the  parlour  of  the  prison — a  lofty 
dark  hall,  which  people  were  beginning  to  call  the  *  Hall 
of  the  Dead,'  since  it  served  as  an  antechamber  of  the 


scaffold.  When  my  grandfather  entered  with  his  men 
and  the  gendarmes,  the  convicts  were  already  assembled 
there.  They  formed  several  groups  ;  some  were  pacing 
the  hall  ;  others  formed  circles  ;  all  of  them  spoke  with 
much  animation,  like  friends  who  were  about  to  be  sepa- 
rated by  a  long  voyage.  Brulard,  Sillery,  and  Bishop 
Fauchet,  conversed  in  a  low  voice  in  a  dark  corner ; 
Mainvieille  was  writing  on  his  knees.  The  corpse  of  Valaze 
had  been  deposited  on  three  stools  before  the  window. 
At  the  sight  of  the  sinister  cortege,  they  uttered  a 
confused    exclamation,  and  some  of  them  rushed  into 


64  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  SANSONS. 

each  other's  arms  and  embraced.  Nappier,  the  clerk, 
called  out  the  names  of  the  convicts,  and  at  each  name 
one  of  the  Girondins  answered  '  Present ! '  and  several 
added  a  few  words  of  irony. 

'  Present ! '  said  Vergniaud  ; '  if  our  blood  can  cement 
liberty,  we  welcome  you.' 

*  I  don't  like  long  speeches  ;  I  am  no  adept  in  the 
art  of  outraging  reason  and  justice,'  cried  Ducos,  sar- 
castically quoting  Robespierre's  very  words.  Nappier 
having  roughly  interrupted  him,  he  added,  with  a  burst 
of  laughter :  *  Well,  present,  without  phrases.' 

Duperret,  instead  of  answering,  impeached  the  town 
of  Paris,  saying  that  its  representatives  were  murdering 
the  most  devoted  patriots.  Brissot,  one  of  the  most  dis- 
tinguished Girondins,  was  gloomy  ;  Vergniaud  spoke  to 
him  for  some  time  with  vehemence,  but  all  that  could  be 
heard  of  what  he  said  were  the  often  repeated  words  of 
republic  and  liberty.  When  the  nominal  appeal  was 
terminated,  all  the  convicts,  with  equal  enthusiasm,  cried 
*  Vive  la  Republiqtte!' 

The  sight  of  these  men,  whose  last  cry  was  a  glorifi- 
cation of  the  Republic  in  the  name  of  which  they  were 
being  sent  to  the  guillotine,  was  awful  and  impressive. 
Often  has  my  father,  when  he  was  giving  me  the  above 
details,  repeated  that  no  execution  ever  moved  him 
■  more.  The  toilet  began  ;  during  this  preliminary  prepa- 
ration the  Girondins  remained  serene  and  self-possessed. 
My  grandfather  and  my  father  cut  their  hair ;  the  assist- 
ants bound  their  hands.  They  came  forward  without 
any  affectation  or  bravado,  and  continued  to  converse. 


THE   GIRONDINS. 


65 


As  Duprat  was  about  to  sit  down  on  the  stool,  Main- 
vieille  approached,  holding  the  letter  he  had  been 
writing.  He  handed  it  to  his  companion,  together  with  a 
pen,  saying  to  my  father : 

'  You  will  allow  us  to  devote  a  few  moments  to  our 
family  affairs,  I  hope  ? ' 

Duprat  then  added  a  few  words  to  the  letter,  which 
was  addressed  to  a  woman  whom  they  both  loved. 

Ducos  was  the  last  who  underwent  the  toilette,  and 
it  was  my  father  who  cut  his  hair.  Fonfrede,  his  brother- 
in-law,  stood  behind  him.  During  the  operation  a  few 
hairs,  which  were  caught  between  the  scissors,  were  torn 
out.  Ducos  could  not  refrain  from  making  a  movement, 
and  while  his  hands  were  being  tied  he  said  to  my 
father : 

*  I  hope  the  edge  of  your  guillotine  is  sharper  than 
your  scissors  ! ' 

When  all  were  ready,  my  grandfather  gave  the 
signal  for  departure.  Some  of  the  gendarmes  had 
already  descended  the  stairs  which  led  to  the  entrance 
of  the  prison.  The  convicts  pressed  around  Vergniaud, 
and  seemed  to  wish  to  confer  upon  him  the  honour  of 
marching  first ;  but  Vergniaud,  pointing  to  Valaze  s 
body,  which  two  assistants  were  placing  on  a  tressel : 
*  He  preceded  us  in  death,'  said  he  in  a  grave  voice  ;  '  he 
must  show  us  the  way.' 

All  then  stood  back  at  his  bidding,  and  the  corpse 

was  borne  away.      The  Girondins  followed.      Nappier, 

the  clerk  of  the  court,  had  arranged  that  they  should  be 

placed  in  the  carts  according  to  the  order  of  their  names 

VOL.  II.  F 


66  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  SANSONS. 

in  the  judgment ;  but  the  confusion  which  attended  the- 
departure  prevented  the  execution  of  a  measure  which 
might  have  deprived  some  of  the  Girondins  of  the  suprenie;^ 
consolation  of  confiding  their  Jast^  thoughts  to  a  personal 
friend.  They  entered  the  carts  they  preferred,  and 
found  themselves  thus  distributed :  Gensonne,  Carra,. 
Duperret,  Lasource,  and  Duchatel  in  the  first  cart  \. 
Brissot,  Vergniaud,  Ducos,  Boyer-Fonfrede,  and  Vigie 
in  the  second  ;  Gardien,  Mainvieille,  Duprat,  Fauchet, 
Sillery,  and  Lasource,  in  the  third  ;  Antiboul,  Boileau, 
Lehardy,  and  Beauvais  in  the  fourth.  My  grandfather 
and  my  father  were  in  the  first  two  carts,  and  an 
assistant  in  each  of  the  other  carts ;  each  of  them  held 
the  end  of  the  cord  which  communicated  with  the  wrists 
of  the  convicts.  Contrary  to  what  has  been  said  by 
some  historians,  there  was  no  convict  in  the  fifth  cart, 
which  was  reserved  for  the  body  of  Valaze. 

The  sky  was  dark  and  rainy ;  a  foggy  atmosphere 
covered  the  town  ;  nevertheless,  an  immense  _gxLwd_ 
filled  the  streets.  More  curiosity  than  passion  was 
displayed  by  the  public.  Few  were  conscious  of  the 
importance  of  the  sacrifice  which  was  about  to  be  made  ; 
but  few  also  seemed  to  share  the  violent  sentiments 
expressed  at  the  Club  des  Jacobins  and  in  the  Con- 
vention. Silence  was  generally  preserved  on  the  way ; 
but,  as  usually  occurred  when  illustrious  victims  were 
being  led  to  death,  a  gang  of  men  and  women  had 
mingled  with  the  cortege,  and  gave  vent  to  furious  ex- 
clamations.  Scarcely  had  the  carts  reached  the  Quai 
de  la  Conciergerie  when  my  grandfather  became  aware 
that  his  new  assistant,  Jacot,  had  taken  off  his  cartnag- 


THE  GIRONDINS.  67 

nolcy  under  which  he  wore  a  mountebank's  costume  ; 
the  wretch  had  mounted  the  horse  of  the^  cart_entrusted 
to  him,  and  was  going  through  a  series  of  feats  of  equi- 
tation, which  he  only  interrupted  to  address  to  the 
crowd  ironical  remarks  relating  to  the  convicts.  Charles 
Henri  immediately  descended,  and  endeavoured  to 
drive  Jacot  away ;  but  the  crowd,  and  even  the  gen- 
darmes, sided  with  the  mountebank,  and  my  grand- 
father was  obliged  to  return  to  his  cart  amidst  groans 
and  hisses.  The  cries  of  *  Vive  la  Repitbliqtie!'  were 
frequently  uttered  on  the  way.  Mainvieille  and  Duprat 
repeated  with  the  crowd  :  *  Vive  la  Repiiblique ! '  On 
two  or  three  occasions  only  came  forth  the  cry :  *  Death 
to  traitors  ! '  The  Girondins  heard  it  without  anger ;  but 
a  stentorian  voice,  which  came  from  the  fourth  cart, 
exclaimed :  *  The  Republic  !  You  shall  not  have  it !  * 
Vergniaud,  behind  whom  was  my  father,  heard  the  ex- 
clamation, and  cried :  *  Do  not  say  that ;  the  Republic 
costs  us  dear  enough  for  us  to  carry  away  the  hope  that 
it  shall  not  be  overthrown.' 

Not  one  showed  signs  of  weakness.  Vergniaud  was 
grave  and  collected,  and  endeavoured  to  dispel  the 
sinister  presentiments  of  Brissot,  who  seemed  to  think 
that  the  Republic  could  not  survive  their  death.  Ducos 
and  Boyer-Fonfrede  conversed  in  a  low  voice  ;  my  father 
saw  tears  on  the  cheeks  of  the  latter.  The  convicts  of 
the  other  carts  were  not  less  dignified.  Twice  they 
struck  up  the  Marseillaise.  Ducos,  who  was  only 
twenty-seven  years  old,  seemed  to  become  more  lively 
and  caustic  as  the  fatal  moment  was  drawing  near.     As 


68 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  SANSONS. 


the  carts  reached  the   Place  de  la  Revolution,  he  said, 
looking  at  the  guillotine  : 

'  What  a  pity  it  is  that  the  Convention  did  not  decree 
the  unity  and  indivisibility  of  our  persons  ! ' 

After   being   placed    in   a  file   before   the   scaffold, 

/rbetween  two  rows  of  gendarmes,  the  Girondins  embraced, 

and  were  heard  encouraging  each  other  to  die  bravely, 

without  fear  or  reproach,  as  they  had  lived.  Then  they  once 

(yurvij    more  struck  up  the  Marseillaise,  and  the  sacrifice  began. 

the  first  to  appear  on  the  platform.     He 

the  scaffold,  and  bowed  four  times  to  the 

crowd.     He   suffered   from  paralysis   and  walked  with" 


\d.  VUi!  walked  around 


^•Cfira.rr.  .difficulty.     One  of  the  assistants  having  told  him  to  be 
quick,  he  answered : 

*  Can't  you  wait  a  moment }     I  wait  also,  and  yet  I 
^<^ll7-  ^^  i^  ^  greater  hurry  than  you  are.' 
^^<aAU^'~  As  the  knife  came  down,  the  chorus  of  the  convicts 
^  plflMj^'' became  stronger.     After  Sillery  came  Fauchet ;  Carra, 
'^'   ""       '  Lesterpt-Beauvais,  Duperret,  and  Lacase  followed. 

Charles  Henri  Sanson  was  superintending  the  execu- 

n^^'w^   tion.     Fermin,  the  head  assistant,  was  pulHng  the  rope. 

'       '  My  father  watched  over  the  removal  of  the  bodies,  which 

were  thrown,  two  by  two,  into  baskets  prepared  behind 

the  guillotine.     But   when   six   heads   had    fallen,   the 

baskets  and  the  weigh-planks   were  so  saturated  that 


e) 


the  contact  of  the  blood  must  have  been  more  horrible 


than  death  itself  to  those  who  were  to  follow. Charles 

Henri  Sanson  ordered  the  two  assistants  to  throw  pails 
of  water  over  the  plank,  and  to  sponge  it  after  each 
execution. 

The  ranks  of  the  convicts  were  beginning  to  thin. 


THE  GIRONDINS,  69 

Their  chants  were  diminishing  in  intensity,  but  not  in 
vigour.  Boileau,  Antiboul,  Gardien,  Lasource,  Brissot, 
one  after  the  other  ascended  the  steps  of  the  scaffold. 
While  Lehardy  was  being  bound  to  the  plank,  he  cried 
three  times :  *  Vive  la  Reptibliqtie  ! '  Duprat  was  executed 
after  him.  Before  leaving  his  friends,  Ducos  embraced 
Fonfrede,  his  brother-in-law  ;  in  ascending  the  steps,  he 
said  to  my  father : 

'  Ah !  would  that  your  guillotine  could  kill  me  at  the 
same  time  as  my  brother  ! ' 

He  was  still  speaking  when  the  knife  came  down 
upon  his  neck. 

Only  six  Girondins  now  remained;  but  they  went 
on  singing.     Gensonne,  Mainvieille,  Boyer-Fonfrede,  and 
Duchatel   were  executed.     Vergniaud  and  Vigie   were 
still   alive.     It  has  been  asserted  that  Vergniaud   was 
the   last  who  died.      This   is   an   error.      It  had  been 
hoped  that  some  of  the  Girondins  would  show  some 
symptom   of  fear,    and  those   who   had   exhibited   the 
greatest  fortitude  had  been  reserved  for  the  last.    Nappier,      „        ^ 
tlie   clerk,  was   about  to   point  to   Vigie  as   the   next     uJ     «  < 
victim,  when  he  thought  he  detected  a  tremor  in  his    oJUfiYhj)^ 
voice  ;  he  immediately  turned  to  Vergniaud  and  told  him   -^trvryui^ 
to  come  forward.     Nappier  doubtless  thought  that  Vigie,     -^Gu^ni 
being  deprived  of  the  support  of  his  friend,  would  lose 
courage,  ajid  jhat   the  horrible  hecatomb  would   thus_ 
finish  by  an  exhibition  of  fear,     Nothing  of  the  kind^^ 
took  place.     When  Vergniaud's  corpse  had  joined  those 
of  h|s  friends,  Vigie  came   forward  with  the  pride  of  a  ^ 
conqueror.     He  was  still  singing  while  they  were  binding 
him  to  tKe  plank. 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  SANSONS. 

The  execution  lasted  forty-three  minutes  ;  that  is,  a 
little  more  than  two  minutes  for  each  convict. 

In  the  evening  of  the  same  day,  Charles  Henri 
Sanson  complained  to  Fouquier  of  the  extraordinary 
conduct  of  Hebert's/r^/^^/in  the  hope  of  getting  rid  of 
the  ruffian  ;  he  argued  that  the  way  to  beget  sympathy 
for  the  condemned  was  to  insult  prisoners,  as  Jacot 
had  done.  Fouquier  paid  no  attention  to  my  grand- 
father's recriminations,  and  asked  him  why  he  did  not 
with  his  own  hand  pull  the  rope  which  communicated 
with  the  knife.     My  grandfather  replied  that  under  the 

former   regime  _it_  was customary ,Jbx.,  the   executioner^ 

to  carry  out  himself  sentences  entailing  decapitation^  but 
that  since  a  machine  had  been  substituted  for  human 
strength  and  dexterity,  the  most  important  duty^was  to 
watch  the  preparations  and  the  carrying  out..of_an__ 
execution  ;  that  .the._slightest  neglect  could  give  rise  to 
frightful  accidents  ;  and  that,  as  he  was  personallyure- 
sponsible,  it  was  only  natural  that  he  should  see  himself 
to_the  superintendence. 

Fouquier-Tinville  appeared  satisfied  with  these  rea- 
sons; but  in  sending  my  grandfather  away,  he  told  him  that 
he  should  keep  an  eye  upon  him,  and  added,  with  a  signi- 
ficant gesture,  that  if  he  did  not  discharge  his  duties  not 
only  as  an  experienced  executioner,  but  as  a  patriot,  he, 
Sanson,  might  very  well  change  parts,  and  be  executed 
himself 

The  result  of  this  conversation  was  that  Jacot  was 
maintained  as  my  grandfather's  assistant ;  and  the  man's 
minister  grimaces  were  repeated  in  most  important  execu- 
itions,  to  the  great  satisfaction  of  the  mob. 


71 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

ADAM  LUX.— THE  DUKE    OF  ORLEANS. 

From  the  time  of  the  death  of  the  Girondins.  execution.^ 
became  more  and  more  frequent ;  the  real  Reip^n  of  Terror 
begao-— ^Not  a  day  passed  without  the  guillotine  being- 
used,  and  my  grandfather  and  my  father  had  scarcely 
breathing  time.  Three  executions  took  place  on  the  nth 
of  Brumaire,  and  three  more  on  the  1 2th.  On  the  1 3th  the 
Revolutionary  Tribunal  sent  to  the  scaffold  Qlvinpe  de\ 
Gouges,  a  woman  famous  for  her  talents  and  courage.  She 
had  hailed  the  Revolution  with  delight ;  but  pity  soon 
invaded  her  heart,  and  in  a  fit  of  generous  boldness  she 
wrote  to  the  Convention,  to  ask  leave  to  defend  the 
King.  She  then  attacked  the  revolutionary  party  with 
such  violence  that  the  papers  refused  to  accept  any  more 
of  her  contributions,  and  she  was  obliged  to  use  placards 
as  a  medium  of  communication  with  the  public.  For 
this  she  was  incarcerated  for  five  months,  tried,  and 
executed. 

On  the  14th  two  convicts  appeared  on  the  guillotine. 
One  was  a  woman  called  Marie  Madeleine  Contelet. 
She  had  been  found  in  possession  of  a  letter  in  which  the 
Commune   and   the   Convention  were   spoken  of__con-_ 


? 


72  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  SANSONS. 

temptuously.  Thiswas^^enough  to  ensure  a  condemna- 
tion  to  death.  The  other  convict  was  Adam  Lux,  sent 
by  the  town  of  Mayence  to  solicit  the  annexation  of  his- 
native  town  to  France.  Adam  Lux  was  an  enthusiastic 
dreamer,  who  judged  men  in  the  simph'city  of  his  heart 
and  with  the  sincerity  of  faith.  He  beHeved  that  uni- 
versal regeneration  would  succeed  to  the  proclamation 
of  the  principles  of  right  and  justice.  Adam  Lux  was 
plunged  in  deep  and  dark  despair,  and  was  thinking  of 
committing  suicide,  when  he  saw  Charlotte  Corday.  He 
had  sought  in  vain  for  liberty,  but  the  tenderness  which 
filled  his  mystic  heart  could  not  remain  unquenched;  he 
gave  himself  to  the  priestess  as  he  had  given  himself 
to  the  goddess.  Full  of  faith  in  this  extraordinary  post- 
humous love,  he  only  wished  to  join  Charlotte  in  deaths 
and  he  lost  no  opportunity  of  impeaching  and  attack- 
ing the  Montagne.  He  was  soon  arraigned  before  the  Re- 
volutionary Tribunal.  Nor  was  he  unworthy  of  Charlotte 
Corday.  After  the  act  of  accusation  had  been  read  to 
him,  he  said  to  Fouquier-Tinville :  '  I  am  a  stranger  to- 
your  laws  as  well  as  to  your  crimes ;  if  I  have  deserved 
to  perish,  it  is  not  among  the  French  that  I  should 
suffer.'  When  sentence  was  passed  he  exclaimed  :  '■  At 
last  I  shall  be  free ! '  He  dressed  himself  with  muchi 
care  to  proceed  to  the  guillotine,  as  if  hoping  that 
K/^  Charlotte  Corday's  spirit  was  waiting  for  him  over  the. 
caffold.  His  female  companion  was  executed  first. 
Hardly  was  the  body  removed  when  Adam  Lux  appeared 

^TAiXi^^n  the  platform,  and  stretched  himself  out  on  the  plank^ 

gT|i^  ^  exclaiming  *  At  last  1 ' 


ADAM  LUX.— THE  DUKE   OF  ORLEANS. 


75 


On  the  15th  another  woman,  named  Madeleine  Kolly^ 
was  executed  ;  on  the  i6th  it  was  the  turn  of  one  of  the/ 
most  famous  initiators  of  the  Revolution,  Louis  Philippe! 
Joseph  d'Orleans.  It  was  in  vain  that  this  prince  had 
exchanged  his  title  for  the  significant  name  of  EgaliU^ 
that  he  had  given  to  the  Revolution  a  far  more  awful 
guarantee  by  voting  the  death  of  his  king  and  relative  ; 
he  had  not  succeeded  in  obliterating  the  recollection  of 
his  birth  and  immense  fortune.  Justly  hated  by  the 
Royalists,  he  had  soon  embarrassed  the  Republicans. 
The  Girondins  would  not  believe  that  patriotism  was  the 
only  reason  for  the  democratic  conversion  of  a  prince  of 
the  blood.  Ever  since  the  first  meeting  of  the  Com 
tion,  they  had  never  ceased  to  treat  him  as  a  pretender.. 
On  the  other  hand,  the  Montague  was  aware  that  the 
presence  of  a  Bourbon  in  its  ranks  would  estrange  from 
it  all  other  revolutionary  parties.  It  was  therefore  re-  , 
solved  that  he  should  die.  Dumouriez's  treason  was 
seized  upon  as  the  best  opportunity  for  the  execution  of 
this  design.  Arrested  April  7,  Egalite  was  transferred 
to  Marseilles  on  the  12th.  He  found  there  his  two  sons^ 
the  Dukes  of  Montpensier  and  Beaujolais,  who  had  also 
been  arrested.  After  an  incarceration  of  six  months  in 
the  Fort  St.  Jean,  he  was  led  back  to  Paris  on  the  2nd 
of  Brumaire,  and  imprisoned  in  the  Conciergerie. 

The  death   of  this   troublesome  accomplice  was  so-  w 
evidently  decided  beforehand  that  Fouquier-Tinville  did   i^^^W^ 
not  even  try  to  elaborate  an  indictment,  and  used  that 
which   had  been  drawn  up  against  the    Girondins,  the 
relentless  enemies  of  Egalite.     When  the  latter  heard 


74 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  SANSONS. 


himself  described  as  a  Brissotin,  when  he  heard  the 
charge  that  he  had  attempted  to  place  the  Duke  of  York 
on  the  throne  of  France,  he  interrupted  the  reading, 
^nd  exclaimed  :  *  But  surely  this  is  a  joke  ! '  When  the 
president  asked  him  if  he  had  any  answer  to  make,  he 
said  coldly  *  that  the  charges  just  uttered  against  him 
conflicted  with  each  other,  and  could  not  possibly  be 
urged  against  him,  since  it  was  well  known  that  he  had 
•constantly  opposed  the  system  and  the  measures  of  the 
party  he  was  accused  of  having  favoured.' 

He  was  defended  with  much  energy  by  Charles 
Voidel ;  but,  as  I  said  before,  his  death  had  been  con- 
sidered indispensable,  and  the  Duke  of  Orleans's  popu- 
larity was  not  sufficient  to  make  the  jury  hesitate  upon 
a  measure  which  they  deemed  necessary.  The  Duke 
heard  the  sentence  without  displaying  the  slightest 
emotion  ;  and  turning  towards  Antonnelle,  the  foreman 
of  the  jury,  who  had  once  been  one  of  his  close  friends, 
he  said  : 

*  Since  you  were  determined  to  kill  me,  you  should 
have  devised  more  plausible  pretexts  than  you  have 
alleged  ;  for  you  will  never  persuade  any  one  that  I  am 
guilty  of  the  crime  for  which  you  put  me  to  death  ; 
and  you  less  than  anybody  else,  Antonnelle,  for  you 
know  me  well.  Since  my  fate  is  decided,  I  request  you 
not  to  make  me  wait  until  to-morrow,  and  to  order  mv 


immediate  execution.' 

General  Coustard,  his  aide-de-camp,  also  a  member  of 
the  Convention,  was  sentenced  to  death  with  him.  The 
Tribunal  having  granted  the   Duke's  request,   Charles 


I 


ADAM  LUX.— THE  DUKE   OF  ORLEANS.        75 

TIenri  Sanson  was  sent  for  ;  and  to  him  the  clerk  of  the 
Tribunal  handed  an  order  of  immediate  execution,  which 
included  two  other  prisoners  condemned  on  the  preced- 
ing day  :  Jacques  Nicolas  de  Laroque,  ex-sub  -delegate 
of  Mortagne,  and  Pierre  Gondier,  stockbroker. 

It  was  half-past  three  o'clock  when  my  grandfather 
received  this  order.  As  he  was  about  to  start  with  the 
prisoners,  he  was  told  to  wait,  and  a  fifth  victim  was 
handed  over  to  him.  This  was  a  workman  named 
Antoine  Brousse. 

The  Duke  of  Orleans  was  pacing  the  prison  parlour 
when  the  executioner  appeared.  He  was  slightly  pale, 
but  otherwise  showed  no  emotion.  My  grandfather 
took  off  his  hat,  as  he  always  did ;  but  the  Duke  paid 
no  attention  to  him.  On  being  asked,  however,  whether 
he  would  allow  his  hair  to  be  cut,  he  sat  down  without 
making  any  remark.  At  that  moment  the  four  other 
victims  were  brought  in.  M.  de  Laroque  entered  first  ; 
he  was  a  fine  'old  man,  and  his  face  was  of  noble 
cast.  As  one  of  the  assistants  was  offering  to  cut  his 
hair,  he  took  off  the  wig  which  covered  his  bald  head, 
saying :  *  This  renders  your  formality  useless.'  The 
Duke  of  Orleans,  who  until  then  had  been  sitting  with 
his  back  turned,  having  risen,  M.  de  Laroque  recog- 
nised him,  and  strong  indignation  appeared  on  the  old 
Tnan's  face  as  he  exclaimed  : 

'■  I  am  no  longer  sorry  to  leave  life  since  he  who  has 
betrayed  my  country  meets  with  condign  punishment ; 
but,  sir,  I  confess  I  am  much  humiliated  at  having  to  die 
on  the  same  scaffold  as  you.' 


76  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  SANSONS, 

The  Duke  did  not  answer,  and  turned  away. 

It  was  four  o'clock  in  the  r.fternoon  when  the 
cortege  left  the  Conciergerie.  The  prince's  sang-froid  did 
not  forsake  him  ;  but  his  courage  essentially  differed 
from  that  displayed  by  the  Girondins  and  so  many  other 
victims  ;  his  countenance  expressed  indifference  and 
disgust.  The  leader  of  the  escort  stopped  before  the 
Egalite  palace,  on  the  front  of  which  were  written  the 
words  '  national  property.'  The  prince  understood  why 
the  halt  had  been  made.  He  looked  for  a  moment  at 
the  abode  of  his  ancestors,  and  then  turned  away 
scornfully. 

M.  de  Laroque  was  the  first  whose  head  fell.  He 
bade  farewell  to  all  his  companions,  except  to  the  Duke 
of  Orleans.  Gondier  came  next,  then  Coustard,  and 
lastly  Brousse. 

The  prince  witnessed  these  executions  without 
emotion.  He  appeared  in  his  turn  on  the  platform^ 
shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  looked  with  a  proud  and 
haughty  air  at  the  people  who  were  hissing  him.  After 
taking  off  his  coat,  the  assistants  wished  to  divest  him 
of  his  boots,  but  he  resisted,  and  advanced  towards  the 
plank,  saying :  *  You  are  losing  time  ;  you  can  take 
them  off  at  greater  leisure  when  I  am  dead.'  ^ 

*  Forty  years  later,  Louis  Philippe,  son  of  Egalite,  was  proclaimed 
King  of  the  French.  


n 


CHAPTER   XXXIV. 

MADAME  ROLAND  AND  BAILLY. 


Six  executions  took  place  on  the  17th  of  Brumaire — 
those  of  Rideau,  mason;  Jean  Clain,  upholsterer;  Julien 
Cailleau,  cooper ;  Jean  Teyniere,  shoemaker ;  Florent 
Ollivier,  labourer ;  and  Thomas  Herry,  labourer — all 
municipal  councillors  of  Pont-de-Ce,  convicted  of  con- 
spiracy with  the  rebels  of  La  Vendee. 

These  unfortunate  men  were  soon  to  be  followed  by 
another  illustrious  victim.  Madame  Roland  was  arrested 
on  May  31,  and  she  appeared  before  the  Revolutionary 
Tribunal  on  the  i8th  of  Brumaire.  Madame  Roland  had 
been  the  soul  of  the  Gironde  ;  the  elevation  of  her  intel- 
lect, the  grace  of  her  wit,  the  superiority  of  her  views 
liad  given  her  serious  influence,  not  only  over  her 
husband,  but  over  the  illustrious  men  who  congregated 
in  her  drawing-room.  This  intervention  of__a  woman  in 
politics  had  excitgd^much  anger,  both  in  the  press  and 
in  the  Convention;  Madame  Roland's  caustic  verve^Yitx 
just  contempt  for  ambitious  mediocrities,  had  swelled 
the.  .ranks  of  her  enemies.  It  was  thus  that,  after  the 
death  of  her  friends,  the  Girondins,  she  was  violently 
assailed,  and   finally  arrested  and  arraigned.     The  im- 


:^' 


78  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  SANSONS. 

peachment  was  mainly  based  on  her  connection  with 
the  Girondins.  Madame  Roland  was  resigned  to  her 
fate,  but  she  could  not,  without  Indignation,  listen  to  the 
insults  that  were  cast  upon  the  memory  of  her  friends^, 
and  she  attempted  to  defend  them  : 

*  In  what  time,  and  among  what  people  do  we  live ! ' 
she  exclaimed.  *  It  Is  not  my  business  to  speak  of  the 
men  you  have  proscribed,  but  I  never  believed  that  they 
had  evil  Intentions,  for  they  gave  to  this  country  many 
proofs  of  their  patriotism,  integrity,  and  devotion.  If 
they  were  mistaken,  their  error  was  virtuous  ;  they  may 
have  been  misled,  but  they  Incurred  no  dishonour.  If  It 
was  a  crime  to  wish  for  their  safety,  I  declare  In  the  face 
of  the  world  that  I  am  a  criminal,  and  that  I  joyfully 
share  with  them  the  honour  of  being  persecuted  by  their 
enemies.  I  have.  Indeed,  known  well  the  generous  men 
who  were  accused  of  having  conspired  against  their 
country  ;  they  were  firm  but  humane  Republicans  ;  they 
thought  that  good  laws  only  could  make  the  Republic 
popular  with  those  who  had  no  confidence  in  democratic 
institutions.' 

The  president  of  the  Tribunal  interrupted  her,  sayings 
that  she  could  not  be  allowed  to  praise  traitors  who  had 
been  righteously  punished.  Madame  Roland  turned  to- 
wards the  audience  and  protested  against  these  words ;, 
but  insulting  clamours  were  the  only  response  to  this 
appeal,  and  henceforth  Madame  Roland  was  disdain-- 
fully  silent.  She  was  condemned  to  death.  When  she 
heard  the  sentence,  she  said,  addressing  the  Tribunal,  In 
a  calm  and  sweet  voice  : 


MADAME  ROLAND.  79, 

'  You  judge  me  worthy  of  sharing  the  fate  of  the 
great  men  you  have  murdered :  I  will  try  to  show  on  the 
scaffold  the  fortitude  they  displayed.' 

Like  the   Duke   of  Orleans,  Madame   Roland  was 
executed   immediately  after  her  trial.     With  her  was 
Simon  Frangois  Lamarche,  ex-manager  of  the  manufac- 
tory of  assignats.     She  had  very  fine  black  hair,  a  part 
of  which  had  to  be  cut,  at  which  she  expressed  some 
concern.     My  grandfather  tried  to  make  her  understand, '  /j^  v^^ 
with  all  kinds  of  circumlocution,  that,  if  he  allowed  her^'^^^^  \ 
to  retain  her  hair,  he   would  expose   her  to  the  most   &1^^^^^ 
fearful  torture.     She  seemed  touched  by  his  arguments,.       (^ 
and  paraphrasing  a  celebrated   expression  of  Moliere's,. 
she  said,  smiling  :  *  Strange  that  humanity  should  take 
refuge  in  such  an  unlikely   person   as  you  ! '     As   her 
black  hair  was  falling,  she  rose  with  much  vivacity  and     /u/uuJb 
exclaimed  :  *At  least  leave  me  enough  for  you  to  hold  ^  UAJ-  c 
up  my  head  and_§liow  it  to  the  people,  if  they  wish  to^^'*^^^^^^^ 
see  itll. 

Lamarche,  who  was  about  to  die  in  her  company,, 
was   far   from    having    her    self-possession.      M^^^i^^^SL. 
Roland's  last  act  was  one  of  profound  abnegation  and 
charity  ^jhe  forgot  her  own  fate  only  to  think  _qfher_cqm^ 
panion's  sufferings.      She  neyer_ceased_to_jxm5Q^^ 
encourage  him.     She  affected  gaiety  which  could  not  be 
in  a  mother's  and  a  wife's  heart,  but  which  she  hoped 
might  lessen  the  horror  and  fear  whercAyith   Lamarf^hf^ 
was  filled.     Neither  the  Queen  nor  the  Girondins  had 
given  rise  to  such  popular   fury  as    Madame    Roland.  0 

She  heard  taunts  and  invectives  with  a  quiet  smile.     As 


^o  MEMOIRS   OF  THE  SANSONS, 

to  Lamarche,  the  sight  of  the  guillotine  deprived  him 
of  the  small  amount  of  courage  inspired  by  Madame 
Roland's  words  ;  his  face  turned  livid,  and  an  assistant 
was  obliged  to  help  him  up.  Madame  Roland  looked 
at  him  with  compassion,  and  said  to  him  : 

*  I  can  only  spare  you  the  sight  of  blood  ;  go  first, 
poor  man ! ' 

Since  the  death  of  the  Girondins  the  public  prose- 
cutor  fixed  the  rank  and  file  of  execution^  Madame 
Roland,  by  reason  of  her  sex,  had  been  granted  the  privi- 
lege of  dying  first.  When  she  told  my  grandfather  that 
she  abandoned  to  Lamarche  the  favour  of  being  struck 
first,  he  answered  that  it  was  impossible ;  that  he  had 
•different  orders. 

'  No,  no,'  replied  Madame  Roland  ;  '  I  am  sure  you 
were  not  ordered  to  refuse  a  woman's  last  request,' 

Charles  Henri  Sanson  had  not  the  courage  to  per- 
sist Lamarche  was  guillotined,  and  Madame  Roland 
saw  his  head  fall  without  a  shudder.  She  then  advanced 
and  gave  herself  up  to  my  grandfather's  assistants. 

Well-known  victims  continued  to  appear  on  the 
scaffold.  The  2 1st  of  Brumaire  saw  the  death  of 
another  founder  of  the  Republic — Bailly.  Th^  circum-  _ 
stances  which  preceded  and  attended  his  execution  were 
so  horrible  that  some  historians,  hostile  to  the  Revolu-_ 
tion,  have  grossly  exaggerated  the  facts,  while  Repub- 
lican  historians  have  endeavoured  to  attenuate  them. 
The  following  account  of  Bailly's  death  is,  I  make  bold 
to  say,  the  most  accurate  that  has  hitherto  been  written  : 

Jean  Sylvain  Bailly  was  born  in  Paris  on  September 


B  A  ILLY.  8 1 

15,1731.     He  was  the  son  of  Jacques  Bailly,  keeper  of 
the  King's  paintings,  and  his  ancestors  were  distinguished 
artists.  _ His  first  preferences  were  for  Hterature,  but  he 
forsook  letters  for  science,  and  became  one  of  the  most 
eminent  astronomers  of  the  time.     Bailly  was  elected  a 
■deputy  for  Paris  in  1789,  and  the  National  Assembly 
selected  him  as  president.     On  July  16,   1789,  he  was 
appointed  mayor  of  Paris ;  and  his  popularity  was  so 
.great  that  he  accepted  this  perilous  post  with  confidence ; 
but  he  was  not  long  in  discovering  his  mistake.     Being 
sincerely  constitutional,  he   assumed  the  responsibility 
of  the  terrible  butchery,  of  which  the    scene  was  the 
Champ   de   la    Federation.     It   is   now   pretty   certain 
that,    although    he   held   himself  responsible,    he   had 
no  hand  in  this  sanguinary  affair ;  but  there  was  then 
every  reason   to   think   otherwise,  and  he  was    on  all 
sides  devoted  to   popular  revenge.       He    resigned  his 
office,  gave  up  public  affairs,  and  retired  in  the  neigh- 
iDourhood  of  Nantes.      But  in  that  town,  as  well  as  in 
Paris,  he  was  regarded  as  a  traitor ;  and  as  his  position 
was  becoming  more  perilous  every  day,  he  wrote  to  a 
friend,  asking  for  a  place  of  shelter.      His  friend  pre- 
pared one   for   him   in   the   neighbourhood   of  Melun. 
Bailly  left  Brittany,  but  fell  into  the  hands  of  a  detach- 
ment of  the  revolutionary  army,  and  was  taken  to  Paris. 
He  appeared  before  the  dreaded  Tribunal  on  the  19th  of 
Brumaire.     The  massacre  of  the  Champ  de  Mars  was 
not  the  only  charge  brought  against  Bailly  ;  he  was  also 
accused  of  having  excited  the  conquerors  of  La  Bastille 
against  each  other,  and  of  having  favoured  the  King's 
VOL.  II.  G 


82  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  SANSONS. 

escape  at  Varennes.  The  absurdity  of  this  conjecture 
was  glaring.  A  considerable  number  of  witnesses  were 
heard  ;  all  went  against  Bailly,  and  the  obvious  result 
was  a  verdict  of  guilty,  and  Bailly  was  sentenced  to 
death. 

I  have  already  stated  that  the  executioner  used  to  call 
every  day  on  the  public  prosecutor  to  take  his  orders. 
On  the  20th  of  Brumaire  he  was  told  by  a  clerk  of  the 
court  that  no  execution  was  to  take  place  on  that  day,, 
and  he  was  dismissed  without  being  apprised  of  the 
special  preparations  of  the  morrow  for  poor  Bailly's. 
execution.  It  was  only  at  nine  o'clock  on  the  morning^ 
of  the  2 1st  that  Charles  Henri  was  ordered  to  transfer. 
the  guillotine  to  the  Champ  de  Mars.  He  lost  some 
time  in  calling  together  his  assistants,  so  that  it  was 
past  ten  when  he  proceeded  to  the  Place  de  la  Revolu- 
tion. FouquieijTinville  had  selected  a  spot  between 
the  *  Altar  of  the  Country '  and  the  Gros-Caillou  for  the 
erection  of  the  scaffold — the  yeiT  place  occupied  by  the 
troops  when  they  firedT upon. the j^eople.  On  my  father 
devolved  the  task  of  removing  the_  instrument  of  death 
from  its  usual  quarters.  My  grandfather  gave  him  his  in- 
structions and  went  to  the  Conciergerie,  where  he  arrived 
at  half-past  eleven  o'clock.  As  he  entered  the  prison 
he  met  Hebert,  who  bowed  to  him  as  he  passed.  Bailly 
was  immediately  brought  forward.  I  can  assert  that 
^^  the  people  did  not  take  the  initiative  in  the  revolting 
treatment  he  met  with  before  execution.  The  turnkeys 
ofthe  Conciergerie,  who  often  showed  wanton  brutality 
in  their  dealings  with  prisoners,  treated  Bailly  with  more 


BAILLY. 


83 


than  usual  violence,  and  this  made  my  father  think  that 
they  were  acting  under  orders.  As  Bailly  was  bending 
forward  one  of  the  men  pushed  him  violently  towards 
another  turnkey,  who  in  his  turn  hustled  him  into  the 
hands  of  another,  and  so  on,  until  the  unfortunate  man 
was  bruised  and  out  of  breath.  Bault;  the  head  gaoler, 
and  Nappier,  the  clerk  of  the  Tribunal,  were  present 
and  looked  on.  Charles  Henri  having  asked  Bault 
why  he  did  not  interfere,  the  latter  replied,  shrugging 
his  shoulders : 

'  What  can  I  do  .? ' 

Nappier  laughed  and  nodded  approval.  My  grand 
father  then  thought  of  the  individual  he  had  met  shortly 
before,  and  supposed  that  Hebert  had  something  to  do 
with  what  was  going  on.  He  was  not  mistaken,  for 
Bault  confessed  to  him  afterwards  that  the  deputy 
procureiLv  of  the  Commune  had  excited  his  subordinates 
against  Bailly. 

Seeing  that  the  unfortunate  man  was  helpless,  Charles 
Henri  told  his  assistants  to  bind  his  hands.  The  con- 
duct of  the  turnkeys  had  in  no  way  disturbed  the 
equanimity  of  the  illustrious  savant.  His  firmness  had 
peculiar  good  nature  about  it.  He  answered  the  dis- 
graceful jokes  of  the  gaolers  merely  by  the  words  : 

'  You  are  hurting  me.' 

When  the  executioner's  assistants  tore  him  away 
from  his  tormenters,  he  smiled  and  said  : 

*  I  am  rather  old  for  that  kind  of  game.' 

When  he  was  pinioned,  my  grandfather  advised  him 
to    allow    his    assistants    to    throw   his    coat  over  his 


i 


m£4 

-hrr-Hc 


8+  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  SANSONS. 

shoulders,  as  the  weather  was  chilly.     '  Are  you  afraid 
'     that  I  should  catch  a  cold  ? '  enquired  Bailly. 

In  his  *  History  of  the  Revolution,'  M,  Thiers  asserts 
I  that  Bailly  was  led  to  execution  on  foot :  this_assertionjs^ 

^\\aij4  inaccurate.      The  late  mayor  of  Paris  enjoyed  the  pri- 
vilege of  all   persons  condemned  to  die ;  he  was  taken 
io  the  scaffold  in  a  cart.     Behind  the  cart  a  red^bgj^^as^ 
attached,  which,  according  to  the  tenour  of  the_sentence^__ 
was  to  be  burnt  before  the  convict  by  the  executioner. 

When  the  cart  appeared  on  the  quay  a  storm  of 
hisses  and  groans  greeted  the  prisoner,  and  my  grand- 
father perceived  that  the  mob  was  chiefly  composed  o£_ 
the  worst  of  the  habituh  of  the  Place  de  la  Revolution. 
Bailly  was  seated  ;  he  was  conversing  with  my  grand- 
father with  extraordinary  tranquility.  He  spoke  of  every- 
thing, excepFof  himself!  He  questioned  Charles  Henri 
concerning  the  last  moments  of  Custine,  Charlotte 
Corday,  and  the  Queen  ;  shortly  after  he  asked  him  what 
his  salary  was.  When  the  cart  reached  the  Champs 
Elysees  an  assistant  came  in  great  haste  to  speak  to  my 
grandfather — the  carpenters  had  forgotten  some  of  the 
beams  which  formed  the  floor  of  the  scaffold.  Charles 
Plenri  was  obliged  to  return  to  the  Place  de  la  Revolu- 
tion, and  to  place  these  beams  in  the  convict's  cart. 
The  halt  was  not  without  peril  ;  Bailly  stepped  out  of 
the  cart,  and  twice  the  crowd  attempted  to  capture  him. 
At  length  the  cortege  moved  on  again,  but  the  pieces  of 
wood  which  were  now  in  the  cart  caused  great  incon- 
venience to  poor  Bailly.  My  grandfather  asked  him  if 
he   would   rather  walk,  and   he  having  accepted   they 

''^"^  hwJidiHAfK  Mclk^/mdf  dlM^f^; 


BAILLY.  8s 

proceeded  behind  the  cart.  When,  however,  the  mob  saw 
Bailly  again  within  reach  there  was  another  tremendous 
rush  to  get  at  him,  and  a  lad,  making  his  way  through 
the  lines,  snatched  Bailly's  coat  off  his  shoulders.      The      t7 
onslaught  was  so  sudden  that  Bailly  fell  on  his  face. 
The  coat  was  torn_jnto_ j.jthousand[_pieces,  and  another  f^AjLu^i 
attempt  was  made  to  capture  the  convict,  who  was  only  ^^^ 
surrounded    by    the    executioner    and    his    assistants.  ■'^^^^' 
Bailly,  however,  was  saved  from  the  worst  of  deaths  by  ^^A^ai^  c 
the  intervention  of  the  gendarmes.  5wi^ 

My  ^grandfather  hastened  to  get  him  ap;ain  into  the  -*-^*^ 
cart,  but  the  crowd  was  raised  to  frenzy,  and  a  hailstorm  -^^  ^ 
of  projectiles  were  hurled  at  the  convict's  head.  Charles 
Henri  advised  Bailly  to  bend  down  and  shelter  himself 
behind  the  beams  ;  but  hardly  had  his  head  disappeared 
than  the  crowd  became  more  violent.  Bailly  rose  to  his 
feet,  saying  to  my  grandfather  : 

'  I  think  you  are  mistaken ;  one  should  always  make 
head  against  a  storm.'  And  as  Charles  Henri  was  ex- 
pressing his  vexation,  he  added  :  *  It  would  be  a  pity  if  I 
could  not  die  with  courage  during  a  quarter  of  an  hour, 
after  learning  how  to  live  with  honour  during  fifty-seven 
years.' 

It  was  half-past  one  when  the  cart  reached  the 
Champ  de  Mars.  The  scaffold  was  surrounded  by  three 
or  four  thousand  men.  Charles  Henri,  seeing  the  feeble- 
ness of  his  own  escort,  began  to  entertain  serious  fears. 
He  understood  that  the  convict  was  at  the  mercy  of  the 
howling  niob.  and  hurried  towards  the  scaffold,  hoping 
to  conclude  the  execution  before  the  mob  had  time  to 


lA  i  aWfiffi^^^^  ^gj^hEMBlRS^F^  THE  SANSONS. 


a\^^  Jl/^ake  a  raid  upon  Be 
\  \h  Mm'*^^  l3.rge,  public  indignation  ran  high  against  the  execu- 


M^    yl/feake  a  raid  upon  Bailly.     When,  however,  this  was  seen 


ij^  y(>'  l»  tioner,  and  Charles  Henri  was  surrounded  by  a  gang  of 
^\pi\fy''     thirty  individuals,  one  of  whom  said  to  him  that  the 
>w^     ground  which  had  drunk  the  blood  of  martyrs  could  not 
^  be  stained  by  the  blood  of  a  rascal — that  Bailly  could 

not  be  executed  in  the  Champ  de  Mars.  My  grand- 
father answered  that  he  was  bound  to  obey  superior 
/  KfjcvC/v.  orders.  *  Orders  ! '  exclaimed  one  of  the  men  ;  ^  only  tjie 
j^ywoV  people  have  the  right  to  give  you  orders!'  Charles 
Henri  having  called  an  officer  of  gendarmes  to  ask  his 
advice,  a  third  individual  exclaimed  :  *  You  can  proclaim 
martial  law  if  you  like  ;  you  have  the  red  flag  and 
Bailly  within  reach  ;  as  for  us,  we  will  erect  the  guillotine 
in  its  proper  place.' 

Loud  applause  followed  this  sally,  and  a  scene  of 
indescribable  confusion  ensued.  The  gendarmes  h^d 
dispersed ;  some  helped  the  people  in  removing  the 
guillotine.  My  grandfather  was  separated  from  the  un- 
fortunate Bailly,  and  he  had  the  greatest  trouble  to  find 
him  again.  It  was  then  that  really  commenced  the 
torture  of  the  poor  old  man.  By  the  mud  which  soiled 
his  shirt  and  face,  and  by  a  wound  on  his  forehead,  it 
was  easy  to  infer  that  he  had  been  struck  by  these 
frenzied  savages.  Men  and  women  were  equally 
ferocious — some  raised  their  clenched  fists  over  an  un- 
fortunate man  whose  hands  were  bound  ;  others  tried  to 
strike  him  with  sticks  over  their  neighbours'  heads. 
Bailly's  face  was  still  calm,  but  he  was  very  pale ;  as 
soon  as  he  recognised  Charles  Henri  Sanson  he  called 


BAILLY.  87 

lilm  to  his  help — poor  Bailly's  only  friend  was  his 
executioner.  As  my  grandfather  joined  him,  he  said : 
*  Ah  !  I  hoped  all  would  be  over  long  ago.' 

One  of  the  assistants  was  still  by  the  prisoner's  side  ; 
the  other  assistant  had  disappeared.  Two  generous 
citizens,  Beaulieu,  and  a  gendarme  named  Lebidois,  came 
to  my  grandfather's  assistance.  Beaulieu  harangued  the 
mob,  and  to  a  certain  degree  pacified  it.  Perceiving  that  it 
was  dangerous  to  remain  in  the  same  place,  and  wishing 
to  give  some  satisfaction  to  the  crowd,  he  suggested  that 
Bailly  should  select  himself  the  spot  where  the  scaffold 
•was  to  be  erected.  This  suggestion  was  received  with 
•enthusiasm,  and  Bailly  was  forthwith  led  away.  Beau- 
lieu held  one  of  his  arms,  Charles  Henri  Sanson  held 
the  other,  and  the  gendarme  and  the  remaining  assistants 
closely  followed  them.  This  event  has  given  rise  to  the 
invention  which  represents  Bailly  being  led  round  the  t  I 
Champ  de  Mars  carrying  the  boards  of  the  guillotine.      Qv^j^js^, 

Bailly  was  taken  to  the  extremity  of  the  Champ  de 
Mars,  near  the  river  side,  where  the  scaffold  was  at  last 
erected.  A  drizzling  rain  was  falling ;  Bailly's  only 
garment  was  his  shirt,  which  was  torn,  and  barely 
covered  his  shoulders.  The  unfortunate  man's  teeth 
chattered  with  cold.  It  was  then  that  one  of  those  who 
pressed  around  him  having  said,  '  You  tremble,  Bailly  ! ' 
he  made  the  famous  reply  : 

'  My  friend,  it  is  because  I  feel  cold.' 

So  many  tortures  had  not  impaired  his  courage,  but 
liis  strength  at  length  failed  him,  his  head  fell  back,  and 
he  almost  fainted  in  the  executioner's  arms,  murmuring : 


88  MEMOIRS  OF   THE  SANSONS. 


t(\^  *  Water!  water!' 


rew  % 


jy  A  man — a  monster   I    should   say — actually  th 

liquid  mud  in  his  face.  This  outrage  roused  the  indig- 
nation of  a  few,  and  there  rose  from  the  multitude  a  cry 
of  reprobation.  One  of  the  spectators  ran  to  the  scaffold 
and  brought  back  a  bottle  in  which  there  was  a  small 
quantity  of  wine,  which  he  poured  into  Bailly's  mouth. 
The  old  man  recovered,  and  with  his  beautiful  smile 
said,  *  Thank  you  !  Preparations  for  the  execution 
were  now  completed,  and  Bailly  was  assisted  up  the 
l^(^£  steps  of  the  scaffold.  '  Be  quick,  sir  ;  finish  me  off 
XM  without  delay,'  said  he  to  my  grandfather.  But  a 
^jm  formality  had  yet  to  be  attended  to :  the  sentence  said 
l/IHA  ^  that  the  red  flag  was  to  be  burnt  by  the  executioner 
'  lf\£tOv(M  before  the  late  mayor  of  Paris.  The  flag  was  so  wet 
(;^^AW(N    i-jja^i-  much  time  passed  before  it  could  be  ignited. 

mv^fi.  j        rj.-^^  story  which  shows  the  executioner  burning  the 
llluflag  under  Bailly's  nose,  and  the  victim's  clothes  catch- 
ing fire,  deserves  no  credence  whatever. 

These  preliminaries  tried  Bailly's  power  of  resistance,, 
and  he  was  about  to  faint  a  second  time  when  my 
grandfather  hurriedly  pushed  him  towards  the  weigh- 
plank.  While  he  was  strapping  him,  he  kept  on  en- 
couraging him.  Charles  Henri  then  rushed  to  the  rope,, 
and  Bailly  was  heaving  a  deep  sigh  of  relief  when  the 
knife  came  down  and  severed  his  head. 

On  the  24th  Brumaire  another  man  who,  like  Bailly, 
had  taken  a  brilliant  part  in  the  first  movements  of  the 
Revolution,  Louis  Pierre  Manuel,  passed  away  from  this, 
life.      Unlike   Bailly,   however,   he   was   anything   but 


BAILLY.  89 

resigned  to  his  fate ;  he  struggled  with  the  executioner's^ 
assistants,  and  uttered  piercing  shrieks,  which  only  the 
fall   of  the   knife   interrupted.     General  Brunet,    com- 
mander-in-chief of  the  Army  of  Italy,  was  executed  on 
the  same  day. 

The  task  I  had  to  fulfil  in  the  relation  of  the  dramas, 
of  this  bloody  epoch  ends  here.  My  grandfather's  diary 
now  begins. 


•90  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  SANSONS. 


I 


CHAPTER   XXXV. 

CHARLES  HENRI  SANSON'S  DIARY. 

Brumaire  26. — Executed  to-day,  Citizen  De  Cussy,  of 
Caen,  who  had  taken  part  in  the  conspiracy  of  the 
federalist  deputies,  and  with  him  Gilbert  de  Voisin,  late 
president  of  the  ex-parliament,  who,  having  emigrated, 
was  imprudent  enough  to  return  to  Paris.  During  the 
toilet  somebody  said  aloud  that  if  Cussy,  who  was  an 
adept  in  coining  gold  and  silver  moneys,  was  about  to 
be  guillotined,  it  was  a  certain  sign  that  the  Republic 
wanted  no  other  money  than  paper.  After  these  two 
came  Houchard,  formerly  general  of  the  Army  of  the 
North,  who,  like  an  old  soldier,  did  not  tremble. 

Brumaire  21. — Forgers  still  give  us  plenty  of  work. 
To-day  I  led  two  of  them  to  the  Place  de  la  Revolution. 
Forgery  is  a  misfortune  which  endangers  the  lives  of 
many  innocent  persons.  Forgers  are  so  clever  that  it  is 
difficult  to  distinguish  bad  from  good  paper,  and  many 
people  who  have  been  deceived  cannot  resist  the  tempta- 
tion of  inflicting  upon  others  the  loss  they  have  sus- 
tained. This  evening  I  met  in  the  Rue  de  la  Tixeran- 
•derle  a  gang  of  women  who  were  going  to  the  Commune 


CHARLES  HENRI  SANSON'S  DIARY.  91 

: — they  wore  the  red  cap  ;  a  large  crowd  followed  them, 
giving  cheers  which  were  much  like  groans.  I  followed 
the  example,  and  walked  behind  the  women,  for  I 
wanted  to  know  what  they  intended  to  complain  of. 
Having  met  Citizen  Nicolas  Lelievre,  he  took  me  into 
the  H6tel-de-Ville.  The  women  also  entered,  but  neither 
their  costume  nor  their  petition  were  to  the  taste  of 
Citizen  Chaumette,  who  spoke  to  them  very  sensibly, 
and  sent  them  back  to  their  homes. 

Briimaire  28. — This  morning  we  went  to  the  Con- 
ciergerie.  As  I  was  waiting  in  the  prison  parlour,  two 
citizens,  who  were  about  to  be  interrogated,  passed 
through  the  room  ;  one  of  these,  who  I  was  told  was 
Citizen  Boisguyon,  a  soldier,  approached  me,  and  with 
great  demonstrations  of  politeness,  he  said  to  me  : 

'  Is  it  to  the  citizen  executioner  I  have  the  honour  of 
speaking  }  Is  not  your  scaffold  like  a  ball-room,  citizen, 
and  does  not  the  knife,  like  the  violins,  begin  operation^ 
in  such  a  way  as  not  to  leave  time  for  two  words  ?  ' 

I  gave  an  affirmative  answer. 

Then  turning  towards  his  companion  he  said  to  him  : 
^  You  see,  Dupre,  that  I  was  right,  and  that  you  acted 
your  part  very  badly.  We  must  ask  Fouquier-Tinville 
to  allow  the  citizen  executioner  to  come  and  superintend 
our  rehearsals.' 

The  gendarmes  led  them  away,  but  I  heard  them 
laughing.  The  speaker  alluded  to  a  parody  of  capital 
punishment  which  had  become  the  chief  amusement  of 
the  prisoners. 


92  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  SANSONS. 

Executed  on  this  day  a  late  deputy  of  the  Con- 
stituante,  Nicolas  Remi  Lesueur,  of  Saint  Menehould, 
and  an  old  soldier  who  had  recruited  for  the  enemy.V 

Brumaire  29. — Two  convicts,  Distar  de  Bellecour, 
officer,  and  Charles  Duparc,  late  employe  at  the  Tuileries. 
Nothing  particularly  interesting. 

The  '  Section  de  I'Unite '  to-day,  Brumaire  30,  took 
away  the  remnants  of  the  superstition  of  the  Abbey  of  St. 
Germain  des  Pres  to  the  Convention.  I  saw  the  proces- 
sion. At  the  head  of  it  marched  a  party  of  soldiers, 
then  came  men  wearing  sacerdotal  vestments  over  their 
clothes,  and  between  two  files  were  women  and  girls, 
dressed  in  white  with  tricolour  sashes ;  lastly,  I  saw 
hand-barrows  wherein  were  placed  vases,  pyxes,  candle- 
sticks,  gold  and  silver  plates,  and  a  box  of  relics,  studded 
with  precious  stones.  The  procession  was  followed  by 
a  band  which  played  the  tune  of  '  Malbrouk '  {sic)^ 
This  booty,  it  is  said,  is  worth  two  millions. 

The  Tribunal  has  given  us  a  holiday  ;  such  occasions. 
are  rare. 

Frimaire  I. — We  went  to  take  away  poor  Citizen 
Boisguyon,  who  the  other  day  had  made  fun  of  the 
guillotine.     When  he  was  brought  to  me  he  said  : 

*■  You  are  in  earnest  to-day  ;  you  will  be  astonished 
to  see  how  well  I  can  play  my  part.' 

With  him  were  Girey-Dupre,  Brissot's  accomplice  ; 
he  had  had  his  hair  cut  before  being  tried,  and  had 
appeared  before  the  Tribunal  in  proper  toilet  for  the- 

*  Francois  Prix,  alias  Saint-Prix. 


CHARLES  HENRI  SANSON'S  DIARY.  93 

scaffold  He  said,  turning  round  several  times  before 
me  :  '  I  hope  I  am  all  right.'  He  was  very  cheerful.  A 
forger  of  assignats,  Colombier,  was  also  to  die.  They 
all  three  took  place  in  the  same  cart.  The  forger  was 
in  consternation  ;  he  tried  to  prove  to  Citizen  Boisguyon 
that  he  was  not  guilty.  The  latter  attempted  to  console 
him,  and  said  : 

'  If  my  dying  twice,  instead  of  once,  could  save  you. 
I  would  willingly  submit  to  the  experiment,  for  death  is 
of  very  little  consequence  to  me ;  but  since  this  is  im- 
possible, keep  your  reasons  for  the  Lord,  in  whose 
presence  we  shall  be  two  hours  hence.' 

As  we  were  crossing  the  Rue  St.  Honore,  two  women 
appeared  at  a  window  of  Duplay's  house,  where  Citizen 
Robespierre  lives.  Girey-Dupre,  who  was  showing  the 
house  to  Boisguyon,  cried  at  the  top  of  his  voice : 

'  Down  with  Cromwell  !  down  with  the  dictator ! 
■down  with  the  tyrant ! ' 

Juglet,  the  officer  of  gendarmes,  tried  to  silence  him, 
but  in  vain. 

Colombier  was  executed  first,  Boisguyon  came  next. 
He  was  quiet  to  the  last.  When  Girey  was  on  the  plat- 
form he  wanted  to  address  the  people,  but  we  had  orders 
to  prevent  him,  and  we  took  hold  of  him.  He  cried 
several  times  *  Vive  la  Repiblique  !  ' 

Frimaire  4. — We  executed  Antoine  Colnelle  de 
Tontel,  late  lieutenant-colonel,  and  Clement  Laverdy, 
formerly  superintendent  of  finances,  convicted  of  having 
contributed  to  famine  by  throwing  corn  into  a  pond — 
nasty   day's   work.      The   first-mentioned    convict   was 


94  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  SANSONS. 

seventy-two  years  old,   and   the  other  seventy.     Both; 
died  with  courage. 

Frimaire  6. — Yesterday  the  Tribunal  tried  the  in- 
dividuals accused  of  having  given  false  evidence  ;  two  of 
the  accused  were  acquitted  ;  the  third,  Carterau  Desor- 
meaux,  was  condemned  to  death  and  executed  to-day. 

Frimaire  J. — Bread  is  scarce  in  town ;  one  must  wait 
for  hours  before  the  bakers'  shops  before  one  can  get 
some.  The  women  crowd  before  the  shops  in  the 
evening,  and  sometimes  wait  all  night.  This  sight 
should  be  very  distressing,  but  our  compatriots  turn 
everything  into  fun.  This  evening  over  five  hundred 
persons  were  waiting  before  the  baker  in  our  street ; 
although  the  weather  was  very  chilly,  they  were  singing 
and  laughing.  Unfortunately  this  gaiety  is  frequently 
attended  with  disorder  and  misconduct,  and  there  are 
husbands  who  complain.  To-day  the  Tribunal  sent 
to  death  Jacques  Etienne  Marchand,  lieutenant  of 
gendarmes ;  General  Nicolas  Pollier-Lamarliere ;  and 
Etienne  Alexis  Jacques  Anisson,  formerly  director  of  the 
national  press. 

Frimaire  9. — Five  heads  fell  to-day  :  two  were  those 
of  celebrated  men,  Barnave,  and  Duport  du  Tertre,  who 
had  been  minister  of  justice.  It  is  said  that  Citizen 
Danton  tried  to  save  Barnave,  but  with  the  new  law  the 
denunciation  of  a  child  is  enough  to  forfeit  a  man's  life, 
and  no  earthly  power  could  save  him.  Yesterday  I  saw 
Citizen  P^ouquier  as  he  was  entering  court.  The  execu- 
tion was  appointed  for  to-day,  but  the  sitting  ended  late, 
and  the  weather  was  so  bad  that  it  had  to  be  put  off  to. 


CHARLES  HENRI  SANSON'S  DIARY.  95- 

the  next  day.  At  eleven  o'clock,  Barnave,  Duport^ 
Citizen  Benoit-Grandel — sentenced  for  writing  *  Vive  le 
Roi  /'  on  an  assignat — Citizen  Vervitch  and  his  sister,  were 
brought  in  to  be  cropped.  Barnave  and  Du  Tertre  were 
very  brave  and  quiet.  The  former  came  up  to  me,  held 
out  his  hands,  and  said  : 

'  Bind  these  hands,  which  were  the  first  to  sign  the 
declaration  of  the  rights  of  man  ! ' 

When  he  was  ready,  and  while  Citizeness  Vervitch,. 
who  was  in  tears,  was  being  bound,  he  went  up  to 
Duport  and  spoke  to  him  with  animation.  Two  carts, 
had  been  provided  :  the  late  deputies  entered  one,  with 
me  ;  the  three  other  convicts  occupied  the  other  cart, 
with  Henri.^  On  the  way  Barnave  and  Du  Tertre  went 
on  conversing  ;  they  spoke  of  the  Republic,  and  pre- 
tended that  its  forthcoming  ruin  would  kill  liberty 
altogether.  Many  cries  rose  around  the  carts  :  one  maa 
said  to  Barnave,  in  a  tone  of  mockery  : 

*  So  young,  so  eloquent,  so  brave  !  what  a  pity  ! ' 

And  Barnave  answered  very  proudly : '  You  are  rights 
my  friend  1 ' 

Citizeness  Vervitch  was  executed  first ;  she  was 
carried  to  the  platform  half  dead  with  fear.  Her  brother 
followed  her,  then  came  Benoit-Grandel,  Duport,  Du 
Tertre,  and  Barnave.  The  latter  looked  at  the  guillotine 
and  exclaimed  : 

'  And  this  is  my  reward  for  the  good  I  have  done  tO' 
my  country  ! ' 

*  The  narrator's  son. 


^6  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  SANSONS. 

Frimaire  lo. — This  morning  I  had  to  take  two  cart- 
drivers  from  the  Conciergerie  to  the  Place  de  la  Revolu- 
tion. I  had  not,  as  yesterday,  to  deal  with  great 
citizens,  but  the  quantity  made  up  for  quality,  for  there 
were  five  in  one  cart  and  four  in  the  other — nine  in  all. 
In  this  number  I  saw  a  mother  and  a  son.  We  had  to 
use  violence  to  separate  them.  When  the  mother  saw 
her  child's  hair  falling,  her  shrieks  became  so  heartrend- 
ing that  we  could  hardly  bear  to  hear  them.  She  spoke 
to  us,  saying  that  the  Republic  should  be  content  with 
her  head,  and  that  the  young  man  should  be  reprieved. 
It  was  too  much  for  me.  Henri  took  charge  of  the  first 
cart,  and  I  went  in  the  other  cart,  but  on  the  way, 
•despite  the  noise,  I  could  hear  the  woman  groaning 
.and  weeping.  The  convicts  who  were  in  my  cart  turned 
away,  not  to  see  her.  The  women  in  the  crowd  wept, 
and  many  loudly  expressed  their  pity.  On  the  Place, 
and  although  she  was  very  faint,  she  burst  out  again. 
The  son  kept  on  saying  that  he  was  glad  to  die  with  his 
mother.  She  suffered  first,  and  on  the  platform  she  told 
me  :  *  I  am  sure  he  is  to  be  reprieved.' 

I  think  she  had  an  idea  that  her  son  had  been 
brought  with  her  merely  to  frighten  her,  but  that  he  was 
not  to  be  executed.  I  thought  it  was  of  no  use  to  con- 
tradict her. 

Frimaire  II. — Executed  Jean  Vincenot,  innkeeper; 
Pierre  Nicolas  Aubry,  schoolmaster ;  and  Sebastian 
Mauduit,  wine  merchant. 

The  prettiest  woman  in  Paris  came  forward  to  act  as 
our  new  divinity — Reason.      I  read  in  a  paper,  yester- 


CHARLES  HENRI  SANSON'S  DIARY.  97 

day,  that  the  goddess  is  Hkely  to  be  Hke  a  general  with- 
out soldiers. 

Frimaire  12. — Two  convicts  this  morning:  Barthe- 
lemy  Soudre,  bootmaker,  and  Guillaume  Jean  Flament 
They  were  much  insulted  and  laughed  at. 

Frimaire  13. — Executed  Antoine  Pierre  Leon  Du- 
fresne,  doctor,  for  conspiring  against  the  Republic,  and 
Etienne  Pierre  Garneau  for  the  same  crime. 

To-day  a  decree  of  the  Commune  has  been  made 
k:nown,  which  enumerates  the  requisite  qualifications  for 
a  certificate  of  civism.  To  obtain  such  a  certificate  is 
now  more  difificult  than  to  enter  Paradise.  One  must 
show  that  one  has  been  a  member  of  the  National 
Guard  since  1790,  produce  receipts  of  patriotic  contribu- 
tions from  1 79 1  to  1792  ;  one  must  have  held  only  one 
situation  for  the  last  two  years,  &c.,  &c.  Citizen 
Chaumette  is  more  exacting  than  St.  Peter. 

Frimaire  1 5. — Another  deputy  has  been  sent  to  the 
guillotine — Kersaint,  formerly  of  the  navy.  He  died 
bravely,  as  he  had  lived.  Prayed  on  the  way.  A 
rebel  priest,  Baptiste  Guerin,  was  executed  with  him. 

Frimaire  16. — To-day,  as  I  was  going  to  the  Con- 
ciergerie  to  take  Jacques  Auguste  Rassay,  Bernard 
d'Escourt,  and  Charlotte  Felicite  Lappe,  the  citizen 
prosecutor  asked  me  to  wait.  Riviere,  the  turnkey,  told 
me  that  they  had  just  arrested  Citizen  Rabaut  Saint 
Etienne,  and  his  brother  Rabaut  Pommier,  and  that 
Fouquier  had  immediately  ordered  the  first,  who  was 
outlawed,  to  be  identified.  The  two  Rabauts  were  con- 
cealed in  the  Rue  Poissonniere,  at  a  citizen's  employed 
vol..  II.  H 


98  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  SANSONS. 

in  the  offices  of  the  Committee  of  PubHc  Safety.  This 
citizen  had  caused  to  be  constructed  in  his  room  a  wall 
which  so  entirely  concealed  the  apartment  in  which  the 
two  brothers  were  concealed,  that  it  was  next  to  im- 
possible to  find  them.  But  he  was  foolish  enough  to 
employ  an  upholsterer  who  was  working  in  the  offices 
of  the  Committee.  When  he  heard  Billaud,  Amar,  and 
Vouland,  who  spoke  of  nothing  but  death  and  massacre, 
the  upholsterer  became  frightened  ;  he  thought  his  life 
was  in  jeopardy,  and  he  revealed  the  secret  to  Amar, 
who  immediately  directed  the  two  brothers  to  be 
arrested.  Half-an-hour  after,  the  gendarmes  returned 
with  Rabaut  Saint  Etienne  and  Tirasse.  Rabaut  was 
handed  over  to  me  without  more  ado.  He  died  with 
the  greatest  pluck. 

Frimaire  17. — Madame  Dubarry  was  sentenced  to 
death  last  night,  and  executed  this  morning.  We 
arrived  at  the  hall  of  justice  punctually  at  nine,  but  we 
had  to  wait,  as  the  convict  was  with  Citizen  Denizot, 
judge,  and  Citizen  Royer,  who  were  taking  down  her 
confession.  At  ten  o'clock  Citizens  Vandenyver,  who 
were  three  in  number — the  father  and  the  two  sons — all 
accomplices  of  Madame  Dubarry,  and  Citizen  Bonnardot 
and  Joseph  Bruniot,  forgers,  were  brought  in.  While 
the  above  named  were  being  '  arranged '  ^  Madame 
Dubarry  came  in  ;  her  legs  could  hardly  carry  her. 
It  was  some  twenty  years  since  I  had  seen  her,  and  I 

•  By  *  arranged  '  the  executioner  means  that  his  victims  were  being, 
made  ready  for  the  scaffold.  The  expression  is  too  characteristic  not  to 
be  translated  literally.— N.  Ed. 


COMTESSK   UUBAKRY    AND   HER   NEGRO   PAGE   LAMORE.— PAINTED    BY   VAN   LOO. 


CHARLES  HENRI  SANSON'S  DIARY.  99 

could  hardly  have  known  her.  Her  features  had  become 
coarse.  When  she  saw  me  she  shrieked,  covered  her 
eyes  with  her  hands,  and  sank  down  on  her  knees,  cry- 
ing :  '  Do  not  kill  me  ! ' 

She  rose  to  her  feet  again :  *  Where  are  the  judges  } ' 
she  exclaimed  ;  '  I  have  not  confessed  everything  ;  I  want 
to  see  them  ! ' 

Citizens  Denizot  and  Royer  were  talking  with  two 
or  three  deputies  who  wished  to  see  the  poor  woman  ; 
they  came  forward  and  told  her  to  speak  out.  She  said 
she  had  concealed  several  objects  of  value  in  her  country 
house  at  Luciennes,  but  she  sobbed  and  broke  down  at 
every  word.  Citizen  Royer,  who  held  the  pen,  kept  on 
saying,  *  Is  that  all  ? '  and  tried  to  make  her  sign  the 
proch-verhal,  but  she  pushed  the  paper  away,  saying 
that  she  had  something  to  add.  She  perhaps  thought 
that,  in  reason  of  the  immense  wealth  she  was  giving  up, 
she  might  be  reprieved.  At  length  Citizens  Denizot  and 
Royer  rose,  and  said  she  must  submit  to  the  decision  of 
her  judges,  and  make  up  by  her  courage  for  the 
ignominy  of  her  past  life.  One  of  my  assistants 
approached  and  attempted  to  cut  her  hair,  but  she 
offered  resistance,  and  the  other  assistants  had  great 
difficulty  in  binding  her  hands.  She  at  last  submitted, 
but  she  cried  as  I  never  saw  a  woman  cry  before.  As 
many  people  crowded  the  quays  as  when  the  Queen  and 
the  Girondins  were  executed.  Many  cries  were  raised, 
but  her  shrieks  were  louder  than  any.  She  said  :  *  Good 
citizens,  free  me  !  I  am  innocent ;  I  am  of  the  people, 

H  2 


loo  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  SANSONS, 

good  citizens,  do  not  let  them  kill  me  ! '  No  one  moved, 
but  men  and  women  hung  their  heads,  and  silence  pre- 
vailed at  last ;  I  never  saw  the  people  in  a  more  merci- 
ful humour.  Jacot's  grimaces  and  taunts  were  of  no  avail. 
Dubarry  was  so  faint  that  my  son  had  to  support  her. 
She  often  spoke  to  me,  begging  for  mercy.  I  was  more 
moved  than  any  one,  for  this  unfortunate  woman  re- 
minded me  of  my  young  days,  of  the  time  when  I  knew 
her,  of  her  worthy  father.  .  .  .  When  she  saw  the 
guillotine  she  became  quite  excited,  and  struggled  with 
my  assistants  and  tried  to  bite  them.  She  was  very 
strong,  and  three  minutes  elapsed  before  they  could 
carry  her  up  to  the  platform.  She  was  frightful  to  look 
at,  and  to  the  very  last  second  she  struggled.  The  others 
were  executed  after  her. 

Frimaire  i8. — To-day  we  guillotined  Jean-Baptiste 
Noel,  deputy  of  Les  Vosges,  outlawed.  On  the  way  he 
spoke  of  Madame  Dubarry,  and  asked  me  if  the  knife 
had  been  well  cleaned,  because  it  would  be  disgraceful 
that  a  republican's  blood  should  mingle  with  that  of  a 
prostitute.  A  forger  of  assignats  was  executed  with 
him.  To-day  Claviere,  ex-minister,  stabbed  himself  in 
his  cell. 

Frimaire  20. — Executed  six  public  purveyors  for 
fraud. 

Frimaire  21. — It  is  no  easy  matter  to  get  shoes  now- 
a-days.  The  Convention  has  decided  that  shoemakers 
shall  henceforth  work  for  the  defenders  of  the  country 
only.     Two  convicts  to-day. 

Frimaire  22. — Citizen  Chaumette  pursues  women  of 


CHARLES  HENRI  SANSON'S  DIARY.  loi 

loose  life  with  energy.  He  ought  to  begin  by  allaying 
public  misery,  which  leads  them  into  the  life  they  lead. 
To-day  we  had  to  deal  with  two  of  these  women,  named 
Claire  Sevin  and  Catherine  Loriot. 

Frimaire  23. — Executed  one  of  the  great  lords  of  the 
defunct  Monarchy,  the  ci-devaiit  Due  du  Chatelet.  He 
did  more  harm  to  the  Monarchy  than  its  most  inveterate 
enemies.  The  King  gave  him  the  command  of  the 
French  Guards,  in  lieu  of  Biron  ;  Du  Chatelet  treated 
them  so  severely  that  he  facilitated  the  work  of  those 
who  were  trying  to  disaffect  the  soldiers.  He  was 
carried  to  the  prison  parlour,  for  in  the  night  he  had 
attempted  to  destroy  himself:  having  neither  knife  nor 
dagger,  he  tried  to  kill  himself  with  a  sharp  piece  of 
glass,  but  the  glass  broke,  and  only  made  a  slight 
wound  ;  then,  thinking  that  he  could  die  by  losing  all  his 
blood,  he  cut  his  breast  several  times  with  the  piece 
which  still  remained  in  his  possession,  but  he  only  suc- 
ceeded in  weakening  himself  so  that  his  legs  could 
not  carry  him.  Nevertheless,  his  heart  was  firm.  I 
proposed  in  the  cart  to  bind  his  wounds,  and  thereby 
prevent  the  blood  from  flowing,  but  he  answered : 

'  Never  mind  ;  it's  only  saving  you  work  ! ' 

He  recovered  some  strength  in  the  Place  de  la  Revo- 
lution, and  cried  *  Vive  le  Rot  ! ' 

Frimaire  25. — Two  men — Frangois  Xavier  Bruniau, 
an  ex-royalist  magistrate ;  and  Pierre  Charles  Jacques 
Pouchon,  an  emigre. 

Frimaire  26. — The  servants  of  Montmorency,  who 
has  emigrated,  were  executed  to-day. 


I02  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  SANSONS. 

Frimaire  28. — Executed  to-day  three  priests  and 
two  ci-devants. 

Frimaire  '^i. — The  Club  des  Jacobins  continues  its 
purification.  It  has  excluded  noblemen  and  financiers. 
Antonnelle  and  Dix-Aoilt/  members  of  the  jury  ;  Royer, 
substitute  of  the  prosecutor ;  Barrere,  Dubois-Crance, 
Montant,^  and  many  others  must  be  in  a  predicament.  A 
Jacobin  certificate  is  now  more  valuable  than  all  possible 
documents.  To-day,  as  I  was  passing  before  Chretien's 
cafe,  I  was  hailed  by  Citizen  Geofifroy,  a  journalist.  I 
think  he  must  have  been  very  drunk,  for  he  treated  me 
with  familiarity,  and  asked  me  to  drink  with  him. 

Nivose  I. — I  have  begun  the  month  by  taking  three 
convicts  to  the  guillotine — a  priest  and  two  women. 
These  were  Julien  d'Herville,  priest  and  Jesuit ;  Marie 
Anne  Poulain,  a  nun ;  and  Marguerite  Bernard,  Anne 
Poulain's  servant.  They  lived  together  in  a  house  of 
the  Faubourg  d'Orleans.  The  priest  said  mass  in  one 
of  the  rooms,  and  several  old  women  came  every  day  to 
hear  it.  The  local  committee  had  suspicions  ;  it  sent  a 
woman  to  Citizeness  Poulain,  who  told  the  latter  that 
she  knew  a  priest  was  concealed  in  the  house,  and  asked 
that   he   should   call   on  her  husband  who  was  dying. 

•  Dix- Aout,  a  juror  of  the  Tribunal,  was,  in  reality,  the  IMarquis  Leroy 
de  Montflabert.  As  his  title  and  name  were  obnoxious  to  republican  ears, 
he  changed  it  into  the  date  of  a  great  republican  victory,  which  he  took  as 
a  name. 

2  All  these  revolutionnaires  more  or  less  belonged  to  the  aristocracy. 
Barrere  was  not  of  noble  descent,  but  had  married  the  Marquise  de  Vieuzac, 
whose  name  he  added  to  his  to  distinguish  himself  from  the  members  of 
his  family  bearing  his  name. 


CHARLES  HENRI  SANSONKS  DIARY.  103 

Poulain  denied  that  a  priest  was  in  hiding  in  her  apart- 
ment, and  told  Julien  d'Herville  not  to  go,  as  she  knew 
that  the  visitor  was  republican.  But  the  priest  would 
not  listen  to  her,  and  was  arrested  in  the  house  of  the 
creature  who  had  wanted  to  betray  him. 

Nivose  2. — Only  one  execution  to-day. 

Nivose  3. — It  appears  that  Collot  d'Herbois,  on  mis- 
sion at  Lyons,  has  discarded  the  guillotine,  because  it 
only  kills  one  man  at  a  time,  and  taken  to  shooting 
enemies  of  the  Republic  wholesale.  A  deputation  of 
Lyonese  citizens  have  denounced  these  doings  to  the 
Convention  ;  but  their  brief  has  been  ill  received.  Robes- 
pierre spoke  first;  he  began  by  thundering  against  the 
aristocracy;  but  he  concluded  by  proposing  that  local 
committees  should  appoint  delegates  in  order  to  seek 
the  means  of  setting  at  liberty  the  patriots  who  might 
be  under  lock  and  key.  This  is  something,  and  people 
are  grateful  for  what  Robespierre  has  done. 

Nivose  4. — Madame  Dubarry's  confession  did  not 
save  her  life,  but  forfeited  that  of  two  persons.  This 
morning  I  executed  Jacques  Etienne  Laboudie,  formerly 
of  the  navy,  and  Denis  Morin,  Madame  Dubarry's 
valet-de-chambre,  sentenced  to  death,  the  first  for  high 
treason,  the  second  for  having  concealed  money  and 
jewels  belonging  to  the  nation.  Two  other  persons, 
a  woman  and  a  plebeian,  were  executed  in  their 
company. 

Nivose  5. — Five  executions  to-day  :  Etienne  Teyssier, 
high  treason  ;  Michel  Kurtz,  Pierre  Vetzel,  Michel  Bourg, 
and  Bernard  Hourtz.     The  four  last  named  were  Alsa- 


I04  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  SANSONS. 

tians.  With  the  exception  of  Bourg,  who  encouraged 
his  companions,  all  were  frightened.  It  is  curious  that 
those  whose  life  is  the  most  tedious  and  plodding  should 
regret  it  more  than  others  who  have  far  more  reason  for 
caring  for  it. 

,  Nivose  6. — Executed  a  dishonest  baker,  Nicolas 
Gornot,  of  the  Rue  St.  Jacques.  All  the  citizens  of  his 
section  were  around  the  scaffold  and  insulted  him. 
With  him,  Prevost  Lacroix,  captain  in  the  navy,  and 
Jean  Marie  AUard,  curate  of  Bagneux.  .  .  . 

Nivose  9. — Dietricht,  formerly  mayor  of  Strasburg^ 
was  guillotined  to-day.  While  I  was  binding  him  he 
said  : 

*  You  have  already  guillotined  many  good  republi- 
cans, but  none  that  were  more  devoted  to  the  country 
than  I  am.' 

He  was  calm  and  very  plucky.  He  said  more  than 
once  that  his  dying  wish  was  that  Alsace  should  never  be 
separated  from  France.  He  cried  '  Vive  la  Republique  !  * 
on  the  scaffold. 

Nivose  10. — Last  month,  at  the  bidding  of  the  pro- 
secutor of  the  Commune,  I  had  been  ordered  to  remove- 
the  blood  which  oozed  through  the  boards  of  the  guillo- 
tine. A  hole  had  been  made  which  had  been  covered 
with  a  trellis-work.  But  the  blood  dried  too  rapidly  and 
could  not  be  absorbed  by  the  earth,  and  an  unbearable 
smell  came  from  the  pit.  Last  night  I  directed  my 
assistants  to  dig  deeper.  It  is  said  that  Chabot,  member 
of  the  Convention,  who  was  lately  arrested,  poisoned 
himself,  but  that  his  sufferings  were  so  great  that  he- 


DIARY.  105: 

:d  for  help,  and 

irmles  died  to- 
itenced  yester- 
ce  de  la  Revo- 
room,  and  was 
seeing  me,  he 

sters ! ' 

aich  made  him 

ay ;    I   am   at 

il  tranquillity,, 
i  arrive  in  the 
V  year  to  his. 
n   the  way  a 


MARIE   ANTOINETTE. 

iulted.     Smce 

(From  the  portrait  by  Mme.  Le  Brun.)  .  ,        , 

Ider  with  the 
convicts.  If  all  cried  and  struggled  as  she  did,  the 
guillotine  could  not  last. 

Nivose  12  (ist  of  January  in  the  old  style)  and' 
Nivose  13. — Executed  Charles  Marie  Barre,  one  of  those 
who  conspired  against  the  unity  of  the  Republic  ;  Pierre 


The  nth  of  Nivose  was  the  last  day  of  the  year  of  the  old  calendary. 


I04  ME. 

tians.     With 
his  companion 
those  whose  hf( 
regret  it  more  Pineth 
caring  for  it. 

.    Nivose    6.- 
Gornot,  of  the 
section    were 
With  him,  Pre^ 

n 

Jean  Marie  AL 


ish  artist  Kocli.irsko,  who,  according 
set  to  watch  the  queen  in  the  Con- 
ation of  Pri   cc  d'Arenroerg  at  Bn.is- 


nt — fhat  )'ou  do  all  this  without 

of  your  caprice,  and  of  his  too 

>f  nothing  but  of  races  and 


uxed   company. 


'Y\. 


iinj)n^vMi!,;vnt  tor  iite"' 
where  licr  husband  li 
and  D'OHva  were  disn 

When  Marie  Antoii 
larity  was  immense.  ' 
she  would  inaugurate  , 
era  of  vice  and  shajn^ 
X\\'.s  reign. 

"  Madame,  is  not   t 
lovers  .?"  said  the  ol!  I 
lo  her  as  the  crow;' 
n'es    bov/ed    in    dei 
princess.     She  des( 

I  shall  never  forget 
ceived  all  that  could  1. 
less  than  the  kindlinc 
though  overwhelmed 
ing  us.     When  we  w- 
great  that  it  was  thret-j 
On  getting  hack  vre  asce 
<in  hour,      I     nn)-,  •>(-   rJesc 


Nivose  9.-^'; 

wnic 
cda 

was  guillotineo  her  ; 

V   it 
^0  e< 

said  :                  .,h%v,,  ,,..,  . 

1  sha 

^You  have^V^t      > 
The 
cans,  but  nontto  t     , 

'.    COUl 

with  t 

than  I  am.'      fJSr^',:     ^^t'.: 

He  was  ca>fore  he-       She  an. 
,,     ^  ,  .      -al    ^       Iv    and    \\ 

once  that  his  Cf , 

ch  I  hi 

. '    hear  \vh 

lie  yoTing-  m 

'  ,  who  b-!( 

i  deeds  c' 

separated  from 'J 

ilS- 

ore 
•ec,   _  ,, 

c     iU 

■  possible 

on  the  scaffold 

secutor  of  the^ad  been  ma:..;.a..    ■ 

iusal  i. 
iproachi 

■  s  lUir.. 
■.    la  tors 

.      ,,       ,      ,.  ^  died  before  .Lvyas  tmished, 
the  blood  whlCurt,  and  no  iL  was  left  in  the 

tine.     A  hole  had  been  made  which  had  been  covered 

with  a  trellis-work.    But  the  blood  dried  too  rapidly  and 

could  not  be  absorbed  by  the  earth,  and  an  unbearable 

smell  came  from  the  pit.     Last  night  I  directed  my 

assistants  to  dig  deeper.    It  is  said  that  Chabot,  member 

of  the  Convention,  who  was  lately  arrested,  poisoned 

himself,  but  that  his  sufferings  were  so  great  that  he 


CHARLES  HENRI  SANSON'S  DIARY.  105: 

could  not  bear  them  any  longer ;  he  called  for  help,  and 
he  has  still  a  few  days  to  live. 

Nivose  II. — Another  general  of  our  armies  died  to- 
day on  the  guillotine.  Biron  had  been  sentenced  yester- 
day. This  morning  I  led  him  to  the  Place  de  la  Revo- 
lution, He  was  in  the  head-turnkey's  room,  and  was 
eating  oysters  with  much  appetite.  On  seeing  me,  he 
said : 

'  Allow  me  to  eat  this  last  dozen  of  oysters  ! ' 
I  answered  that  I  was  at  his  orders,  which  made  him 
laugh  ;  and  he  said  : 

*  No,  inorhlcu  !  it's  just  the  other  way ;  I  am  at 
yours  ! ' 

He  finished  his  repast  with  wonderful  tranquillity,,, 
joking  with  me,  and  saying  that  he  should  arrive  in  the 
other  world  in  time  to  wish  a  happy  new  year  to  his 
friends.^  He  was  cool  to  the  end.  On  the  way  a 
soldier  called  out  to  him  : 

'  Farewell,  general ! ' 

Biron  answered : 

*  Good-bye,  comrade  ! ' 

The  soldier  was  neither  beaten  nor  insulted.  Since 
Madame  Dubarry's  death  citizens  are  milder  with  the 
convicts.  If  all  cried  and  struggled  as  she  did,  the 
guillotine  could  not  last. 

Nivose  12  (ist  of  January  in  the  old  style)  and 
Nivose  13. — Executed  Charles  Marie  Barre,  one  of  those 
who  conspired  against  the  unity  of  the  Republic  ;  Pierre 

»  The  nth  of  Nivose  was  the  last  day  of  the  year  of  the  old  calendary. 


io6  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  SANSONS. 

Frangois  de  Poller,  Charles  Louis  de  Faverolle,  noble- 
man ;  Agathe  Jolivet,  a  gentlewoman  ;  and  Pierre 
Joachim  Van  Clemput,  priest. 

Nivose  14. — Three  women  and  two  men,  all  belong- 
ing to  the  nobility,  were  executed  to-day. 
,  Nivose  15. — This  morning  I  gave  thirty  sols  for  a 
•copy  of  the  'Vieux  Cordelier,'  Camille  Desmoulins's 
paper.  It  is  the  fifth  number.  The  number  of  copies 
issued  was  not  equal  to  the  demand.  Hebert  has  found 
a  master  ;  and  everybody  wants  to  read  the  tremendous 
drubbing  Camille  Desmoulins  gives  him.^  Since  so  good 
a  patriot  as  Desmoulins  has  dared  to  speak  of  clemency, 
every  face  looks  happier.  It  is  pretty  certain  that  Dan- 
ton,  Camille's  friend,  is  behind  him,  and  that  between 
them  they  will  put  down  those  who  wish  the  Republic 
to  be  baptised  on  the  guillotine  every  morning. 

Meanwhile  executions  continue.  To-day  we  guillo- 
tined the  son  of  Custine ;  it  had  been  said  yesterday 
that  he  would  be  acquitted,  and  his  conviction  has  taken 
everybody  by  surprise.  After  him,  Citizen  Ladevize, 
formerly  knight  of  St.  Louis,  was  put  to  death. 

Nivose  16. — To-day  we  executed  General  Luckner. 
He  was  seventy-two  years  old,  and  quite  broken  by  age ; 
but  he  was  brave  to  the  last,  and  died  bravely. 

Nivose  17. — To-day  I  led  to  the  guillotine  three  in- 
•dividuals  of  the  same  name,  and  yet  they  were  not  re- 
lated to  each  other.  Were  they  brought  together  by  a 
mere  chance,  or  was  it  a  joke  of  one  of  the  secretaries 

'  In  the  numbers  alluded  to  above,  Desmoulins  attacked  Hebert  with 
•extraordinary  power  and  wit. — N.  Ed. 


CHARLES  HENRI  SANSON'S  DIARY.  107 

<)f  the  prosecution,  some  of  whom  are  young  enough  to 
laugh  at  what  is  not  funny  at  all  ?  Their  names  were 
Camille  Sapi  Suschi  Bologne,  formerly  a  marquis,  and 
an  officer  in  the  army  ;  Jean-Baptiste  Bologne,  non- 
commissioned officer  in  the  French  Guards  ;  and  Nicolas 
Vincent  Bologne,  formerly  vicar  of  Bicetre.  The  a- 
druant  marquis  was  seventy-eight  years  of  age.  With 
them,  Marie  Louise  de  Camp,  wife  of  Gilbert  Grassin, 
gentleman. 

Nivose  19. — Executed  Jean  Mandrillon,  late  func- 
tionary of  the  executive  power,  convicted  of  treason,  in 
•complicity  with  Brunswick  and  Dumouriez ;  Claude 
Augustin  Imbert,  member  of  the  Convention,  guilty  of 
having  fabricated  spurious  passports;  and  Catherine 
Bethringer,  convicted  of  treason. 

Nivose  20. — Marie  Aimee  Leroy,  wife  of  Joseph 
Paucher,  and  Joseph  Girouard,  printer. 

Nivose 2'^, — Adrien  Lamourette,constitutional  bishop 
•of  Lyons,  was  put  to  death  to-day.  He  showed  that  he 
did  not  fear  death.  He  was  much  insulted  on  the  way  ; 
he  blessed  the  people  without  showing  any  bitterness  or 
resentment.  People  cried  to  him,  in  alluding  to  his 
speech  of  July  1792  : 

'  Embrace  Chariot,^  Lamourette ;  come,  embrace 
Chariot ! ' 

Lamourette  turned  to  me,  and  said  : 

*  Yes,  I  embrace  in  thee  humanity ;  however  mad 
^nd  furious  it  may  be,  it  is  always  humanity.' 

^   *  Chariot, '  for  Charles.     This  contraction  of  Charles  Henri  Sanson's 
Christian  name  is  still   generally   applied  to  the  executioner  in  France. 

^N.  Ed. 


io8  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  SANSONS. 

And,  in  effect,  he  did  embrace  me,  just  as  he  was 
about  to  be  strapped  to  the  weigh-plank.  After  him^ 
Jean  Joseph  Durand,  ex-president  of  the  revolutionary 
committee  of  Montpellier,  was  put  to  death. 

Nivose  27. — Jean  Pierre  Thiellard,  tradesman ; 
Charles  HoUier,  vicar  of  the  constitutional  church  of 
Bordeaux ;  and  Pierre  Ducourman,  lawyer,  were  executed 
this  morning.  In  the  cart  the  three  convicts  sang  a 
song  they  had  composed  in  prison.  Their  singing  ex- 
cited the  anger  of  the  people,  who  threw  mud  in  their 
faces.  Firmness  does  not  mollify  all  citizens,  but  rather 
irritates  them,  as  red  irritates  bulls.  Some  convicts 
return  the  taunts,  and  then  it  is  worse.  I  have  already 
witnessed  really  disgraceful  scenes.  Tirasse  spoke  of 
the  matter  to  Renaudin,  asking  that  Fouquier  should 
give  orders  to  the  gendarmes,  and  that  Jacot,  my  assis- 
tant, should  be  dismissed.  Fouquier  answered  that  he 
had  no  time  to  waste  over  such  futilities.  Renaudin 
has  promised  to  speak  of  the  matter  to  Robespierre. 

Nivose  2(). — This  day  has  seen  the  condemnation  and 
execution  of  the  nephew  of  a  man  who  had  much  reason 
to  complain  of  the  old  regime — Jean  Vissec,  Baron  de 
Latude. 

Phiviose  2. — A  year  since  to-day  we  executed  the 
King.  This  morning  my  wife  was  so  pale  and  tired 
when  she  awoke  that  I  guessed  that  her  sleep  had  been 
troubled.  She  knelt  down  to  pray,  and  I  did  the  same. 
...  I  had  to  lead  four  to  the  scaffold  to-day — Jearr 
Thibault,  labourer;  Marc  Etienne  Quatremere,  merchant; 
Jean  Marie  de  I'Ecluse,  lieutenant   in  the  navy ;  and 


CHARLES  HENRI  SANSON'S  DIARY.  109 

Bernard  Sables,  merchant.  The  town  was  merry,  on 
account  of  the  anniversary  of  the  death  of  the  King. 
The  streets  were  full  of  citizens,  who  sang  patrotic 
choruses.  We  reached  the  Place,  and  as  L'Ecluse  was 
.going  up  the  steps  loud  shouts  were  heard.  The 
members  of  the  Convention  were  coming  through  the 
garden.  The  public,  unasked,  opened  its  ranks  before 
the  deputies  ;  but  the  latter  neither  advanced  nor  re- 
turned on  their  steps.  A  committee  of  Jacobins  had 
asked  the  Convention  that  a  deputation  of  its  members 
should  join  the  Commune  in  a  pilgrimage  to  the  tree  of 
liberty  in  commemoration  of  the  day.  The  motion  had 
excited  great  enthusiasm,  and  the  Assembly  rose  in  a 
body  to  join  the  cortege.  No  doubt  they  had  no  idea  of 
the  surprise  Citizen  Fouquier  had  reserved  for  them. 
Many  deputies,  Avhen  they  saw  the  cart,  tried  to  go 
away  ;  but  the  people  pressed  around  them,  thereby 
obliging  them  to  witness  the  execution.  The  tumult 
was  so  great  that  the  convict  L'Ecluse  stopped  on 
the  steps  and  turned  round.  The  assistants  stood 
motionless,  and  I  myself  did  not  care  to  outrage  the 
majesty  of  the  deputies  of  the  nation  by  such  a  sight. 
Cries  of  *  Proceed  with  the  execution !  *  were  raised,  and 
we  did  our  duty.  The  head  of  the  naval  officer  fell, 
and  his  three  companions  suffered  after  him.  The 
thump  of  the  knife  was  greeted  with  tremendous 
applause. 

Pluviose  3,  4,  5, — Thirteen  executions  of  minor  indi- 
viduals. 

Pluviose  13. — Yesterday  I  returned  from  Brie,  where 


no  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  SANSONS. 

our  country  house  is.  The  three  days  I  passed  there 
leave  me  no  desire  to  return  to  the  place.  The  word 
'fraternity'  is  inscribed  on  the  mairie,  but  it  is  not 
inscribed  on  the  hearts  of  the  inhabitants.  While  the 
poorest  in  Paris  sacrifice  whatever  they  possess,  while 
the  most  relentless  sometimes  behave  with  real  gene- 
rosity, the  inhabitants  of  the  country  only  think  of 
enriching  themselves.  The  sale  of  the  national  domains,, 
far  from  satisfying  them,  has  only  excited  their  cupidity. 
The  law  awards  death  to  monopolisers.  Were  the  law 
carried  out,  a  guillotine  should  be  erected  in  every 
village ;  for  almost  every  peasant  conceals  his  corn,  for 
fear  of  being  compelled  to  take  it  to  market,  and  receive 
assignats  in  payment.  There  are,  it  is  true,  revolutionary 
committees  in  almost  every  village  ;  but  the  peasants 
understand  their  own  interests,  and  they  never  denounce 
each  other.  They  form  a  secret  association,  which 
defies  the  decrees  of  the  Convention,  and  which  is  the 
real  cause  of  famine.  The  patriotic  vigilance  of  the 
said  committees  is  only  exercised  at  the  expense  of 
those  who  are  rich  enough  to  be  envied.  Thus  several 
rich  inhabitants  of  Coulommiers,  two  of  whom  I  know, 
were  brought  to  Paris,  judged  and  executed  to-day, 
under  pretext  of  a  conspiracy  which  never  existed. 

Pluviose  1 6. — The  jurors  of  the  Revolutionary  Tri- 
bunal are  not  very  scrupulous  as  to  whom  they  condemn,, 
and  on  their  side  the  prisoners  care  little  for  life.  Never 
were  people  more  regardless  of  existence.  Formerly,, 
when  I  used  to  enter  a  prison,  my  appearance  frightened 
the  boldest :  now  among  the  prisoners   I  meet  in  the 


CHARLES  HENRY  SANSON'S  DIARY,  in 

passages  and  parlour  of  the  prison,  not  one  seems  to 
think  that  to-morrow,  perhaps,  I  may  call  for  him.  There 
are  some  who  smile  when  I  appear.  These  smiles  pro- 
duce a  singular  effect  upon  me.  Experience  has  made 
me  callous,  and  I  can  bear  the  horror  with  which  we 
executioners  are  regarded  ;  but  to  get  accustomed  to 
people  who  almost  say  '  Thank  you '  when  they  are  led 
to  the  guillotine,  is  more  difficult.  My  hand  could  not 
have  remained  firm  if  it  had  still  to  carry  out  such 
sentences  as  the  former  regime  were  wont  to  inflict. 
Judges,  jurors,  prisoners  seem  as  if  they  were  taken  with 
a  kind  of  delirium  of  death.  When  shall  all  this  end  .'* 
A  prisoner  asked  me  the  other  day :  *  What  could  I  do 
in  order  to  be  guillotined  immediately  1 '  Those  who 
manifest  such  impatience  perhaps  are  not  the  pluckiest. 
There  are  others  who  remain  calm  and  cool,  as  if  they 
had  yet  a  hundred  years  to  live.  Such  was  Montjour- 
dain,  commander  of  the  St.  Lazare  battalion.  During 
six  weeks  of  incarceration  in  the  Conciergerie  he  did 
not  betray  the  slightest  sign  of  fear  or  sadness.  When 
he  was  informed  that  his  time  was  come,  he  composed  a. 
song.  He  was  taken  to  the  scaffold  with  one  Cour- 
tonnet,  and  both  kept  on  joking  and  laughing  up  to  the 
last  minute. 


113  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  SAN  SONS. 


CHAPTER   XXXVI. 

CHARLES  HENRY  SANSON'S  DIARY—continued. 

Plitviose  17.  —  To-day  we  executed  some  ladies  of 
■quality.  They  showed  almost  as  much  tranquillity  as 
Citizen  Montjourdain.  Their  names  were :  Marie 
Gabrielle  Lechapt,  widow  of  the  Marquis  de  Rastignac, 
-convicted  of  having  sent  money  to  her  son,  who  had 
emigrated  ;  the  ci-devant  Marchioness  de  Marboeuf,  con- 
victed of  having  accaparated  provisions ;  and  with  her 
Jean  Joseph  Payen,  farmer  of  Madame  de  Marboeuf; 
and  two  forgers  of  assignats,  Nicolas  Armand  and  Jean 
Renaud.  On  the  way  Madame  de  Marboeuf  exhorted 
Payen  to  die  courageously.     She  said  to  him  : 

'  After  all,  my  poor  fellow,  it  is  just  the  same  whether 
we  die  to-day  or  twenty  years  later.' 

'If  it  is  just  the  same,'  answered  Payen,  who  was  not 
at  all  resigned  to  his  fate,  *  I  would  rather  die  in  twenty 
years.' 

Phiviose  19. — This  day,  Elisabeth  Pauline  Gand, 
wife  of  Count  de  Lauraguais  ;  Louis  Pierre  ;  Madame  de 
Lauraguais's  steward ;  Pierre  Joseph  Petit,  constitutional 
curate  of  Menil,  guilty  of  corresponding  with  the  enemy  ; 


CHARLES  HENRI  SANSON'S  DIARY.  113 

and  Nicolas  Pasquin,  formerly  Princess  Elizabeth's  valet, 
were  executed. 

Pluviose  22. — Couthon  had,  it  appears,  made  more 
noise  than  harm  at  Lyons.  He  threatened  very  loudly, 
but  his  threats  killed  no  one.  Things  considerably 
altered  after  he  was  superseded  by  Collot  and  Fouche. 
CoUot  eschewed  the  guillotine,  which  he  thought  was 
not  sufficiently  expeditious,  and  executed  with  cannon, 
and  thus  put  to  death  over  two  hundred  persons  every 
day.  Robespierre  and  Couthon  are  indignant  at  this 
butchery.  The  Convention  governs  the  Republic.  It  is 
itself  governed  by  a  dozen  sanguinary  leaders,  who  obey 
the  orders  of  the  Club  des  Cordeliers  ;  so  that  Hebert, 
who  is  the  big  gun  of  the  Cordeliers,  can  say  with  reason 
that  he  is  the  real  sovereign  of  the  people.  All  this  is 
sad  enough.  The  Tribunal  to-day  sentenced  six  nuns. 
We  executed  them  immediately  after  their  trial. 

Pluviose  23. — Executed  Anne  Henri ette  Bouchevain, 
Baronne  de  Vaxence,  and  Francois  Amable  Chapuy, 
lieutenant-colonel  of  the  fifth  battalion  of  Saone-et- 
Loire. 

Ventose  i. — Ronsin,  general  of  the  revolutionary 
army,  and  Vincent  have  been  set  free.  What  is  strange 
is  that  it  is  Danton  who  obtained  the  discharge  of  these 
two  violent  men.  Ronsin  strides  about  the  streets  with 
his  old  airs.  His  presence  dispels  all  hopes  of  clemency  ; 
and  it  has  given  rise  to  the  rumour  that  another  govern- 
ment is  to  be  established.  This  government  is  to  have 
for  principal  object  the  acceleration  of  revolutionary 
VOL.  II.  I 


1X4  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  SANSONS. 

justice.  Ronsin  is  to  be  the  head  of  the  government ; 
under  him  is  to  be  a  military  tribunal,  composed  of  a. 
high  judge,  a  prosecutor,  and  four  judges.  A  council, 
called  the  Conseil  Antique,  is  to  take  the  place  of  the 
Convention.  I  need  hardly  say  that  very  few  people 
believe  in  this  absurdity.  To-day  executed  Francois 
Gerbaut,  merchant,  and  a  deserter  named  Gossenot. 

Ventose  6. — Jean  Jacques  Dortoman,  formerly  general 
in  the  Army  of  Italy ;  Thomas  de  Maussion,  a  noble-^ 
man  ;  Joseph  Canel,  a  hairdresser ;  and  Barbe  Smith,  a 
woman,  were  executed  to-day. 

Ventose  8. — Wood,  which  was  dear  enough  last 
month,  is  unapproachable  now.  The  cold  is  intense. 
A  month  ago  planks  of  the  guillotine  were  stolen  ;  this 
morning,  on  our  way  to  the  Conciergerie,  we  found  a 
man  stretched  out  on  the  pavement ;  he  wanted  to  fetch 
some  water  from  the  river,  had  fallen  on  the  quay,  and 
had  not  the  strength  to  get  up.  He  told  us  that  he  had 
not  eaten  for  two  days.  We  had  three  cart-loads  of 
convicts  to-day,  fifteen  in  all — men,  women,  noblemen, 
priests,  and  merchants. 

Ventose  lo. — Robespierre  is  ill,  and  the  Cordeliers 
have  it  all  their  own  way.  Yesterday  they  declared 
that  Citizens  Camille  Desmoulins  and  Fabre  d'Eglantine 
should  be  impeached  :  they  also  make  the  best  of  the 
sufferings  of  the  people,  which  are  great ;  they  accuse 
the  Convention  and  speak  of  doing  again  what  was  done 
on  June  2.  What  shall  we  become  if  they  have  the 
best  of  it  "i     Since  the  guillotine  is  at  the  order  of  the 


CHARLES  HENRI  SANSON'S  DIARY,  115 

day,  its  inventors  are  always  thinking  of  modifying  it. 
Over  twenty  suggestions  to  that  effect  have  been 
presented  to  the  revolutionary  committee,  but  they  were 
so  absurd  that  only  one  of  these  has  been  reserved  for 
consideration.  The  plan  consists  in  a  trap  opening  near 
the  weigh-plank,  into  which  the  body  falls,  a  device  which 
prevents  accumulation  on  the  guillotine.  Citizen  Vouland, 
of  the  Convention,  was  present  when  the  experiment  was 
made.  It  did  not  succeed,  the  two  bags  of  sand  which 
were  used  for  the  purpose  having  failed  to  enter  the 
trap.  Citizen  Vouland  asked  for  my  opinion.  I  said 
that  the  proposed  alteration  was  full  of  danger ;  that  if 
the  trap  did  not  close  better  than  it  opened,  the  execu- 
tioners or  the  convicts  might  fall  through  it  with  the 
corpses.  He  expressed  his  concurrence  in  this  view, 
and  the  proposed  alteration  was  shelved. 

We  guillotined  five  persons  to-day — four  men  and 
one  woman. 

Ventose  13. — The  Revolutionary  Tribunal  settles  old 
accounts  with  country  citizens.  Two  carts  were  sent  to 
the  guillotine  to-day.  All  the  convicts  were  peasants. 
A  very  unfortunate  accident  happened.  Only  one  con- 
vict remained,  all  his  companions  having  been  executed 
before  him  ;  as  he  was  being  strapped  down,  my  son 
Henri,  who  was  attending  to  the  baskets,  called  me  and 
I  went  to  him.  Lariviere,  one  of  the  assistants,  had  for- 
gotten to  re-raise  the  knife,  so  that  when  the  weigh- 
plank  was  lowered  with  the  convict  Laroque  strapped 
upon  it,  his  face  struck  the  edge  of  the  knife,  which  was 

12 


ii6  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  SANSONS. 

bloody.  He  uttered  a  terrible  shriek.  I  ran  up,  lifted 
the  weigh-plank,  and  hastened  to  raise  the  knife.  The 
convict  trembled  like  a  leaf.  The  mob  hissed  us,  and 
threw  stones  at  us.  In  the  evening  Citizen  Fouquier 
severely  reprimanded  me.  I  deserved  his  blame,  for  I 
should  have  been  in  my  usual  place.  Citizen  Fouquier 
saw  I  was  very  sorry,  and  dismissed  me  with  more  kind- 
ness than  I  expected.     Thirteen  executions. 

Ventose  15. — The  Cordeliers  proclaimed  insurrection 
in  their  sitting  of  yesterday.  I  see  no  symptoms  of 
emotion  in  the  streets  ;  gatherings  are  neither  more 
numerous  nor  more  turbulent  than  usual.  If  this  goes 
on,  the  Pere  Duchene  (Hebert)  may  perhaps  learn  by  ex- 
perience what  the  sensations  of  the  guillotine  are.  On 
the  other  hand,  the  people  of  the  guillotine,^  who  are  just 
as  much  the  people  of  the  Club  des  Cordeliers,  were  in- 
flamed by  the  speeches  they  had  heard.  Never  have 
convicts  been  more  hooted  than  those  of  this  morning 
were.  Cries  of  *  Pitch  them  into  the  river ! '  were  heard 
for  the  first  time.  The  utmost  consternation  prevails 
throughout  the  prisons,  with  the  exception  of  the  Con- 
ciergerie,  for  those  who  are  prisoners  have  very  little 
hope,  whatever  may  occur.  The  convicts  of  this  morn- 
ing were  a  father  and  his  two  sons ;  Guillaume  Saint- 
Souplet,  Anne  Michel,  and  Anne  Claude  Saint-Souplet, 
aristocrats.     Three  other  convicts  also  suffered. 

Ventose  17. — Guillotined,  at  three  o'clock  in  the 
afternoon,    Claude    Compart,  general  inspector  of   the 

^  The  narrator  means  the  usual  attendants  of  executions. 


CHARLES  HENRI  SANSON'S  DIARY.  117 

post-office  ;  Jacques  Marie  Duchemin,  secretary  of  the 
Prince  de  Conde ;  and  Gilbert  de  Grassin,  gentleman. 

Ventose  18. — A  foreigner,  who,  as  well  as  I  could 
guess  by  his  accent,  was  an  Englishman,  called  on  me 
to-day,  and  forthwith  proposed  to  give  me  a  neat  sum  if 
I  would  include  him  for  one  day  among  my  assistants. 
I  had  all  sorts  of  reasons  to  be  surprised  at  the  proposal ; 
I  enquired  whether  what  he  wished  to  do  was  out  of 
hatred  against  the  French.  He  answered  that  he  did 
not  care  much  either  for  France  or  for  the  French,  but 
that  his  motive  was  the  satisfaction  of  curiosity ; 
that  he  had  come  to  Paris  to  see  a  revolution  of  which 
the  whole  world  was  speaking,  and  that,  before  going, 
he  wished  to  see  an  execution  as  closely  as  possible.  I 
then  tried  to  impress  on  him  that  his  curiosity  might 
bring  him  into  trouble,  that  we  were  at  war  with  his 
country,  and  that  if  he  were  identified  he  would  cer- 
tainly be  taken  for  a  spy  and  treated  as  such ;  in  short 
I  flatly  refused  his  proffer.  He  listened  to  me  with  much 
coolness,  and  when  I  had  done  speaking,  he  answered 
that  his  mind  was  made  up,  and  that,  *  in  spite  of  me,* 
he  would  go  on  the  scaffold. 

I  could  not  help  saying  to  him  : 

*  Take  care  you  don't  go  there  in  spite  of  yourself 

He  left  me,  saying,  ^  Au  revoir! 

To-day  we  had  two  executions  :  Louis  Desacres  de 
Laigle,  Count  and  Marshal ;  and  Anne  Alexandrine 
Rosalie  de  Larochefoucauld. 

Ventose  20. — Ronsin's  and  Hebert's  party  has  at- 
tempted to  raise  the  Commune.     They  asked  that  the 


ii8  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  SANSONS. 

Declaration  of  the  Rights  of  Man  should  remain  valid 
until  the  Republic  had  exterminated  her  enemies. 
They  were  listened  to  ;  but  no  one  stirred,  not  even 
Chaumette.  It  is  said  that  Ronsin  made  a  scene  after 
the  sitting,  and  tried  to  strike  the  prosecutor  of  the 
Commune.  The  fate  of  the  Hebertists  is  as  good  as 
sealed  now.  It  was  even  rumoured  this  morning  that 
most  of  them  had  been  arrested. 

Ventose  24. — Ronsin,  Vincent,  Hebert,  Momoro, 
Laumur,  Ducroquet,  and  Ancard  were  arrested  last 
night.  The  details  of  their  conspiracy  were  frightful. 
It  is  said  that  they  proposed  renewing  the  massacres  in 
September. 

Ventose  26. — We  had  a  terrible  day's  work  to-day. 
In  yesterday's  sitting,  the  Tribunal  passed  sixteen  sen- 
tences of  death.  I  was  ready  at  two  o'clock  yesterday; 
but  Citizen  Fabricius  told  me  that,  as  it  was  raining  fast, 
it  was  more  advisable  to  delay  execution  until  the  next 
morning.  This  morning,  then,  I  went  to  the  Conciergerie 
with  four  carts.  All  the  convicts  were  natives  of  the 
department  of  La  Nievre,  who  had  taken  part  in  an 
insurrection.     The  execution  lasted  thirty-two  minutes. 

Germinal  i. — The  trial  of  Hebert,  Vincent,  and  the 
other  Cordeliers  commenced  this  morning.  It  is  said 
that  it  cannot  but  last  several  days.  This  is  a  respite 
for  me,  at  least.  Two  men  suffered  to-day.  On  returning 
from  the  Place  de  la  Revolution,  Citizen  Fouquier  ordered 
me  to  remain  in  permanency  so  long  as  the  trial  of  the 
Hebertists  should   last ;  so   I  entered  the  justice  hall, 


CHARLES  HENRI  SANSON'S  DIARY.  119 

and  heard  what  was  going  on.  Twenty  accused  were 
seated  in  a  row.  Hebert  was  very  pale,  and  could  hardly 
answer  when  he  was  spoken  to ;  Ronsin  and  Momoro 
seemed  to  defy  the  judges.  The  wife  of  Quetineau,  who 
was  executed  the  other  day,  is  among  the  prisoners — no 
one  knows  why.  Riviere  told  me  that,  during  the  first 
•days  of  their  incarceration,  they  quarrelled  together.  It 
was  Anacharsis  Clootz  who  made  them  understand  that 
these  disputes  were  of  no  good.  When  Hebert  was 
brought  into  the  prison,  those  who  had  been  arrested 
before  him  jeered  him  ;  but  Ronsin  defended  him,  and  a 
<:ollision  ensued  between  the  latter  and  a  man  named 
Collignon.  Hebert  and  his  partisans  now  turn  their 
backs  upon  their  other  companions.  Kock,  the  banker, 
in  whose  house  they  used  to  feast,  will  share  their  fate, 
He  said  he  would  give  a  last  dinner  to  his  friends  before 
their  death. 

Germinal  3. — Henri  took  my  place  to-day  on  the 
scaffold.  I  remained  in  permanency  in  the  Tribunal. 
Hebert  and  Vincent  are  much  discouraged.  Ronsin  does 
not  flinch  ;  and  Clootz  is  sad,  but  very  calm  and  dignified. 
He  has  written  a  pamphlet  entitled,  'The  Universal 
Republic,'  in  which  he  said  that  he  was  the  personal 
enemy  of  God.  He  also  said  that  the  world  would  join 
France,  and  adopt  republican  institutions.  This  pamphlet 
has  been  used  against  him ;  and  Renaudin  said  to  him 
that  it  was  only  written  to  render  the  coalition  of  crowned 
lieads  against  France  plausible.     Clootz  answered  : 

'  I  cannot  be  suspected  of  being  a  partisan  of  kings  ; 
it  would  indeed  be  extraordinary  if  a  man  who  would 


I20  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  S ANSON S, 

be  burnt  at  Rome,  hanged  in  England,  and  quartered 
at  Vienna,  were  guillotined  in  Paris.' 

Clootz  is  a  sincere  madman  who  deserves  a  shower 
bath,  and  nothing  more.  And  then  the  ways  of  the 
Tribunal  are  so  singular  that  they  excite  interest  on 
behalf  of  all  those  who  appear  before  it,  whoever  they 
may  be.  Thus  I  heard  the  President  upbraiding  Clootz. 
for  being  a  born  Prussian,  and  for  being  rich  ;  this  is  sa 
unjust  that  it  verges  on  stupidity.  The  trial  will  go  on 
to-morrow. 

Germinal  4. — The  execution  took  place  to-day.  The 
trial  was  resumed  at  ten  o'clock  this  morning.  President 
Dumas  made  a  terrible  speech,  and  the  jurors  retired  to 
deliberate.  At  about  half-past  twelve  they  delivered 
their  verdict.  Nineteen  of  the  prisoners  were  sentenced 
to  death  ;  one  only,  Citizen  Labourreau,  medical  student, 
was  acquitted.  Citizeness  Jeanne  Latreille,  wife  of  the 
late  General  Quetineau,  declared  she  was  pregnant,, 
and  obtained  a  provisional  reprieve.  The  judgment 
must  have  been  written  beforehand,  for  hardly  half-an- 
hour  after  it  was  delivered  criers  were  reading  it  around 
the  Palace  of  Justice.  Their  execution  was  to  be  imme- 
diate. Fouquier  said  :  *  Each  second  of  their  existence 
becomes  an  outrage  to  the  majesty  of  the  people.'  I 
sent  off  some  men  to  the  Place  de  la  Revolution- 
Henri  hurried  to  the  Rue  Frangois-Miron,  where  the  carts 
were  ready.  He  returned  with  the  same  rapidity,  and  an 
hour  and  a  half  after  the  declaration  of  the  verdict  the 
prisoners  were  brought  forward.  They  were  eighteen  in 
number — Jacques  Rend  Hebert,   a  man  of  letters,  and 


CHARLES  HENRI  SANSON'S  DIARY.  121 

before  the  Revolution  employe  oi the  Theatre  de  Varietes  ; 
Charles  Philippe  Ronsin,  formerly  a  journalist,  more 
recently  general  of  the  revolutionary  armies  ;  Antoine 
Frangois  Momoro,  printer ;  Nicolas  Vincent,  formerly 
lawyer's  clerk ;  Michel  Laumur,  general ;  Jean-Baptiste 
Anacharsis  Clootz,  journalist  and  member  of  the  Conven- 
tion ;  Pierre  Jean  Proly,  editor  of  *  Le  Cosmopolite  ; ' 
Conrad  Kock,  banker ;  Jacob  Pereira,  vice-president  of 
the  *  Section  du  Bon-Conseil ; '  Armand  Hubert  Leclerc, 
employe  in  the  war-office  ;  Francois  Desfieux,  wine  mer- 
chant ;  Jean  Antoine  Florent  Armand,  medical  student ; 
Jean-Baptiste  Ancard,  manager  of  the  arsenals  ;  Frederic 
Pierre  Ducroquet,  commisioner  of  the  government ;  An- 
toine Descombes,  commissioner  of  the  government ;  Jean 
Charles  Bourgeois,  member  of  the  committee  of  sur- 
veillance of  war ;  Pierre  Ulric  Dubuisson,  commissioner 
of  the  executive  power  ;  and  Albert  Mazuel,  commander 
in  the  army.  I  was  talking  with  Richard,  the  turnkey,, 
when  I  was  apprised  of  the  arrival  of  the  carts.  I  went 
to  see  that  everything  was  right,  and  while  I  was  ex- 
amining the  carts  I  saw,  under  a  red  cap  drawn  far 
down  over  the  face  of  the  wearer,  a  fair  beard  which  I 
had  never  seen  among  my  assistants.  The  man  tried 
to  walk  away,  but  I  soon  identified  the  Englishman  who 
had  called  on  me  the  other  day.  He  had  given  money 
to  the  assistants,  and  had  obtained  of  them  what  I  had 
refused,  thinking  that  I  would  not  point  him  out  on  the 
way  to  the  scaffold.  But  I  was  not  less  obstinate  than 
he  was.  We  had  five  carts.  I  pretended  to  take  him 
for  what  he  gave  himself  to  be,  and  I  ordered  him  ta 


tSJfe^ 


MEMOIRS  OF 


SANSONS, 


take  one  of  the  carts  back  to  my  house.     He  hesitated, 
and  was  about  to  speak  ;  but  I  looked  in  the  direction 
•of  the  gendarmes  and  he  reluctantly  obeyed  ;  not,  how- 
>€ver,  without  making  me  a  grimace  which  signified,  *  Au 
revoir'     Ronsin  came  forward  first ;  his  mien  was  calm 
-and  proud.     Clootz  also  was  quite  cool,  and  in  no  way 
disturbed  ;  he  continued  his  apostleship,  and  preached 
to  his  companions,  asking  them  not  to  belie  their  princi- 
ples, assuring  them  that  the  guillotine  was  the  ultimate 
•end  of  their  tribulation,  that  the  guillotine  was  the  end 
of  everything ;  and  begging  them  to  give  to  the  world 
the  sight  of  a  republican  death.     His  voice  was  hardly 
audible,  for  the  convicts  continued  to  accuse  each  other. 
As  Descombes's  lips  were  silently  moving,  Clootz  sup- 
posed that  he  was  praying,  and  upbraided  him  for  his 
cowardice.     Vincent  was  not  so  bold  as  during  the  trial, 
Hebert  came  in,  supported  by  two  turnkeys  ;  he  had 
scarcely  strength   enough   to  raise   his   legs.     He  was 
elegantly  dressed,  as  was  his  wont,  with  a  watch  in  each 
fob,  but  his  attire  was  disordered ;  his  face  was  as  livid  as 
if  the  knife  of  the  guillotine  had  already  passed  through 
his  neck  ;  he  wept,  and  drops  trickled  down  his  forehead. 
So  much  cowardice  was  unpleasant  to  behold.     Ronsin 
was  highly  indignant ;  he  did  not  look  at  his  former 
friend,  and  said  to  Momoro  :  *  We  staked  our  heads,  we 
lost  the  game,  we  must  pay  with  courage  and  firmness.' 
The  toilet  began,  and  as  I  had  six  assistants,  it  only 
lasted  a  few  minute.s,  and  the  signal  for  departure  was 
given.      There  were  so  many  people  outside  that  we 
could  hear  the  noise  and  murmur  of  the  crowd.     We 


CHARLES  HENRI  SANSON'S  DIARY.  123 

-"emerged  through  the  court  of  the  prison.  When  the 
public  saw  the  eighteen  convicts  there  was  a  tremendous 
shout.  This  time  every  window  was  open  and  thousands 
■of  heads  peered  out.  What  is  rather  curious  is,  that  the 
rascals  who  usually  escort  us  and  who  used  to  be  Hebert's 
friends  were  the  most  violent  against  him  to-day.  The 
*  Pere  Duchene '  was  particularly  insulted  ;  but  Hebert 
heeded  not ;  he  was  half  dead  with  terror.  When  we 
passed  before  Duplay's  house,  the  crowd  cheered  lustily, 
as  if  to  thank  Robespierre  for  ridding  France  of  un- 
principled rascals  like  Hebert.  Fouquier,  out  of  com- 
passion for  Clootz,  had  ordered  that  he  should  be 
•executed  first.  Clootz,  however,  refused  ;  he  wished,  he 
said,  to  fortify  himself  in  his  disbelief  in  second  life,  and 
urge  to  the  last  upon  his  companions  to  do  the  same  ; 
and  he  added  that  the  privilege  given  him  was  one  which 
one  always  had  the  right  to  decline.  There  was  a  dis- 
pute on  the  matter,  but  the  clerk  told  me  to  let  him  have 
his  own  way.  Descombes  was  guillotined  first ;  then 
came  Mazuel,  Bourgeois,  Armand,  Leclerc,  Dubuisson, 
Ducroquet,  Kock,  Ancard,  Pereira,  Desfieux,  Laumur, 
Proly,  Vincent,  Momoro,  and  Ronsin,  who  was  extremely 
courageous.  When  only  Clootz  and  Hebert  remained, 
I  told  my  assistants  to  take  Hebert.  He  exclaimed  in 
a  weak  voice :  '  Not  yet ! '  Clootz  heard  him,  and 
rushed  forward  crying :  '■  Hurrah  for  the  fraternity  of 
nations  !  long  live  the  Republic  of  the  world  ! '  After 
him,  Hebert  was  at  length  strapped  down.  I  believe  he 
fainted  away  while  this  was  being  done.  I  made  a  sign 
to  Lariviere,  who  was  holding  the  rope ;  but  either  he 


124  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  SANSONS. 

did  not  see  me  or  he  wished  to  indulge  the  sanguinary- 
rage  of  the  mob  against  the  '  Pere  Duchene,'  for  he  did 
not  obey.  I  rushed  forward,  took  the  rope  out  of  his. 
hand,  and  pulled  it  myself.  Enthusiastic  cries  of  '  Vive 
la  Republique ! '  were  uttered  when  Hebert's  head  dis- 
appeared in  the  basket. 


125 


CHAPTER  XXXVII. 

CHARLES  HENRI  SANSON'S  DIARY—continued. 

Germinal  5. — Everybody  looked  pleased  yesterday. 
A  rumour  had  spread  that  Citizens  Robespierre  and 
Danton  had  made  peace  ;  that  one  had  demanded  the 
execution  of  Hebert  and  his  friends  as  a  token  of  recon- 
ciliation, while  the  other  asked  for  the  heads  of  the 
great  royalist  conspirators,  of  the  deputies  accused  of 
malversation,  and  of  Chaumette  and  Simon,  arrested  on 
Vent6se  28,  but  that  after  these  executions  the  Tribunal 
should  be  ordered  to  measure  real  justice.  This  was 
one  of  the  reasons  for  which  such  an  enormous  multi- 
tude was  out  yesterday.  This  morning  there  was  as 
much  alarm  as  there  was  confidence  yesterday.  It  was 
said  that,  far  from  thinking  of  making  it  up  with  Danton, 
Robespierre  had  only  struck  his  enemies  in  order  to 
strike  Danton  himself  Our  democracy  is  very  much 
like  a  despotism,  for  those  who  exercise  power  cannot 
resign  themselves  to  share  it  with  others.  One  of  the 
jurors,  Naudin,  was  saying  to  Sellier :  *  To  walk  behind 
Robespierre,  Danton  is  too  tall  by  a  head.'  It  is  also 
said  that  Danton,  on  being  warned  of  the  danger  which 
threatens  him,  answered  :  *  They  would  not  dare  ;  I  am 


126  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  SANSONS. 

the  holy  ark  ;  and  if  I  supposed  that  Robespierre  thinks, 
of  arresting  me,  I  would  eat  his  heart.'  I  think  he  is 
mistaken.  The  only  holy  ark,  nowadays,  is  the 
guillotine.  It  is  as  difficult  for  a  tribune  as  for  a  king  to 
know  the  real  sentiments  of  the  people.  The  people 
admires  the  great  demolishers,  but  their  admiration  has 
something  of  terror.  Danton  speaks  and  acts  like  a 
man,  Robespierre  like  a  prophet:  the  empire  shall 
always  belong  to  prophets.  The  man  with  the  blue 
coat  ^  has  already  his  devotees ;  the  wife  of  Des- 
morets,  my  assistant,  recites  prayers  before  a  por~ 
trait  of  Robespierre  ;  a  good  many  women  do  as  she 
does.  However  zealous  in  the  discharge  of  its  functions 
the  Tribunal  may  be,  the  prisons  are  nevertheless  full  to- 
overflowing.  To-day  we  executed  three  natives  of  the 
department  of  AUier,  sentenced  for  speaking  against  the 
Revolution.  Two  were  brothers  ;  the  third  was  the  son 
of  one  of  them. 

Germinal  6. — To-day  we  led  to  the  scaffold  Jean 
Louis  Gouth,  formerly  constitutional  bishop  of  Autun 
and  member  of  the  Constituent  Assembly  ;  the  two 
brothers  Balleroy  Charles  Auguste  and  Frangois 
Auguste ;  the  former  was  a  marquis  and  a  lieutenant- 
general,  the  second  a  marshal ;  Denis  Joisel,  servant  of 
Monsieur,  the  King's  brother,  and  Etienne  Thery.  The 
latter  had  usurped  the  title  of  representative  of  the 
people,  with  the  mere  object  of  obtaining  gratis  a  good 
dinner  in  an  inn.     His  assumption  has  cost  him  his  life. 

Germinal  7. — It  is  said  everywhere  that  the  Com- 
*  Robespierre. 


CHARLES  HENRI  SANSON'S  DIARY.  127 

mittees  are  discussing  the  arrest  of  Danton.  In  my 
humble  judgment,  big  dogs  are  preparing  to  bite,  for  curs 
bark  too  boldly.  Valate,  a  terrorist,  is  reported  to  have 
said  yesterday :  *  Before  a  week  Danton,  Camille  Des- 
moulins,  and  Philippeaux  will  be  arrested.'  If  they 
are  taken,  it  will  be  their  own  fault,  for  the  rumour  is 
public.  But  one  cannot  run  away  when  one's  name  is 
Danton.  Executed  a  man  and  a  woman :  Claude 
Marie  Lambertye  and  Henri  Moreau,  convicted  of  con- 
spiracy. 

Germinal  8. — Jean-Baptiste  Peusselet,  formerly  a 
monk  ;  Jacques  Fernet,  captain  of  dragoons  and  general 
in  the  service  of  Bavaria,  suffered  to-day. 

Germinal  9. — The  Hebertists  were  sold  by  a  man 
named  Laboureau.  He  called  his  former  friends  rascals, 
and  was  discharged  by  the  Revolutionary  Tribunal  for 
his  pains.  The  day  before  yesterday  Laboureau  went  to 
the  meeting  of  the  Jacobins ;  Legendre,  who  presided, 
complimented  him  and  congratulated  the  Tribunal  on  its 
equity.  Poor  Citizen  Legendre,  you  may  get  to  know  to 
your  cost  what  this  equity  is  !  Executed  Jean-Baptiste 
Collignon,  printer  ;  Jean-Baptiste  Courtin,  abbot  of  the 
Order  of  Cluny ;  Nicolas  Jean  Adam,  monk  ;  Antoine 
Meffre,  monk  ;  Louis  Frangois  Poire,  one  of  Talleyrand's 
servants  ;  and  Jacques  Harille^  merchant. 

Germinal  11. — Citizens  Danton,  Camille  Desmoulins,, 
Lacroix,  and  Philippeaux  were  arrested  to-day  and 
taken  to  the  Luxembourg.  Seven  executions  yesterday 
and  to-day. 

Germinal    12. — Citizen   Legendre,   member  of  the 


128  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  SANSONS. 

Convention,  has  not  been  arrested  with  Danton,  as  was 
rumoured  yesterday.  Richard,  of  the  Conciergerie,  has 
received  orders  to  prepare  No.  4,  the  cell  formerly 
tenanted  by  Hebert,  and  the  other  cells  occupied  by  his 
-companions.  These  preparations  show  that  Danton  and 
liis  friends  will  be  transferred  to  the  Conciergerie  this 
evening  or  to-morrow  at  the  latest,  and  that  their  trial  will 
take  place  immediately.  Such  prisoners  are  not  easy  to 
keep.  To-day  we  guillotined  Euloge  Schneider,  formerly 
a  priest,  who  was  prosecutor  of  the  Revolutionary 
Tribunal  of  Strasburg.  He  used  openly  to  turn  the 
Terror  to  his  profit — that  is  to  say,  to  the  profit  of  his 
vices  ;  he  went  about  Alsace  with  his  tribunal,  his  guil- 
lotine, and  my  colleague  of  Strasburg,  obliging  the  in- 
habitants to  illuminate  their  houses  when  he  passed, 
levying  contributions,  passing  capital  sentences,  and  in- 
citing to  plunder,  theft,  &c.,  wherever  he  stopped.  One 
of  his  friends  named  Tunck  wishing  to  marry,  he 
required  the  attendance  of  all  the  girls  of  Barr,  and 
allowed  him  to  choose  in  the  lot ;  and  to  complete  his 
kindness,  he  ordered  the  executioner  to  collect  money 
around  the  scaffold  for  the  bride  and  bridegroom. 

Soon  after,  he  felt  a  desire  to  establish  himself  also, 
and  at  one  o'clock  in  the  morning  he  sent  a  peremptory 
order  to  a  citizen  of  Barr  to  bring  him  his  daughter,  who 
was  young  and  handsome.  The  unfortunate  man  dared 
not  refuse.  On  the  following  day  he  returned  to  Stras- 
burg with  the  poor  child,  in  a  carriage  drawn  by  six 
horses.  But  Citizen  Saint-Just  had  arrived  during 
Lis    absence,    and     Schneider    was    arrested    on    the 


CHARLES  HENRI  SANSON'S  DIARY.  129 

■same  day,  exhibited  during  three  hours  on  his  own  guil- 
lotine, and  sent  off  to  Paris  in  the  evening,  there  to  be 
tried.  This  terrible  Schneider  has  been  very  humble 
and  small  in  my  hands.  He  was  a  broad-shouldered, 
thick-necked  man,  well  knit,  and  as  strong  as  a  bull ; 
his  face  was  sinister  and  altogether  repulsive.  He  tried 
to  joke,  and  spoke  jocosely  of  the  thickness  of  his  neck  ; 
but  he  could  not  go  on  ;  tears  came  to  his  eyes,  and  a 
tremor  shot  over  his  frame.  On  the  Place  de  la  Revo- 
lution, he  called  me  '  Sir,  sir,  sir ! '  not  knowing  what  he 
was  saying.  Before  him,  Louis  Simon  CoUivet,  grocer ; 
Charles  Brochet  de  Saint  Priest,  nobleman  ;  and  Charles 
Victor  Frangois  de  Sulabery,  nobleman,  were  executed. 

Germinal  13. — Citizen  Danton  and  his  friends  have 
been  transferred  to  the  Conciergerie.  Their  trial  is  to 
take  place  to-morrow.  The  trial  of  the  deputies  charged 
with  malversation  is  to  take  place  at  the  same  time. 
Fifteen  men  in  all. 

Germinal  14. — Executed  Jean  Masquet,  cattle-dealer, 
and  Etienne  Jacques  Armand  de  Rougemont,  nobleman. 


VOL.  ir.  K 


130  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  SANSONS, 


CHAPTER   XXXVIII. 

TRIAL   OF  D ANTON,    CAMILLE    DESMOULINS,    WESTER- 
MANN,  &^c.  ^-c. 

Charles  Henri  Sanson's  notes  contain  no  informa- 
tion on  the  trial  of  the  Dantonists.  This  trial,  however,, 
my  grandfather  must  have  followed  with  the  greatest 
interest.  In  some  parts  of  his  diary  it  is  easy  to  detect 
his  conviction  that  the  result  of  the  struggle  between 
Danton  and  Robdspierre  would  be  to  increase  or  dimi- 
nish the  number  of  capital  sentences  delivered  by  the 
Revolutionary  Tribunal.  No  wonder  that  he  should 
have  been  interested  in  this  phase  of  the  history  of  the 
Revolution.  My  father  told  me  that  Charles  Henri  was 
present  at  almost  every  sitting  of  the  Revolutionary 
Tribunal,  and  related  to  his  family  all  that  he  had  seen 
and  heard.  It  is  perhaps  owing  to  the  emotion  which  he 
felt  then  that  the  present  gap  in  his  diary  is  to  be  ascribed. 

The  Danton  affair  is,  however,  of  such  importance 
that  it  may  not  be  amiss  to  say  a  few  words  on  it  before 
we  recur  to  Charles  Henri  Sanson's  diary. 

Whatever  opinion  may  be  held  of  Danton,  one  can- 
not but  recognise  that  his  overthrow  was  the  great  event  m 
of  the  revolutionary  period.     Until  then  the  Revolution 


I 


MD  £\.M  1^(&W  o 


TRIAL   OF  DANTON,  ETC.  131 

had  only  struck  those  who  might  be  regarded  as  her 
enemies.  The  impeachment  of  the  celebrated  tribune 
was  the  first  blow  aimed  at  the  upholders  of  the  Re- 
public ;  little  by  little  the  revolutionists  tore,  mangled, 
and  destroyed  each  other ;  and  finally  the  intervention 
of  a  Barrere  or  a  Tallien  was  enough  to  consummate 
the  ruin  of  the  republican  edifice. 

As  was  said  before,  Camille  Desmoulins,  Danton, 
Philippeaux,  and  Lacroix  were  arrested  in  the  night  of 
the  nth  of  Germinal.  It  has  been  said  that  Robes- 
pierre was  adverse  to  this  measure,  but  this  is  far  from 
true.  His  personal  interests  were  concerned  in  the 
arrest  of  these  four  men,  and  he  afterwards  betrayed  his 
hatred  for  Danton  and  his  friends  by  making  a  speech 
against  them  in  the  Convention.  Danton,  at  the  time, 
was  the  noble  exponent  of  generosity  and  clemency.  If 
he  had  all  the  vices  of  a  powerful  and  exuberant  nature, 
he  also  had  high  qualities ;  he  was  disgusted  at  judicial 
massacres,  and,  after  looking  on  in  silence,  he  had  spoken 
out  and  expressed  his  real  sentiments.  Public  opinion 
had  therefore  identified  his  views  with  the  sublime  pages 
in  which  Camille  Desmoulins  gave  vent  to  his  patriotic 
grief  and  indignation.  The  natural  consequence  was 
that  the  fanatics  who  thought  that  blood  alone  could 
cement  the  revolutionary  edifice,  considered  the  death 
of  these  two  men  indispensable  to  the  realisation  of 
their  dreams.  As  to  Robespierre,  his  yiews  were,  it 
appears  to  me,  more  profound.  Cruelty  was  not  in  his 
nature  ;  it  was  one  of  the  necessities  of  his  policy.  He 
was  too  sagacious  not  to  be  aware  that  real  popularity 

K2 


132  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  SANSONS. 

would  belong  to  those  who  should  speak  of  clemency  ; 
and  Robespierre  no  doubt  wished  to  reserve  this  popu- 
larity for  himself.  Danton  spoke  of  clemency  before 
him  ;  that  was  his  only  crime. 

Danton  made  no  show  of  resistance  when  he  was 
arrested.  As  to  Camille  Desmoulins,  he  opened  his 
window  and  called  for  help  against  tyranny  when  the 
soldiers  entered  his  room.  No  one  answering  his  appeal, 
he  resigned  himself  to  his  fate,  took  some  books,  em- 
braced his  young  wife  and  his  child,  and  allowed  him- 
self to  be  led  off.  Philippeaux  and  Lacroix  were 
arrested  without  any  difficulty.  On  the  day  after  their 
incarceration  the  four  prisoners  were  permitted  to  walk 
in  the  courtyard,  where  the  inmates  of  the  prison 
met.  Camille  was  dark  and  sad,  Lacroix  was  dis- 
heartened, Philippeaux  was  calm  and  resigned,  Danton 
was  just  what  he  usually  was,  cheerful  and  full  of  power 
of  repartee.  The  news  of  the  presence  of  these  powerful 
men  had  spread  like  wildfire  in  the  prison,  and  all 
flocked  to  see  them.  A  few  prisoners  even  forgot  that 
Danton  and  his  friends  were  amongst  them  for  taking 
up  their  cause,  and  insulted  them.  A  ci-devant  said, 
pointing  to  Lacroix,  who  was  tall  and  strong :  '  He 
would  make  a  fine  coachman.'  Danton  smiled  con- 
temptuously. Somebody  having  enquired  how  he, 
Danton,  could  have  been  deceived  by  Robespierre,  he 
answered  that,  after  all,  he  would  rather  be  guillotined 
than  guillotine.  Tom  Payne  was  a  prisoner  in  the 
Luxembourg  at  the  time ;  Danton  shook  hands  with 
him,  saying,  in  English  :  *  I  am  glad  to  meet  you,  friend  ; 
what  you  have  done  for  the  happiness  and  liberty  of 


TRIAL  OF  DANTONy  ETC.  I35 

your  country,  I  have  in  vain  striven  to  do  for  mine.  I 
have  been  less  fortunate,  but  no  guiltier  than  you. 
They  now  send  me  to  the  scaffold  :  such  is  my  reward.' 

When  the  four  prisoners  received  the  act  of  im- 
peachment drawn  up  against  them,  Camille  Desmoulins 
foamed  with  rage,  Philippeaux  raised  his  hands  to 
heaven,  Danton  laughed  and  rated  Camille  for  his 
want  of  callousness.  He  went  up  to  Lacroix  and  asked 
him  :  '  Well,  what  do  you  think  of  this  pretty  docu- 
ment ? '  *  I  think  we  had  better  make  ready  to  meet 
Sanson,'  answered  Lacroix. 

Danton  was  in  hopes  of  moving  the  public  on  the  day 
of  trial ;  and  his  expectations  were  certainly  not  over 
sanguine.  The  report  of  his  arrest  and  that  of  Camille, 
who  was  very  popular,  had  produced  a  sensation.  On 
the  nth  and  12th  many  persons  were  assembled  near 
the  walls  of  the  Luxembourg,  and  my  father  told  me 
that  they  looked  at  the  prison  with  astonishment,  as 
if  they  expected  to  see  it  crumble  down,  like  a  new 
Jericho,  at  Danton's  bidding.  Camille's  soul  was  more 
tender  and  poetical  than  Danton's.  He  thought  of  his 
young  and  charming  wife,  and  of  his  baby  son.  His 
wife  passed  her  days  in  the  garden  of  the  Luxem- 
bourg, and  he  tried  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  her  through 
the  bars  of  the  prison  window.  He  recovered  his  powers 
as  a  writer,  and  began  his  last  number  of  the  '  Vieux 
Cordelier,'  his  final  denunciation  of  tyrants.  He  also 
wrote  to  his  wife  a  really  magnificent  letter,  which  has 
been  reproduced  by  the  historians  of  the  Revolution. 
Danton  and  his  friends  were  transferred  to  the  Con- 
ciergerie  on  the   13th,  and  were  immediately  brought 


134  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  SANSONS. 

before  the  Revolutionary  Tribunal.  The  jurors  had 
been  carefully  chosen,  and  it  was  notorious  that  not  one 
of  them  was  favourable  to  the  prisoners.  Four  other 
members  of  the  Convention,  charged  with  malversation, 
were  included  in  the  charge.  These  were  Chabot,  De- 
launay,  Bazire,  and  Fabre  d'Eglantine.  The  accusation 
made  out  against  them  was  never  proved.  Other  pri- 
soners were  tried  at  the  same  time.  There  were  thirteen 
in  all ;  but  Fouquier  discovered  that  some  had  been  for- 
gotten, and  the  number  was  raised  to  fifteen. 

The  decision  of  the  jury  was  a  foregone  conclusion, 
and  the  debates  of  the  trial  have  been  so  often  described 
that  there  is  but  little  need  to  relate  them  at  length.  All 
the  accused  displayed  stern  bravery,  knowing  well  the 
fate  that  was  reserved  for  them.  But  none  equalled 
Danton  in  eloquence  and  vehement  denunciations  of  his 
enemies.  His  attitude  was  superb,  and  before  him  the 
judges  and  jurors  shrank  back  and  trembled.  His 
tremendous  voice  could  be  heard  outside  the  court,  and 
it  became  so  evident  that  the  people  would  rise  to  de- 
liver him  if  he  were  allowed  to  continue,  that  the  Pre- 
sident of  the  court  ruled  that  the  prisoners  should  be 
removed  from  the  hall  of  justice  while  their  fate  was 
being  decided.  The  whole  trial,  in  fact,  was  a  shameful 
parody  of  justice ;  and  when  a  verdict  of  guilty  was 
brought  in  against  all  the  accused  with  the  exception 
of  one,  no  one  for  a  moment  doubted  that  Danton  and 
his  friends  were  the  victims  of  a  cruel  and  relentless 
policy. 

I  now  leave  my  grandfather  to  speak  for  himself. 


135 


CHAPTER   XXXIX. 

CHARLES  HENRY  SANSON'S  DIARY— continmd. 

Germinal  i6. — By  the  order  of  Citizen  Fouquier,  I 
Temained  in  the  vicinity  of  the  Tribunal  all  day  yester- 
day. The  hall  of  justice  was  so  crowded  that  I  could 
not  gain  admittance.  I  arrived  at  nine  o'clock  this 
morning  at  the  Conciergerie.  As  I  passed  the  thresh- 
'old,  a  gendarme  tapped  me  on  the  shoulder,  and  said 
to  me  :  '  You'll  have  plenty  to  do  to-day  ; '  and  Riviere 
added  :  *  They  are  all  sentenced  to  death.'  He  was 
mistaken,  as  I  found  out  afterwards,  for  Citizen  Luillier 
was  acquitted.  He  was  so  inoffensive  and  obscure  that 
no  one  thought  of  him.  Richard's  lodge  was  crowded 
with  people  who  wanted  to  see  the  prisoners.  As  I 
was  crossing  the  courtyard,  Wolf,  one  of  the  clerks,  told 
me  to  follow  him  upstairs.  Citizen  Ducray  and  two 
•other  clerks  were  writing ;  and  Fabricius  Paris,  the 
head  clerk,  was  walking  up  and  down  the  room.  His 
eyes  were  very  red ;  he  was  deadly  pale,  and  he 
trembled  like  a  leaf  When  he  saw  me,  he  said  :  *  I  am 
:going  away.'  Ducray  turned  round  and  said  :  *  Will  you 
iign  } '  *  No,  no,  once  more,'  replied  Citizen  Fabricius  ; 
**  I  would    rather  burn  my  hand  than  sign.'     He  went 


136  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  SANSONS. 


A 


away  with  tears  in  his  eyes.  I  was  not  surprised,  for 
I  knew  him  to  be  a  great  friend  of  Danton's,  and  his- 
pluck  pleased  me.  Fouquier-Tinville,  who  is  a  cousin 
of  Desmoulins,  had  not  the  same  scruples.  Lescot- 
Fleurlot,  deputy-prosecutor,  and  two  other  functionaries, 
entered  the  room.  Lescot  asked  me  whether  my  carts, 
were  ready.  I  replied  that  they  were.  He  then, 
ordered  me  to  go  down  and  wait,  which  I  did. 

I  had  been  waiting  for  a  considerable  time,  when  a 
gendarme  came  to  tell  me  that  I  was  wanted  by  Fou- 
quier-Tinville. I  found  a  good  many  persons  in  his- 
closet — old  Vadier,  Amar,  Coffinhal,  Arthus,  Herman^ 
among  others.  Although  Fouquier  was  present,  I  re- 
ceived the  order  of  execution  from  the  hands  of  Lescot. 
He  told  me  that  the  convicts  had  rebelled  against  the 
Tribunal ;  that  they  would  probably  offer  new  resistance  r. 
that  to  prevent  any  mishap  they  would  be  introduced 
one  by  one ;  that  I  should  have  to  seize  them  imme- 
diately, and  pinion  them.  Fleuriot  added  that  if  the 
convicts  attempted  to  excite  the  people  on  their  way  to* 
the  scaffold,  I  was  to  go  at  a  trot,  and  make  all  haste. 
He  also  recommended  extreme  celerity  in  the  execution 
itself,  observing  that  the  sooner  the  *rufifians'  died  the 
better.  After  this,  a  discussion  arose  as  to  the  number 
of  carts  required.  I  had  ordered  three  out.  Lescot 
said  that  one  was  sufficient,  and  Coffinhal  observed  thafc 
only  one  should  be  used.  I  objected  to  this,  and  ob- 
tained two  carriages. 

I  then  proceeded  to  the  parlour,  which  was  full  of 


CHARLES  HENRI  SANSON'S  DIARY.  \yf 

gendarmes  and  soldiers.  They  formed  two  thick  ranks* 
Half-an-hour  elapsed  before  one  of  the  convicts  ap- 
peared. This  was  Chabot  He  looked  very  ill.  He 
was  surprised  at  finding  himself  alone,  and  murmured : 
*  Where  are  the  others  } '  He  was  pinioned,  and  his 
hair  was  cut.  Bazire  was  the  next  to  appear.  Chabot 
rose,  and,  running  up  to  him,  exclaimed,  with  tears  in 
his  eyes  :  *  My  poor,  poor  Bazire,  it  was  I  who  brought 
you  to  this  !  *  Bazire  pressed  him  in  his  arms,  without 
a  word  of  reproach. 

The  two  Freys,  Delaunay,  member  of  the  Convention^ 
the  Abbe  d'Espagnac,  and  Disderiksen  were  led  in 
after  Bazire.  After  these,  Philippeaux,  Lacroix,  Wester- 
mann,  and  Fabre  d'Eglantine,  Two  turnkeys  supported 
the  latter,  who  was  ill.  During  the  toilet,  Fabre  said 
he  wished  to  speak  to  Fouquier.  One  of  my  assistants 
called  a  clerk,  who  said  this  was  not  possible.  Citizen 
Fabre  then  became  angry,  and  cried  :  '  You  ought  to  be 
satisfied  with  murdering  me,  and  not  steal  my  property  ! 
I  publicly  protest  against  the  infamy  of  the  members  of 
the  Tribunal,  who  have  stolen  from  me  a  MS.  comedy, 
which  had  nothing  to  do  with  the  trial.'  Lacroix  and 
Philippeaux  were  calm. 

Fabre  was  still  speaking  when  a  noise  was  heard  in 
the  passage.  We  recognised  the  voice  of  Citizen  Dan- 
ton,  and  there  was  a  dead  silence.  His  words  came  out 
like  a  torrent.  I  distinctly  heard  him  say  to  the  clerk 
who  wanted  to  read  out  his  judgment :  *  Be  d — d,  and 
your  judgment  with  you  !    I  won't  listen  to  it !     What  a 


138  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  SANSONS. 

farce ! '  He  thundered  away,  and  all  seemed  to  recoil 
before  him.  But  when  he  saw  the  other  convicts,  his 
-demeanour  altered  completely.  He  assumed  a  cold,  in- 
different air,  and  calmly  walked  up  to  me.  He  sat 
down,  and  tore  away  his  collar,  saying  :  '  Do  your  duty, 
Citizen  Sanson.'  I  cut  his  hair  myself.  It  was  thick 
and  hard  like  a  mane.  Meanwhile  he  went  on  speaking 
to  his  friends :  *  This  is  the  beginning  of  the  end ; 
they'll  guillotine  the  representatives  wholesale.  Com- 
mittees governed  by  a  Couthon  without  legs,  and  a 
Robespierre.  ...  If  I  could  leave  them  mine,  they 
might  go  on  for  some  time.  .  .  .  But  no ;  France  will 
awake  in  a  cesspool  before  long.'  Shortly  after,  he  ex- 
claimed :  '  We  have  accomplished  our  task.  Let  us  go 
and  sleep.' 

Citizens  Herault  de  Sechelles  and  Camille  Desmou- 
lins  were  led  in  next.  The  former  gave  no  sign  of  emo- 
tion ;  the  latter  spoke  of  his  wife  and  child  in  heartrend- 
ing terms.  As  soon  as  he  saw  us,  he  was  seized  with  a 
tremendous  fit  of  rage.  He  rushed  upon  my  assistants, 
and  struggled  with  them  like  a  giant.  All  his  clothes 
were  torn  in  the  scuffle.  Four  men  had  to  hold  him 
-down  on  the  chair.  His  friends  tried  to  soothe  him — 
Fabre  with  soft  words,  Danton  with  a  tone  of  authority. 
The  latter  said  :  '  Leave  these  men  alone  !  What's  the 
use  of  fighting  with  the  servants  of  the  guillotine } 
They  are  only  doing  their  duty.     Do  yours.' 

At  length  everything  was  ready.  Ducray  headed 
the  cortege.  The  members  of  the  Convention  and 
■General  Westermann  occupied  the  first  cart,  in  which  I 


CHARLES  HENRI  SANSON'S  DIARY.  139 

and  Henri  sat  down  also  ;  four  assistants  were  in  the 
second  cart  with  the  other  convicts.  The  escort  was  as 
numerous  as  that  provided  for  the  Queen  and  the  Giron- 
■dins.  Danton  stood  in  the  first  rank,  behind  me  ;  next 
to  him  was  Herault  de  Sechelles ;  Fabre,  Camille,  and 
Philippeaux  were  behind.  Chabot  was  the  only  one 
who  sat  down.  He  had  tried  to  poison  himself,  and 
suffered  much.  Bazire  stood  next  to  him,  and  spoke  to 
liim  words  of  tender  friendship. 

As  the  carter  whipped  his  horse  Danton  exclaimed  : 
*  The  idiots  !  they'll  cry  "  Long  live  the  Republic  !  "  In 
half-an-hour  the  Republic  will  be  without  a  head ! ' 
Fabre  d'Eglantine  was  inconsolable  about  his  comedy, 
which  he  said  was  in  verse ;  upon  which  Danton 
laughed,  and  said  to  him  :  'Verses  !  ^  you'll  have  enough 
■of  them  in  a  week,  and  we  too.' 

As  we  reached  the  quay,  Camille  Desmoulins  became 
very  furious.  '  Do  you  not  recognise  me  .•* '  cried  he; 
The  Bastille  fell  at  my  bidding!  Come  to  my  help, 
republicans  !     Do  not  let  them  murder  us  ! ' 

His  cries  were  received  with  groans.  His  fury  in- 
creased, and  we  had  to  threaten  to  tie  him  to  the  side 
of  the  cart  if  he  did  not  remain  still.  Danton,  who 
■clearly  saw  that  the  people  who  surrounded  them  would 
not  rise  to  free  them,  said  to  Camille  in  a  strong  voice : 
^  Be  quiet,  be  quiet !  do  not  hope  to  soften  this  vile 
rabble.'  And  Lacroix  :  *  Be  calm  ;  think  rather  of  com- 
manding respect  than  of  exciting  pity.' 

^  Vers  in  French,  and  as  far  as  euphony  is  concerned,  means  worm  as 
well  as  verse. 


I40  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  SANSONS. 

Danton  was  right:  there  was  no  hope  for  them. 
The  escort  was  surrounded  by  the  usual  attendants  of 
the  guillotine,  and  they  shouted  so  that  it  was  impossible 
for  the  public  at  large  to  hear  what  the  prisoners  said. 

Passing  before  a  cafe  we  saw  a  citizen,  seated  on  a 
window-sill,  who  was  drawing  likenesses  of  the  prisoners. 
The  latter  looked  at  him,  and  murmured :  *  David^ 
David  ! '  Danton  raised  his  voice,  and  cried  :  '  Is  that 
you,  valet  ?  Go  and  tell  your  master  how  soldiers  of 
liberty  can  die.'  Lacroix  also  spoke  to  him  violently. 
David  went  on  drawing.  Doors,  windows,  and  shutters 
were  closed  in  Duplay's  house  (where  Robespierre  lives). 
When  the  prisoners  saw  the  house,  they  aimed  sarcasm 
over  sarcasm  at  its  walls.  *  Vile  hypocrite ! '  said  Fabre. 
*  The  coward  is  hiding  himself,  as  he  hid  on  August  lo,*" 
cried  Lacroix.  Danton's  voice  rose  louder  than  any. 
His  face  was  purple,  and  his  eyes  glistened  like  burning 
coals.  'You  shall  appear  in  this  cart  in  your  turn, 
Robespierre,'  he  exclaimed,  *  and  the  soul  of  Danton 
will  howl  with  joy  ! ' 

Danton  was  the  same  to  the  last :  passing  without 
transition  from  the  most  violent  anger  to  the  greatest 
calmness  ;  at  times  brutal,  at  others  sarcastic,  and  always 
firm.  As  we  came  in  sight  of  the  scaffold  his  colour 
slightly  altered.  The  attention  with  which  I  looked  at 
him  seemed  to  displease  him,  for  he  elbowed  me  roughly, 
saying  :  '  Have  you  not  a  wife  and  children  t '  I  replied 
that  I  had.  He  then  resumed  with  impetuosity :  '  So* 
have  I.     I  was  thinking  of  them.'     And  I  heard  him 


CHARLES  HENRI  SANSON'S  DIARY.  141 

tnurmur :  *  My  wife,  I  shall  not  then  see  you  again  !  My 
child,  I  shall  not  see  you  ! '  ^  But  a  few  seconds  after  he 
was  himself  again. 

Delaunay,  Chabot,  Bazire,  the  two  Freys,  Gusman, 
Disderiksen,  and  D'Espagnac  died  first.  When  Camille 
Desmoulins  was  on  the  platform  he  asked  me  to  do 
him  a  last  favour,  which  was  to  take  a  lock  of  his  hair 
and  send  it  to  his  mother-in-law.  He  then  stepped  to- 
wards the  weigh-plank  without  resistance.  Fabre,  La- 
croix,  Westermann,  Philippeaux  suffered  next.  Wester- 
mann  cried  several  times, '  Vive  la  Rcpitblique  ! '  Herault 
de  Sechelles  came  next,  and  Danton  with  him,  although 
he  was  not  called.  My  assistant  had  already  seized 
Sechelles,  when  Danton  advanced  to  embrace  him.  But 
it  was  too  late.  Danton  looked  on  while  his  friend  was 
being  executed,  with  such  coolness  as  does  not  belong 
to  man.  Not  a  muscle  in  his  face  moved.  He  seemed 
to  defy  not  only  the  fear  of  death,  but  death  itself. 
The  weigh-plank  was  hardly  lowered  when  he  advanced. 
I  advised  him  to  turn  round  while  the  body  was  being 
removed.  He  shrugged  his  shoulders  contemptuously. 
*  Do  not  forget  to  show  my  head  to  the  mob ;  they  have 
not  often  seen  one  like  it ! ' 

When,  according  to  his  last  wish,  Danton's  head  was 
shown,  there  were  cries  of  '  Vive  la  RepubliqiLe I'  but 
not  many. 

The  cemetery  of  La  Madeleine,  where  are  the  King, 
the  Queen,  and  the  Girondins,  having  been  closed,  the 

*  Madame  Danton  was  enceinte  when  her  husband  was  put  to  death. 


142  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  SANSONS. 

fifteen  corpses  of  the  Dantonists  were  taken  to  the 
small  cemetery  which  has  just  been  opened  near  the 
Barri^re  Monceaux. 

I  went  to  the  Palace  of  Justice  to  take  orders  for  to- 
morrow. Met  Desboisseaux  and  Vilate,  two  jurors. 
They  wanted  to  know  how  Danton  had  died.  I  related 
what  I  had  seen.  '  It  is  not  astonishing  ;  he  was  drunk/ 
exclaimed  one  of  them.  I  assured  them  that  Danton, 
was  not  drunk  at  all ;  upon  which  they  called  me  a  traitor 
and  a  blackguard,  and  went  away  in  a  passion. 

Germinal  17. — I  did  to-day  what  Citizen  Desmou- 
lins  asked  me.  I  got  the  address  of  his  father  and 
mother-in-law,  at  his  house  in  the  Rue  de  la  Comedie, 
and  went  to  No.  17  Rue  des  Arcs.  Of  course  I  did  not 
go  up.  I  sent  for  the  servant,  without  telling  her  who  I 
was,  and  said  that,  being  present  at  the  execution  of 
Citizen  Desmoulins,  he  had  asked  me  to  hand  a 
locket  to  the  mother  of  his  wife.  I  then  departed  ; 
but  I  soon  heard  steps  behind.  The  servant  came  up, 
saying  that  Citizen  Duplessis,  Camille  Desmoulins* 
father-in-law,  wished  to  speak  to  me.  I  answered  that 
I  was  in  a  hurry,  and  that  I  would  return  another  day. 
But  at  that  moment  Citizen  Duplessis  himself  came  up. 
I  told  him  what  I  had  said  to  the  girl.  He  answered 
that  I  must  have  something  more  to  say  to  him ;  and  he 
insisted  so  much  that  I  could  not  but  follow  him.  He 
lived  on  the  second  floor.  We  entered  a  richly-furnished 
room.  He  showed  me  a  chair,  and  sat  down.  Hearing 
the  cry  of  a  child,  I  turned  round  and  saw  a  cradle  in 
the  corner  of  the  apartment.     Citizen  Duplessis  ran  up 


i 


CHARLES  HENRI  SANSON'S  DIARY.  145 

to  the  cradle,  and  took  out  a  child,  who  looked  unwell. 
He  showed  him  to  me,  and  said  :  *  It  is  his  son.*  He 
kissed  the  baby,  and  said,  with  an  effort :  '  You  were 
there — you  saw  him  ? '  I  nodded  my  assent.  *  He  died 
like  a  brave  man — like  a  republican,  eh  ? '  I  answered 
that  Camille's  last  words  had  been  for  those  he  loved. 
After  a  pause,  he  suddenly  turned  pale,  and  wringing  his. 
hands  :  '  And  my  poor  daughter,  my  Lucille ! '  he  ex~ 
claimed  ;  *  will  they  kill  her,  as  they  killed  him  } '  And  he 
expressed  his  grief  in  heartrending  terms.  ^  A  cold  shudder 
crept  over  me.  M.  Duplessis  walked  to  and  fro,  clenching 
his  fists.  As  he  was  passing  before  a  bust  of  Liberty  on 
the  mantelpiece,  he  threw  it  down,  and  furiously  broke  it 
to  pieces.  I  was  grieved  and  awed,  and  found  no  words 
of  consolation  for  the  poor  old  man.  There  was  a  ring 
at  that  moment,  and  an  elderly  lady,  whose  handsome 
face  was  pale  with  despair,  entered  and  threw  herself  inta 
the  arms  of  Citizen  Duplessis,  crying  :  '  Lost !  she  is  lost ! 
She  is  to  appear  in  three  days  before  the  Tribunal.'  It 
was  Madame  Desmoulins'  mother.  I  was  seized  with 
terror  at  the  thought  that  I  might  be  recognised  by  a 
woman  in  the  loss  of  whose  happiness  I  had  a  finger ; 
and  I  ran  away,  as  if  I  had  committed  a  crime. 

Germinal  1 8. — A  generous  citizen  presented  himself 
yesterday  before  the  Convention,  and  offered  to  defray 
all  the  expenses  of  the  guillotine.  Executed  seven  mert 
and  four  women  to-day. 

Germinal  20.— Desmoulins'  wife  is  at  the  Concier- 
gerie   with   her   so-called    accomplices.      They   are   to 

*  Madame  Desmoulins  had  been  arrested. 


144  '       MEMOIRS  OF  THE  SANSONS, 

appear  to-morrow    before    the    Tribunal,   with  Citizen 
Chaumette  and  several  others. 

Germinal  23. — To-day  we  put  to  death  Claude 
Souchon,  formerly  general  in  the  army  of  the  Pyrenees. 
He  was  a  very  brave  man,  and  he  died  crying  :  '  Vive  la 
Republique  ! ' 


145 


CHAPTER   XL. 

CHARLES  HENRI  SANSON'S  DIARY— continued. 

Germinal  24. — The  trial  of  the  wife  of  Citizen  Des- 
moulins  was  concluded  to-day.  Her  despair  was  intense 
when  she  arrived  at  the  Conciergerie.  It  was  at  first 
thought  that  she  was  insane,  and  some  hoped  that  she 
might  be  saved  on  account  of  her  diseased  mind.  But 
she  recovered  her  wits  during  the  trial,  and  her  fate  was 
soon  sealed.  With  her  were  tried  a  batch  of  revolu- 
tionnaires,  among  whom  were  Chaumette  and  Arthur 
Dillon,  ex-count,  and  general  of  the  Army  of  Ardennes, 
and  Hebert's  wife. 

When  the  last  hour  came,  Madame  Desmoulins  ap- 
peared dressed  in  her  best  attire.  Madame  Hebert  cried 
much,  and  Madame  Desmoulins  tried  to  console  her.  As 
she  was  stepping  into  the  cart,  Dillon  approached  her. 
She  told  him  that  she  bitterly  regretted  being  the  cause 
of  his  death.  Dillon  answered  that  it  was  not  her  fault, 
and  he  expressed  his  grief  at  the  sad  fate  of  so  young 
and  so  charming  a  creature.  Madame  Desmoulins 
interrupted  him  :  *  Look  at  me,'  she  exclaimed,  '  and  say 
whether  my  face  is  that  of  a  woman  who  needs  consola- 
tion. My  only  wish,  since  Camille's  death,  has  been  to 
VOL.  II.  L 


146  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  SANSONS. 

join  him  ;  this  wish  is  now  about  to  be  accomplished. 
If  I  did  not  detest  those  who  have  condemned  me^. 
because  they  murdered  the  best  and  most  honest  of  men, 
I  would  bless  them  for  the  boon  they  now  confer  on  me/' 
She  then  bade  farewell  to  Dillon.  Dillon  was  in  the 
first  cart,  Madame  Desmoulins  in  the  second,  with  the 
Grammont-Nourrys,  Lacroix,  Lapalu,  Lassalle,  and 
Madame  Hebert.  On  the  way  she  talked  with  the  last 
two  citizens,  who  were  very  young — Lapalu  was  twenty- 
six  years  of  age,  and  Lassalle  twenty-four.  She  spoke 
so  gaily  that  she  made  them  smile  more  than  once. 
Their  conversation  was  troubled  by  the  tears  of  Madame 
Hubert,  and  by  the  two  Grammonts,  v/ho  kept  on 
quarrelling  with  each  other.  The  son  charged  the  father 
with  having  caused  his  death.  In  his  rage  the  young 
man  called  his  father  a  ruffian.  '  Sir,'  said  to  him 
Madame  Desmoulins,  *  it  is  said  that  you  insulted  Marie 
Antoinette  on  the  way  to  the  scaffold  ;  you  should  have 
preserved  some  of  your  audacity  for  to-day.'  She  died 
without  even  turning  pale.  Dillon  cried  *  Vive  le  Roi  !  ' 
Grammont  the  elder  wished  to  embrace  his  son,  but  the 
latter  would  not  let  him. 

Germinal  25. — This  morning  I  sent  some  hair  of 
Madame  Desmoulins  to  her  father  and  mother.  I  gave 
the  parcel  to  a  Savoyard  who  did  not  know  me,  and 
directed  him  to  take  it  to  M.  Duplessis'  house,  for  I  did 
not  care  about  going  there  again.  To-day  we  executed 
a  nobleman,  Jacques  Antoine  de  la  Barbiere  de  Refluet, 
and  three  individuals  of  lesser  importance. 

Germinal  26. — Charles  Mathias  Dalengon  de  Neu- 


CHARLES  HENRI  SANSON'S  DIARY,  147 

ville,  ex-count ;  Marie  Jeanne  de  Lescale  and  Victoire  de 
Lescale ;  Marie  Constance  Galley,  nun  ;  Aime  Courradin 
de  Lanone ;  Louis  Etienne  Brevet  de  Beaujour,  barrister 
at  Angers ;  Jean-Baptiste  Lareveilliere,  president  of  the 
tribunal  of  Maine-et-Loire ;  Louis  Diensic  de  Mizauge, 
ex-count ;  and  Jean  Frangois  Antoine  Tissier  Ducloseau, 
magistrate,  were  executed  to-day. 

Germinal  27. — Hugues  Louis  Jean  Pelletier  de 
Chambure,  master  of  the  post-office  at  Arras  ;  Francois 
Constant  Cassegrain,  ex-curate  of  Pithiviers ;  Jacques 
Huet,  hairdresser ;  Pierre  Laville,  shoemaker  and  mem- 
ber of  the  revolutionary  committee  of  the  section  of  the 
Tuileries  ;  and  Paul  Lapeyre,  surgeon,  were  guillotined 
to-day. 

Germinal  28. — A  great  deal  is  said  of  a  new  decree 
which  is  about  to  be  issued  on  the  proposition  of  Citizen 
St.  Just,  outlawing  all  foreigners  and  noblemen  who 
should  be  found  in  Paris  two  days  after  the  issue  of  the 
decree.  No  one  could  help  smiling  at  the  alleged  con- 
spiracy of  Danton,  Herault  de  Sechelles,  and  Camille 
Desmoulins — the  said  plot  has  now  become  an  article  of 
faith  in  which  one  must  believe  or  die.  In  a  private 
conversation  with  Vadier,  Dufourny  tried  to  play  the  part 
of  St.  Thomas  ;  Vadier  forthwith  denounced  him  at  the 
Club  des  Jacobins,  and  at  the  requisition  of  Robespierre 
he  has  been  expelled  from  the  Club.  He  can  consider 
himself  lucky  in  getting  off  so  easily.  The  other  day  I 
witnessed  the  arrest  of  a  poor  artisan  because  he  said 
that  Danton  was  a  good  fellow,  and  a  better  man  than 
St.  Just.     To-day  we  led  to  the  guillotine  seven  convicts, 

L2 


148  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  SANSONS. 

Jdrdmie  Baudot,  monk  ;  Jacques  Pierre  Chalot,  curate  of 
Marsal ;  Julien  Decous,  curate  of  Nouvillac  ;  Charles 
Tibault  Acor,  Hippolyte  Mermin,  Pierre  Louis  Henry, 
and  Hector  Simille,  tradesmen  and  labourers. 

Germinal  30. — Since  Dumas  has  succeeded  to  Her- 
man as  president  of  the  Tribunal,  trials  take  place  in 
larger  numbers,  a  prodigy  which  was  thought  impossible. 
Seventeen  persons  were  sentenced  to  death  yesterday ; 
I  executed  them  this  morning.  This  execution  was  one 
of  the  most  lamentable  in  which  I  ever  took  a  part. 
The  women  were  in  a  majority.  Several  among  these 
women  had  their  children  in  the  carts.  Jacques  Joseph 
Laborde,  banker ;  Arthur  Gustave  Geneste,  banker ; 
Pierre  Haringue  de  Guibeville,  nobleman,  late  president 
of  the  parliament  of  Paris  ;  Marie  Haringue  de  Bonnaire  ; 
Marie  Charlotte  de  Bonnaire ;  Marie  Louise  de  Charras, 
of  Angouleme;  Frangois  Mesnard  de  Chouzy  ;  Sebastien 
Rollat,  nobleman  ;  Rene  Rollat,  officer ;  Louis  Georges 
Gougenot;  Anne  Marie  de  Mesle,  wife  of  Marshal  de 
Mesle;  Ange-Michel  de  Bellecourt,  officer  in  the  Russian 
service ;  Jeanne  Marie  Nogues,  wife  of  Bellecourt  ; 
Marguerite  Anne  Gouvel;  Jean  Robin,  Guibeville's  valet ; 
and  Francois  Mathieu  Payma,  servant  of  the  younger 
Madame  de  Bonnaire — all  convicted  of  conspiracy 
against  liberty.  The  sight  was  affecting  in  the  extreme, 
for  the  women  cried  and  moaned. 

Floreal  i. — The  Tribunal  has  judged,  in  the  name  of 
Revolution,  those  who  used  to  judge  in  the  name  of 
Justice,  and  to-day  I  led  to  the  guillotine  the  same 
magistrates  whose  sentences  I  was  wont  to  carry  out.     I 


CHARLES  HENRI  SANSON'S  DIARY.  149 

had  been  much  moved  on  seeing  them  leaving  the 
Tribunal,  to  the  number  of  twenty-five  of  the  parliament 
of  Paris  and  provincial  parliaments,  advancing  in  a  file, 
the  presidents  first,  and  the  others  behind  them,  grave 
and  austere  as  if  they  had  been  going  to  some  ceremony. 
When  they  were  brought  to  the  Hall  of  the  Dead,  and 
when  President  Pochard  de  Sarron  held  out  his  hands 
to  me,  I  trembled,  and  could  not  help  showing  con- 
sternation ;  whereupon  the  president  said  to  me  : 

*  Do  what  the  law  orders.  Even  an  unjust  law  is  a 
law.' 

In  the  cart,  and  before  the  guillotine,  they  retained 
the  same  attitude :  no  tears,  or  reproaches,  or  clap-trap 
bravery.  They  died  with  the  serene  pride  of  the  old 
Romans,  who  waited  for  the  Gauls. 

Floreal  2. — The  Jacobins  have  been  engrossed  with 
a  mighty  affair.  The  tax-collector  of  their  section 
thought  that  patriotism  had  nothing  to  do  with  the  pay- 
ment of  rent,  especially  when  this  rent  was  to  go  into 
the  coffers  of  the  State ;  he  therefore  wrote  to  the  com- 
mittee of  the  Club  asking  for  what  was  due  to  the  nation. 
Indignation  was  great  at  this  audacity,  and  Collot 
d'Herbois  asked  that  the  misdemeanant  should  be  sent 
to  the  Revolutionary  Tribunal.  The  times  have,  then, 
returned  when  great  lords  used  to  throw  their  creditors 
out  of  the  windows — with  this  difference,  that  the  window 
is  now  a  loop-hole,  and  is  called  a  guillotine.  Six 
executions  to-day. 

Floreal  3. — Great  citizens,  good  and  righteous  men, 
now  appear  uninterruptedly  on  the  guillotine.     Those 


ISO  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  SANSONS. 

who  govern  should  understand  that  this  daily  butchery 
cannot  but  become  hateful,  and  disgust  the  population. 
The  fellows  who  usually  follow  my  carts,  ferocious  as 
they  are,  are  getting  milder,  and,  as  to  the  good  citizens, 
they  now  close  their  doors  and  windows  as  soon  as  I 
appear  in  the  street  with  the  convicts  who  are  to  suffer. 
To-day  we  had  to  deal  with  Citizen  Lamoignon  de 
Malesherbes,  the  King's  former  defender ;  he  was 
arrested  at  his  country-house,  with  all  his  family. 
President  de  Rosambeau,  executed  the  day  before  yester- 
day, was  his  son-in-law.  His  daughter  and  grand- 
daughter were  executed  with  him  to-day.  After  his 
arrest  he  was  incarcerated  in  the  Port- Libre  ;  on  arriving 
there  he  met  one  of  his  former  clerks,  who  exclaimed : 

*  What !  you  here,  sir  1 '  '  Yes,  my  friend,'  answered 
Malesherbes,  smiling ;  *  I  am  becoming  a  scamp  in  my 
old  age,  and  that  is  why  they  put  me  in  prison.' 
D'Espremenil,  who  was  so  famous  in  the  old  parliament 
of  Paris,  was  also  among  the  convicts.  He  had  recanted 
his  republican  opinions,  and  had  defended  royalty  as 
warmly  as,  at  first,  he  had  attacked  it.  After  August 
10  he  was  badly  beaten  and  wounded  by  a  party  of 
insurgents  who  recognised  him.  Pethion  having  come 
to  his  help,  D'Espremenil  pointed  to  his  wounds,  saying : 

*  And  I,  too,  M.  Pethion,  used  to  be  the  people's  idol.* 
Malesherbes  was  firm  and  even  cheerful.  As  I  ap- 
proached him  he  was  winding  up  his  watch;  he  con- 
tinued to  do  so,  saying :  '  One  moment,  friend.*  When 
his  hair  was  cut,  and  his  hands  tied,  he  asked  me  to 
put  his   wig   on  his   head  again,  not,  he  said,  because 


CHARLES  HENRI  SANSON'S  DIARY,  151 

"he  was  afraid  of  catching  a  cold,  but  because  he  dis- 
hked  cold  weather.  He  then  went  up  to  Chateaubriand, 
his  granddaughter's  husband  ;  the  latter  sank  down  on 
his  knees,  as  also  his  wife  and  Madame  de  Rosambeau, 
Malesherbes'  daughter,  and  they  received  his  blessing. 
He  stumbled  in  descending  the  staircase  of  the  Concier- 
gerie,  and  nearly  fell ;  upon  which,  speaking  to  his  chil- 
dren, he  said  :  'This  is  what  one  may  call  a  bad  omen ; 
a  Roman  would  go  in  again.'  His  children  sat  near  him 
in  the  cart ;  their  conversation  was  very  touching  :  they 
assured  the  old  man  that  they  were  only  too  happy  to 
die  with  him.  Malesherbes  answered  with  the  utmost 
coolness,  and  was  firm  to  the  end.  D'Espremenil  was 
next  to  Le  Chappelier,  also  sentenced  to  death,  who,  in 
the  Constituent  Assembly,  had  been  his  most  obstinate 
opponent.  As  we  were  starting,  the  latter  said  to  his 
companion  :  *  Sir,  in  a  few  seconds  we  shall  have  the  solu- 
tion of  a  terrible  problem.'  '  What  problem  } '  *  That  of 
knowing  who  of  us  two  will  be  hooted  by  the  mob  ! ' 
*  We  shall  be  hooted  both,'  answered  D'Espremenil.  With 
the  above  died  Jacques  Geoges  Thouret,  member  of  the 
Constituent  Assembly  ;  Frederick  Hill,  commissioner  in 
the  department  of  Bas-Rhin  ;  Dolphine  Antonine  de 
Rochechouart,  Duchess  du  Chatelet,  Beatrix  de  Choiseul, 
Duchess  of  Grammont,  Marie  Victor  Boucher  de 
Rochechouart,  Viscountess  de  Pontville,  Pierre  Par- 
mentier,  tax  collector,  and  Louis  Philippe  Mousset, 
carpenter. 

Floreal  5. — When    the    King    of    Prussia    entered 
Verdun  last  year,  some  of  the  inhabitants  presented  him 


1 52  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  SAN  SONS. 

with  the  keys  of  the  town  ;  the  wives  and  daught( 
the  burghers  offered  him  wreaths  of  flowers  ;  they  were 
present  at  a  ball  given  in  the  enemy's  honour  by  the 
royalist  municipality,  and  the  women  danced  with  the 
Prussian  officers.  The  ringleaders  have  been  tried  for 
this  crime  by  the  Revolutionary  Tribunal — thirty-four 
male  and  female  inhabitants  have  been  sentenced  ta 
death.  The  youth  of  three  of  the  women  it  was  hoped 
might  save  their  lives,  but  this  attenuation  of  their  crime 
was  only  admitted  in  favour  of  Claire  Tabouillot  and 
Barbe  Henry,  who  were  seventeen  years  of  age  ;  their 
sentence  was  that  they  should  be  shown  on  the  guillotine 
for  six  hours.  Had  to  execute  the  thirty-four  culprits 
to-day,  and  a  terrible  day's  work  it  was. 

Floreal  6. — This  morning  at  ten  o'clock  Claire 
Tabouillot  and  Barbe  Henry  were  shown  on  the  guillotine 
on  which  their  mothers  and  sisters  were  killed  yesterday. 
They  were  to  remain  there  six  hours,  but  after  an  hour 
Barbe  Henry  fainted.  Claire  Tabouillot  was  so  pale 
that  everybody  saw  she  was  about  to  faint  also.  The 
mob  cried  *  Enough  ! '  So  Henri,  my  son,  went  to  the 
House  of  Justice  to  inform  Fouquier-Tinville  of  what 
was  taking  place.  Naudin,  Fouquier's  substitute,. 
ordered  him  to  untie  the  girls  and  send  them  to  prison, 
which  was  done  at  half-past  twelve.  At  four  o'clock 
we  executed  Mathleu  Schweryer,  bootmaker;  Jacques 
Pommerage,  hairdresser,  sentenced  for  singing  anti- 
republican  songs ;  Frangois  Bonin,  printer,  who  had 
called  Robespierre  a  conspirator ;  Jean  Francois  Noel> 
potter ;  Jeanne  Elizabeth  Bertault,  Nicolas  Emmanuel 


CHARLES  HENRI  SANSON'S  DIARY,  153 

Lescoffier,  Jean  Nicolas  Lallemand,  priest ;  Jean  Claude 
Jacquot,  lawyer,  &c.,  &c. — twelve  in  all. 

Flor^al  9. — To-day  Citizen  Fouquier  behaved  like  a 
man.  When  he  was  compelled  to  sell  his  office  as 
barrister  of  the  Chatelet,  the  Civil  lieutenant,  Augrand 
d'AUeray,  was  very  kind  to  him.  Fouquier  remembered 
it.  Augrand  d'AUeray  had  been  imprisoned  at  Port- 
Libre  ;  he  was  an  inoffensive  old  man,  and  there  was 
little  chance  of  his  being  brought  up  for  judgment.  Un- 
fortunately his  name  was  found,  by  chance,  in  a  list  of 
dangerous  prisoners.  Fouquier  proved  that  he  wished 
to  save  him,  for  he  recommended  him  to  the  jurors  ;  but 
Augrand  refused  to  be  let  cff.  With  him  were  executed 
Aymond  Charles  Francois  de  Nicolai*,  late  president  of 
the  Grand  Council,  and  thirty-three  other  convicts,  most  of 
whom  were  noblemen  and  magistrates. 

Floreal  10. — Gamain,  the  locksmith,  who  denounced 
Louis  XVI.,  has  addressed  a  petition  to  the  Convention,, 
asking  for  a  reward.  The  Assembly  has  granted  the 
man's  petition. 

Floreal  1 1. — Stanislas  de  Langanerie,  chevalier  de  St 
Louis,  convicted  of  having  been  one  of  the  Knights  of 
the  Dagger,  was  executed  to-day.  It  is  now  a  long 
time  since  we  had  only  one  convict  to  put  to  death,  and 
the  people  hardly  took  the  trouble  to  look  on.  The 
Tribunal  to-day  acquitted  fifteen  persons.  Several  among^ 
these  lucky  persons  had,  according  to  provincial  custom, 
added  the  name  of  Marat  to  their  names.  Before  dis- 
charging them  Dumas,  who  presided,  made  them  a  little 


154  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  S ANSON S, 

speech  on  the  duties  imposed  by  the  patronage  of  the 
great  citizen. 

Flo7'cal  12. — We  executed  seven  plebeians  and  two 
noblemen. 

Flo7^eal  13. — Denys  Corbillet,  upholsterer,  and  lieu- 
tenant in  the  National  Guard ;  Pierre  Diacbn,  inspector 
of  arms  at  the  arsenal ;  and  Leonce  Pitrat,  curate  of 
Livemont,  suffered  to-day. 

Floreal  14, — We  led  to  the  Place  de  la  Revolution 
the  officers  and  grenadiers  of  the  battalion  'des  Filles 
Saint-Thomas,'  who  alone,  on  the  loth  of  August, 
defended  the  King.  There  were  twelve  of  them. 
Denys  Repoux  de  Chevagny  suffered  with  them. 

Floreal  17. — To-day  the  Convention  issued  a  decree 
by  which  the  general  farmers  are  to  be  tried  by  the 
Revolutionary  Tribunal.  Citizen  Dupin,  a  deputy,  has 
written  the  report  against  them.  The  twenty  millions 
given  up  by  them  to  the  nation  cannot  save  them,  I  fear. 
They  were  speaking  at  the  House  of  Justice  of  the  trial 
of  Elizabeth,  sister  of  the  King,  which  is  soon  to  take 
place.    Nine  executions  yesterday ;  twenty-three  to-day. 

Floreal  19. — The  trial  of  the  general  farmers  was  con- 
cluded to-day.  Four  were  acquitted — Sanlot,  Delaage 
the  younger,  Bellefait,  and  Delatante :  all  the  others, 
twenty-eight  in  number,  were  condemned  to  death,  and 
•executed  at  two  o'clock  this  afternoon.  One  of  them, 
Lavoisier,  was  a  great  chemist.  He  asked  for  a  delay 
of  a  fortnight  in  order  to  achieve  a  discovery ;  but  his 
brief  was  not  acceded  to.     Most  of  the  convicts  seemed 


'fn  y-O  '-'-( 


m 


ATjAM:a*:s:Li2iA3:Ea':i 


CHARLES  HENRI  SANSON'S  DIARY,  155 

to  have  no  regret.  Paplllon  d'Hauteville  said,  addressing 
the  rnob :  *  The  only  thing  which  annoys  me  is  that  I 
have  such  disreputable  heirs.' 

Floreal  20. — Madame  Elizabeth  was  taken  to  the 
Conciergerie  this  morning.  My  son  saw  her  ;  she  is,  he 
told  me,  very  wan  and  pale.  She  was  reading  a  prayer- 
book.  Fouquier  will  question  her  in  the  course  of  the  night. 

Floreal  22. — I  was  present  during  part  of  Madame 
Elizabeth's  trial.  Dumas  presided  ;  fiften  jurors  were  in 
the  box,  and  Limdon  was  prosecutor.  An  arm-chair  was 
given  to  the  King's  sister,  a  favour  which  surprised  me. 
A  thousand  rumours  were  circulated  concerning  this  sad 
affair.  Some  people  say  that  Robespierre  visited 
Madame  Elizabeth  in  prison,  and  hinted  that  she  could 
appear  on  the  throne  of  her  ancestors  if  she  would 
marry  him.  All  this  of  course  is  absurd.  Others  say 
that  he  was  strongly  opposed  to  the  trial.  If  one  may 
judge  by  Dumas'  polite  manners  with  the  princess,  there 
is  some  likelihood  of  this  being  true.  Elizabeth  answered 
all  questions  put  to  her  with  much  calm  and  pre- 
sence of  mind.  She  denied  the  charges  brought  against 
her.  It  was  pretty  certain  that  she  would  be  condemned, 
and  the  sentence  of  death  passed  by  the  court  surprised 
no  one.  As  a  conspiracy  cannot  but  be  concocted  by 
several  persons,  twenty-three  prisoners  were  convicted 
with  the  princess.^ 

I  left  the  Hall  of  Justice  to  prepare  for  the  execution. 

^  The  names  given  in  the  original  text  of  the  diary  are  in  the  present 
case,  as  in  many  other  places,  omitted.  They  do  not  add  to  the  interest  of 
the  executioner's  notes,  and  these  nomenclatures  are  often  tedious. — N.  Ed. 


156  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  SANSONS. 

At  four  o'clock,  Desmorets,  one  of  my  assistants,  brought' 
me  the  order.  I  was  about  to  enter  Richard's  room 
when  I  saw  a  lady,  who  held  up  a  handkerchief  to  her 
eyes.  I  recognised  the  princess,  and  entered.  Richard 
told  me  that  she  conversed  with  his  wife,  and  wanted  to- 
know  how  the  Queen  died.  While  Henri  and  the 
assistants  were  *  preparing '  the  other  convicts,  Richard 
at  length  told  Madame  Elizabeth  that  I  was  waiting. 
She  bade  farewell  to  Richard's  wife,  and  followed  him 
to  the  special  room  reserved  for  women.  When  I 
entered  she  was  already  seated,  with  her  hair  flowing 
over  her  shoulders.  She  was  praying  with  fervour. 
Her  hair  was  auburn,  very  long  and  thick.  Just  before 
I  took  her  hands  to  bind  them,  she  made  the  sign  of  the 
cross.  She  did  not  appear  to  me  as  thin  as  Henri  told 
me.  Her  waist  was  rather  thick,  like  the  King's,  and 
her  face  very  full.  The  most  apparent  trace  of  imprison- 
ment was  her  extreme  pallor.  When  I  returned  with 
her  to  the  other  convicts,  the  latter  bowed  low  to  her. 
She  spoke  to  the  Lomenies,  but  I  could  not  catch  her 
words.  .  .  .  Madame  Elizabeth  was  in  the  first  cart  with 
the  two  Lomenies,  the  bishop,  and  the  late  minister. 
The  bishop  spoke  to  her  of  God,  and  she  listened  with 
devotion. 

As  leader  of  the  conspiracy  she  was  to  be  executed 
last ;  I  had  received  very  stringent  orders  on  that  point. 
She  remained  in  the  midst  of  the  gendarmes  whilst  her 
companions  were  being  guillotined.  Two  of  the  convicts, 
Montmorin  and  Lhote,  cried,  *  Vive  leRoi  ! '  which  greatly 
infuriated  the  mob.     The  princess  heeded  not  what  was 


CHARLES  HENRI  SANSON'S  DIARY.  157 

going  on  around  her.  When  her  turn  came,  she  went 
up  the  steps,  slightly  trembling.  She  was  strapped 
down  and  guillotined  in  a  moment.  Her  body  was 
buried  at  Mousseaux,  and  a  quantity  of  quicklime  was 
spread  over  it.  Her  companions  in  death  were  buried 
in  the  same  cemetery.  The  inhabitants  of  the  neigh- 
bourhood have  discovered  that  bodies,  instead  of  being 
taken  to  the  cemetery  of  St.  Roch,  are  now  carried  to 
their  quarter,  and  they  are  much  discontented. 


158  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  SANSONS. 


CHAPTER    XLL 

CHARLES  HENRI  SANSON'S  DIARY— continued. 

The  dark  sky  under  which  we  live  is  beginning  to 
clear  up.  On  the  i8th  Robespierre  made  a  speech  in 
which  he  was  really  eloquent,  probably  because  he  was. 
sincere.  After  this  speech  the  same  deputies  who  had 
cheered  the  abjuration  of  Gobel,  and  the  scenes  which 
took  place  in  consequence,  have  declared,  in  a  decree, 
that  the  nation  recognises  the  existence  of  a  Supreme 
Being  and  the  immortality  of  the  soul.  Many  people 
joke  about  the  Maker  which  the  law  now  provides ; 
but  all  those  who  suffer  are  in  some  degree  consoled  by 
that  recognition.     Eight  executions  to-day. 

Floreal  23. — =The  hopes  I  expressed  yesterday  are 
not  yet  to  be  realised.  To-day  I  was  ordered  by  Citizen 
Fouquier  to  provide  myself  with  additional  assistants. 
It  is  said  that  the  prisoners  are  conspiring  in  the  different 
prisons  of  Paris,  and  that  short  work  must  be  made  of 
them.  If  they  do  conspire,  there  is  nothing  astonishing. 
I  see  constantly  what  takes  place  in  the  Conciergerie,. 
and  1  can  pretty  well  guess  what  occurs  elsewhere.  In 
every  prison  there  are  agents  whose  sole  mission  it  is  ta 


CHARLES  HENRI  SANSON'S  DIARY.  159. 

make  the  prisoners  talk.  They  tell  them  that  they  can 
perhaps  obtain  their  liberty ;  and  then,  when  the  unsus- 
pecting prisoners  answer,  the  spy  denounces  them.  I 
have  engaged  sixteen  new  assistants.  They  are  orga- 
nising the  service  of  the  guillotine  as  if  it  were  to  last 
for  ever.  Some  of  my  assistants  must  now  remain  in 
permanency  at  the  Conciergerie.  The  clerks  of  the 
court  will  now  go  to  the  Place  de  la  Revolution  in  turns. 
Eight  executions  to-day. 

Floreal  24. — Executed  Etienne  Mauger,  monk  of  the 
Abbey  of  Caen ;  Felix  Garde  and  Frangois  Peton,  post- 
men ;  George  Souen,  soldier ;  Jacques  Rollet  d'Avaux,. 
nobleman  ;  Jean-Baptiste  Ubeleski,  &c. — nine  in  all. 

Floreal  25. — Executed  Charles  Auguste  Prevost 
d'Arlincour,  general  farmer,  father  of  the  D'Arlincour 
who  was  guillotined  on  the  19th.  He  was  seventy- 
six  years  old.  The  sans-culottes  are  more  infuriated 
against  those  who  are  said  to  have  sophisticated  their 
tobacco  than  if  they  had  turned  their  bread  into  stone. 
They  had  no  pity  for  the  old  man.  Besides,  it  Avould  be 
imprudent  for  any  one  to  show  any  sympathy  for  any 
prisoner.  The  number  of  spies  who  usually  escort  us 
has  been  doubled  since  the  inhabitants  of  the  Rue  St. 
Honore  have  taken  to  closing  their  doors  and  windows 
whenever  a  cortege  passes.  Seven  men  and  a  woman 
suffered  with  D'Arlincour. 

Floreal  26. — Pierre  Alexandre  Joseph  Chiavary,  cap- 
tain in  the  army ;  Antoine  Baptiste  Tassin,  lawyer ; 
Ernest  Meynier,  late  deputy ;  Andre  Fissard,  solicitor ; 
Henri  Henry,  clerk  of  the  Tribunal  of  Newarden ;  Marc 


x6o  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  SANSONS. 

Blass,  grocer,  all  convicted  of  conspiracy  against  the 
sovereignty  of  the  people  ;  and  Frederic  Bernard,  draper 
at  Sens,  were  executed  to-day. 

Floreal  29. — The  son  of  Bonaree-Corberon,  ex-presi- 
dent, executed  on  the  ist  of  this  month,  was  guillotined 
to-day,  and  with  him  twelve  other  convicts.  This  morn- 
ing I  received  the  visit  of  a  maniac,  who  asked  me  to 
look  at  a  projected  guillotine  with  three  knives,  which 
he  had  invented.  He  really  amused  me.  His  pride  and 
his  hatred  against  aristocrats  were  really  very  comical. 
His  discovery,  he  said,  would  consolidate  the  Republic. 
He  left  me,  and  went  to  Fouquier-Tinville. 

Prairial  3. — Leflot,  a  manager  of  the  customs,  was 
beheaded  to-day.  In  Nivose  last,  the  wife  of  a  royalist 
was  wandering  with  her  baby  in  the  neighbourhood  of 
Tregnier,  suffering  from  cold  and  hunger,  and  risking 
starvation  every  day.  No  one  cared  to  give  her  shelter, 
or  even  a  mouthful  of  bread.  A  brave  exciseman  did 
what  others  were  afraid  to  do  :  he  concealed  the  woman 
and  her  child  in  the  hollow  of  a  rock,  and  gave  them 
clothes,  straw,  and  food.  Good  sentiments  are  as 
contagious  as  bad  ones.  The  other  excisemen  re- 
marked the  frequent  disappearances  of  their  comrade, 
and  soon  found  out  his  secret.  They  resolved  to  help 
the  poor  woman,  in  spite  of  the  laws  and  decrees  which 
ordered  them  to  be  relentless  against  royalists ;  and 
one  night  she  was  sent  on  board  an  English  ship  off  the 
coast.  Unfortunately  they  did  not  hold  their  tongues, 
and  their  act  of  charity  became  known  at  large.  The 
captain  wished  to  know  who  were  the  culprits,  but  none 


I 


CHARLES  HENRI  SANSON'S  DIARY,  i6i 

Avould  reveal  the  secret ;  and  when  Leflot  threatened  to 
pick  out  a  number  of  his  men  at  random  and  shoot  them, 
they  only  laughed,  and  answered  that  he  was  too  good  a 
fellow  to  suit  the  action  to  the  word.  Captain  Leflot  was, 
as  they  said,  a  good  and  brave  man  ;  and  he  left  the 
■offence  unpunished,  hoping  that  it  would  be  overlooked 
by  the  authorities.  His  generosity  forfeited  his  life. 
Two  persons  were  executed  with  him. 

Prairial^. — The  despotism  of  the  Committee  has  just 
been  consecrated  by  murder.  Two  days  ago  a  man  tried 
to  murder  Collot  d'Herbois  ;  yesterday  a  girl  tried  to  stab 
Robespierre.  Collot's  assailant  was  a  native  of  Auvergne, 
named  Ladmiral.  He  lived  in  the  same  house  as  Collot 
•(42  Rue  Favart).  It  is  said  that  he  intended  to  kill 
either  Robespierre  or  Collot — perhaps  both,  if  he  could. 
He  went  to  the  Convention,  intending  to  strike  the  two 
deputies  there  ;  but  Robespierre  and  Collot  were  absent, 
so  he  returned  home,  and  waited  for  the  latter.  Collot 
returned  at  one  o'clock  a.m. ;  Ladmiral,  who  lived  on 
the  fifth  landing,  was  at  the  bottom  of  the  staircase. 
He  saw  Collot's  servant  preparing  to  light  her  master 
up,  and  fired  four  pistols  at  him  without  effect.  Collot, 
who  is  brave,  made  for  the  murderer,  pursued  him  up 
the  stairs,  and  tried  to  break  his  door  open  ;  but  a  patrol 
came  up,  and  Collot  was  prevented  with  difficulty  from 
entering  first  and  arresting  Ladmiral  with  his  own  hands. 
Citizen  Geffroy,  who  seized  the  murderer,  was  wounded 
by  him.  The  attempt  on  Robespierre's  life  was  less 
serious.  The  girl  \yho  intended  to  kill  him  was  so 
earnest  in  her  entreaties  to  be  shown  into  his  presence 
VOL.  II.  M 


i62  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  SANSONS. 

that  she  was  arrested.  She  was  searched,  and  in  her 
pockets  were  found  two  pistols  and  a  dagger.  These 
two  crimes  to  some  extent  confirm  the  rumours  that 
there  is  an  extensive  conspiracy  to  murder  the  principal 
members  of  the  Convention.  To-day  we  executed  Jean- 
Baptiste  Durand,  public  functionary  ;  Frangois  Paulin^ 
teacher;  Jean  Antoine  Pascal,  lieutenant  of  gendarmes  ; 
Theodore  d'Aumongeville,  lieutenant  in  the  army;, 
Simon  Tisserand,  footman  of  the  late  Duke  du  Chatelet ;, 
Jean-Baptiste  Gautier,  &c. 

Prairial  6  and  7. — The  name  of  the  girl  who  intended 
to  murder  Robespierre  is  Cecile  Renaud.  She  is  only 
twenty  years  of  age.  The  Convention  has  issued  a 
bulletin  concerning  the  health  of  Citizen  Gefifroy,  who 
was  wounded  in  the  Collot  affair.  The  martyrdom  to 
which  Robespierre  and  Collot  were  exposed  excites  the 
envy  of  many  of  their  colleagues.  Vouland,  among 
others,  alleges  that  a  woman  tried  to  murder  him.  This 
woman  is  to  appear  to-day  before  the  Tribunal.  There 
is,  however,  every  reason  to  believe  that  she  never  con- 
templated the  act  in  question.  Patriots  attribute  to  the 
English  the  attempts  against  Robespierre  and  Collot. 
They  charge  them  with  inciting  to  the  destruction  of 
the  members  of  the  Convention.  The  Convention  has 
just  passed  a  decree  which  enacts  that  no  English  and 
Hanoverian  soldiers  shall  be  made  prisoners.  What  will 
the  French  soldiers  do  } 

Prairial  8. — The  motions  of  the  Jacobins  and  the 
Convention  have  an  effect  on  the  decisions  of  the  Tri- 
bunal.    To-day  out  of  twenty-six  prisoners  only  twa 


CHARLES  HENRI  SANSON'S  DIARY.  163 

were  acquitted,  and  we  guillotined  the  others.  Among 
these  was  one  who  richly  deserved  death.  Jourdan, 
surnamed  Coupe-tete  by  the  inhabitants  of  Avignon, 
had  committed  the  most  horrible  crimes.  He  acted  as 
Schneider  did,  and  excited  the  utmost  terror  in  and 
around  Avignon.  He  showed  more  bravery  on  the 
scaffold  than  Schneider.  Twenty- three  were  guillotined 
after  him. 

Prairial  9. — The  daggers  of  Citizeness  Cecile  Renaud 
are  now  reduced  to  two  small  knives,  with  which  she 
could  have  hurt  no  one  except  herself.  However,  as 
she  said  that  she  wanted  to  see  a  tyrant,  there  is  little 
hope  of  saving  her.  A  great  many  arrests  have  been 
made.  The  Conciergerie  received  over  fifty  inmates  to- 
day.    Executed  fourteen  peasants. 

Prairial  11. — Twelve  executions  to-day.  I  am  told 
that  a  few  days  ago,  Dumas,  Fouquier,  Brochet,  Renaudin, 
and  others  were  dining  at  Meot's,  and  that,  being  elated 
with  wine,  they  called  Meot  up,  and  told  him  that  he  was 
about  to  be  arrested  and  tried  by  the  Tribunal.  Poor 
Meot  went  down  half  dead  with  terror.  Fortunately 
Barrere,  who  sometimes  dines  at  Meot's,  caire  in.  The 
affrighted  restaurateur  threw  himself  at  his  feet,  and  im- 
plored his  protection.  As  people  were  looking  on,  Bar- 
rere told  Meot  that  the  men  upstairs  were  only  joking, 
as  indeed  they  were  ;  but  in  the  evening  Dumas  and 
Fouquier  were  summoned  by  the  Committee  of  Public 
Safety,  and  severely  reprimanded. 

Prairial  12. — Thirteen  convicts  to-day. 

Prairial  13. — Same  number  as  yesterday. 
M  2 


1 64  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  SANSONS. 

Prairial  14. — Agents  of  the  Committee  of  Public 
Safety  now  mingle  with  those  who  follow  our  carts  to 
the  scaffold.  Every  day  they  draw  up  a  report  of  what 
has  taken  place  around  the  guillotine.  If  their  accounts 
are  truthful,  those  who  send  them  mus-t  not  be  satisfied. 
The  people  are  getting  more  and  more  disgusted  with  this 
eternal  butchery.  Yesterday  I  heard  cries  of '  Enough ! ' 
and  to-day  for  the  first  time  there  was  one  solitary  hiss. 
Great  preparations  are  taking  place  for  the  Festival  of  the 
Supreme  Being  on  the  20th  ;  the  ceremony  will  take 
place  in  the  National  Garden,  and  as  the  corUge  is  to  pass 
through  the  Place  de  la  Revolution,  I  have  received 
orders  to  remove  the  guillotine  on  the  19th. 
.^  Prairial  16. — The  aspect  of  the  Conciergerie  has 
much  altered  of  late.  When  the  Revolutionary  Tribunal 
began  to  sit,  it  had  the  appearance  of  a  camp  :  the 
prisoners  were  animated  ;  they  walked  about,  laughed, 
sang,  and  talked  ;  the  greater  number  cared  little  for  life. 
When,  on  returning  from  the  guillotine,  I  used  to  tell 
one  of  the  turnkeys  what  had  taken  place,  and  when  he 
transmitted  the  news  to  them,  I  could  hear  them  cheer- 
ing those  who  had  died  pluckily,  and  drinking  in  honour 
of  those  of  their  companions  who  were  set  free.  But 
since  Danton's  execution,  the  Conciergerie  looked  what 
it  used  to  be  before  the  Revolution — the  darkest  and 
gloomiest  of  prisons.  The  fever  is  passed,  and  now  the 
prisoners  are  mournful.  Riviere  showed  me  a  man 
named  Rougane,  whose  four  brothers  were  guillotined, 
and  who  is  to  be  tried  to-morrow — and  be  guillotined 
also,  no  doubt.      This  m.orning  I  executed  the  Marquis 


CHARLES  HENRI  SANSON'S  DIARY.  165 

de  Bieville  and  his  son,  and  fifteen  other  convicts.  Among 
them  were  a  mother,  Madame  de  Goursac,  and  her  son  ; 
the  former  was  over  eighty  years  old. 

Prairial  17. — Citizen  Robespierre  was  for  the  second 
time  elected  president  of  the  Convention.  Nevertheless, 
it  appears  that  Billaud-Varennes,  Ballot,  Vadier,  and 
others  are  secretly  plotting  to  overthrow  him.  Barrere, 
who  hesitates  between  the  two  parties,  has  given  some 
consistency  to  these  rumours,  by  saying  in  a  report  that 
the  foreigner  speaks  of  us  and  of  our  soldiers  as  the  people 
of  Robespierre,  Robespierre^ s  soldiers,  Robespierre^ s  govern- 
ment, &c.  Robespierre  is  very  indignant.  Those  who 
hope  for  some  return  to  clemency  affirm  that  he  will 
break  with  the  Terrorists,  and  play  the  part  he  would 
not  allow  Danton  to  assume.  They  say  that  he  will 
pronounce  the  word  '  clemency '  in  his  speech  to  the 
people  on  the  day  of  the  Festival  of  the  Supreme  Being. 
Coming  from  him  this  word  would  be  law  ;  he  is  all- 
powerful.  The  seventy-three  deputies  incarcerated  on 
May  21  live,  by  him ;  his  moderation  towards  them 
ensures  him  a  compact  majority  in  what  is  called  the 
Plain  of  the  Convention.  He  is  master  of  the  Commune, 
of  the  Tribunal,  and  of  the  Jacobins.  He  can  be  merci- 
ful if  such  is  his  will. 

Prairial  18. — Days  follow  each  other  and  are  alike. 
Twenty-one  more  convicts  to-day.  There  are  some 
people  who  say  that  one  gets  used  to  blood  ;  this  is 
not  true,  when  this  blood  is  human  blood.  I  do  not 
speak  of  myself,  but  of  my  assistants,  whom  I  ob- 
serve.     Two  of  them  have  been  with  me  for  the  last 


1 66  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  S ANSON S. 

twelve  years,  four  others  were  butchers'  boys ;  there 
are  at  least  two  who  are  not  worth  a  rope  to  hang  them' 
with,  and  yet  there  is  not  one  who  is  not  moved  after 
a  wholesale  execution.  The  public  perceives  nothing, 
but  often  I  see  their  legs  tremble.  When  everything 
is  finished,  and  they  only  see  corpses  around  them  on 
the  scaffold,  they  look  astonished  and  uneasy.  If  such 
is  their  impression  what  must  be  that  of  the  people  ? 
Lavalette,  formerly  count  and  officer  in  the  Guards, 
was  executed  to-day.  He  was  imprisoned  at  La 
Bourbe  with  his  wife,  and  was  playing  at  battledore  and 
shuttlecock  with  her  in  the  courtyard  when  a  turnkey 
came  up  and  ordered  Lavalette  to  follow  him.  *  What 
for .? '  asked  Lavalette.  '  To  go  to  the  Tribunal,  and 
from  thence  to  the  guillotine  ! '  answered  the  brute.  The 
shock  was  so  sudden  that  Madame  de  Lavalette  lost  her 
senses.  With  Lavalette  were  executed  Joseph  Aboulin, 
lieutenant  in  the  dragoons ;  Joseph  Tournier,  priest ; 
Theodore  Delany  and  Patrick  Roden,  Irishmen,  de- 
serters ;  Jean  Foiret,  public  scribe  ;  Etienne  Felix  de 
Forceville,  nobleman ;  William  Newton,  Englishman, 
colonel  in  the  armies  of  the  Republic  ;  Mercien  d'Aube- 
ville,  nobleman,  and  judge  at  Pithiviers ;  Antoinette 
Jacquemot,  laundress ;  Dolphine  Elizabeth  Marchais ; 
Emma  Marguerite  Guillier,  &c. — twenty  in  all. 


I 


1 67 


CHAPTER   XLII. 

CHARLES  HENRI  SANSON'S   DIARY— continued. 

Prairial  21. — The  festival  of  the  Supreme  Being  took 
place  yesterday.  Flowers  were  brought  from  miles 
around  in  honour  of  the  Divinity  ;  but  the  pontiff  did 
not  pronounce  the  words  of  clemency  which  were  ex- 
pected. We  removed  the  scaffold,  and  this  gave  some 
credence  to  rumours  of  amnesty.  The  hideous  cess- 
pool of  blood  which  lies  under  the  scaffold  was  covered 
with  long  and  strong  planks.  Brilliant  as  the  proceed- 
ings were,  the  day  was  not  exactly  a  success.  They 
say  that  it  was  the  festival  of  discord,  not  of  the  Supreme 
Being.  If  Robespierre  did  not  claim  the  finest  privi- 
lege of  royalty,  clemency,  he  at  least  appropriated 
its  haughty  formalities.  He  is  accused  of  having  made 
the  Convention  wait  for  him,  with  having  preceded  the 
representatives,  as  if  to  show  that  they  were  only  a  gang 
of  inferiors  ;  even  the  elegance  of  his  dress  and  the  pro- 
portions of  the  banquet  which  he  held  are  criticised,  and 
for  some  irrepressible  republicans  these  are  unmistak- 
able tokens  of  his  royalist  leanings. 

Prairial  22. — To-day  the  Tribunal  began  the  trial  of 
the  suspected  people  sent  from  the  departments  by  the 


i68  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  SANSONS. 

representatives  in  mission.  Thirteen  inhabitants  of  the 
town  of  Corne  appeared  this  morning.  Ten  were  con- 
demned, as  were  also  three  other  prisoners.  Executed 
the  whole  of  them. 

Prairial  25. — At  last  the  brief  of  the  inhabitants 
of  the  Rue  St.  Honore  has  been  granted.  The  day 
before  yesterday,  as  I  was  going  to  bed,  I  was  called  to 
the  House  of  Justice,  where  Royer,  the  substitute,, 
ordered  me  to  clear  the  Place  de  la  Revolution  of  the 
scaffold,  and  to  take  it  to  the  Place  de  la  Bastille.  The 
carpenters  worked  all  night.  The  public  of  this  new 
quarter  has  no  liking  for  executions,  for  as  soon  as  we 
appeared  in  the  Rue  St.  Antoine  with  three  carts  full, 
we  were  hissed  and  otherwise  ill  received.  The  in- 
habitants of  the  Quartier  St.  Antoine  are  not  so  timid 
as  those  of  the  Place  de  la  Revolution,  and  they  made- 
no  secret  of  their  disgust ;  when  the  execution  took 
place  almost  everybody  had  gone  away.  The  Com- 
mittee have  determined  not  to  renew  the  experiment,. 
and  under  pretence  that  the  Place  de  la  Bastille  is  too 
good  a  place  for  aristocratic  blood,  they  have  directed  the- 
scaffold  to  be  transferred  to  the  Place  du  Trone.  So  we 
passed  another  sleepless  night.  We  are  now  to  send  the 
corpses  to  the  St.  Marguerite  Cemetery. 

Prairial  26. — The  Revolutionary  Tribunal  has  no- 
shame.  Last  month  it  acquitted  Freteau,  councillor 
of  the  parliament  of  Paris.  This  indulgence  proved 
disagreeable  to  Fouquier-Tinville,  but  he  soon  found; 
means  to  correct  what  in  his  conviction  could  only  be 
the  result  of  a  mistake.     He  declared  that  the  affair  was. 


CHARLES  HENRI  SANSON'S  DIARY.  169 

not  legal,  and  made  an  order  for  a  new  trial.  As  a 
matter  of  course,  Freteau  could  not  escape  death,  for 
Fouquier's  hint  to  the  jury  was  pretty  plain,  and  he 
was  executed  to-day,  together  with  thirty-five  other 
convicts  ;  twenty-six  of  the  number  were  councillors  of 
the  parliament  of  Toulouse. 

P^'airial  27. — To-day  I  had  trustworthy  information 
concerning  the  body-guards,  without  which,  it  is  said, 
Citizen  Robespierre  never  goes  out.  I  met  him  in  a 
very  out-of-the-way  place,  and  his  satellites  consisted  of 
a  white-and-black  dog.  Martin,  my  assistant,  proposed 
to  me  to  see  to  this  day's  work  ;  I  accepted,  for  it  was  a 
long  time  since  I  promised  to  take  my  nieces  to  the 
country,  and  I  was  glad  to  get  out  of  sight  of  the  guillo- 
tine. We  went  through  Clichy  and  got  into  the  fields. 
The  little  girls  romped  in  the  fields,  and  I  ran  about 
with  them  ;  but  my  old  legs  soon  had  enough  of  this, 
and  I  sat  down  on  the  side  of  the  road.  Presently  I 
saw  a  citizen,  with  a  dog,  who  was  coming  up.  The 
citizen  looked  at  the  children,  who  were  trying  to  reach- 
some  wild  roses  in  a  hedge,  and  obligingly  came  to  their 
help.  He  picked  the  flowers,  and  divided  them  between 
the  two  little  girls.  I  saw  the  little  ones  kiss  the  citizen. 
They  came  up  to  me  talking  and  smiling.  It  was  then 
that  I  recognised  the  stranger.  He  wore  a  dark  blue 
coat,  yellow  breeches,  and  a  white  waistcoat.  His  hair 
was  powdered  and  carefully  combed,  and  he  held  his 
hat  in  his  hand.  His  gait  was  stiff,  his  head  was  slightly 
thrown  backwards,  and  his  face  wore  a  look  of  gaiety 
which  surprised  me.      Citizen  Robespierre  asked  me  if 


170  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  SANSONS. 

the  children  were  mine.  I  replied  that  they  were  my 
nieces ;  he  congratulated  me  on  their  beauty.  Mary 
made  a  small  nosegay  and  offered  it  to  him  ;  he  took  it 
and  stuck  it  in  his  buttonhole.  He  then  asked  her  name, 
so,  he  said,  as  to  remember  her  when  the  flowers  should 
fade.  The  poor  child  not  only  gave  her  Christian,  but 
added  the  other,  whereupon  Robespierre's  face  instantly 
changed.      He  said  to  me  in  a  dry  and  haughty  voice. 

*  You  are } '     I   bowed.  For  a  few  seconds  he  was 

thoughtful ;  he  was  evidently  struggling  against  a  repul- 
sion which  he  could  not  master.  At  length  he  bent 
down,  kissed  the  children  very  tenderly,  called  his  dog, 
and  went  away  without  looking  at  me. 

Prairial  28. — At  present  the  prisons  contain  7,321 
prisoners,  but  the  gaols  are  being  rapidly  emptied.  They 
have  begun  with  Bicetre,  thirty-seven  inmates  of  which 
were  executed  to-day ;  others  are  waiting  for  trial. 
This  selection  of  common  criminals  was  premeditated  ; 
it  is  hoped  thus  to  extinguish  all  interest  on  behalf  of 
the  political  victims  that  are  to  follow  on  the  guillotine. 
The  rumour  is  again  spread  that  there  is  agitation 
among  prisoners.  We  know  what  that  means.  How- 
beit  this  is  what  took  place  at  Bicetre:  Two  locksmiths 
named  Lucas  and  Ballin — both  convicted  for  theft — had 
planned  an  escape ;  they  received  from  without  a 
file  with  which  they  cut  the  iron  bars  of  a  window. 
But  they  were  imprudent  enough  to  say  to  their  com- 
panions that  they  should  be  free  on  the  morrow,  and  to 
propose  to  a  man  of  the  name  of  Voulagnos  to  escape 
with  them.     Voulagnos  was  a  spy  ;  he  reported  the  pro- 


CHARLES  HENRI  SANSON'S  DIARY.  171 

jected  escape,  and  the  whole  affair  was  discovered.  This 
gave  rise  to  the  ingenious  idea  of  inventing  a  plot  among 
the  prisoners  of  Bicetre,  whereof  the  object  was  to 
escape  in  order  to  murder  the  members  of  the  Conven- 
tion. All  the  prisoners  designated  by  the  spy  Voulagnos 
were  tried  and  executed. 

Prairial  29. — A  terrible  day's  work  !  The  guillotine 
devoured  fifty-four  victims.  My  strength  is  at  an  end,  and 
I  almost  fainted  away.  A  caricature  has  been  shown  to 
me  in  w^hich  I  am  represented  guillotining  myself  in  the 
middle  of  a  heath  covered  with  headless  bodies  and 
bodiless  heads.  I  do  not  boast  of  extraordinary  squeam- 
ishness  ;  I  have  seen  too  much  blood  in  my  life  not  to 
be  callous.  If  what  I  feel  is  not  pity,  it  must  be  a  de- 
rangement of  my  nerves.  Perhaps  I  am  punished  by 
the  Almighty  for  my  cowardly  obedience  to  mock 
justice.  For  some  time  I  have  been  troubled  with 
terrible  visions.  I  am  taken  with  fever  as  soon  as  I 
enter  the  Conciergerie  ;  it  is  like  fire  flowing  under  my 
skin.  Abstemious  as  I  am,  it  seems  to  me  as  if 
I  were  intoxicated — the  people  who  are  around  me,  the 
furniture,  the  walls,  dance  and  whirl  around  me,  and  my 
ears  are  full  of  strange  noises.  I  struggle  against  this 
feeling,  but  in  vain.  My  hands  tremble,  and  tremble 
50  that  I  have  been  compelled  to  give  up  cutting  the 
hair  of  the  doomed  prisoners.  They  are  before  me 
weeping  and  praying,  and  I  cannot  convince  myself  of 
the  reality  of  what  is  going  on.  I  lead  them  to  death, 
and  I  cannot  believe  that  they  are  going  to  die.  It  is  like 
a,  dream  which  I  strive  to  dispel.     I  follow  the  prepara- 


172  MEMOIRS   OF  THE  SANSONS. 


\ 


tions  for  the  tragedy,  and  I  have  no  idea  what  is  ta 
occur  next,  and  I  discharge  my  functions  with  the 
mechanical  regularity  of  an  automaton.  Then  comes 
the  thump  of  the  knife  which  reminds  me  of  the  horrible 
reality.  I  cannot  hear  it  now  without  a  shudder.  A 
kind  of  rage  then  takes  possession  of  me.  Forgetting  that 
I  ought  to  blame  myself  more  than  others,  I  abuse  the 
gendarmes  who,  sabre  in  hand,  have  escorted  the  victims  ; 
I  abuse  the  people  who  look  on  without  raising  a  finger 
in  their  defence  ;  I  abuse  the  sun  which  lightens  all  this. 
At  length  I  leave  the  scaffold,  disposed  to  weep,  al- 
though I  cannot  find  a  tear.  Never  were  these  sensa- 
tions more  violent  than  to-day.  Ladmiral  and  Cecile 
Renaud  were  among  the  convicts  of  to-day,  and  the 
others  were  their  so-called  accomplices. 

Since  the  23rd  the  Committee  of  Public  Safety  sends 
lists  of  death  to  the  Tribunal.  The  arrest  of  Naudin 
and  Antonnelle,  two  jurors  who  would  not  admit  that 
revolutionary  right  was  above  right  of  justice,  shows 
that  this  Tribunal  is  no  more  than  a  sham.  While  he 
preaches  against  indulgence  at  the  Jacobins,  Robespierre 
nevertheless  abstains  from  being  present  when  these  lists 
are  being  drawn  up — that  is  to  say,  that  he  shirks  the 
odium,  so  as  to  be  able  to  show  that  he  is  guiltless  of 
bloodshed.  The  other  members  of  the  Committee  are 
aware  of  his  tactics,  and  they  gave  as  much  importance 
as  they  could  to  the  trial  of  the  *  murderers  of  Robes- 
pierre,' thereby  trying  to  sap  his  reputation  by  calling 
attention  to  his  omnipotency. 

In   this  affair  they  introduced  two  women,  the  St. 


CHARLES  HENRI  SANSON'S  DIARY.  173 

Amaranthes,  who  were  acquainted  with  Robespierre  the 
younger ;  and  they  spread  the  rumour  that  one  of  these 
women  was  Maximilian  Robespierre's  mistress,  and  that 
MaximiHan  insisted  on  her  death  because  she  surprised 
the  secret  of  his  aspirations  to  royalty. 

All  this  was  being  whispered  around  the  scaffold  ; 
but  it  was  not  this  wily  combination  of  the  Committee 
which  produced  the  deepest  impression.  Citizeness 
St.  Amaranthe  held  at  No.  50  of  the  Palais  Egalite  a 
gaming  house,  frequented  by  many  influential  men,  and 
an  equal  number  of  adventurers — Danton,  Herault  de 
Sechelles,  Lacroix,  Robespierre  the  younger,  Desfieux, 
Proly,  and  the  famous  Baron  de  Batz,  whom  the  police 
could  never  lay  hands  upon.  Madame  St.  Amaranthe's 
daughter  was  young  and  pretty.  When  mother  and 
daughter  were  arrested,  their  servants  and  friends  were 
also  taken.  Maria  Grandmaison,  an  actress  of  the 
Italian  Theatre,  and  Marie  Nicole  Bouchard,  her  ser- 
vant, were  of  the  number.  The  latter  was  only  eighteen 
years  old,  and  she  was  so  thin  and  delicate  that  she  did 
not  appear  more  than  fourteen.  When  the  poor  little 
girl  held  out  her  hands  to  Lariviere,  he  turned  to  Des- 
morets,  my  head  assistant,  and  said :  '  Surely  this  is  a 
joke  .'* '  Desmorets  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  it  was 
the  little  one  who,  smiling  through  her  tears,  answered  : 
*  No,  sir,  it  is  serious ; '  whereupon  Lariviere  threw  down 
his  cords,  and  exclaimed  :  '  Let  some  one  else  bind  her. 
It  is  not  my  profession  to  execute  children  ! '  She  was 
calm  and  resigned.  There  was  a  delay  in  starting. 
Red  shirts  had  been  ordered  only  for  Ladmiral,  Sainte- 


174  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  SANSONS. 

nax,  and  the  four  Renauds.^  An  order  came  at  the  last 
moment  directing  all  the  ctdprits  to  be  arrayed  in  the 
same  garment.  While  the  shirts  were  being  fetched, 
little  Nicole  Bouchard  sat  down  at  her  mistress's  feet, 
and  tried  to  console  her.  She  asked  leave  to  be  with 
her  in  the  same  cart.  I  really  believed  that  if  she  had 
begged  for  life,  more  than  one  would  have  freed  her,  and 
offered  to  take  her  place.  What  we  felt  the  people  felt 
also.  The  crowd  was  very  large,  owing  to  the  propor- 
tions of  the  execution.  The  hundreds  of  gendarmes 
who  escorted  us,  and  the  cannon  which  followed  in  the 
rear,  had  induced  all  Parisians  to  come  out.  Five  or  six 
young  and  pretty  women  were  in  the  first  cart,  and  their 
fate  excited  pity  ;  but  when  poor  little  Nicole  Bouchard 
was  seen  there  was  an  explosion  of  indignation.  Cries 
of  '  No  children  ! '  rose  numerous  and  loud.  In  the 
Faubourg  St.  Antoine  I  could  see  the  women  weeping. 
I  was  almost  overpowered  by  this  scene.  I  had  looked 
at  Nicole  Bouchard  at  the  Conciergerie,  and  her  eyes,  to 
my  thinking,  seemed  to  say  :  '  You  will  not  kill  me  ! '  And 
yet  she  is  dead  now.  She  was  the  ninth.  When  she 
passed  before  me,  I  had  to  struggle  with  an  inspiration, 
which  whispered  in  my  ear :  '  Smash  up  the  guillotine, 
and  do  not  allow  this  child  to  die ! ' 

My  assistants  pushed  her  on  towards  the  knife.  I 
turned  away  ;  my  legs  trembled,  and  I  turned  sick.  It 
was  Martin  who  had  charge  of  the  execution.  He  said 
to  me : 

^  The  red  shirt  was  the  garment  of  parricides. 


CHARLES  HENRI  SANSON'S  DIARY.  175 

'  You  are  unwell.  Go  home,  and  trust  to  me  for  the 
rest.' 

I  did  not  answer,  and  left  the  scaffold.  I  was  in  a 
fever,  and  so  scared  that  at  the  corner  of  the  Rue  Saint- 
onge,  when  a  woman  stopped  me  and  begged,  I  thought 
the  little  girl  was  before  me.  This  evening  I  thought  I 
saw  spots  of  blood  on  the  tablecloth  as  I  was  sitting 
down  to  dinner, 

Pi'airial  30. — No  executions  to-day.  Remained  at 
home,  and  read  the  papers.  Robespierre's  enemies  have 
found  another  weapon  to  strike  him  with.  There  are 
some  distracted  women  who  recite  prayers  in  his  honour. 
If  they  could  only  persuade  the  masses  that  he  suffers 
and  encourages  this,  it  would  be  all  over  with  him  ;  and 
that  is  just  what  Vadier  tried  to  do  in  the  sitting  of  the 
27th.  A  police  officer  employed  by  the  Committee  has 
found  out  an  old  woman  who  pretends  to  be  a  prophetess^ 
and  who  announces  the  advent  of  a  new  saviour.  This 
saviour  is  Robespierre.  Vadier  made  the  most  of  this 
discovery. 

Messidor  i. — From  the  ist  to  the  4th  of  Messidor 
ninety-two  convicts  have  been  put  to  death. 

The  dead  are  beginning  to  frighten  the  living.  The 
inhabitants  of  the  Montreuil  section,  where  we  now  send 
the  dead  bodies,  have  complained.  They  urged  that 
the  stench  is  horrible,  and  that,  unless  the  small  ceme- 
tery of  St.  Marguerite  be  closed,  serious  consequences 
cannot  but  ensue.  After  much  hesitation  the  Com- 
mune has  selected  a  new  place  for  the  burial  of  the  exe- 


176  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  SANSONS. 

'Cuted.  This  is  the  garden  of  the  old  convent  of  Picpus. 
The  spot  seems  to  be  ill  chosen ;  the  soil  is  composed  of 
pure  clay,  and  it  cannot  absorb  what  is  deposited  in  it. 
But,  thank  Heaven  !  this  is  no  business  of  mine.  My 
task  ends  on  the  scaffold.  The  Commune  pays  for 
*  crows'  (undertakers),  who  receive  the  bodies  from  my 
assistants  and  bury  them.  Desmorets,  my  head  assis- 
tant, goes  with  them.  Whatever  is  found  in  the  pockets 
■of  the  convicts  is  taken  to  the  Commune  ;  the  clothes, 
&c.,  are  sent  to  the  charities.  To-day  the  Tribunal 
condemned  a  man  under  rather  curious  circumstances. 
His  name  was  Doyen,  and  he  was  a  wood  merchant. 
He  was  wealthy  and  parsimonious.  His  fortune  was 
much  envied  by  his  neighbours,  and  he  was  so  afraid  of 
getting  into  trouble  that  for  a  whole  year  he  did  not 
speak.  He  lived  alone,  and  communicated  by  signs 
with  those  he  had  to  deal  with.  When  he  was  asked  the 
time,  he  took  out  his  watch  and  showed  it  to  you  with- 
out a  word.  This  singular  reserve  was  taken  for  pride, 
and  his  enemies  became  legion.  One  night  the  Tree  of 
Liberty,  planted  in  the  public  square  of  the  town  in 
which  he  lived,  was  uprooted,  and,  as  a  matter  of  course, 
the  crime  was  attributed  to  Citizen  Doyen.  His  house 
was  searched.  While  the  soldiers  were  searching  the 
first  floor,  a  gendarme  was  about  to  take  up  a  log  of 
w^ood  and  throw  it  into  the  grate,  when  Doyen  rushed 
forward,  exclaiming :  '  Not  this  one ! '  This  excited 
suspicion.  An  axe  was  procured,  and,  when  the  log  was 
split,  a  number  of  golden  louis  dropped  on  the  floor. 
This  circumstance  settled  his  fate.     He  recovered   his 


I 


CHARLES  HENRI  SANSON'S  DIARY.  177 

powers  of  speech  before  the  Tribunal,  but  too  late  to 
save  his  life. 

Messidor  6. — Fear  of  the  guillotine  has  induced  a 
prisoner  of  Les  Madelonnettes  to  hang  himself.     Before 
tying  the  noose  he  wrote  in  the  following  terms,  to  Robes- 
pierre :  'Virtuous  Robespierre,  provide  for  my  wife,  for 
now  she  has  no  means  of  livelihood.'     This  is  the  second 
prisoner  who  has  commited  suicide.     The  late  valet-de- 
ckambre  of    the   Duke    de    Creqy,    one    Cuni,   cut   his 
throat  with  a  razor  a  few  days  ago.     Executed  twenty- 
three  men  and  four  women.     One  of  the  men,  a  deserter 
of  the  name  of  Notter,  had  a  dog.     The  animal  was 
much  attached  to  its  master,  and  it  was  the  cause  of  his 
arrest.     The  dog  followed  him  to  prison,  and  remained 
at  the  door  until  the  carts  came  out  of  the  yard.     It 
recognised  its  master,  and,  barking  with  joy,  followed  us 
to  the  Place  du  Trone.     When  the  soldier  alighted  he 
patted  the  poor  beast  and  asked  several  persons  to  take 
and  keep  it ;  but  no  one  dared.     When  the  time  for 
separation  came,  the  dog  would  not  leave  its  master,  and 
followed  him  up  to  the  platform.    One  of  my  men  threw 
it  down ;  but  the  dog  rushed  up  the  steps  again,  and 
began  to  howl  dismally  ;  whereupon  a  gendarme  pinned 
it  with  his  bayonet.     Strange  to  say,  the  people,  who 
can  stand  and  see  Christians  murdered,  took  the  dog's 
part.     Stones   were   aimed    at   the   gendarme,   and   he 
narrowly  escaped  with  his  life.     A  workman  took  up 
the  dog,  and  carried  it  away. 

Messidor  7. — There  was  a  time  when  the  women 
were,  as  a  rule,  stronger  and  pluckier  than  the   men. 
VOL.  II.  N 


178  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  SANSONS. 

Not  so  now.  They  weep,  tremble,  and  beg  for  mercy. 
We  have  had  a  fearful  day.  The  Faubourg  St.  Antoine 
cannot  forget  it.  My  carts  contained  twenty-three 
women  of  different  ages  and  social  standing.  Each  turn 
of  the  wheel  was  marked  by  a  sob.  Their  shrieks  were 
awful  to  hear.  The  crowd  dispersed,  and  we  made  our 
way  along  deserted  streets.  My  men  were  more  than 
usually  dark  and  sullen.  One  of  them  said :  *  They  com- 
pel us  to  disgrace  the  guillotine.'  I  was  not  left  to 
suffer  alone  to-day. 

Messidor  8. — The  other  prisoners  of  Bicetre,  who 
were  compromised  by  Valagnos'  denunciation,  were 
guillotined  to-day.  Among  these  was  Osselin,  a  deputy 
of  the  National  Assembly.  He  had  given  shelter  to  one 
Madame  Charry,  an  emigrt^e^  in  a  country  house  situated 
at  Marly.  This  generous  deed  at  first  cost  him  his 
liberty,  and  afterwards  his  life.  He  confided  in  a  ruffian 
whom  he  believed  to  be  his  friend.  The  man  saw 
Madame  Charry,  fell  in  love  with  her,  and  threatened 
her  with  immediate  arrest  if  she  did  not  return  his  affec- 
tion. As  a  matter  of  course,  Madame  Charry  refused ;, 
and  on  the  following  day  she  was  arrested,  tried,  and 
executed. 

As  the  law  which  punishes  with  death  whoever  shall 
shelter  an  enemy  of  the  Republic  was  not  yet  passed, 
Osselin  was  sentenced  to  two  years'  imprisonment,  and 
sent  to  Bicetre,  where  he  was  fain  to  mingle  with  crimi- 
nals of  the  worst  class.  His  former  position,  and,  above 
all,  his  connection  with  Danton's  party,  pointed  him  out 
to  those  who  had  the  mission  to  clear  the  prisons,  and 
he  was  arraigned.     Osselin,  it  appears,  resolved  not  tc> 


CHARLES  HENRI  SANSON'S  DIARY.  lyc) 

appear  on  the  guillotine.  He  found  a  large  nail  in  the 
ceiling  of  his  cell,  and  struck  himself  three  times  with 
it ;  but  he  survived  his  wounds.  When  we  came  to 
fetch  Osselin  the  doctor  of  the  Conciergerie  humour- 
ously observed  that  it  was  useless  to  take  him  to  the 
scaffold,  as  he  had  but  a  few  moments  to  live.  Never- 
theless we  carried  him  away.  Poor  Osselin  called  for 
death,  and  tore  away  his  bandages.  The  doctor,  who 
accompanied  us,  told  him  that  he  need  have  no  fear, 
that  the  guillotine  was  a  long  way  off,  and  that  he 
might  possibly  die  on  the  way ;  and,  in  fact,  when  we 
reached  the  Place  du  Trone,  Osselin  was  pale  and  stiff, 
and  to  all  appearance  dead.  I  felt  so  sure  of  it  that 
I  told  Desmorets  to  throw  a  blanket  over  the  corpse, 
and  leave  it  in  the  cart ;  but  the  doctor,  who  was  still 
with  us,  said  that  Osselin  was  still  alive,  and  that  the 
sentence  should  therefore  be  carried  out.  As  I  was 
hesitating,  he  said  to  me :  *  Fool,  if  he  is  dead,  of  what 
consequence  is  it  whether  he  reaches  the  other  world 
with  or  without  his  head  "t  Think  of  what  might  happen 
to  us  if  he  were  still  alive  ! '  Osselin  was  carried  to  the 
weigh-plank,  but  not  a  muscle  moved  when  the  knife 
came  down  ;  and  I  am  firmly  persuaded  that  we  guillo- 
tined a  corpse. 

My  grandfather's  diary  here  comes  to  an  end.  He 
gives  no  warning  of  his  intention  to  discontinue  this 
daily  record  of  his  bloody  mission,  but  I  think  I  can 
explain  this  sudden^conclusion.  He  was  a  strong  and 
callous  man ;    but  few,  even  among  the  hardest,  could 

N  2 


i8o  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  SANSONS. 

have  resisted  the  work  which  the  Revolutionary  Tribunal 
provided  for  him.  His  constitution  gave  way,  and  his 
spirits  also.  He  had  a  violent  attack  of  delirmm 
tremens  after  the  execution  of  Robespierre's  so-called 
murderers.  Martin,  his  brother,  who  usually  took  his 
place  whenever  there  was  occasion  for  doing  so,  per- 
ceived that  the  old  executioner  was  breaking  down. 
He  was  pale,  agitated,  and  uneasy.  The  slightest  noise 
made  him  shudder,  and  he  avoided  his  relatives.  He  no 
longer  related  to  his  wife  and  children  the  scenes  in 
which  he  acted  the  chief  part ;  and  his  usual  state  of 
mind  was  a  dark  moodiness,  which  he  retained  to  his  last 
day.  This  easily  explains  the  interruption  of  his  diary. 
The  reader  may  have  noticed  that  his  last  notes  are  far 
less  precise  and  minute  than  the  first  portion  of  his  in- 
formation ;  in  the  last  days  of  Prairial  he  seldom  men- 
tions the  names  of  victims. 

True  it  is  that,  at  the  time,  the  guillotine  was  com- 
7nercially  organised,  and  when  its  chief  functionary  did 
not  score  down  the  names  of  the  guillotined,  one  of 
his  assistants  acted  as  his  book-keeper.  Desmorets, 
whose  name  Charles  Henri  Sanson  frequently  mentions, 
and  whose  grandson  is  now  executioner  at  Bordeaux, 
joined  the  duties  of  clerk  to  that  of  chief  assistant.  I 
have  in  my  hands  a  complete  list,  drawn  up  by  him,  of 
all  the  persons  guillotined  during  the  Revolution  ;  and 
as  the  number  of  the  victims  has  been  unduly  exag- 
gerated, I  have,  for  the  behoof  of  my  readers,  made  a 
resume  oi  the  executions  that  took  place  in  Paris  during 
the  revolutionary  period.     This  resume  is  affixed  here- 


CHARLES  HENRI ^SANSON'S  DIARY. 


i8i 


....  ^ 

1 

CO  ON 

o 

VO  CO 

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D 
1^ 

covo  t^l-l^^o^^^  O 

coco  C^    c^  CO  w  i-i 

1 

w 
1 

From  70  to  80  years 

Above  80  years 

Men 

Women 

1 

5 

w 

J 
1 

1 

1 

0 

Gentlefolks  of  both  sexes  without  profession 

Officers  and  soldiers 

Writers  and  journalists  of  both  sexes  . 

Artists 

Tradesmen  of  both  sexes    ..... 

Artisans 

Servants  of  both  sexes 

Labourers  and  peasants 

sexes  :  2918. 

6 

Iz; 

6 
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VO  m^O  On  ON  lO  CO  On    "S 

c^  CO          Tir        ^ 

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1 

§ 

1 

Members  of  the  Church,  Bishops  and  Archbishops 
Marshals  of  France  and  Lieutenant-Generals 
Magistrates,  members  of  the  ancient  Parliaments 
Ecclesiastics,  priests,  monks,  &c. 
Members   of    the    Constituent   and    Legislative 

Assemblies    ...... 

Members  of  the  Convention        .... 

Members  of  the  Commune           .... 

Liberal  professions,  financiers,  barristers,  doctors, 

lawyers,  functionaries     .... 

Total  f 

(1)     .   .   .   _ 

Under  18  years  of  ag 
From  18  to  20  years 
From  20  ,,   25     ,, 
From  25  ,,   50     ,, 
From  50  ,,   60     ,, 
From  60  ,,   70     ,, 

[82  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  SANSON S. 


CHAPTER   XLIII. 

MY  FATHER    GOES  INTO    THE  ARTILLERY.— HIS  MS. 

I  MUST  now  beg  leave  to  return  for  a  time  to  our  family- 
affairs.  My  father  left  me  a  MS.  account  of  his  services 
in  the  artillery,  which  I  will  presently  give,  as  a  curious 
illustration  of  the  importance  the  revolutionists  proposed 
to  give  to  the  functions  of  executioner.  This  account 
contains  some  interesting  observations  on  the  change  of 
opinions  which  had  taken  place  in  favour  of  the  execu- 
tioner. The  Republic  treated  us  better  than  the 
Monarchy  :  it  had  too  often  recourse  to  our  services  not 
to  reward  us  for  the  trouble.  We  were  no  longer 
shunned  and  despised  ;  representatives  of  the  people, 
club  orators,  celebrated  sans-cidottes  fraternised  with  the 
executioner.  At  one  time  there  was  a  question  of 
devising  a  glorious  name  worthy  of  the  grandeur  of  our 
mission.  It  was  very  seriously  proposed  to  call  the 
executioner  the  ^  Avenger  of  the  People,'  to  dress  him  in 
an  imposing  costume  whereby  all  could  identify  him  as 
one  of  the  most  important  functionaries  of  the  nation. 
David,  the  great  painter,  called  on  my  grandfather  and 
showed  him  a  drawing  of  a  costume  he  had  specially 


MV  FATHER   GOES  INTO    THE  ARTILLERY.     183 

•devised  for  him.  Charles  Henri  declined  the  honour, 
and  expressed  a  wish  to  dress  just  as  other  people  did. 

But  this  was  but  one  of  the  slightest  favours  bestowed 
•on  my  grandfather;  the  people  often  cheered  him  on  his 
way  to  the  scaffold,  and  many  ran  up  to  him  after 
executions  offering  to  drink  with  him,  and  so  forth. 

I  now  leave  the  pen  to  my  father,  whose  account 
requires  no  further  introduction  : 

*  It  was  on  a  Sunday  of  the  month  of  October  1793, 
the  call  was  being  beaten,  and  citizens  of  our  quarter 
were  hurrying  to  the  usual  place  of  meeting,  the  St. 
Laurent  Church.  I  went  there  myself  After  the 
sitting,  as  I  was  conversing  with  some  friends,  I  was 
accosted  by  a  numerous  party,  composed  of  working 
men.  One  of  the  men  addressed  me  in  the  following 
terms  : 

*  "Citizen  Henri  Sanson,  we  are  the  first  party  of  the 
men  who  are  to  form  the  new  company  of  gunners  of 
this  section.  We  are  about  to  elect  our  officers,  and  as 
we  know  you  to  be  a  good  patriot,  we  shall  be  much 
flattered  if  you  will  join  us." 

'This  request  surprised  me  very  much.  At  first  I 
was  strongly  tempted  to  refuse ;  but  I  did  not  care  to 
give  offence  to  my  would-be  friends,  and  I  may  as  well 
confess  that  I  was  gratified  at  their  politeness.  I  made 
a  few  objections,  but  they  were  soon  overruled,  and  I 
yielded  with  a  good  grace. 

*  My  new  companions  forthwith  took  me  to  the  hall 
where  the  election  of  officers  was  to  take  pla.ce.  One 
can  imagine  my  surprise  when,  on  my  arrival,  I  found 


1 84  MEMOIRS  OF   THE  SAN  SONS. 


\ 


myself  elected  b^^  acclamation  president  of  the  electoral 
assembly  before    I    knew  precisely   what  I  was  about      \ 
The  vote  for  the  rank  of  captain  began,  and  my  surprise  fl 
exceeded  all  bounds  when  I   perceived  that  everybody 
voted  for  me.     I  was   both  flattered  and    moved,  but,, 
conscious  as  I  was  of  my  inablHty  to  discharge  func- 
tions of  which  I  had  not  the  slightest  notion,  I  attempted 
to  decline  the  honour.     My  modesty,  however,  was  of  no 
avail,  and  I  was  elected.     My  uncle,  who  was  present,, 
was   made  a  sub-lieutenant,   and  one   of  my  Intimate 
friends    was    appointed    sergeant.      My   friend,    whose 
name  was  Masson,  was  beside  himself  with  joy.     He 
was  witty,  sensible,  and  well-educated.     We  were  of  the 
same  age,  and    soon  became  very  Intimate  ;    he  came 
to    dine  at   my   father's   every  Sunday — the   only  day 
on  which  my  father  could  receive  the  few  friends  it  Is 
possible  to  have  in  our  profession.      It   was  after  one 
of  these  dinners  that  the  adventure  I  have  just  related 
happened  to  us. 

*■  Masson  was  not  of  our  section  ;  he  lived  In  the  lie 
Saint-Louis,  and  he  was  in  fear  that  this  circumstance, 
might  prevent  him  from  accepting  his  promotion.  But 
he  was  soon  reassured. 

*  As  for  me,  I  went  to  a  sergeant  of  my  company  who 
had  been  a  gunner  and  had  some  good  notions  of 
artillery  ;  the  good  man  gave  me  lessons,  and  what  he 
knew  he  very  soon  imparted  to  me.  But  It  was  all  very 
well  to  know  how  to  obey ;  the  question  was,  how  could 
I  learn  how  to  command  .'*  But  where  there's  a  will 
there's  a  way.    I  took  lessons  from  other  friends  of  mine^ 


MV  FATHER   GOES  INTO  THE  ARTILLERY.     i8s 

and  at  last  I  was  enabled  to  undertake  my  command- 
without  exposing  myself  too  much  to  sarcasm.  More- 
over the  Government  took  good  care  to  perfect  our 
military  education,  and  when  we  were  sufficiently  pro- 
ficient, our  four  companies — those  of  the  North,  Bondy,. 
Bonne-Nouvelle,  and  Mauconseil — were  assembled  on 
the  Boulevard  Bondy,  where  they  manoeuvred  twice  a 
week.  Meanwhile,  by  means  of  a  few  good  breakfasts,. 
I  persuaded  our  instructor  to  give  me  private  lessons. 

'The  Government  proposed  to  make  serious  use  of 
us.     While  our  organisation  was  being  provided  for,  a 
pay -was  awarded  to  the  men.     It  was  thus  graduated  : 
30  sols  for  privates, 
45  sols  for  corporals, 

3  livres  15  sols  for  sergeants, 

4  livres  10  sols  for  the  sub-lieutenant, 

6  livres  for  the  lieutenant, 

7  livres  10  sols  for  the  captain. 

*  As  may  be  seen,  I  was  better  off  than  the  others. 

*  This  state  of  things  lasted  three  months,  at  the  end 
of  which  we  were  definitely  organised  after  the  model  of 
the  dismounted  gendarmes.  Our  companies  were  com- 
posed of  fifty-one  men  fully  equipped. 

*  We  did  not  wait  long  for  active  service,  and  while 
some  companies  were  being  sent  to  La  Vendee,  and 
others  to  Lyons,  mine  was  sent,  together  with  another 
company  styled  "Des  Droits  de  I'Homme,"  into  La 
Brie,  where  an  insurrection  had  just  occurred. 

*  The  alarm  was  unfounded ;  for  if  the  movement 
was  spontaneous,  it  was  quelled  with  the  same  rapidity. 


186  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  SANSONS. 

It  was  said  that  20,000  inhabitants  of  La  Brie  and  of 
the  neighbourhood  of  Coulommiers  had  taken  to  arms 
at  the  bidding  of  the  priests  and  other  ecclesiastics,  sup- 
ported by  the  most  influential  persons  of  the  locality. 
When  we  arrived  all  was  finished,  and  the  garrison  of 
Coulommiers,  that  is  to  say,  a  company  of  the  i6th 
cavalry  regiment,  sufficed  to  quell  the  great  sedition. 
The  effective  force  of  this  company  was  only  of  eighty- 
four  men  ;  but  what  was  more  curious,  the  captain  and 
the  two  lieutenants  were  away  at  the  time  of  the  rising, 
and  it  was  the  sub-lieutenant,  a  boy  of  fifteen,  who 
advanced  at  the  head  of  his  small  company  and 
charged  the  seditious  gathering.  This  boldness  was 
crowned  with  success.  The  affair  took  place  between 
Maupertuis  and  Coulommiers,  and  as  soon  as  the 
peasants  found  themselves  charged  by  this  feeble 
detachment  of  cavalry,  they  dispersed  and  took  to  flight 
after  firing  a  few  shots  which  wounded  no  one.  The 
chasseurs  then  surrounded  the  remaining  insurgents  and 
led  them  back  to  Coulommiers,  where  they  shut  them 
up  in  a  church,  the  prison  being  too  small  to  contain 
them. 

*  When  we  arrived  we  were  arrayed  in  order  of  battle 
on  the  public  place.  We  loaded  our  pieces  with  grape- 
shot  and  threatened  to  discharge  them  into  the  church  if 
any  symptom  of  rebellion  was  shown  by  the  prisoners. 

'■  This  resolute  attitude  intimidated  the  multitude,  and 
extinguished  all  further  thought  of  insurrection.  We 
had  with  us  500  men  of  infantry  and  a  squadron  of 
cavalry,  which,  with  ourselves  and  the  garrison  of  Cou- 


My  FATHER  GOES  INTO   THE  ARTILLERY,     187 

lommiers,  made  up  an  effective  force  of  800  or  900  men. 
This  force  was  more  than  enough  to  put  down  more  im- 
portant seditions.  The  youthful  lieutenant  who  had  so 
bravely  taken  the  initiative  of  repression  was  much  con- 
gratulated. When  excitement  had  subsided,  it  was  per- 
ceived that  we  were  far  too  numerous  for  the  small  town 
of  Coulommiers ;  so  our  troops  were  sent  in  detach- 
ments to  neighbouring  villages.  One  detachment  went 
to  Le  Ferte-Gaucher,  another  to  the  Abbey  of  Farmon- 
tiere,  and  a  third  to  Rozay-en-Brie.  I  remained  in 
Coulommiers  with  my  company  and  the  remainder  of 
the  troops.  We  formed  a  staff,  composed  of  at  least 
thirty  officers;  we  took >  our  meals  together,  and  the 
greatest  harmony  prevailed  amongst  us.  I  little  thought 
that  circumstances  would  eventually  alter  all  this,  and 
exclude  us  from  social  intercourse. 

'  I  discharged  my  functions  with  great  zeal,  main- 
taining stringent  discipline,  often  drilling  my  company, 
and  taking  much  pleasure  in  military  life.  We  had  no 
further  trouble  with  the  inhabitants  of  Coulommiers. 
The  majority  in  the  town  was  for  us  :  it  was  only  in  the 
country  that  we  were  looked  upon  with  hostility ;  but 
even  this  rural  dislike  soon  disappeared.  During  the 
six  months  we  remained  at  Coulommiers  we  had  none 
of  those  grave  conflicts  with  the  civil  authorities  which 
elsewhere  occurred  between  the  military  and  civil  powers. 
Nevertheless,  the  Revolutionary  Tribunal  of  our  town 
was  strangely  composed.  Its  president  was  a  little 
hunchback,  who  was  thoroughly  imbued  with  the  idea 
of  his  own  importance.    This  ridiculous  individual  could 


1 88  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  SANSONS. 


J 


neither  read  nor  write ;  but  this  did  not  stop  him  from 
ordering  that  all  letters  sent  and  received  by  the  post- 
office  should  be  forwarded  to  him  for  scrutiny. 

*  I  was  then  in  frequent  correspondence  with  my 
family  and  a  few  friends  in  Paris,  so  that  I  was  one  of 
,the  first  victims  of  this  little  caricature  of  a  tyrant.     A 

letter  sent  to  me  was  handed  over  to  him.  He  had  the 
insolence  to  open  it ;  but  what  will  scarcely  be  believed 
is  that  the  hunchback  and  his  clerks  could  not  read  it, 
and  actually  had  the  impudence  to  send  for  me  to  know 
what  it  contained.  I  confess  that  I  could  hardly  master 
my  indignation  ;  and,  instead  of  giving  them  the  expla- 
nation they  asked  for,  I  told  them  in  unmeasured  terms 
what  I  thought  of  their  conduct.  I  threatened  to  write 
to  the  Paris  authorities  on  the  matter,  and  had  the  satis- 
faction to  intimidate  them  sufficiently  to  make  them  give 
up  my  letter.  The  hunchback,  moreover,  asked  me  to 
overlook  the  matter,  and  apologised,  saying  that  it  was 
a  mistake. 

*  I  was  glad  that  the  affair  went  no  further,  for  the 
letter  was  from  my  poor  mother,  and  contained  on  the 
victims  of  the  time  expressions  which  might  have  ap- 
peared treasonable  to  the  ludicrous  president  of  the 
Tribunal. 

*  I  again  had  difficulties  with  the  Tribunal.  This  time 
it  was  concerning  two  men  of  my  company,  who  had  in- 
fringed one  of  the  laws,  in  the  making  of  which  the  local 
revolutionists  were  so  prodigal.  We  were  then  under 
the  empire  of  the  law  of  maxiimun,  of  which  the  effects 


MV  FATHER   GOES  INTO   THE  ARTILLERY.     189 

were  so  deplorable.  The  farmers  who  would  not  sbumit 
to  the  maximum  no  longer  broucrht  their  provisions  to 
the  market,  and  we  were  often  obliged  to  go  and  fetch 
provisions  in  the  country.  Now  the  little  hunchback 
and  his  colleagues  hit  upon  an  ingenious  device.  They 
forbade  any  one  to  go  and  procure  provisions  beyond 
the  walls  of  the  town. 

*As  they  had  no  means  of  enforcing  this  absurd 
measure,  they  determined  to  do  the  work  themselves. 
They  repaired  to  the  gates  of  the  town,  and  became 
amateur  excisemen.  The  hunchback  and  his  colleagues 
were  unfortunate,  for  the  very  first  misdemeanants  they 
pounced  upon  were  two  sappers  of  my  company,  who 
were  tall  and  strong,  and  anything  but  disposed  to  allow 
themselves  to  be  searched.  A  dispute  followed,  and 
this  degenerated  into  a  free  fight,  in  which  the  civil 
power  was  much  maltreated.  The  respectable  president 
of  the  Revolutionary  Tribunal  received  more  kicks 
below  his  hump  than  was  precisely  agreeable,  and  his 
worthy  companions  fared  no  better. 

'  I  was  immediately  summoned  to  appear  before 
these  terrible  myrmidons  of  the  law.  Although  I  was 
not  personally  concerned  in  this  affair,  I  had  more 
trouble  to  settle  it  than  the  first  one.  Still  I  a'ccom- 
plished  this  delicate  task.  The  little  hunchback  was 
furious,  and  wanted  to  arrest  my  two  sappers  and  try 
them.  With  much  difficulty  I  made  him  understand 
that  he  had  no  legal  control  over  them  :  that  it  would  be 
imprudent  to  give  publicity  to  an  affair  which  might 


I90  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  SANSONS. 

make  people  laugh  at  his  expense.  This  last  reason 
effectually  convinced  him,  and  he  reluctantly  gave  up 
his  hopes  of  redress. 

*  My  stay  at  Coulommiers,  which  lasted  about  six 
months,  was  otherwise  a  quiet  and  pleasant  one.  I  then 
received  orders  to  go  to  Rozay-en-Brie,  as  temporary 
commander,  with  twenty-five  artillerymen  and  thirty, 
soldiers,  commanded  by  a  lieutenant,  under  my  orders. 
I  stayed  there  three  weeks,  up  to  the  time  when  I  was 
replaced  by  the  "  Contrat  Social  "  company.  I  then  re- 
turned to  Paris,  where  I  was  to  be  mixed  up  with  an 
affair  which  made  me  bitterly  regret  having  accepted 
my  rank.' 


I 


191 


CHAPTER   XLIV. 

ARREST    OF  MY   FATHER    AND    GREAT-UNCLE    AFTER 
THE   ^th    OF  THERMIDOR. 

The  affair  to  which  my  father  alludes  in  the  last  lines  of 
his  MS.  was  of  a  very  grave  kind,  and  nearly  cost- him 
his  life.  Some  years  elapsed  before  he  wrote  the  follow- 
ing account  of  it : — 

*  After  my  expedition  in  Brie,  I  returned  to  Paris, 
where  I  had  very  little  to  do  beyond  the  common 
exigencies  of  military  service.  I  was  drilling  my  men 
and  perfecting  myself  in  my  technical  studies,  when  I 
was  called  upon  to  undertake  a  mission,  of  which  the 
result  was  nearly  fatal  to  me  and  to  one  of  my  near 
relatives. 

*  It  was  on  the  9th  of  Thermidor.  Great  anxiety  pre- 
vailed throughout  all  the  sections  of  the  capital ;  for  all 
kinds  of  rumours  concerning  the  result  of  the  struggle  in 
the  Convention  were  afloat.  In  our  quarter  we  hurried 
to  our  usual  place  of  meeting,  and  I  was  listening  to 
what  was  going  on,  when  there  came  a  message  from  the 
Commune  ordering  me  to  go  to  the  Place  de  Greve  with 
my  company.  I  hesitated  a  little,  and  I  deemed  it 
prudent  to  take  the  advice  of  the  meeting.     The  answer 


192  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  SANSONS, 

was  that  I  was  bound  to  obey,  since  the  order  was 
signed  by  the  adjutant-general.  I  went  even  further. 
Being  personally  acquainted  with  the  members  of  the 
Local  Committee,  I  consulted  them,  observing  that  I 
still  considered  myself  as  belonging  to  the  section,  in 
spite  of  the  exceptional  circumstances  which  placed  me 
under  the  orders  of  superior  officers  who  had  no  concern 
in  our  local  affairs.  The  members  of  the  Committee 
praised  me  for  my  frankness,  but  were  all  of  opinion  that 
I  should  obey  the  order  I  had  received. 

'  I  therefore  called  my  men  together,  arranged  my 
cannon  into  batteries,  and  started  for  the  H6tel-de- 
Ville.  There  we  waited  for  orders.  Other  companies 
arrived,  and  no  one  knew  the  reason  of  this  display  of 
arms.  Some  said  that  the  National  Convention  was  dis- 
solved, and  that  a  large  number  of  its  members  had 
made  a  conspiracy ;  the  others  assumed  that  it  was  the 
Commune,  at  the  head  of  which  were  Robespierre,  Cou- 
thon,  Saint-Just,  and  Henriot,  general  commander  of  the 
National  Guard,  which  was  dissolved.  Public  opinion 
hesitated  between  these  two  versions.  When  there  is 
discord  between  the  different  authorities  which  constitute 
public  power,  the  officer,  whose  mission  it  is  to  obey, 
is  much  perplexed.  At  such  a  time  of  anarchy,  officers 
were  exposed  to  become  the  blind  instruments  of  some 
faction,  and  this  is  just  what  happened  to  me. 

*  We  were  still  waiting  for  orders  when  a  young  man, 
who  wore  the  uniform  of  a  superior  officer,  came  up,  and 
ordered  us  to  report  ourselves  to  the  Commune.  I  im- 
mediately obeyed,  and,  accompanied  by  my  uncle — sub- 


ARREST  OF  MY  FATHER  AND  GREAT-UNCLE.    193 

lieutenant — and  Sergeant  Masson,  I  went  up  the  stairs. 
We  were  ushered  into  a  hall,  where  we  had  to  certify 
our  presence.     We  then  retired. 

*  A  moment  after,  the  same  officer,  followed  by  an 
escort  of  cavalry,  came  to  order  us  to  go  to  the  Prefec- 
ture de  Police.  We  marched  away,  and,  after  crossing 
the  court  of  the  Sainte-Chapelle,  we  halted  in  the  smaller 
Rue  de  Jerusalem.  The  Prefecture,  or  Bureau  Central, 
as  it  was  then  called,  was  of  the  province  of  the  Com- 
mune. We  remained  shut  up  in  an  enclosure  near  the 
Palais  du  Justice,  without  any  news  of  what  was  going 
on  outside,  and  not  daring  to  move  for  fear  of  trans- 
gressing our  orders. 

'  All  was  finished  at  eight  o'clock  P.M.  The  Conven- 
tion triumphed ;  Robespierre  and  his  friends  were 
arrested  ;  the  H6tel-de-Ville  was  captured.  Up  to  the 
last  moment  we  had  no  knowledge  of  these  events.  At 
last  three  citizens  of  our  section  came  to  apprise  us  of 
what  had  occurred,  and  to  urge  upon  us  the  necessity  of  a 
prompt  return  to  our  quarter.  We  had  been  the  ignorant 
and  passive  auxiliaries  of  the  conquered  party,  and  our 
predicament  was  very  awkward.  The  three  citizens  only 
came  at  ten  o'clock.  On  hearing  of  the  peril  to  which 
we  were  exposed,  we  immediately  prepared  to  go.  The 
commander  of  the  picket  of  the  Prefecture  wanted  to 
oppose  our  retreat ;  but  I  threatened  to  fire  upon  him 
and  his  men,  and  we  marched  away  without  hindrance. 
Without  delay  I  went  to  our  head-quarters,  where  I 
drew  up  a  report  of  our  doings  during  the  day. 

'  It  soon  became  evident  that  I  was  very  seriously 

VOL.  II.  O 


194  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  SANSONS. 

compromised.  My  uncle  and  I  were  committed  for  trial 
before  the  Revolutionary  Tribunal,  for  the  passive  part 
we  had  enacted  during  the  day.  We  were  arrested  (as 
also  Sergeant  Masson)  in  the  first  days  of  Fructidor. 
The  main  charge  against  us  was  that  we  had  signed  a 
presence  sheet  at  the  H6tel-de-Ville.  On  this  sheet, 
after  our  signatures,  an  unknown  hand  had  written, 
"  And  have  taken  the  oath."  Now  we  had  taken  no  oath 
at  all ;  for  had  such  a  proposal  been  made  to  us,  we 
could  not  but  have  perceived  the  snare  prepared  for  us. 
This  false  mention  had  therefore  been  written  after  our 
departure.  Many  more  citizens  had  been  deceived  in 
the  same  way. 

'We  were  sent  to  the  Conciergerie.  The  indictment 
mentioned  the  names  of  forty-one  accomplices  incar- 
cerated with  us.  I  was  charged,  among  other  crimes, 
**with  having  been  seen  in  divers  groups  exciting  to 
rebellion  against  the  National  Convention  ;  with  having 
helped  to  free  Henriot,  arrested  by  order  of  the 
Committee  of  General  Safety  ;  in  having  participated  in 
the  conspiracy  of  the  Commune."  As  may  be  seen,  I 
had  good  grounds  for  uneasiness ;  for  one  of  these 
charges  with  the  preceding  Tribunal  would  have  been 
enough  to  forfeit  my  life ;  but  this  Tribunal  had  been 
broken  up  after  the  events  of  Thermidor  9,  and  the 
superseding  court  was  more  moderate  and  indulgent. 

*  We  were  tried  on  the  1 5th  of  Fructidor.  No  witness 
could  be  found  in  corroboration  of  the  first  charge.  As 
to  the  second,  Citizen  Dobourt,  president  of  the  Tribunal, 
happened  to  be  among  those  who  were  present  when 


ARREST  OF  MY  FATHER  AND   GREAT-UNCLE.    195 

Henriot  was  rescued,  and  he  affirmed  that  I  had  nothing 
to  do  with  it.  I  could  have  brought  twenty  witnesses 
to  the  effect  that  my  company  had  not  stirred  during 
the  whole  of  the  day.  As  to  the  third  charge,  it  was 
the  most  serious,  since  we  had  really  signed  the  pre- 
sence-sheet. But  our  counsels,  seeing  that  it  was  impos- 
sible to  deny  the  fact,  urged  the  question  of  intention, 
and  this  steered  us  out  of  danger. 

'We  were,  I  should  add,  admirably  defended. 
Masson's  cause  was  taken  up  by  M.  Boutron,  my  uncle's 
by  M.  Julienne,  and  mine  by  M.  Chauveau-Lagarde. 
The  latter,  who  had  defended  Marie-Antoinette,  was 
especially  eloquent.  After  some  consideration  the 
Tribunal  acquitted  us,  and  this  decision  was  received 
with  cheers.  I  confess  that  I  felt  much  relieved.  I  had 
passed  my  days  of  captivity  in  the  very  same  cell  where 
Marie-Antoinette  had  been  imprisoned.  I  had  slept  on 
her  bed,  and  this  circumstance  suggested  to  me  the  idea 
of  appealing  to  M.  Chauveau-Lagarde,  who  had  de- 
fended her. 

When  we  were  discharged,  I  ran  to  a  room  in  the 
Palais  de  Justice  where  I  knew  my  father  was  waiting 
for  the  issue  of  the  trial.  I  embraced  him,  weeping  with 
joy,  but  I  was  surprised  to  find  a  cloud  over  his  coun- 
tenance. Alas !  I  had  forgotten  that  out  of  forty-one 
prisoners  forty  had  been  acquitted,  but  that  the  forty- 
first  was  to  die  on  the  scaffold  on  the  following  day.'  * 

^  Joseph  Julien  Lemonnier,  Civil  Commissioner  of  the  section  of  the 
H6tel-de-Ville,  executed  on  the  i6th  of  Fructidor. 


196  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  SANSONS. 

This  manuscript  speaks  for  itself.  It  shows  us  the  sor^ 
of  the  executioner  of  1793  threatened  in  his  turn  with  the 
paternal  axe — a  prisoner  in  the  same  cell  as  some  of  the 
royal  victims  of  the  Revolution,  and  appearing  in  his- 
turn  before  the  same  Tribunal. 


197 


CHAPTER   XLV. 

THE   DEATH   OF  ROBESPIERRE. 

Robespierre's  lease  of  power  had  nearly  come  to  an 
end.  A  reaction  had  set  in,  and  the  dictator's  enemies 
leagued  together  and  began  to  plot  his  overthrow  and 
death.  He  had  at  first  for  enemies  the  friends  of 
Danton  and  Camille  Desmoulins,  a  few  deputies  of  that 
faction  of  the  Convention  that  was  called  the  Plaine,  and 
the  deputies  he  had  personally  attacked  for  their  con- 
duct during  their  missions.  His  pretensions  to  Spartan 
purity,  his  dogmatic  and  absolute  way  of  speaking,  the 
authority  he  had  gained,  his  very  eminent  qualities  of 
statesmanship,  as  well  as  his  ambition  and  his  disdain 
for  the  prejudices  of  justice  and  humanity,  had  excited 
animosity  and  envy.  When  almost  all  had  a  right  to 
suppose  that  not  only  their  liberty  but  their  lives  were 
in  danger,  all  met  on  the  common  ground  of  relentless 
hostility. 

Tallien  was  the  bitterest  of  Robespierre's  foes.     He 
had  two  lives  to  defend — his  own,  and  that  of  a  woman 

*  The  circumstantial  account  of  the  execution  of  Robespierre,  Saint- 
Just,  and  Couthon  is  as  furnished  to  the  editor  of  these  Memoirs  by  his 
father,  who  had  them  from  Charles  Henri  Sanson. 


198  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  SANSONS. 

he  loved — Madame  de  Fontenay,  daughter  of  Cabarrus, 
the  banker,  arrested  at  Robespierre's  bidding.  The 
whole  of  the  Montagne  was  united  in  one  commoa 
thought — the  overthrow  of  the  triumvirs  ;  for  when 
Robespierre  was  spoken  of,  Couthon  and  Saint-Just 
were  always  included  in  the  anathema.  At  Tallien's. 
instigation  the  anti-Robespierrist  coalition  grew  stronger 
every  day ;  but  Robespierre  was  so  feared  that  no  one: 
yet  attempted  to  attack  him  openly.  The  storm  did 
not  burst  for  a  long  time,  and  at  certain  moments  it  was- 
doubtful  whether  Robespierre's  enemies  would  conquer ; 
but  when  it  did  burst  on  the  9th  of  Thermidor,  its  fury 
was  so  irresistible  that  the  dictator  was  swept  away,  and 
could  not  even  say  a  word.  His  arrest,  and  that  of 
Saint-Just,  Couthon,  and  Lebas,  was  decreed. 

While  the  Convention  was  sealing  the  fate  of  its  most 
formidable  members,  another  strange  scene  was  taking 
place  on  the  way  to  the  guillotine.  Forty-five  prisoners 
had  been  condemned  to  death  by  the  Revolutionary 
Tribunal.  Just  as  sentence  was  being  passed,  the  report 
that  Robespierre  and  his  friends  were  about  to  be 
judged  in  their  turn  reached  the  Tribunal.  There  was 
immense  excitement,  especially  among  the  convicts,  who 
hoped  that  this  circumstance  might  save  their  lives. 
Charles  Henri  Sanson,  who  was  superintending  the  toilet 
of  the  convicts,  was  not  less  excited,  for  he  felt  that 
things  might  go  otherwise  on  the  morrow.  He  there- 
tore  determined  to  try  and  gain  time,  and  finally  to 
obtain  the  postponement  of  the  execution  for  twenty- 
four  hours.      He  supposed  that  the  first  thought  of  the 


THE  DEATH  OF  ROBESPIERRE. 


199 


Convention  would  be  for  the  unfortunate  creatures  who 
were  going  to  suffer  by  his  hands.  He  went  to  the 
Palais  de  Justice  in  quest  of  Fouquier-Tinville,  but  this 
terrible  functionary  had  just  left  it.  However,  my 
grandfather  was  shown  the  house  where  he  had  gone  to 
dine.  He  found  him,  and  exaggerating  the  state  of 
effervescence  of  the  faubourgs,  he  suggested  the  neces- 
sity of  putting  off  the  execution.  Fouquier  answered 
with  a  gesture  of  impatience :  *  This  has  nothing  to  do 
with  us.  Sentence  has  been  passed  ;  nothing  can  impede 
its  immediate  execution.' 

Charles  Henri  Sanson  returned  to  the  Conciergerie. 
The  sinister  preparations  for  death  were  terminated,  the 
forty-five  prisoners  were  ready.  Some  were  weeping, 
others  praying — all  were  in  the  highest  state  of  excite- 
ment, for  the  agitation  of  the  executioner,  no  less  than 
the  confusion  of  the  judges,  had  escaped  their  notice. 
At  last  my  grandfather  gave  the  signal  for  departure, 
but  he  said  to  Lariviere :  '  We  shall  not  go  further  than 
the  Bastille ;  people  are  so  tired  of  this  sort  of  thing 
that  they  will  deliver  the  prisoners  and  prevent  the 
execution.     So  much  the  better  ! ' 

A  few  cries  of  *  Mercy  ! '  '  No  guillotine  ! '  rose  on  the 
quays,  but  that  was  all.  The  crowd  was  so  compact 
on  the  Place  de  la  Bastille  that  the  cortege  advanced 
with  much  difficulty.  The  cries  now  became  more 
numerous  and  more  vehement.  My  grandfather,  who 
was  in  the  first  cart,  bent  towards  a  young  man  named 
Couter  de  Boulot,  who  was  near  him,  and  said  : 

*  It  seems  to  me  that  our  parts  are  about  to  change. 


200  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  SANSONS. 

and  that  we  have  a  chance  of  being  executed  In  your 
stead.' 

The  poor  fellow's  intellect  was  so  confused  that  he 
did  not  seem  to  understand. 

'  Yes,'  continued  Charles  Henri,  *  if  I  were  in  your 
place  and  you  in  mine,  I  don't  know  whether  I  could 
resist  the  temptation  of  escaping.' 

Couter  de  Boulot  looked  at  Charles  Henri,  but  did 
not  move ;  but  one  of  the  women  understood  Charles 
Henri's  intention,  for  she  immediately  addressed  the 
crowd  : 

'  Mercy,  citizens  !  we  are  not  enemies  of  the  people  1 
Save  us,  save  us  ! ' 

This  was  a  signal  for  a  chorus  of  prayers,  sobs,  and 
moans  from  the  other  carts.  My  grandfather's  assistants 
were  as  moved  as  he  was,  and  certainly  would  have 
offered  no  resistance  had  some  attempt  been  made  to 
remove  the  prisoners  from  their  hands.  But  the  people 
would  not  move ;  vain  expressions  of  compassion  rose 
from  the  thick  masses  of  heads,  but  nothing  more.  At 
one  moment  the  pressure  was  so  great  around  the  carts, 
that  it  was  impossible  to  advance.  Those  who  were 
nearer  to  the  convicts  and  the  executioner  were,  how- 
ever, seized  with  a  strange  panic.  An  opening  was 
made,  and  there  was  no  further  pretext  for  delaying  the 
execution,  which  duly  took  place. 

On  his  return  home,  my  grandfather  found  an  order 
of  Fouquier-Tinville's  to  go  to  the  Palais  de  Justice,  and 
remain  there  all  night. 

The   members   of    the    Convention   who   had   been 


THE  DEATH  OF  ROBESPIERRE.  201 

•arrested  had  for  some  time  been  detained  In  the  office 
of  the  Committee  of  PubHc  Safety,  and  from  thence  they 
had  been  taken  to  prison ;  Robespierre  the  elder  to  the 
Luxembourg,  Saint-Just  to  the  Ecossals,  Couthon  to  La 
Bourbe,  Lebas  to  the  house  of  justice  of  the  department, 
and  Robespierre  the  younger  to  La  Force.  Just  as  they 
were  leaving  the  Tuileries,  Henrlot,  the  general-in-chlef 
of  the  National  Guards,  and  his  aides-de-camp  were 
brought  in. 

On  the  other  hand  the  Commune  was  not  inactive, 
and  was  doing  its  utmost  to  save  Robespierre  and 
-Struggle  with  the  Convention.  It  proclaimed  insurrec- 
tion, and  sent  emissaries  to  all  parts  of  Paris  to  call 
together  the  National  Guard,  in  order  to  overthrow  the 
Convention.  A  part  of  the  artillery  of  the  National 
Guard  took  Robespierre's  part,  and  proposed  to  attack 
the  Tuileries.  With  their  assistance  Coffinhal,  who  was 
looking  for  Robespierre,  broke  into  the  office  of  the  Com- 
mittee, found  Henrlot,  and  freed  him.  Henrlot  mounted 
a  horse  and  resumed  the  command  of  the  National  Guard  ; 
but  instead  of  marching  on  the  Assembly,  he  galloped 
off  to  the  H6tel-de-Ville,  there  to  take  the  advice  of 
Robespierre,  who,  on  his  side,  had  been  freed  by  his 
friends.  Henriot's  want  of  boldness  in  this  circum- 
stance saved  the  Convention,  the  members  of  which  had 
time  to  organise  their  own  forces  ;  and  while  Henrlot, 
Robespierre,  Saint-Just,  Lebas,  Couthon,  Robespierre 
the  younger,  Payan,  and  Dumas  were  losing  time  in 
bootless  deliberation,  Leonard  Bourdon,  one  of  the  re- 
presentatives, supported  by  a  large  number  of  National 


202  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  SANSONS, 

Guards,  surrounded  the  H6tel-de-Ville,  and  rushed  into 
the  hall  where  Robespierre  and  his  friends  had  taken 
refuge.  There  still  remains  considerable  doubt  as  to 
what  then  took  place.  This  is  the  account  given  by 
Barrere  in  his  report  of  the  lOth  of  Thermidor  :  'The 
guilty  ones  were  seized  with  terror  when  the  sections 
entered  the  H6tel-de-Ville.  Lebas  blew  his  brains  out, 
Couthon  wounded  himself,  Robespierre  the  younger 
jumped  out  of  a  window,  Robespierre  the  elder  at- 
tempted to  commit  suicide.  Saint-Just  was  captured, 
Dumas  sought  shelter  in  a  garret,  Henriot  took  to  flight.' 
History  has  distrusted  Barrere's  official  account,  for  it  is 
in  glaring  contradiction  with  the  account  furnished  to  the 
Convention  by  Leonard  Bourdon  on  the  morning  of  the 
1 0th.  He  introduced  a  genda^rme  who,  he  said,  had 
killed  two  of  the  conspirators  with  his  own  hand,  and 
these  conspirators  he  takes  care  to  designate  by  name  : 
*  We  found  Robespierre  the  elder  armed  with  a  dagger, 
which  this  brave  gendarme  wrenched  from  his  hand ;  he 
also  struck  Couthon,  who  was  also  armed.' 

Toulongeon,  an  ex-member  of  the  Constituent 
Assembly  who  wrote  in  1812,  affirms  that  Robespierre's 
jaw  was  broken  by  a  pistol-shot.  There  is,  then,  every 
reason  to  think  that  Robespierre  did  not  attempt  ta 
commit  suicide  ;  M.  Louis  Blanc  shows  this  very  clearly 
in  the  notes  which  follow  the  seventh  chapter  of  the 
tenth  volume  of  his  '  History  of  the  Revolution.'  Ac- 
cording to  M.  Louis  Blanc,  Medal,  the  gendarme  men- 
tioned by  Leonard  Bourdon,  entered  the  hall  of  the 
Hotel-de-Ville    long    before    the     latter ;     recognising 


THE  DEATH  OF  ROBESPIERRE.  203 

Robespierre,   he    fired    a   pistol  at    him  and  wounded 
him. 

To  M.  Louis  Blanc's  conclusive  demonstration  I  can 
add  an  affirmation  which,  modest  as  it  is,  is  worth  con- 
sideration. Medal  was  one  of  the  judicial  gendarmes 
whom  my  father  saw  almost  daily.  Promoted  to  the 
rank  of  officer  Medal  left  the  corps,  but  the  reason  of 
this  promotion  was  a  secret  to  no  one  ;  and,  at  a  time 
when  the  attempted  suicide  of  Robespierre  was  accepted 
by  the  gravest  historians,  my  father  used  to  tell  me  of 
Medal's  pistol-shot,  the  influence  it  had  on  the  man's 
promotion,  and  the  anger  felt  by  his  comrades — many  of 
Avhom  were  rabid  partisans  of  Robespierre — at  what 
they  considered  a  piece  of  favouritism. 

Howbeit,  a  quarter  of  an  hour  after  Leonard  Bourdon's 
entrance,  the  situation  was  such  as  Barrere  described 
it.  Maximilian  Robespierre  was  lying  on  the  ground,, 
seriously  wounded  and  covered  with  blood;  Robes- 
pierre the  younger,  after  taking  off  his  shoes  and  walk- 
ing for  some  time  on  the  broad  cornice  of  the  first  floor 
of  the  Hotel- de-Ville,  had  jumped  down  on  the  bayonets 
of  the  soldiers  below.  Couthon,  slightly  wounded,  was 
carried  by  his  friends  as  far  as  the  quay.  Henriot  was  not 
better  off  than  his  companions  ;  he  would  not  commit 
suicide,  and  Coffinhal,  indignant  at  his  want  of  nerve, 
threw  him  out  of  a  window  into  one  of  the  interior  court- 
yards, where  he  fell  on  a  heap  of  broken  glass.  He  had 
strength  enough  to  crawl  into  a  drain  where  he  was 
found  some  hours  after.  Saint-Just,  Payan,  and  Lescot- 
Fleuriot  were  arrested. 


204        "  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  SANSONS. 

Robespierre  the  elder  was  placed  on  a  hand-barrow 
and  carried  to  the  Convention.  He  was  deposited  on  a 
large  table  in  one  of  the  rooms  of  the  Committee  of 
Public  Safety ;  and  there  he  remained,  from  three  to 
-eight  o'clock  A.M.,  a  prey  to  the  sarcasms  of  those  who 
two  days  before  trembled  before  him.  At  last  his  wounds 
were  dressed  and  he  was  taken  to  the  Conciergerie, 
where  Saint-Just,  Couthon,  Payan,  and  the  others  had 
preceded  him. 

At  five  o'qlock  A.M.  the  public  prosecutor  ordered  my 
grandfather  to  erect  the  guillotine  on  the  Place  de  Greve. 
Charles  Henri  Sanson  had  scarcely  traversed  the  court- 
yard of  the  Palais  when  he  was  recalled  and  told  to 
wait.  A  message  from  the  Committee  of  Public  Safety 
-altered  the  first  instructions  given  to  Fouquier ;  the 
Place  de  Greve,  which  had  at  first  been  selected  for  the 
•execution  because  of  the  hatred  felt  for  Robespierre  in 
the  neighbouring  sections,  was  abandoned,  and  the  final 
<iecision  was  that  Robespierre  should  be  executed  on 
the  Place  de  la  Revolution.  As  some  doubts  remained 
as  to  the  disposition  of  the  inhabitants  of  the  Faubourg 
Saint-Antoine,  Charles  Henri  was  instructed  to  remove 
the  scaffold  to  its  new  scene  by  a  roundabout  route. 

He  set  out  with  his  assistants  at  six  o'clock  in  the 
morning  ;  neither  he  nor  his  brother,  therefore,  were 
present  when  Robespierre  and  his  companions  arrived  at 
the  Conciergerie,  but  he  was  informed  of  what  took  place 
by  the  turnkeys.  The  scaffold  was  taken  down  and 
transferred  to  the  carts.     During  this  operation  an  im- 


THE  DEATH  OF  ROBESPIERRE.  2 

mense  crowd  assembled  in  the  Place  du  Trone.  In  spite 
of  the  Robespierrist  tendencies  of  the  Faubourg,  no- 
hostile  feeling  was  manifested,  but  as  the  carts  moved 
away  more  than  one  cried  :  *  A  good  journey  to  you,  but 
don't  come  back.'  A  compact  mass,  in  which  young 
people  were  in  a  majority,  escorted  my  grandfather  and 
his  assistants,  and  when  they  reached  the  Place  de  la 
Revolution  the  escort  was  so  numerous  that  the  gen- 
darmes had  great  difficulty  in  clearing  the  spot  where 
the  scaffold  was  to  be  erected.  This  was  not  done  be- 
fore two  o'clock  P.M. 

My  grandfather  and  father  had  gone  back  to  the 
Conciergerie  at  mid-day.  There  was  as  much  excitement 
inside  the  prison  as  outside.  All  the  prisoners  had  been 
so  near  death  that  they  could  hardly  believe  their  senses. 
As  I  previously  stated,  Robespierre  had  been  brought  be- 
tween eight  and  nine  o'clock ;  he  had  been  deposited  on 
the  bed  in  which  Danton  had  slept  one  night.  He  did 
not  utter  a  single  groan ;  he  only  spoke  two  or  three 
times,  and,  on  account  of  his  wounds,  his  words  were 
scarcely  intelligible.  Some  linen  and  water  were  offered 
to  him  ;  he  washed  his  wounds  and  tried  to  sleep,  but 
could  not  do  so.  He  then  rose  and  asked  for  ink  and 
paper,  but  formal  orders  had  been  given,  and  the  turn- 
key refused  with  the  evasiveness  of  language  usual  to  his 
profession.  Robespierre  made  a  gesture  of  anger  and 
threat,  but  he  immediately  regained  his  self-possession. 

Robespierre  the  younger,  who  was  badly  hurt,  was  in 
a  neighbouring  cell  ;  Couthon  was  in  the  head  turnkey's 
room  ;  and  Saint-Just  occupied  a  cell  which,  in  remem- 


2o6  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  SANSONS. 

brance  of  the  massacre  of  September,  had  been  called 
"*'  the  national  slaughterhouse.' 

The  Tribunal  was  to  sit  at  ten  o'clock,  but  an  unex- 
pected difficulty  arose.  According  to  the  law  it  was 
necessary  that  the  identity  of  the  prisoners  should  be 
-established  by  two  members  of  the  Commune  ;  but  as 
all  the  members  of  the  Commune  were  implicated  in 
Hobespierre's  conspiracy  this  formality  could  not  be  ac- 
complished. Fouquier-Tinville  acquainted  the  Conven- 
tion with  this  difficulty  ;  the  Assembly  suggested  that 
the  local  committees  should  send  delegates  with  the 
object  of  identifying  the  accused. 

The  Tribunal  began  to  sit  at  half-past  twelve.  Seil- 
lein  presided ;  Fouquier-Tinville,  assisted  by  Liendon,  his 
substitute,  was  at  his  usual  place.  Robespierre  the 
elder  was  carried  in  on  a  hand-barrow  ;  his  younger 
brother  was  supported  by  two  gendarmes  ;  two  other 
gendarmes  carried  Couthon  in  an  arm-chair.  After  being 
duly  identified  they  were  taken  back  to  their  cells,  and 
the  Tribunal  continued  to  proceed  against  those  who 
were  brought  up  after  the  ringleaders. 

Liendon,  Fouquier's  substitute,  had  ordered  that  the 
culprits  should  be  *  prepared '  as  they  left  the  Tribunal,  in 
order  to  save  time.  At  two  o'clock  Charles  Henri 
Sanson,  his  son,  his  brother,  and  two  assistants  entered 
Robespierre's  cell.  He  was  lying  down,  his  eyes  fixed 
on  the  window  facing  his  bed.  He  did  not  move  when 
they  entered,  nor  did  he  even  look  round.  My  father 
asked  him  to  get  up  ;  his  eye  was  still  brilliant  and 
seemed  to  ask  *  Why  } '     Before  an  answer  was  returned 


THE  DEATH  OF  ROBESPIERRE.  207 

he  understood,  sat  up,  and  stretched  out  his  neck,  ex- 
pressing a  desire  not  to  leave  his  bed  ;  but,  as  this  could 
not  be  done,  the  assistants  lifted  him  up  and  placed  him 
on  a  chair.  A  large  piece  of  linen  which  covered  his 
broken  jaw  was  taken  off,  and  while  my  great-uncle 
was  cutting  his  hair  Charles  Henri  Sanson  held  up 
the  bandages.  When  the  operation  was  finished  my 
grandfather  dressed  again  the  wound,  and  Robespierre 
acknowledged  his  kindness  by  a  nod. 

Saint- Just  was  walking  up  and  down  his  cell  when 
the  executioners  entered.  He  was  slightly  pale,  but  his 
eye  was  bright  and  proud.  He  sat  down  without  a  word 
and  allowed  my  grand-uncle  to  cut  his  hair.  He  then 
held  out  his  hands  to  Charles  Henri  before  being  asked, 
and  as  the  latter  said,  '  Not  yet,'  Saint-Just  murmured, 
*  'Tis  a  pity !  I  am  in  a  hurry.'  These  were  the  only 
words  he  uttered,  and  to  the  death  he  retained  an  air  of 
superb  indifference. 

Couthon  was  the  only  one  of  the  triumvirs  who 
showed  discouragement,  but  his  prostration  was  not  due 
to  fear  but  to  sadness. 

At  four  o'clock  the  Tribunal  had  identified  a  sufhci- 
ently  large  number  of  outlaws.  There  was  another  ex- 
change of  messages  between  the  judicial  authorities  and 
the  Committee  of  Public  Safety  concerning  the  convicts 
who  were  to  be  executed  on  the  same  day.  Twenty-one 
individuals  were  selected  for  immediate  punishment. 
These  were :  Henriot,  late  general  of  the  National 
Guard  ;  Lavalette,  late  general  of  the  Army  of  the 
North  ;  Dumas,  late  president  of  the  Revolutionary  Tri- 


2o8  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  SANSONS. 

bunal  ;  Payan,  agent  of  the  Commune  ;  Vivler,  one  ofi 
the  judges  of  the  Tribunal  and  president  of  the  Jacobins ; 
Lescot-Fleuriot,  late  mayor  of  Paris  ;  Simon,  the  cob- 
bler (keeper  of  the  son  of  Louis  XVI.),  and  ten  other 
municipal  officers.  'Henriot  had  had  an  eye  pulled  out 
in  the  scuffle  which  attended  his  arrest  ;  he  was  horrible 
to  behold.  Nothing  could  be  more  dismal  than  the  cor- 
tege as  it  descended  the  staircase  of  the  Conciergerie  ; 
two  dying  men  and  a  cripple  were  at  the  head  of  it,  and 
a  corpse  was  in  the  rear.  Lebas'  body  followed  Robes- 
pierre, as  Valaze's  corpse  had  followed  the  Girondins. 

At  half-past  four  the  carts  appeared  on  the  quay. 
No  crowd  ever  equalled  that  which  was  assembled  to  see 
the  last  of  Robespierre.  Most  historians  have  related 
his  sinister  journey  to  the  scaffold,  and  I  have  little  in- 
formation to  give  beyond  what  has  been  already  written. 
The  drama  was  taking  place  around  the  executioners 
rather  than  with  them,  in  the  streets  rather  than  in  the 
carts.  Maximilian  Robespierre,  seated^  on  some  straw 
which  one  of  the  assistants  had  provided  for  him,  was 
leaning  against  the  side  of  the  cart  in  which  he  was  ;  his 
face  was  swollen  and  livid.  The  fiercest  cries,  the  most 
vehement  exclamations,  left  him  undisturbed ;  he  kept  his 
eyes  closed  during  the  whole  of  the  journey.  His  brother, 
who  had  attempted  suicide  by  jumping  out  of  a  window, 
was  almost  insensible.  Couthon  appeared  astonished  at 
the  rage  of  the  multitude,  and  in,his  eyes,  which  were  very 
soft  and  intelligent,  the  utmost  surprise  could  be  read. 

*  Not  standing,  as  M.  Michelet  asserts  that  he  was,    in  his  History  of 
the  Revolution^  vol.  vii.  p.  515. 


THE  DEATH  OF  ROBESPIERRE.  209 

When  Dumas  answered  to  some  passing  taunt,  *  My  only- 
regret  is  that  I  did  not  get  all  these  blackguards  guillo- 
tined,' Couthon  shook  his  head  thoughtfully.  Saint- 
Just  was  the  only  one  who  openly  affronted  the  storm  ; 
and  he  did  so  without  anger,  bombast,  or  weakness. 
The  firmness  of  his  convictions  probably  elevated  his 
mind  above  these  manifestations.  Once  only  did  he 
look  down  ;  a  woman  near  the  cart  was  insulting  Robes- 
pierre, and  charging  him  with  the  death  of  her  daughter. 
Saint-Just  smiled  bitterly,  and  he  was  heard  to  say,  as 
if  speaking  to  himself:  'Her  daughter!  Perhaps  she 
would  have  sold  her  for  twenty  livres.' 

When  the  carts  reached  the  house  of  the  Duplay 
family,  where  Robespierre  used  to  live,  the  drivers  were 
obliged  to  stop.  Rings  were  formed  around  the  carts, 
and  the  people  danced  madly  and  furiously.  A  child 
brought  a  pail  of  blood  from  a  neighbouring  butcher's, 
and  the  door  and  walls  of  Robespierre's  abode  were 
smeared  with  it.  It  was  useless  for  Charles  Henri 
Sanson  to  order  the  gendarmes  to  clear  the  way ;  the 
gendarmes  joined  the  people  and  a  deplorable  scene 
followed.  This  disgusting  manifestation  of  feeling  on 
the  part  of  the  agents  of  authority  had  always  been 
allowed  since  the  Queen's  execution,  and  there  was  no 
help  for  it.  Robespierre  opened  his  eyes  and  closed 
them  again  when  the  cart  came  to  a  standstill,  but  this 
supreme  insult  left  him  as  unmoved  as  before. 

It  was  a  quarter-past  six  o'clock  when  the  cortege  at 
last  reached  the  Place  de  la  Revolution.  The  convicts 
were  removed  from  the  carts.     Gobeau,  ex-substitute  of 

VOL.  II.  p 


2IO  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  SANSONS. 

the  public  prosecutor  and  member  of  the  Commune,  was- 
the  first  who  suffered.  MaximiHan  Robespierre  stood 
leaning  against  one  of  the  carts,  his  back  turned  to  the 
scaffold.  His  brother  was  held  up  by  two  gendarmes, 
his  wounds  not  allowing  him  to  stand  without  sup- 
port. Couthon  was  in  a  chair  specially  provided  for 
him.  When  Saint-Just's  turn  came  he  embraced  the 
cripple,  and  in  passing  before  the  Robespierres  he  pro- 
nounced the  only  word  of  '  Farewell ! '  His  voice  be- 
trayed no  emotion.  Robespierre  the  elder  nodded  in 
answer,  turned  round,  and  looked  on  while  his  friend  was 
being  strapped  to  the  weigh-plank.  Robespierre  was 
the  tenth  to  appear  on  the  platform  ;  he  went  up  the 
steps  of  the  scaffold  without  any  assistance  whatever. 
His  demeanour  exhibited  neither  weakness  nor  assumed 
bravery  ;  his  eye  was  cold  and  calm.  Charles  Henri 
told  one  of  his  men  to  take  off  the  linen  in  which  the 
prisoner's  face  was  wrapped ;  the  man  did  as  he  was 
directed  and  uncovered  the  broken  jaw.  The  pain  must 
have  been  horrible,  for  Robespierre  uttered  a  fearful  cry. 
The  blood  trickled  down  from  the  jaw  and  the  mouth 
remained  wide  open.  He  was  immediately  strapped 
down,  and,  less  than  a  minute  after,  the  knife  fell.  The 
head  was  shown  to  the  crowd,  just  like  Dan  ton's  and  the 
King's. 

A  natural  wish  to  contradict  whatever  may  be  of  a 
nature  to  cast  undeserved  discredit  on  my  family,  in- 
duces me  here  to  address  an  observation  to  an  eminent 
historian.  In  his  'History  of  the  Revolution'  (p.  265, 
vol.  X.),  M.  Louis  Blanc  says  :  '  When  Robespierre  was 


( 


THE  DEATH  OF  ROBESPIERRE.  211 

on  the  platform  of  the  guillotine,  the  executioner,  a  rabid 
royalist,  having,  by  a  rough  and  barbarous  movement, 
torn  away  the  bandage  which  covered  his  wounds,  the 
unexpected  pain  which  shot  through  his  face  drew  a 
piercing  cry  from  him,'  &c.  I  have  no  wish  to  clear 
my  grandfather  of  the  charge  of  royalism  which  M. 
Louis  Blanc  brings  against  him,  but  I  cannot  allow 
the  charge  of  cruelty  to  pass  without  protest.  The 
energy  which  Charles  Henri  Sanson  displayed  in  trying 
to  put  a  stop  to  the  hideous  saturnalia  of  the  Rue  Saint- 
Honore — and  this  energy  was  remarked  by  many — 
gives  the  exact  measure  of  the  sanguinary  instincts  of 
this  rabid  royalist.  In  this  circumstance,  as  in  that 
alluded  to  by  M.  Louis  Blanc,  my  grandfather  forgot  his 
own  antipathy  only  to  think  of  the  strict  and  humane 
discharge  of  his  duty.  Robespierre's  wound  was  covered 
by  a  wet  piece  of  linen  which  was  made  fast  with  a 
napkin.  Another  piece  of  linen  surrounded  the  forehead 
and  the  back  of  the  head.  Had  my  grandfather  attempted 
to  execute  Robespierre  with  these  bandages,  the  most 
serious  consequences  might  have  ensued  ;  and  I  think, 
speaking  from  a  professional  point  of  view,  I  have  a 
right  to  assert  that,  however  sharp  was  the  unfortunate 
man's  pain,  it  spared  him  torments  far  more  terrible. 


p  2 


212  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  SAN  SONS. 


CHAPTER   XLVL 

LESURQUES. 

Although  it  is  impossible  for  me  to  mention  all  the 
instances  of  capital  punishment  that  occurred  in  the 
course  of  the  French  Revolution,  I  cannot  pass  to 
another  phasis  of  these  Memoirs  without  dwelling  on 
one  of  the  many  criminal  cases  of  the  period,  which  is 
still,  and  is  likely  to  remain,  one  of  the  most  notorious 
causes  c^l^bres.     I  allude  to  the  Lesurques  affair. 

At  the  beginning  of  the  year  4  of  the  French 
Republic  considerable  terror  prevailed  in  the  provinces 
in  consequence  of  the  sinister  deeds  of  a  large  gang  of 
bandits  who  styled  themselves  the  Chauffeurs  (literally 
*  warmers ').  Almost  every  day  the  news  came  of  the 
capture  of  some  castle  or  farm,  attended  with  atrocious 
scenes  in  which  these  formidable  malefactors  surpassed 
the  cruelty  of  former  judicial  tortures.  The  name  of 
'  Chauffeurs '  was  but  too  significant  ;  the  gang  had 
chosen  the  locality  of  La  Beauce  for  the  scene  of  their 
operations,  and  their  least  cruel  crime  was  murder. 
These  ruffians,  with  the  object  of  compelling  their 
victims  to  point  out  the  spot  where  their  property  was 
concealed,  had  invented  an  atrocious  infliction.     They 


LESURQUES.  213 

lighted  a  large  fire  and  brought  the  feet  of  the  victim  in 
contact  with  the  flames  until  a  confession  was  extorted. 
The  inhabitants  of  La  Beauce  were  so  terrified  that  they 
dared  not  venture  out  of  their  houses  even  in  broad 
daylight. 

Just  when  outrages  of  this  kind  were  being  per- 
petrated with  the  utmost  audacity,  a  report  reached 
Paris  to  the  effect  that  the  mail  of  Lyons  had  been 
waylaid.  The  courier  and  the  postilion  had  been  found 
in  a  lifeless  state  at  a  short  distance  from  each  other, 
and  the  only  clue  found  near  the  scene  of  the  murder 
was  a  deserted  horse  and  cart. 

The  police  immediately  set  to  work.  Citizen  Dau- 
banton,  justice  of  the  peace  of  the  section  of  the  Pont 
Neuf,  was  entrusted  with  the  care  of  discovering  the 
guilty  parties.  A  man  of  the  name  of  Courriol  was 
arrested  at  Chateau-Thierry,  and  he  was  found  in  pos- 
session of  sums  and  letters  which  were  eventually  proved 
to  have  been  stolen  from  the  mail.  Courriol  was  trans- 
ferred to  Paris,  together  with  one  of  his  friends  named 
Golier,  and  a  third  individual  named  Guesno,  who  lived 
in  the  same  house  as  Courriol.  This  treble  capture, 
however,  threw  but  little  light  on  the  mystery.  Courriol 
alone  was  seriously  compromised  ;  but  nothing  could  be 
proved  against  Golier  and  Guesno,  whose  social  position 
and  antecedents  were  above  question.  Guesno  was 
finally  set  at  liberty.  He  was  returning  to  the  prefec- 
ture of  police  to  ask  for  his  passport,  when  he  met  one 
of  his  compatriots  of  the  name  of  Lesurques,  and  forth- 
with he  told  him  of  the  unpleasant   position  in  which 


214  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  SANSONS. 


he  had  been  placed.  His  story  was  not  finished  when 
they  reached  the  prefecture,  and  Guesno  proposed  to 
Lesurques  to  come  in  with  him  and  hear  the  end  of  his 
account  while  his  passport  was  being  looked  for. 

Scarcely,  however,  had  Lesurques  and  his  com- 
panion entered  the  ante-chamber  of  M.  Daubanton's 
closet  when  they  became  aware  that  two  of  the  wit- 
nesses called  on  behalf  of  the  prosecution  in  the  Mail 
affair  were  looking  at  them  with  more  than  ordinary 
curiosity.  These  witnesses,  who  were  women,  thought 
they  identified  Guesno  and  Lesurques  as  two  of  the 
supposed  murderers,  whom  they  had  seen  at  a  short 
distance  from  the  place  where  the  crime  had  been  com- 
mitted ;  and  they  hastened  to  intimate  the  fact  to 
M.  Daubanton.  This  magistrate  was  much  perplexed, 
for  it  appeared  to  him  highly  improbable  that  two 
criminals  would  thus  expose  themselves  to  instant  re- 
cognition, and  rush  into  the  lion's  den.  Lesurques, 
especially,  had  no  reason  whatever  for  coming  to  the 
prefecture ;  and  as  to  Guesno,  his  presence  was  suffi- 
ciently justified.  But  the  evidence  of  the  two  women 
was  so  positive  that  he  felt  it  his  duty  to  arrest  Le- 
surques and  Guesno. 

The  two  prisoners  had  great  chances  of  escape,  in 
spite  of  the  affirmations  of  the  women,  so  long  as  the 
case  remained  in  the  hands  of  M.  Daubanton  ;  but,  for 
unknown  reasons,  the  affair  was  sent  for  investigation 
to  the  criminal  tribunal  of  Melun  ;  and  the  instructing 
magistrate  of  this  last  court,  instead  of  imitating  the 
prudence  of  his  Parisian  colleague  and  trying  to   dis- 


LESURQUES.  215 

cover  the  truth,  applied  himself  to  the  collection  of 
proofs  of  the  guilt  of  the  prisoners.  A  terrible  indict- 
ment was  drawn  up  against  Lesurques  and  Guesno, 
who  were  formally  tried,  together  with  Courriol  and 
four  other  individuals  named  Laborde,  Bruer,  Bernard, 
and  Richard.  The  trial  was  about  to  begin  when  the 
prisoners  formally  asked  to  be  tried  by  the  criminal 
court  of  Paris,  a  petition  which  was  granted. 

The  delayed  affair  was  at  last  brought  up  for  inves- 
tigation before  the  Paris  Tribunal  on  Thermidor  15. 
The  president  of  the  Tribunal,  Jerome  Gohier,  member 
of  the  Legislative  Assembly,  was  a  harsh,  obstinate  man, 
and  throughout  the  trial  he  displayed  excessive  severity 
and  exaggerated  zeal.  Fifteen  witnesses  on  behalf  of 
the  defence  proved  an  alibi  in  favour  of  Lesurques, 
eighty-three  others  spoke  highly  of  his  well-known 
respectability ;  but  their  evidence  went  for  nothing 
in  opposition  to  those  who,  with  singular  pertinacity, 
maintained  that  Lesurques  was  one  of  those  who  had 
been  seen  lurking  near  the  scene  of  the  murder  on 
the  night  when  it  was  committed.  One  of  the  wit- 
nesses for  the  defence,  a  countryman  of  Lesurques 
named  Legrand,  jeweller  of  the  Palais  Royal,  said  he 
could  corroborate  his  evidence  by  an  entry  of  a  trans- 
action with  Lesurques  which,  he  said,  had  taken  place 
on  the  very  day  of  the  crime.  The  book  was  called  for, 
and  it  was  perceived  that  an  eight  had  been  altered  into 
a  nine.  At  the  requisition  of  the  public  prosecutor  the 
unfortunate  Legrand  was  immediately  arrested  on  a 
•charge  of  perjury. 


2i6  MEMOIRS   OF  THE  SANSONS. 

This  seventy  but  too  plainly  indicated  the  result  of 
the  trial.  The  fifteen  witnesses  who  certified  an  alibi 
were  not  believed,  and  the  evidence  of  the  two  women^ 
together  with  that  of  five  other  doubtful  witnesses,  w-as 
declared  conclusive.  As  for  Lesurques  he  did  not  for  a 
moment  cease  to  maintain  his  innocence. 

As  the  jurors  were  preparing  to  retire,  a  woman  who 
had  at  first  been  arraigned,  Madeleine  Breban,  mistress 
of  Courriol,  begged  the  judge's  leave  to  make  an  im- 
portant statement  She  declared  that  out  of  the  six 
prisoners  at  the  bar  her  lover  alone  was  guilty,  and  that 
Guesno  and  Lesurques  were  the  victims  of  an  extra- 
ordinary and  fatal  resemblance  with  two  of  the  real 
murderers  named  Vidal  and  Dubosc.  The  president, 
whose  duty  it  was  to  investigate  this  strange  and  capital 
fact,  especially  after  the  evidence  of  Lesurques'  wit- 
nesses, drily  answered  that  the  trial  was  closed,  and  that 
it  was  too  late  to  take  evidence ;  and  the  Tribunal,  after 
hearing  the  verdict  of  the  jury,  acquitted  Guesno  and 
Bruer,  condemned  Pierre-Thomas  Richard  to  penal 
servitude  for  twenty  years  and  to  public  exhibition  for 
six  hours,  and  passed  sentence  of  death  on  Courriol, 
Lesurques,  and  David  Bernard.  On  hearing  his  con- 
demnation, Lesurques,  who  had  been  firm  and  collected 
throughout  the  trial,  lost  his  self-possession,  and  raising 
his  hands  to  heaven  he  exclaimed  : 

'  The  crime  which  is  imputed  to  me  is  indeed 
atrocious  and  deserves  death  ;  but  if  it  is  horrible  to 
murder  on  the  high  road  it  is  not  less  so  to  abuse  the 
law  and  convict  an  innocent  man.     A   day  will   come 


LESURQUES.  217 

when  my  innocence  will  be  recognised,  and  then  may 
my  blood  fall  upon  the  jurors  who  have  so  lightly  con- 
victed me,  and  on  the  judges  who  have  influenced  their 
decision  ! ' 

Strange  to  say,  Courriol,  the  really  guilty  convict, 
appeared  but  slightly  preoccupied  with  his  own  fate. 
When  he  was  again  in  the  Conciergerie  he  thought  only 
of  corroborating  the  declaration  of  Madeleine  Breban,. 
his  mistress,  and  of  saving  the  life  of  Bernard,  whom  he 
knew  to  be  but  slightly  guilty,  and  of  Lesurques,  whose 
innocence  he  was  fully  aware  of  He  confirmed  his 
mistress's  evidence,  and  denounced  Vidal  and  Dubosc 
as  the  real  perpetrators  of  the  crime,  adding  that  Made- 
leine Breban,  who  was  free,  could  assist  the  judicial 
authorities  in  the  apprehension  of  the  culprits.  Two 
days  after  he  repeated  his  declaration,  at  the  same  time 
revealing  the  names  of  other  accomplices  altogether  un- 
known. 

Other  witnesses  asserted  that,  during  the  trial, 
Madeleine  Breban  had  spoken  to  them  of  Lesurques' 
innocence.  One  of  them  said  that  he  had  seen  the  two 
culprits  confounded  with  Lesurques  and  Guesno.  This 
resemblance  had  been  increased,  as  far  as  the  former 
was  concerned,  by  Dubosc  putting  on  a  fair  wig,  which 
completed  his  resemblance  to  Lesurques.  The  Tribunal, 
however,  refused  to  consider  these  new  facts,  and  the 
execution  was  about  to  take  place  when  the  barrister 
who  had  defended  Lesurques  appealed  to  the  Directoire 
on  behalf  of  his  client.  Public  opinion  was  strongly  in 
favour  of  the  convict ;  and  this,  more  than  anything  else,. 


2i8  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  SANSONS. 

induced  the  Directoire  to  delay  the  execution.     Mean- 
while Courriol  sent  them  the  following  letter  : 

*  Is  it,  then,  true  that  my  crime  is  to  provoke  a  double 
murder?  The  truthful  declarations  I  have  constantly] 
made  have  not  saved  two  innocent  men.  Can  I  at  least 
hope  that,  to  avenge  their  death,  you  will  give  express 
orders  for  the  apprehension  of  the  four  individuals  I 
have  designated,  and  who  are  my  only  accomplices  .^ 
The  truth  will  be  discovered  before  long,  but  before 
this,  the  innocent  prisoners  will  perish.  The  innoce?its  ! 
I  repeat  it,  and  cannot  help  repeating  to  the  last  minute 
of  my  life.' 

The  Directoire  referred  the  affair  to  the  Conseil  des 
Cinq-cents.  A  committee  was  appointed,  and  Count 
Simeon  was  appointed  reporter.  The  choice  was  ill 
advised  ;  Count  Simeon  was  more  engrossed  by  the 
technicalities  of  the  law  than  moved  by  a  real  sense  of 
justice.  His  long  and  declamatory  report  went  against 
the  unhappy  Lesurques,  whose  fate  was  henceforth 
sealed. 

Lesurques  heard  the  fatal  news  with  the  stoicism 
which  had  not  for  a  single  moment  forsaken  him.  He  bade 
farewell  to  his  family,  sent  a  lock  of  his  hair  to  each  of 
his  children,  and  prepared  for  death  with  the  coolness 
of  an  undisturbed  conscience.  On  the  9th  of  Brumaire, 
year  5  (October  30,  1796),  my  grandfather  and  father 
proceeded  to  the  Conciergerie,  and  found  the  convicts  in 
the  hall,  through  which  so  many  had  passed  during  the 
Reign  of  Terror.  David  Bernard  was  in  a  state  of  utter 
prostration;  Courriol,  on  the  contrary,  was  excited.     As 


LESURQUES.  219 

to  Lesurques,  he  was  as  calm  and  fearless  as  ever. 
When  he  saw  my  grandfather,  whose  white  hair  suffi- 
ciently designated  him  as  the  chief  executioner,  he 
stepped  up  to  him,  and  said,  holding  out  a  sealed  letter : 

*  Citizen,  I  hope  for  the  honour  of  human  justice  that 
your  functions  do  not  often  compel  you  to  shed  the 
blood  of  a  guiltless  man  ;  I  hope,  therefore,  that  you 
will  grant  the  last  request  of  a  man  who  is  about  to 
suffer  for  what  he  has  not  done.  Be  good  enough  to 
keep  this  letter,  which  may  hereafter  contribute  to  the 
restoration  of  the  honour  of  my  wife  and  poor  children, 
whereof  they  have  been  so  unjustly  deprived.' 

While  one  of  his  assistants  was  cutting  the  unfortu- 
nate man's  hair,  my  grandfather  read  the  paper  Lesurques 
had  just  given  him.  It  was  a  letter  addressed  to  Dubosc, 
the  man  in  whose  place  he  was  condemned.  It  ran  as 
follows  : 

*  To  Citizen  Dubosc. 

'  Citizen  Dubosc, — I  do  not  even  know  you,  and  I  am 
going  to  suffer  the  death  which  was  reserved  for  you. 
Be  satisfied  with  the  sacrifice  of  my  life.  Should  you 
ever  be  brought  to  account,  remember  my  three  children 
and  their  mother,  who  are  disgraced  for  ever,  and  do  not 
prolong  their  agony.     Confess  that  you  are  the  man.' 

After  reading  the  letter  my  grandfather  approached 
Lesurques  and  assured  him  that  he  would  send  a  copy 
of  it  to  all  the  papers.  I  need  hardly  add  that  Charles 
Henri  kept  his  word. 


220  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  SANSONS. 

All  preparations  were  now  concluded.  Lesurques,  of 
his  own  choice,  was  dressed  in  spotless  white,  symbol  of 
his  innocence.  He  was  the  first  to  take  his  place  in  the 
cart  ;  Courriol  followed  him,  and  Bernard,  who  had 
fainted,  was  deposited  on  the  straw.  Then  began  the 
most  dismal  and  extraordinary  journey  that  ever  was 
made  from  the  Conciergerie  to  the  Place  de  Greve. 
LeSurques  and  Courriol  stood  in  front.  At  every  turn 
of  the  wheel,  Courriol  exclaimed  in  a  piercing  voice  : 

*  I  am  guilty  !  Lesurques  is  innocent ! ' 

And  for  twenty  minutes,  that  is  during  the  whole 
way  to  the  guillotine,  he  perseveringly  repeated  his  awful 
protest  against  justice.  The  crowd  was  horrified,  and 
there  were  few  who  did  not  believe  the  murderer  w^ho 
confessed  his  crime,  but  who  proclaimed  his  companion's 
innocence.  Courriol  again  repeated  his  words  at  the 
foot  of  the  scafibld  with  extraordinary  energy  and 
vehemence,  and  the  thump  of  the  knife  but  just  covered 
his  supreme  shriek : 

*  Lesurques  is  innocent ! ' 

Lesurques  did  not  utter  a  word.  He  looked  at 
Courriol  with  a  touching  expression  of  gratitude,  and 
when  his  turn  came  he  advanced  firmly,  saying  : 

'  May  God  forgive  my  judges  as  I  forgive  them ! ' 
The  rehabilitation  which  the  unfortunate  Lesurques 
hoped  for  is  yet  to  come.  It  was  in  vain  that  his  family 
sought  it  with  the  most  noble  and  interesting  constancy ; 
vainly  have  journalists,  writers,  and  public  opinion  gener- 
ally supported  their  efforts.  The  judicial  authorities 
have   perseveringly   refused   to    recognise  this   flagrant 


LESURQUES.  221 

miscarriage  of  justice.^  And  yet  the  innocence  of 
Lesurques  was  amply  demonstrated  a  short  time  after 
his  execution  :  all  the  real  murderers  of  the  courier  of 
Lyons  designated  by  Courriol  were  captured  ;  Dubosc 
himself,  whose  fatal  resemblance  to  Lesurques  was  the 
cause  of  the  latter's  death,  was  taken  and  tried.  Dubosc 
was  a  rufhan  of  the  worst  kind.  He  denied  the  crime, 
doubtless  in  the  hope  of  saving  his  life  ;  but  his  protesta- 
tions were  of  no  avail ;  he  was  executed  just  four  years 
after  Lesurques.  Two  years  later,  another  murderer 
designated  by  Courriol  was  taken  and  executed  ;  his 
name  was  Roussy.  Before  his  death  he  made  a  full 
confession  and  entirely  cleared  Lesurques,  who  had  no 
acquaintance  whatever  with  any  of  the  murderers  of 
the  courier  of  Lyons. 

Meanwhile  the  family  of  Lesurques  were  in  the 
horrors  of  want  and  despair — their  property  was  con- 
fiscated, his  wife  and  mother  became  mad.  The  latter 
died  in  a  lunatic  asylum  ;  the  former  only  recovered  her 
senses  some  years  after.  Five-and-twenty  years  elapsed 
before  any  notice  of  the  '  affaire  Lesurques '  was  taken 
by  the  State  ;  it  was  only  under  the  Restoration  that  the 
indefatigable  champions  of  the  Lesurques  family  ob- 
tained a  revision  of  the  sentence  as  far  as  material 
interests  were  concerned.  The  Minister  of  Finances  at 
last  recognised  that  the  confiscation  of  Lesurques'  pro- 
perty was  illegal,  and  this  property  was  duly  restored 
to   the   children.     But   with   this    the    descendants    of 

*  It   is  only  two  years    since   the  grand-children  of  Lesurques  made 
another  ineffectual  attempt  to  obtain  the  revision  of  his  trial.— Ed.  N. 


222  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  SANSONS. 

Lesurques  were  not  satisfied.  With  a  perseverance] 
which  can  only  be  compared  to  that  shown  by  the 
family  of  Lally-ToUendal,  they  have  appealed  to  justice 
under  every  successive  Government ;  but,  less  fortunate 
than  the  son  of  the  governor  of  French  India,  they  are 
still  waiting  for  justice,  and  the  French  courts  have  not 
seen  the  last  of  them  yet. 

I  have  now  exhausted  the  documents  and  notes  left 
by  my  ancestors,  and  particularly  by  my  grandfather 
and  father.  There  is  a  gap  in  the  information  of  the 
latter;  it  may  appear  a  serious  one  since  it  extends  over 
nearly  fifteen  years,  but  the  omission,  for  which,  of 
course,  I  am  in  no  way  responsible,  is  more  apparent 
than  real.  Executions  were  not  very  frequent  under  the 
Consulate  and  the  Empire,  and  I  cannot  conscientiously 
draw  upon  my  imagination  by  putting  together  the 
fragmentary  information  gathered  from  conversation 
with  my  father  on  the  executions  of  Fouquier-Tinville,. 
Carrain,  Baboeuf,  Cadoudal,  &c.  My  task  is  now  wholly 
personal  :  I  have  to  relate  my  own  impressions  and 
what  I  have  seen.  The  impressions  of  an  executioner 
may  seem  to  the  reader  almost  as  interesting  as  the 
events  he  has  to  chronicle  ;  this  may  be  my  excuse  for 
dilating  upon  my  education,  and  the  circumstances 
which  unavoidably  led  me  to  embrace  a  profession 
which,  although  it  had  been  that  of  nine  generations  of 
my  ancestors,  was  none  the  less  contrary  to  my  tastes 
and  aspirations. 


223 


CHAPTER    XLVII. 

MV   VOCATION. 

I  WAS  born  in  1799.  My  father's  first  intention  was 
not  that  I  should  take  to  the  guillotine.  My  grand- 
mother as  well  as  my  mother  were  strongly  opposed  ta 
the  extension  of  the  office  to  me.  My  grandfather  was. 
the  only  member  of  the  family  who  differed  from  this 
view ;  and  although  I  forgive  him  with  all  my  heart,  I 
am  bound  to  state  that  it  was  owing  to  him  that  I 
appeared  on  the  guillotine. 

The  old  man,  who  had  led  as  stormy  a  life  as  it  was 
possible  for  a  man  of  his  profession  to  lead,  laboured 
under  the  belief  that  an  executioner,  no  more  than  a 
king,  could  abdicate.  He  had  remained  at  his  post 
while  everything  around  him  was  sinking ;  all  human 
powers  had  passed  under  his  knife — royalty,  genius,, 
eloquence,  virtue,  patriotism  ;  and  a  dark  and  morose 
humour  had  taken  possession  of  the  old  man. 

As  far  as  my  recollection  extends,  I  remember  that 
he  was  very  fond  of  gardening.  He  used  to  walk  every 
morning  over  his  well-sanded  garden,  watering  his  flowers,, 
and  engrossing  himself  in  the  only  occupation  which 
gave  him  pleasure.     I  can  still  see  him  with  his  three- 


224  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  SANSONS. 

cornered  hat,  his  knee-breeches,  and  thin-bladed  sword  ; 
he  used  to  stop  before  the  flowers  he  had  reared  himself, 
and  he  looked  at  them  with  something  like  tenderness. 
One  day  I  remember  that  he  exclaimed  before  a  number 
of  tulips  of  the  finest  red  : 

*  How  fresh,  how  red  they  are  !  If  they  saw  them 
they  would  say  that  I  water  them  with  blood  ! ' 

Young  as  I  was,  these  words  struck  me.  Some  days 
before  I  had  heard  an  absurd  vampire  story  which 
bad  left  a  deep  impression  on  my  mind.  Somehow  or 
other,  the  two  ideas  got  together  in  my  head,  and  in  the 
evening  I  could  not  help  asking  my  mother,  as  I  tvas 
going  to  bed  : 

*  Mamma,  grandfather  says  he  waters  his  flowers  with 
blood  ;  is  it  because  he  is  a  vampire } ' 

My  mother  started.  '  Be  quiet,  Henri,  be  quiet,' 
she  said  ;  '  who  told  you  those  nasty  things  } ' 

I  then  related  to  her  the  vampire  story,  and  what  I 
had  heard  in  the  garden.  She  made  me  promise  not  to 
say  anything  more  about  it.  The  circumstance  passed 
away  from  my  mind  for  a  time.  I  was  reminded  of  it 
later,  and  then  I  understood  what  my  grandfather 
meant. 

Our  position  was  more  than  prosperous ;  in  spite  of 
the  losses  we  had  incurred  under  the  Monarchy  through 
the  wretched  state  of  the  finances,  our  fortune  was  con- 
siderable. Chirurgery  had  always  been  a  very  produc- 
tive resource  for  our  family.  It  is  worth  remarking  that 
after  the  suppression  of  the  right  of  /lavage,  alluded  to 
in  the  first  part  of  this  record,  up  to  the  establishment 


MV   VOCATION. 


225 


in  France  of  a  regular  administration,  our  salary  was 
often  nominal,  for  it  was  frequently  left  unpaid.  It  was 
only  after  the  Revolution  that  we  regularly  received  the 
remuneration  attached  to  our  office.  It  was  mainly  on 
their  personal  fortune  that  my  ancestors  subsisted. 
Howbeit  the  property  which  eventually  came  down  to 
my  hands  was  more  than  sufficient  to  guarantee  my 
independence,  and  enable  me  not  to  have  recourse  to 
the  guillotine  to  earn  my  bread.  My  family  could  then 
hope  to  see  me  forsake  the  traditional  office  without 
apprehension  for  my  prospects.  If  my  father,  whose 
timid  and  good-natured  disposition  was  altogether  un- 
fitted for  his  profession,  had  been  unable  to  shirk  it,  it 
was  in  consequence  of  certain  circumstances  which  could 
in  no  way  affect  me.  As  I  said  before,  and  as  the 
reader  may  have  seen,  my  grandfather  had  curious 
notions,  before  the  Revolution,  on  the  legitimacy  of  his 
office,  and  he  had  brought  up  his  son  in  the  idea  that  he 
should  take  his  place  after  his  death.  Obedience  was 
always  the  first  of  virtues  in  our  family,  and  my  father 
had  obeyed  his  father,  but  not,  however,  without  internal 
struggles ;  for  I  remember  hearing  my  great-uncle, 
Charlemagne  Sanson,  say  that  more  than  once  he  had 
felt  pity  for  his  manifest  distress  in  the  executions  which 
they  both  witnessed.  Having  submitted  to  his  father's 
will,  he  however  intended  to  educate  me  after  his  own 
fashion.  He  was  deceived  in  his  surmise,  and  I  will 
presently  explain  how. 

I  had   just  completed  my  seventh   year   when  my 
grandfather    died.      He    was    very   old,    and   his    last 
VOL.  II.  Q 


226  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  SANSONS. 

moments  were  peaceful  and  free  from  suffering.  Half  an 
hour  before  his  death  he  called  my  father  to  his  bedside. 

^  Henri,'  he  said  to  him,  'I  am  going  away,  and  I 
have  to  say  to  you  a  few  parting  words  before  I  die.  I 
am  aware  that  you  never  liked  your  profession  ;  I  think, 
'  however,  that  I  leave  you  a  good  example.  Believe  me, 
let  us  abide  by  the  station  which  fate  awarded  to  us. 
It  is  of  no  use  to  hope  that  the  world  will  ever  receive 
you  :  your  origin  can  neither  be  forgotten  nor  forgiven. 
Do  not  take  another  occupation  for  yourself  or  your  son. 
It  would  be  a  desertion  from  your  duty.  There  has  not 
been  a  single  instance  in  our  family  of  such  desertion. 
Our  family  is  certainly  the  most  ancient  and  important 
in  the  profession  ;  but  others  have  done  as  we  have  done. 
For  a  long  time  I  sincerely  believed  that  we  were  very 
useful  to  society,  and  that  in  no  profession  were  self- 
denial  and  devotion  shown  more  than  in  ours,  but  I  have 
seen  such  singular  events  that  my  opinions  are  slightly 
altered  now.  Some  day  we  may  be  suppressed,  just  as 
many  other  things  have  been  suppressed.  Until  then 
be  certain  that  no  one  has  a  right  to  blame  or  insult 
you.  You  are  not  responsible  for  the  blood  you  shed. 
Do  not  forget  that  the  judge  who  passes  sentence  is 
more  responsible  than  you  are.' 

The  old  man's  strange  legacy  sealed  my  destiny. 

I  had  then  no  notion  of  what  all  this  meant.  But  a 
few  days  after  my  grandfather's  death,  I  heard  a  conver- 
sation between  my  father  and  my  mother,  the  words  of 
which  return  to  my  memory,  so  much  do  they  remind 
me  of  my  sacrificed  existence. 


MV   VOCATION.  227 

'  Julia,'  said  my  father,  '  my  father  was  right.  It's  of 
no  use  to  try  and  get  out  of  the  groove.  Henri  would 
always  be  reminded  of  his  origin  by  his  more  fortunate 
companions  and  friends,  and  he  would  be  more  unhappy 
in  society  than  out  of  it.  I  don't  want  my  son  to  blush 
for  his  father.  Let  him  get  as  good  an  education  as 
money  can  procure,  but  let  him  remain  the  son  of 
Messieurs  de  Paris,  and  be  true  to  his  origin.' 

My  mother  made  some  objections,  but  these  my 
father  firmly  resisted. 

*  What  profession  could  he  possibly  adopt }  Every- 
body would  spurn  him.  There  is  no  law  to  prevent  his 
entering  some  liberal  profession  ;  but  the  laws  of  society 
are  more  pitiless  than  those  of  the  State.  Were  he  a 
barrister,  no  one  would  ever  consent  to  appeal  to  the 
services  of  an  executioner's  son,  and  it  would  be  the 
same  in  every  other  direction.  Believe  me,  we  are  pro- 
viding for  the  best,  and  he  will  thank  us  afterwards  for 
not  making  a  "  gentleman  "  of  him.' 

Had  I  been  a  little  older  when  I  heard  this,  I  have 
no  doubt  that  my  impression  would  have  been  far  deeper 
than  it  was.  It  was  the  first  indistinct  intuition  I  had  of 
the  future  which  was  reserved  for  me. 


Q2 


228  MEMOIRS  OF  THE   SANSONS, 


CHAPTER   XLVIII. 

MY  EDUCATION. 

Apart  from  the  domestic  loss  I  have  related  in  the 
preceding  chapter,  my  childhood  was  happy  and  peace- 
ful. My  grandmother  outlived  her  husband,  and  she 
shared  with  my  mother  the  management  of  the  house. 
Our  life  was  retired,  but  quiet  and  pleasant.  A  very 
limited  number  of  friends  came  to  see  us  on  Sundays, 
but  their  number  grew  thinner  every  day. 

I  must  ask  leave  not  to  mention  my  mother's  maiden 
name.  She  belonged  to  a  family  that  was  not  of  our 
profession,  and  the  members  of  this  family  might  be 
displeased  if  I  revealed  their  relationship  to  me.  Even 
my  grandchildren  might  thereby  discover  their  origin, 
for  they  know  neither  my  name  nor  what  I  have  been. 
I  had  a  son,  but  he  died  ;  and  the  name  of  Sanson  shall 
therefore  die  with  me.  Such  are  the  cruel  consequences 
of  the  reprobation  which  attaches  to  our  functions,  and 
which  haunts  us  even  in  our  retreat  after  we  have  been 
fortunate  enough  to  shake  off  the  yoke.  The  bravi  of 
the  Republic  of  Venice  constantly  wore  masks,  and  thus 
concealed  their  identity.     This  advantage  is  denied  us. 

My  mother  gave  me  my  first  education.     I  was  then 


'MV  EDUCATION.  229 

handed  over  to  the  care  of  an  old  abbe  who  continued 
my  mother's  task.  My  instructor  was  kind,  considerate, 
and  clever ;  and  his  death  I  considered  as  a  great  mis- 
fortune. The  old  man's  demise  caused  much  perplexity 
to  my  parents.  They  were  fully  aware  of  the  necessity 
of  not  interrupting  my  studies  ;  but,  on  the  other  hand, 
they  hesitated  very  much  about  sending  me  to  school, 
where,  should  my  origin  be  discovered,  I  could  not  but 
be  despised  and  cold-shouldered  by  my  schoolfellows. 
I  may  add  that  my  father's  profession  was  not  yet 
known  to  me ;  and  although  it  was  intended  that  I 
should  follow  the  same  calling,  the  secret  had  hitherto 
been  kept  back  from  me.  It  was  to  my  mother  that  I 
was  indebted  for  the  continuation  of  my  education. 
My  father  had  just  sold  the  old  farm  of  Brie-Comte- 
Robert ;  my  mother  persuaded  him  to  buy  a  country- 
house  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Paris,  and  close  to  one  of 
the  rural  colleges  that  are  so  numerous  in  the  suburbs 
of  the  capital.  Brunoy  was  at  last  selected.  My  father 
bought  there  a  pretty  villa,  and  the  purchase  was  made 
under  the  name  of  M.  de  Longval.  It  was  under  the 
first  name  of  my  ancestors  that  I  went  to  school. 

The  time  I  spent  at  Brunoy  was  the  most  pleasant 
period  of  my  life.  I  liked  school,  and  my  schoolfellows 
liked  me.  But  this  happy  existence  was  not  of  long 
duration ;  winter  obliged  my  family  to  return  to  Paris. 
I  had  just  completed  my  twelfth  year.  My  studies 
were  rather  advanced  ;  I  had  been  taught  music  and 
drawing,  for  which  I  had  a  natural  taste  ;  and  my 
father,  knowing   how  pernicious  is  the   interruption  of 


^3o  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  SANSONS, 

studies  at  a  critical  age,  resolved  to  send  me  to  school  . 
in  Paris  under  my  real  name.  Near  our  house  was  afl 
large  *  Institution '  which  followed  the  classes  of  the 
Lyc6e  Charlemagne.  My  father  called  on  M.  Michel, 
the  head  master,  and  asked  him  if  he  would  admit  me 
to  his  school.  M.  Michel  was  somewhat  taken  aback, 
but  after  a  moment  of  reflection  he  resolutely  accepted, 
observing,  however,  that  it  was  preferable  that  I  should 
conceal  my  origin  from  my  companions. 

I  then  became  a  pupil  of  the  Institution  MicheL 
My  life  was  pretty  nearly  what  it  had  been  at  Brunoy. 
Every  day  we  went  to  the  Lycee  under  the  superintend- 
ence of  a  crusty  usher,  and  the  remainder  of  our  time 
was  devoted  to  preparation.  I  was  a  day-boy,  and  I 
therefore  enjoyed  the  privileges  of  home  life.  On 
Sundays  we  used  to  go  to  Brunoy,  a  place  which  I  also 
saw  with  pleasure. 

At  Brunoy  I  had  formed  none  of  those  juvenile  friend- 
ships which  are  so  common  at  school.  It  was  otherwise 
at  the  Institution  Michel.  I  became  very  friendly  with 
two  or  three  schoolfellows  of  mine,  and  especially  with 

T ,  whose  parents,  like  mine,  lived  in  the  Faubourg 

Saint-Denis.  He  was  also  a  day-boy.  We  used  to 
leave  school   together  in   the   evening,  and   we  swore 

eternal  friendship  to  each  other.     T was  stronger 

than  I  was  ;  he  often  protected  me  against  bullies,  and 
I  never  lost  an  opportunity  of  showing  him  my  gratitude. 
We  were  then  the  best  friends  in  the  world,  the  Damon 
and  Pythias  of  the  Institution  Michel.  On  our  way 
honie  in  the  evening  I  used  to  leave  T at  his  door. 


MV  EDUCATION.  231 

and  then  I  proceeded  to  our  house  in  the  Rue  Neuve 
Saint-Jean.     One   evening,   having   left    school   earlier 

than  usual,  T had  the  evil  inspiration  to  accompany 

me  home.  I  accepted  with  much  pleasure,  and  insisted 
that  he  should  come  in  and  see  my  family.  But  when 
my  father  and  mother  saw  us^  I  was  extremely  surprised 
and  vexed  on  noticing  the  coldness  with  which  they 
greeted  my  friend.     Although  dinner  was  served  they 

did    not   ask  him  to  sit   down,  and  poor   T went 

away,  no  doubt  wondering  at  the  strangeness  of  this 
reception. 

On  the  following  day  I  went  to  school,  still  ponder- 
ing on  this  event.     I  was  not  surprised,  after  what  had 

occurred,  to  find  T far  more  reserved  with  me  than 

was  his  wont.  Whenever  I  went  up  to  him  he  tried  to 
avoid  me,  and  hardly  answered  my  questions.  This 
demeanour  towards  me  did  not  pass  away,  as  I  hoped  it 

would  ;  T persisted  in  avoiding  my  company,  and 

I  was  so  vexed  that  I  avoided  him  too,  and  tried  to 
make  other  friends.  But  strange  to  say,  all  my  other 
companions  behaved  with  me  in  the  same  way. 

I  was  much  pained  at  this  unexplainable  revulsion 
of  feeling.  I  bore  it  for  a  few  days,  but  at  last  I  could 
hold  out  no  longer.     One  morning  I  was  waiting  with 

T for  our  drawing-master  ;  I  asked  my  late  friend 

to  explain  his  behaviour.     *  You  are  cruel,  T ,'  said 

I  to  him  ;  '  not  only  have  you  deprived  me  of  your 
friendship,  but  you  have  spoken  against  me  to  our 
schoolfellows.  I  don't  know  what  you  told  them,  but 
there's  not  one  of  them  who  doesn't  shun  my  company.' 


232  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  SANSONS. 

T looked  at  me  intently,  as  if  trying  to  guess 


my  real  thoughts ;  he  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  began 
drawing  something  on  one  of  the  pieces  of  paper  lying 
on  the  table. 

*  Now,  I  don't  intend  to  stand  this,'  I  resumed, 
angry  at  his  silence;  'you  must  explain.  I  don't  want; 
to  be  shunned  and  despised  by  my  schoolfellows  any 
longer.  Is  it  because  my  father  did  not  receive  you 
well  when  you  came  to  see  us  }  I  was  sorrier  than  you 
were.     But  after  all  it  was  not  my  fault' 

T looked  at  me  again,  and  then  went  on  draw- 
ing. 

*  Will  you  speak,  I  ask  again  t '  cried  I,  angrily. 
Instead  of  answering  he  held  out  to  me  the  drawing 

he  had  just  finished.  It  was  a  kind  of  estrade,  sur- 
mounted by  two  beams,  at  the  top  of  which  was  a  large 
knife.  A  man  was  strapped  to  a  plank  between  the 
two  beams,  and  another  man  stood  by  holding  a  rope. 
It  was  a  guillotine,  with  the  sufferer  and  the  executioner. 

Under  this  terrible  drawing  T had  written  in  large 

letters  : 

Tuus  Pater  Carnifex. 

I  had  never  seen  the  instrument  of  death,  but  the 
words  explained  the  whole  thing  to  me.  I  knew  what 
carnifex  meant.  I  uttered  a  shriek  and  ran  away,  still 
holding  the  paper  which  had  just  revealed  to  me  the 
misfortune  of  my  birth,  I  ran  out  of  school  and  did 
not  stop  until  I  was  before  our  door.  I  rang  violently, 
rushed    towards   my  mother,  who   had   witnessed    my 


MY  EDUCATION.  233 

entrance,  and  fell  fainting  at  her  feet.  The  whole 
house  was  in  an  uproar.  My  father  was  out,  and  when 
he  returned  he  asked  me  the  cause  of  my  agitation.     I 

told  him  of  what  had  occurred,  and  produced  T 's 

drawing.  He  doubtless  thought  that  the  time  had  come 
for  an  explanation,  for  he  asked  my  mother  and  grand- 
mother to  leave  us  alone.  He  then  told  me  what  and 
who  he  was ;  he  acquainted  me  with  the  history  of  our 
family,  with  the  reasons  that  had  induced  fathers  and 
sons  to  follow  the  same  repulsive  profession.  He  also 
told  me  of  my  grandfather's  dying  wish,  and  took 
advantage  of  what  had  occurred  at  school  to  show  that  I 
was  bound  to  follow  in  his  steps  and  those  of  my  ances 
tors.  I  passed  with  him  one  of  the  most  painful  hours 
of  my  life ;  but  I  was  young  and  submissive ;  his  reasons 
were  well  put  and  forcible  ;  I  had  no  alternative  but  to 
submit,  and  I  submitted.  The  fact  that  so  many  mem- 
bers of  my  family  had  been  executioners  impressed  me 
more  than  anything  else ;  it  seemed  to  me  that  to  dis- 
card them  was  impossible,  that  my  destiny  was  traced 
in  advance  ;  and  I  accepted  it  with  grief  but  with  re- 
signation. 

On  the  following  day  my  father  received  the  visit  of 

M.  Michel,  who  had  questioned  T and  discovered 

the  reason  of  my  disappearance.  The  worthy  school- 
master assured  my  father  that  he  would  prevent  the 
recurrence  of  such  a  mishap  as  had  occurred  to  me  ; 

that  he  had  scolded  T ,  and  threatened  with  instant 

expulsion  whoever  followed  his  example.  My  father 
asked  me  if  I  wished  to  return  to  school.     I  replied 


234  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  SANSONS. 


that  I  did  not,  as  the  instruction  I  had  already  acquired 
was  more  than  sufficient  for  the  duties  reserved  for  me. 
I  nevertheless  thanked  M.  Michel  for  his  kindness. 
My  father  made  no  objection,  and  henceforth  I  enjoyed 
the  fullest  liberty. 

I  occupied  myself  with  perhaps  more  wisdom  than 
boys  of  my  age  usually  do.  I  remained  in  the  morning 
with  my  mother  and  grandmother.  With  the  latter 
only  did  I  dare  to  speak  of  my  future  career  ;  with  my 
mother  I  never  thought  of  alluding  to  the  subject.  As 
to  my  father,  I  seldom  saw  him  alone.  I  went  out  in 
the  afternoon  either  to  loaf  about  or  to  attend  the 
lectures  of  well-known  professors  of  the  Sorbonne.  It 
was  thus  that  I  took  the  habit — which  I  have  retained 
to  this  day — of  long  walks.     Since  my  adventure  with 

T I  thought  everybody  in  the  street  recognised  me. 

This  led  me  to  enter  and  leave  our  house  stealthily, 
enveloped  in  a  large  cloak,  and  looking  around  uneasily. 
It  was  thus  that  after  being  gay  and  expansive  I  became 
dark  and  taciturn. 

I  returned  home  at  dinner  time,  and  no  one  ever 
thought  of  asking  me  where  I  had  been  and  what  I  had 
been  about.  Up  to  the  time  when  I  acquired  a  strong 
liking  for  the  drama,  I  used  to  spend  my  evenings  in 
our  drawing-room  with  my  parents  and  the  few  friends 
who  occasionally  came  to  see  us.  None  of  our  assistants 
were  ever  received  there ;  the  assistants  lived  in  a  sepa- 
rate part  of  the  house. 

We  had  a  large  library  composed  of  rare  books  and 
MSS.     I    found   there    the    treasures   of  ancient    and 


MY  EDUCATION. 


23S 


modern  literature,  and  read  them  with  avidity.  It  was 
thus  that  I  became  famihar  with  the  works  of  Beccaria, 
Filangieri,  Montesquieu,  and  Joseph  de  Maistre.  A 
work  which  especially  impressed  me  was  the  *  Soirees 
de  Saint  Petersbourg '  by  the  last  named  writer. 
Although  I  instinctively  protested  against  the  doctrine 
expounded  by  the  author  of  the  necessity  of  the  effusion 
of  human  blood,  the  paradox  impressed  me.  If  capital 
punishment  is  justifiable,  I  used  to  argue,  the  most 
important  functionary  of  social  order  should  be  the 
executioner.  But,  by  a  singular  contrast,  the  more  I 
became  reconciled  with  the  executioner  the  more  I 
loathed  capital  punishment.  I  felt  violent  propensities 
of  rebellion  against  society,  whose  prejudices  soil  with 
mud  the  basis  of  its  edifice ;  and  fits  of  indignation 
against  the  law  by  which  society  transgresses  the  rights 
of  the  Divinity.  I  erected  a  pedestal  for  the  executioner, 
and  I  abominated  execution.  My  life  has  been  spent 
in  such  mental  struggles. 

My  grandmother  was  the  usual  recipient  of  my  im- 
pressions. I  liked  to  converse  with  her  on  a  subject 
which  held  so  important  a  place  in  my  meditations. 
She  spoke  on  the  subject  with  a  freedom  which  enabled 
me  to  examine  her  arguments  with  more  coolness  than 
I  could  otherwise  have  shown.  The  temerity  of  her 
arguments  was  arrested  by  no  feminine  sensitiveness. 
Strangely  enough,  grandmothers  in  our  family  had  the 
greatest  influence  over  the  destiny  of  grandsons,  and 
the  wife  of  Charles  Henri  Sanson  was  as  much  respon- 
sible for  the  perpetuation  of  our  office  as  Martha  Dubut 


.236  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  SANSONS. 

lierself.  She  was  clever,  insinuating,  and  free-spoken ; 
and  she  gained  over  me  an  ascendency  which  neither 
my  father  nor  my  mother  possessed.  She  made  me 
familiar  with  every  paradox  calculated  to  drive  away 
my  instinctive  horror  for  my  future  profession. 

I  said,  I  believe,  that  I  acquired  a  taste  for  the 
theatre.  The  tragedy  was  then  in  favour.  Talma, 
Mdlle.  Georges,  and  Mdlle.  Duchesnois  formed  such  a 
trio  as  has  rarely  been  equalled.  My  liking  for  the 
play  increased  so  that  I  went  there  almost  every  night. 
There  was  then  a  rivalry  between  Mdlle.  Duchesnois 
and  Mdlle.  Georges  ;  I  became  one  of  the  ardent  parti- 
sans of  the  latter.  Merope  and  Semiramis  enchanted  me 
when  they  appeared  before  me  under  the  features  of 
Georges.  Unfortunately  the  literature  of  the  time  was 
not  at  the  height  of  such  artists  as  Talma,  Georges, 
Duchesnois,  and  Mars.  On  my  return  home  I  was  only 
too  glad  to  confide  my  impressions  to  my  mother.  We 
even  talked  of  the  theatre  at  table,  and  my  father  often 
joined  in  the  conversation.  I  was  surprised  to  find  that 
he  was  as  well  acquainted  with  the  daily  occurrences  of 
the  stage  as  I  was.     Once  I  could  not  help  saying : 

*  Father,  I  am  sure  you  go  to  the  theatre  yourself.' 

*  Why  shouldn't  I,  Henri }  *  he  answered,  smiling. 
^  I  am  not  so  religious  as  these  ladies,'  he  added,  point- 
ing to  my  mother  and  grandmother,  who  never  went  to 
the  play. 

*  Why  shouldn't  we  go  together  1 '  I  exclaimed ; 
*  we  should  enjoy  ourselves  far  more.' 

My  father  turned  grave,  and  said : 


MV  EDUCATION.  237 

*  No,  Henri  ;  we  had  better  go  separately.  This 
does  not  prevent  us  from  talking  about  plays,  but  I  had 
rather  you  should  go  alone,  and  not  be  seen  in  my 
company.' 

I  was  much  moved.  It  was  obvious  that  my  father 
was  afraid  of  casting  odium  upon  me  before  my  time. 
His  prudence  was  extreme ;  we  never  went  out  together. 
Whenever  we  were  compelled  to  go  in  each  other's 
company  he  ordered  his  carriage,  and  no  one  could  see 
us  behind  the  blinds. 

This  quiet  existence  was  interrupted  by  a  sad  event. 
On  October  24,  18 17,  one  of  the  chambermaids  found 
my  grandmother  dead  in  her  bed.  She  was  in  her 
eighty-fourth  year.  My  father  was  much  grieved  at 
this  loss.  I  also  grieved  over  the  loss  of  my  grand- 
mother, whom  I  had  learnt  to  love.  During  mourning 
time  I  was  of  course  obliged  to  give  up  the  amuse- 
ments I  used  to  indulge  in.  This  gave  me  a  pretext 
for  carrying  out  a  plan  I  had  made  a  long  time  before. 
My  readings  had  inspired  me  with  a  wish  to  see  Italy, 
Germany,  Switzerland,  and  Holland.  My  mother  did 
not  encourage  me,  as  she  was  loath  to  separate  from 
me,  but  my  father  readily  gave  his  consent.  *  You  are 
quite  right,  Henri,'  he  said  ;  *  nothing  instructs  so  much 
as  travelling.     Go,  and  a  pleasant  journey  to  you  ! ' 

I  left  Paris  two  days  after.  Means  of  locomotion 
were,  of  course,  far  more  primitive  then  than  they  are 
now.  However,  I  successively  visited  in  a  comparatively 
short  time  Italy,  Germany,  Switzerland,  and  Holland. 
I  saw  Rome,  Naples,  and  Venice,  and  I  was  immensely 


1238  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  SANSONS. 

impressed  by  the  artistic  and  natural  beauties  which 
passed  before  me.  I  did  not  remain  long  in  Switzer- 
land, but  I  remained  for  nearly  six  months  on  the  banks 
of  the  Rhine.  What  struck  me  the  most  during  the 
whole  of  my  voyage  was,  I  must  confess,  Amsterdam. 
My  roving  life  was  charming ;  and  I  was  quite  taken 
aback  when  I  found  that  it  had  lasted  over  a  year.  It 
was  with  regret  that,  out* of  deference  to  my  mother's 
ivish,  I  turned  again  homeward  and  made  for  Paris. 

The  reader  may  perhaps  be  astonished  at  the  easy  and 
almost  brilliant  fashion  of  living  of  a  family  of  executioners; 
but  then  it  should  not  be  forgotten  that  my  father's  for- 
tune, not  to  speak  of  his  emoluments,  amounted  to 
nearly  20,000/.,  and  that  I  was  his  only  child. 

A  year  after  my  return,  I  remarked,  in  the  restricted 
circle  of  our  acquaintances,  a  young  girl,  whose  eyes 
were  often  fixed  upon  me  with  a  singular  expression.  I 
fancied  she  talked  about  me  to  my  mother ;  and  mere 
curiosity  at  first  induced  me  to  remain  at  home  more 
frequently  than  was  my  wont.  The  young  person  used 
to  come  with  her  family  ;  I  made  her  acquaintance,  and 
I  soon  perceived  that  I  was  in  love  with  her.  This  pas- 
sion developed  itself  so  rapidly,  that  I  spoke  about  it 
to  the  young  lady,  and  asked  her  permission  to  seek  her 
hand — a  permission  which  was  duly  given.  I  had  the 
courage  to  acquaint  her  with  the  eventualities  of  the 
future.  I  frankly  explained  my  position,  and  did  not 
conceal  from  her  the  obligation  under  which  I  laboured 
of  being  my  father's  successor.  One  can  imagine  my 
agreeable  surprise  when  I  heard  her  approve  of  my  in- 


MV  EDUCATION.  239 

tentions,  and  encourage  me  to  persevere  in  them.  So 
much  courage  and,  I  may  say,  love  on  the  part  of  so 
young  a  girl  increased  my  affection  for  her,  and  I 
resolved  to  marry  her  as  soon  as  possible. 

On  the  following  day  I  went  to  my  father's  closet, 
and  asked  the  favour  of  a  conversation.  He  was  rather 
surprised,  for  I  had  hitherto  shunned  solemn  parleys  with 
him.  '  Father,'  I  began,  '  I  am  the  bearer  of  good  news. 
I  know  that  in  spite  of  your  desire  to  see  me  follow  in 
your  steps,  you  would  not  for  a  moment  compel  me  to 
do  so.  I  have  thought  the  matter  over  for  the  last  two 
years,  and  I  have  now  to  express  my  resolve  to  select 
no  other  profession  than  yours.' 

My  father  did  not  reply,  but  I  saw  that  he  was 
deeply  moved.  He  took  me  in  his  arms  and  embraced 
me. 

*  And  now,'  I  continued,  *  I  have  to  speak  of  some- 
thing else.  You  told  me  once  that  whenever  I  should  feel 
inclined  to  marry  you  would  not  interfere  with  my  wish. 

I  love  Miss ,  and  she  has  been  good  enough  to  say 

that   my  affection  is  reciprocated.     I  came  to  request 
you,  father,  to  ask  her  hand  in  my  name.' 

At  this  my  father  expressed  great  satisfaction.  Not 
only  did  he  promise  to  do  as  I  wished,  but  he  said  that 
previously  he  and  my  mother  hoped  that  a  match  might 
eventually  be  arranged,  and  he  was  very  glad  to  find 
that  their  wishes  were  fulfilled. 

On  the  evening  of  the  same  day  my  father  dis- 
charged his  promise.  Miss 's  father  slightly  hesi- 
tated on  account  of  our  extreme  youth  (our  ages,  put 


240  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  SANSONS. 

together,  but  just  amounted  to  five-and-thlrty  years),  but 
we  had  no  difficulty  in  overcoming  his  scruples. 

A  month  after,  our  marriage  was  celebrated  at  Saint- 
Laurent  Church  ;  and  my  young  wife  and  I  took  posses- 
sion of  a  cosy  apartment  in  my  father's  house,  which  my 
mother  had  furnished  and  prepared  for  us. 

The  recollections  of  my  youth  end  here.  They  con- 
clude, like  novels,  by  a  marriage.  It  is  no  fault  of  mine 
if  my  story  is  not  as  stirring  as  fiction.  It  has  at  least 
the  advantage  of  being  true. 


241 


CHAPTER    XLIX. 

MY  FIRST  EXECUTION. 

The  first  year  of  my  marriage  was  calm  and  peaceable. 
I  had  every  reason  to  be  happy.  Thanks  to  the  cares 
of  rny  good  mother,  we  had  very  little  to  think  of  be- 
yond our  pleasures  and  comforts.  My  young  wife  was 
as  cheerful  and  kind  as  she  was  pretty,  and  our  union 
promised  to  be  one  of  undisturbed  harmony. 

My  father  made  no  allusion  to  my  promise  to  take 
his  office  ;  but  that  promise  was  constantly  in  my  mind  ; 
it  was  the  only  thought  that  clouded  my  happiness. 
Sometimes  I  looked  with  sadness  at  my  young  partner, 
thinking  that  a  time  should  come  for  her  to  assume  in 
her  turn  the  title  of  Madame  de  Paris.  The  fulfilment 
of  my  pledge  was  even  nearer  at  hand  than  I  expected. 
My  father  was  taken  ill  in  the  middle  of  the  winter  of 
1819,  and  he  was  laid  up  for  two  months.  His  constant 
preoccupation  during  his  illness  was  a  sentence  of  death 
passed  by  the  assize  court  of  the  Seine  on  a  soldier  of 
the  Royal  Guard,  Pierre  Charles  Rodolphe  Foulard,  who 
had  murdered  two  unfortunate  women,  to  steal  a  watch 
and  a  pair  of  earrings.     Foulard  was  barely  twenty  years 

VOL.  II.  R 


242  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  SANSONS. 

of  age,  but  his  crime  was  so  atrocious  that  there  was  no 
hope  of  a  reprieve  for  him.  Foulard's  case,  however, 
had  still  to  pass  before  the  Court  of  Revision ;  but  my 
father  felt  that  his  health  would  not  permit  him  to 
superintend  the  execution.  He  was  thinking  of  appeal- 
ing to  one  of  his  provincial  colleagues.  This  was  rather 
awkward,  as  it  was  well  known  that  I  was  to  be  my 
father's  successor,  and  the  judicial  authorities  might  well 
inquire  why  I  did  not  act  as  his  substitute.  Since  my 
marriage  I  had  made  a  point  of  following  my  father  in 
the  few  executions  that  had  occurred,  but  I  had  taken 
no  active  part  in  them.  I  may  add  that  my  father's 
part  was  hardly  more  active  than  mine  ;  he  had  said  the 
truth  when  he  told  me  that  almost  everything  was  done 
by  the  assistants,  and  that  the  executioner  only  super- 
intended what  his  servants  did. 

The  time  came  for  Foulard's  execution  ;  it  came 
sooner  than  my  father  expected,  so  that  he  was  unable 
to  secure  some  one  else's  services.  He  was  much  better, 
but  certainly  not  well  enough  to  resume  his  duties  ;  and 
my  conscience  smote  me  when  he  expressed  his  deter- 
mination to  risk  his  health,  perhaps  his  life,  and  execute 
Foulard.  I  said  to  myself  that,  since  I  must  begin,  I 
had  better  begin  at  once,  and  I  proposed  to  my  father  to 
take  his  place. 

He  gladly  acquiesced,  and  gave  me  all  the  necessary 
instructions  ;  he  also  pointed  out  two  assistants  on  whose 
zeal  I  could  especially  rely ;  and  finally  I  was  assured 
that  my  attendance  at  the  execution  was  little  more 
than  a  formality.     The  assistants  entered  my  father's 


MV  FIRST  EXECUTION.  243 

room  just  as  I  was  leaving  it,  and  he  made  them  a  short 
speech  in  which  he  urged  them  to  afford  me  their  best 
help  and  protection. 

I  was  very  nervous  and  frightened  ;  nevertheless,  I 
strictly  acted  upon  the  instructions  furnished  to  me,  and 
I  gave  the  necessary  directions  to  the  carpenters.  As 
night  came  on,  my  discomfort  increased.  I  could  scarcely 
eat  any  dinner.  Fortunately  my  father  was  in  his  room, 
otherwise  he  might  have  insisted  on  doing  the  work 
himself  My  mother  and  my  wife  were  as  uneasy  as  I 
was,  but  they  abstained  from  making  any  observation 
on  the  matter.  After  dinner  I  retired  to  my  room,  and 
passed  one  of  the  worst  nights  of  my  life.  When  I  got 
up  next  morning  I  was  feverish  and  tired.  The  assist- 
ants were  waiting  for  me  in  the  courtyard.  My  father 
had  ordered  out  his  carriage  for  me,  and  with  my  new 
servants  I  silently  proceeded  to  the  Conciergerle.  The 
horses  went  slowly  enough,  yet  the  journey  seemed  to 
me  fearfully  short. 

It  was  yet  dark  when  we  entered  that  dismal  prison. 
My  assistants  followed  me  at  a  short  distance.  I  thought 
I  saw  an  expression  of  disdain  on  the  faces  of  the  turn- 
keys and  prison  officials.  I  was  in  no  humour  to  brook 
the  contempt  of  men  whose  position,  after  all,  did  not 
much  differ  from  mine.  I  assumed  a  sharp  and  impera- 
tive tone  calculated  to  make  them  understand  that  I  was 
not  to  be  imposed  upon,  and  ordered  the  head  gaoler  to 
hand  us  over  the  culprit.  He  led  us  into  a  low-ceilinged 
hall,  where  Foulard  shortly  after  appeared,  accompanied 
by  the  worthy  Abbe  Montes,  a  priest  whose  friendship  I 

R  2 


244  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  SANSONS. 


afterwards  acquired.  Foulard's  consternation  struck  me 
The  unfortunate  boy  was  under  age  ;  had  his  father  left 
him  the  smallest  sum  of  money  he  could  not  have 
touched  it ;  nevertheless  he  was  considered  responsible. 
This  appeared  to  me  iniquitous,  the  more  so  as  I  was  only 
a  year  older  than  he.  Foulard  was  a  tall  and  handsome 
fellow,  and  his  face  betrayed  no  signs  of  the  perversity 
he  had  shown  in  the  perpetration  of  his  horrible  deed. 

Fauconnier,  my  chief  assistant,  saw  I  was  flurried ; 
he  came  forward  and  told  Foulard  to  sit  down.  When 
the  young  man's  hair  was  cut,  we  got  into  the  cart :  the 
Abbe  Montes  and  Foulard  were  behind  us,  and  I  stood  in 
front  with  my  two  assistants.^  The  almoner  of  the  Con- 
ciergerie  doubtless  perceived  that  I  required  encourage- 
ment and  support  as  well  as  the  man  whose  life  I  was 
going  to  take,  for  he  spoke  to  me  with  much  kindness  : 
'  I  see,  sir,  that  you  are  now  attending  to  your  father's 
duties.  Such  missions  as  yours  demand  no  small  amount 
of  courage.  We  are  invested  Avith  duties  which  in  some 
degree  are  akin  :  you  represent  the  justice  of  men,  I 
represent  the  mercy  of  God.  You  may  be  assured  of 
my  good  disposition  towards  you,  and  of  my  readiness 
to  assist  you  whenever  it  is  in  my  power.' 

I  could  not  find  a  single  word  to  answer,  although  I 
felt  intensely  grateful  to  the  Abbe  Montes  for  his  kind- 
ness.     Foulard  was  taciturn,  but  when  we  reached  the 

1  Until  then  my  father  and  grandfather  had  occupied  a  back  seat  beside 
the  priest,  and  assigned  a  front  place  to  the  culprit.  I  was  the  first  to 
alter  this  custom.  My  object  was  to  leave  the  culprit  with  his  last  friend, 
the  priest.  I  hope  this  does  not  appear  childish.  I  acted  with  the  best 
intention,  and  I  believe  I  acted  rightly. 


I 


MY  FIRST  EXECUTION.  245 

quay  he  became  very  excited,  and  cried  out  in  a  loud 
voice  : 

*  Fathers  and  mothers !  behold  the  consequences  of 
neglect  of  one's  children  !  I  am  guilty,  but  my  parents 
are  responsible  for  my  crime,  for  they  gave  me  neither 
advice  nor  education.' 

We  reached  the  Place  de  Greve.  The  guillotine 
raised  her  two  red  arms,  and  the  pale  rays  of  a  winter 
sun  were  reflected  by  the  polished  steel  of  the  knife.  A 
great  many  people  were  looking  on.  Foulard  embraced 
the  priest,  and  looked  round  before  ascending  the  steps. 
In  the  first  rank  of  the  soldiers  who  surrounded  the 
guillotine  he  saw  a  sergeant  of  his  company.  '  Come 
to  me,  my  old  comrade,'  he  cried  to  him,  'and  let 
me  bid  you  farewell.'  The  old  soldier  did  not  hesitate ; 
he  came  forward  and  embraced  the  dying  man.  Foulard 
was  very  excited.  He  suddenly  turned  to  me  :  *  Let  me 
embrace  you  too,'  he  said,  *  if  only  to  show  that  I  forgive 
everybody.'  This,  I  confess,  gave  me  a  fearful  blow.  I 
stepped  back.  I  really  think  that  if  the  unfortunate 
man  had  embraced  me  I  could  not  have  given  the 
signal  for  his  death. 

But  even  in  this  I  am  mistaken  ;  this  signal  I  did  not 
give.  My  assistants  saw  my  movement  of  retreat  and 
understood  the  peril.  They  pushed  Foulard  up  the 
steps.  In  less  time  than  I  take  to  write  it  he  was 
strapped  down  and  his  head  fell.  I  looked  stupidly  at 
the  bloody  scene.  I  saw  one  of  the  assistants  pushing 
the  headless  trunk  into  a  basket,  while  another  was 
sponging  the  blood  which  had  spurted  on  the  scaffold. 


246  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  SANSONS. 

I  was  seized  with  irresistible  terror,  and  I  ran  away  as 
fast  as  my  legs  could  carry  me.  I  wandered  about 
town  hardly  knowing  what  I  was  about.  I  thought 
people  were  following  and  hooting  me.  It  was  only 
when  I  found  myself  at  Neuilly  that  I  recovered,  and 
even  then  my  conscience  smote  me  bitterly.  At  last  I 
made  up  my  mind.  I  had  crossed  the  line,  there  was  no 
help  for  it ;  I  had,  as  it  were,  passed  my  examination  of 
executioner,  and  I  could  not  return  on  my  steps.  I 
went  home  subdued,  if  not  comforted,  and  I  found  some 
relief  in  the  thought  that  the  first  step  was  made,  and  the 
first  bitterness  had  passed. 


247 


CHAPTER   L. 

LOUVEL. 

It  is  erroneous  to  say  that  the  first  step  is  everything, 
but  it  is  certainly  that  which  is  the  most  trying.  I  never 
got  rid  of  my  natural  disgust  for  my  profession,  but  my 
emotions  were  far  less  intense  after  my  first  execution. 
From  that  time  I  regularly  replaced  my  father,  or  I  ac- 
companied him  whenever  he  appeared  on  the  scaffold. 
In  the  course  of  the  same  year  (1819)  we  had  to  go 
twice  to  Beauvais  ;  the  first  time  for  the  execution  of  a 
parricide  named  Moroy,  the  second  time  for  that  of  a 
murderer  called  Liebe. 

On  May  13  of  the  following  year  the  guillotine  was 
again  erected  on  the  Place  de  Greve  for  a  young  man  of 
twenty-two,  Charles  Normand,  condemned  to  death  for 
having  murdered  Captain  Sion,  his  master. 

Few  people  were  seen  on  the  Greve  on  the  day  of 
execution.  Paris,  the  whole  of  France,  were  engrossed 
by  another  drama,  of  which  the  denoueine^it  was  also  to 
come  off  on  the  Place  de  Gr^ve.  Three  months  before, 
the  heir  of  the  elder  branch  of  the  Bourbon  family,  the 
Duke  de  Berri,  had  been  murdered.     The  assassin  was 


248  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  SANSONS. 

arrested  immediately ;  he  said  his  name  was  Pierre 
Louvel,  he  was  a  saddler  by  trade.  Louvel  confessed 
that  his  object  in  murdering  the  last  scion  of  an  illustri- 
ous family  was  political ;  he  wanted,  he  said,  to  extin- 
guish the  race  of  the  Bourbons  for  ever.  Fate  went 
against  him,  for  six  months  after  the  Duchess  de  Berri 
was  delivered  of  a  child  who  was  to  be  the  Comte  de 
Chambord. 

Louvel  was  an  enthusiastic  republican.  His  life  was 
pure  and  honest,  but  he  was  a  fanatic,  and  for  several 
years  he  brooded  over  his  intended  crime.  It  was  soon 
discovered  that  he  had  no  accomplices,  and  his  trial  was 
proceeded  with.  Louvel  received  with  haughtiness  his 
advocates,  MM.  Archambault  and  Bonnet;  he  requested 
them  to  say  nothing  that  might  be  in  contradiction 
with  his  previous  declarations.  He  had  committed  his 
crime  alone,  he  said,  and  he  had  been  prompted  by 
patriotism.  He  felt  no  regret  j  he  even  intended,  had 
he  escaped,  to  murder  the  other  members  of  the  royal 
family.  *  I  might,  perhaps,  have  cpared  the  King,'  he 
added,  *  because  he  was  the  only  member  of  the  family 
who  had  not  fought  against  France.' 

The  trial  began  on  June  5,  before  the  House  of  Peers. 
It  only  lasted  two  days.  Several  peers,  MM.  Desize, 
De  Lally-Tollendal,  and  De  Montmorency,  questioned 
Louvel  closely,  but  no  other  facts  than  those  he  had 
already  given  were  elicited.  The  issue  of  the  trial  could 
not  be  doubtful ;  before  sentence  was  passed,  however, 
Louvel  rose  and  read  the  following  statement : 

*  I  have  now  to  answer  for  a  crime  which  I  com- 


I 


LOU  V EL.  249 

mitted  unaided.  In  dying  I  am  consoled  by  the  thought 
that  I  have  dishonoured  neither  my  country  nor  my 
family.  I  can  only  be  regarded  as  a  Frenchman  re- 
solved to  sacrifice  himself  in  order  to  destroy,  according 
to  my  system,  a  number  of  the  men  who  took  up  arms 
against  his  country.  But  among  the  men  who  compose 
the  Government  there  are  some  as  guilty  as  I  am  ;  they 
have  described  crimes  as  virtues.  The  worst  govern- 
ments in  France  have  always  punished  traitors,  and  in 
striking  the  Duke  de  Berri  I  was  discharging  a  sacred 
duty. 

*  According  to  my  system,  when  the  country  is 
threatened  from  the  outside,  political  parties  should  for- 
get party-feeling  and  join  hands  against  the  common 
enemy.  Those  who  do  not  act  thus  are  guilty.  In 
my  opinion,  if  the  Battle  of  Waterloo  was  so  fatal  to 
France,  it  was  because  Brussels  and  Ghent  were  full  of 
Frenchmen  who  fomented  treason  in  the  ranks  of  our 
army. 

'  In  my  opinion,  the  death  of  Louis  XVI.  was  neces- 
sary, because  he  betrayed,  or  wanted  to  betray,  France 
into  the  hands  of  the  enemy.  The  Bourbons  are  eter- 
nally tainted  with  treason,  and  they  have  no  right  to 
reign  in  France  ;  they  deserve  punishment,  and  I  have 
been  one  of  the  instruments  of  national  justice.' 

After  this  declaration  Louvel  was  taken  back  to  the 
Conciergerie,  and  the  House  deliberated.  Sentence  of 
death  was  unanimously  pronounced,  and  the  clerk  of  the 
House  was  sent  to  communicate  the  sentence  to  Louvel. 
He  received  the  news  unabashed.    '  So  much  the  better/ 


250  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  SANSONS. 


he  said ;  '  I  am  very  glad  to  die.  A  reprieve  would 
cause  me  more  pain  than  death  itself.'  He  sternly  re- 
fused the  assistance  of  religion.  '  I  don't  want  to  go  to 
paradise,'  said  he,  laughing ;  '  I  might  meet  there  the 
Duke  d'Enghien,  who  fought  against  his  country,  and  I 
could  never  agree  with  him.'  The  Abbe  Montes,  how- 
ever, obtained  admittance  to  his  cell  and  endeavoured  to 
soften  his  heart.  ^ 

As  to  us,  last  actors  of  all  these  dismal  dramas,  we 
received  on  June  6,  in  the  evening,  an  order  to  take  the 
culprit  on  the  following  morning  and  to  behead  him  on 
the  Place  de  Greve.  In  deference  to  this  order,  my 
father  and  I  went  to  the  Conciergerie  on  the  7th,  accom- 
panied by  four  assistants.  We  found  there  a  second 
order,  which  deferred  the  execution  until  half-past  five 
o'clock  P.M.  We  therefore  waited  until  that  time,  won- 
dering at  the  cause  of  this  delay.  The  scaffold  had 
been,  of  course,  erected  on  the  Greve,  and  an  immense 
crowd  gathered  around  it. 

At  half-past  five  we  went  to  Louvel's  cell,  but  my 
father  suddenly  remarked  that  no  clerk  was  present,  and 
another  quarter  of  an  hour  was  lost  in  fetching  one.  At 
a  quarter  to  six  exactly  we  '  took  possession '  of  Louvel ; 
one  of  the  assistants  tied  his  hands,  while  another  was 

^  Culprits — religious  culprits,  of  course — have  no  doubt  derived  benefit 
and  consolation  from  the  advice  of  the  Roman  Catholic  priest  who  invari- 
ably attended  them  to  execution.  But  it  may  have  been  seen  in  the  course 
of  the  above  Meinoirs  that  spiritual  advisers  forced  their  exhortations  upon 
convicts  of  all  kinds,  whether  religious  or  not,  thereby  adding  another  tor- 
ment to  that  of  impending  death.  This  merciless  tender  of  consolation  to 
men  who  persistently  refuse  to  hear  it  cannot  but  appear  as  cruel  as  it  is 
disgusting.  —  N.  Ed. 


LOUVEL. 


251 


cutting  his  hair  and  the  collar  of  his  shirt.  Louvel,  who 
was  thirty-six  years  of  age,  was  a  middle-sized  man  ;  his 
forehead  was  high  and  bumpy,  and  his  eyes  were  deep- 
set  and  fierce.  His  face,  on  the  whole,  was  anything  but 
prepossessing.  When  the  'toilette'  was  complete,  he 
asked  for  his  hat,  alleging  his  baldness.  We  then  started 
for  the  Greve.  I  cannot  say  why,  but  I  had  an  idea  that 
the  execution  would  not  take  place ;  I  thought  that  the 
royal  family  would  take  into  consideration  the  dying  wish 
of  the  Duke  de  Berri,  who  had  asked  for  Louvel's  pardon. 
Moreover,  I  always  felt  prompted  to  put  off  the  hour  of 
death,  in  order  to  give  the  victim  every  possible  chance 
of  escape.  Louvel's  only  hope  of  salvation  in  the  pre- 
sent circumstance,  was  to  pretend  that  he  had  revelations 
to  make  ;  and  I  said  to  my  father,  loud  enough  for 
Louvel  to  hear : 

*  If  he  has  accomplices  he  should  say  so  now,  as  it  is 
the  only  means  of  putting  off  the  execution.' 

The  Abbe  Montes  heard  this,  and  turning  to  the  cul- 
prit : 

'  You  hear,  my  friend,'  said  he  ;  *  you  had  better  speak 
out  while  there  is  time  yet.' 

Louvel  drily  replied  :  *  I  have  nothing  to  say.' 

We  reached  the  guillotine,  and  the  culprit  was  about 
to  ascend  to  the  platform,  when  the  Abbe  Montes  caught 
hold  of  his  arm,  and  said,  '  Kneel  down,  my  son,  and  ask 
God's  forgiveness  for  your  crime.' 

'  Never,  sir,'  answered  Louvel,  haughtily  ;  '  I  do  not 
regret  what  I  have  done,  and  I  would  do  it  again,  if 
necessary.' 


I 


253  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  SANSONS, 

*  But,  my  friend,  you  have  but  one  last  effort  to  mak< 
to  go  to  heaven.     Come,  be  humble ' 

^I  shall  go  to  heaven,  just  as  you  will,  if  there  is' 
one.     Leave  me  alone,  pray ;  think  of  yourself,  not  of 

I 

*  My  dear  child,  I  beseech  you,'  insisted  the  abb6> 
think  of  the  salvation  of  your  soul ;  say  that  you  re- 
pent.' 

'  Sir,'  indignantly  retorted  Louvel,  '  I  have  alread 
done  a  good  many  things  to  please  you  ;  you  are  step 
ping  beyond  the  bounds  of  your  duty.'  ^ 

Hardly  had  Louvel  said  these  words  than  he  as- 
cended the  steps  so  rapidly  that  the  assistants  were 
obliged  to  hold  him  back.  He  took  his  place  unaided 
on  the  fatal  plank,  and  at  six  o'clock  precisely  Louvel's 
head  fell  into  the  basket. 

We  took  the  corpse  to  the  cemetery  of  the  Barri^re 
du  Maine,  but  we  were  afterwards  ordered  to  dig  it  up 
and  bury  it  in  another  spot.  The  secret  of  this  new 
burial  remained  unknown  to  all,  save  to  the  executioner 
and  his  assistants,  who,  on  this  occasion  only,  acted  as 
gravediggers. 

*  The  highly  improper  discussion  raised  by  the  Abbe  Montes  at  the  foot 
of  the  scaffold  confirms  a  preceding  note. — N.  Ed. 


253 


CHAPTER   LI. 

MY  EXECUTIONS. 

On  December  6,  1820,  the  scaffold  was  again  erected  on 
the  Place  de  Greve  for  a  young  man,  Pierre  Louis 
Martin,  who  had  murdered  his  father.  He  was  led  to 
the  scaffold  with  a  black  veil  over  his  head,  and,  in  ac- 
cordance with  the  penalty  edicted  against  parricides,  his 
fist  was  cut  off  before  he  was  beheaded.  It  was  the  first 
time  I  saw  this  kind  of  punishment.  The  same  sentence 
was  executed  on  July  21,  1821,  on  a  man  named  Nicolas 
Boutillier,  who  had  murdered  his  mother. 

On  August  II,  in  the  same  year,  we  were  sent  to 
Melun  to  execute  one  Joseph  Gratureau. 

A  gentleman's  blood  was  shed  on  the  scaffold  on 
October  19.  The  Viscount  de  Ruault,  officer  on  half- 
pay,  was  sentenced  to  death  for  trying  to  murder  General 
Dujon.     He  died  with  great  courage. 

Six  days  later  it  was  the  turn  of  a  coachman,  named 
Jacques  Louis  Houster,  sentenced  for  the  murder  of  his 
mistress. 

On  January  9,  1822,  we  executed  another  young  man 
under  age,  Jules  Louis  Theophile  Guichet,  for  the  murder 
of  a  woman. 


254  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  SANSONS. 

On  April  2  following  we  went  to  Versailles  and  exe- 
cuted Pierre  Roux,  wine-merchant,  and  Jacques  Antoine 
Lecourt,  a  working  man,  who  had  killed  a  man  on  the 
road  to  Essonne.     Their  object  was  theft. 

On  the  20th  of  the  same  month  we  had  to  go  to 
Beauvais  for  a  double  execution ;  that  of  Louis  Nicolas 
Mahon,  upholsterer,  and  Charles  Mancheron,  labourer, 
convicted  of  having  murdered  a  young  man  they  hated. 
The  execution  took  place  at  mid-day. 

On  July  27  following  we  went  again  in  the  depart- 
ment of  Oise,  but  this  time  our  halting-place  was  Com- 
piegne.  The  whole  department  was  in  a  state  of  terror 
in  consequence  of  the  large  number  of  fires  which  were 
■constantly  taking  place  throughout  the  locality.  The 
judicial  authorities  wished  to  make  an  example.  A  pork- 
butcher,  named  Louis  Charlemagne  Gosslin,  was  found 
guilty  of  having  set  fire  to  twenty-two  houses  in  a  single  \ 
village.  He  was  executed  at  twelve  on  the  Place  de 
I'Hotel-de-Ville,  at  Compiegne  ;  he  showed  great  cool- 
ness, and  to  the  last  protested  that  he  was  innocent. 

All  provincial  executions  used  to  take  place  in  the 
public  square  at  mid-day  in  presence  of  large  crowds. 
The  custom  of  executing  in  the  middle  of  the  day  waj 
also  being  adopted  in  Paris.  Things  have  altered  since 
then  ;  nowadays,  one  executes  at  dawn,  before  the  prison 
gate  ;  a  mysterious  veil  is  cast,  as  it  were,  over  the  pro- 
ceedings, as  if  the  law  were  ashamed  of  what  it  is  doing. 


LAFAYETii.     i,      .UK   UNIFORM   OF   A    MAJOR-GENER-  ! 

AL   OF   THE   CONTINENTAL   ARMY. — FROM    AN  j 

ENGRAVING   BY  J.    DE    MARE.  i 


MY  EXECUTIONS,  255 


I.   The  four  Sergeants  of  La  Roche  lie. 

On  September  2 1  my  father  and  I  went  to  the  Con- 
ciergerie  on  a  very  sad  errand.  This  time  we  had  not 
to  deal  with  ordinary  criminals  prompted  to  crime  by 
the  vilest  passions  ;  our  victims,  in  the  present  case, 
were  four  unfortunate  young  men,  victims  of  political 
fanaticism  and  of  the  secret  intrigues  of  a  party  which 
tried  to  sap  the  throne  of  the  Bourbons  during  the  whole 
of  the  Restoration.  It  is  not  within  my  province  to 
give  a  history  of  carbo7iarisin — of  that  secret  association 
imported  from  Italy,  which  counted  princes  as  well  as 
artisans  in  its  ranks.  The  society  was  composed  of 
ventas,  or  small  groups  of  conspirators,  who  acted  upon 
directions  from  a  superior  council.  Precautions  were 
taken  to  render  the  discovery  of  the  society  as  a  whole 
almost  impossible.  A  batch  of  well-known  men, 
Lafayette,  Dupont,  Manuel,  Voyer  d'Argenson,  Ben- 
jamin Constant,  Foy,  Laffitte,  &c.,  not  content  with  the 
-agitation  they  fomented  in  public  assemblies  and  in  the 
press,  put  themselves  at  the  head  of  an  active  permanent 
conspiracy,  the  first  effects  of  which  were  to  be  fatal  to 
their  obscure  accomplices. 

The  army  had  never  been  attached  to  the  restored 
Bourbons  ;  the  conspirators  endeavoured  to  spread  dis- 
affection among  the  soldiers.  In  one  instance  at  least 
they  were  successful.  A  venta  was  formed  in  the  45th 
line  regiment.  In  the  45th  there  was  a  young  sergeant 
of  exalted  views,  generous  aspirations,  and  great  per 


256  MEMOIRS  OF   THE  SANSONS. 


sonal  advantages,  who  had  much  influence  over  his 
companions.  Bories  (such  was  his  name)  was  tall, 
handsome,  and  precociously  eloquent ;  he  was  a  man  of 
no  ordinary  cast,  and  the  carbonari  pitched  upon  him  as 
a  highly  useful  recruit.  Bories  was  only  too  disposed 
to  enter  into  their  views  ;  he  organised  a  venta  in  the 
45th,  and  gave  several  of  his  comrades  the  dagger  which 
was  the  symbol  of  the  secret  association. 

In  spite  of  the  religious  secrecy  maintained  by  the 
conspirators  of  the  45  th,  they  were  soon  regarded  with 
suspicion.  They  were  too  young  to  conspire  effectually ; 
they  did  not  sufficiently  conceal  their  feelings,  and  this 
was  enough  to  awaken  the  attention  of  their  superiors; 
At  the  time  of  a  foiled  attempt  of  General  Berton's  at 
Saumur,  Bories  was  already  arrested,  although  he  had 
given  no  signal  of  insurrection.  But  treason  came  in  ; 
Goupillon,  one  of  the  youngest  plotters,  revealed  the 
secret  of  the  venta  to  the  colonel  of  the  regiment,  and 
on  the  same  evening  all  those  concerned  in  carbonarisnt 
were  arrested. 

Almost  every  one  of  them  admitted  their  crime. 
Bories  alone  persisted  in  a  system  of  flat  denial. 
Promises  no  more  than  threats  could  induce  him  to 
speak  out.  All  the  accused  were  transferred  to  Paris. 
At  the  Conciergerie  Bories  resumed  his  leadership.  He 
wished  to  take  the  responsibility  of  the  whole  aflair  and 
save  his  companions.  Ardent  as  he  was  in  his  demo- 
cratic faith,  he  was  also  desirous  to  prevent  any  dis- 
covery that  might  have  proved  damaging  to  his  cause ; 
and   he  agreed   with   his  friends  that   whatever  might 


MV  EXECUTIONS.  257 

occur  they  should  in  no  way  compromise  the  success  of 
their  cause.  The  prisoners  acted  upon  this  system  of 
defence  in  the  trial,  which  began  on  August  21,  1822. 

Twenty-five  persons  were  implicated.  These  were : 
Massias,  captain ;  Bories, sergeant-major;  Henon,  school- 
master ;  Baradere,  barrister ;  Gauran,  surgeon  ;  Rose, 
clerk  ;  Pommier,  sergeant-major  ;  Goubin,  Raoulx,  and 
Amis,  sergeants ;  Goupillon,  Bicheron,  Laboure,  Cochet, 
Castille,  Lutron,  Hue,  Barlet,  Perrion,  Lefebvre,  Thomas, 
Gautier,  Lecoq,  Dariotscy,  and  Demais,  soldiers.  The 
trial  lasted  a  fortnight.  The  prisoners  did  as  they  had 
agreed ;  they  denied  the  charges,  and  left  Bories  to  bear 
the  brunt  of  the  danger.  With  admirable  self-abnega- 
tion he  admitted  everything,  and  it  was  no  fault  of  his 
if  he  was  not  the  only  victim.  It  was  in  vain  that  the 
counsel  did  their  utmost  to  save  some  of  their  clients. 
The  Procureur-General  was  pitiless  :  '  No  human  elo- 
quence,' he  exclaimed,  'could  save  the  life  of  Bories.* 
Before  the  close  of  the  trial  the  President  of  the  Court 
asked  the  prisoners  if  they  had  anything  to  say.  Bories 
was  the  only  one  who  answered.  Faithful  to  his  gene- 
rous intention,  he  rose,  and  in  a  firm  and  grave  voice  he 
pronounced  the  following  words  : 

'  Gentlemen  of  the  Jury :  You  have  heard  the  in- 
dictment, the  witnesses,  and  the  debates  of  our  trial  ; 
and  after  what  you  heard  you  were,  no  doubt,  surprised 
when  M.  le  Procureur  said  "  that  no  human  eloquence 
could  save  my  life."  He  pointed  me  out  as  the  leader. 
I  accept  the  responsibility.  Happy  shall  I  be  if  my 
death  can  save  my  companions.' 

VOL.  II.  S 


258  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  SANSONS. 


\ 


These  noble  expressions  did  not  produce  the  requi- 
site effect.  Bories,  Pommier,  Raoulx,  and  Goubin,  the 
four  sergeants  of  La  Rochelle,  were  sentenced  to  death. 
Different  penalties  were  inflicted  upon  the  other  prison- 
ers. The  four  young  men  listened  with  perfect  calmness 
to  the  sentence  which  forfeited  their  lives.  Bories  turned 
to  his  counsel,  gave  him  a  jewel,  and  asked  him  to  hand 
it  over  to  a  person  whose  address  he  gave  him.  The 
secret  of  this  message  was  only  known  later.  During 
thirty  years  since  the  execution  of  Bories  and  his  com- 
panions, I  saw  a  woman  who  at  first  was  young  and 
then  turned  prematurely  old,  going  every  morning  to 
the  Mont  Parnasse  cemetery;  she  placed  a  flower  on 
Bories'  grave  and  then  silently  withdrew.  The  poor 
woman  died  a  few  years  ago.  She  was  Bories'  sweet- 
heart. 

The  four  sergeants  were  transferred  to  Bicetre. 
Three  of  them,  Goubin,  Raoulx,  and  Pommier,  had 
appealed  against  the  decision  of  the  Court  ;  but  when 
they  heard  that  Bories  had  refused  to  avail  himself  of 
this  last  chance  of  salvation,  they  followed  his  example 
and  withdrew  their  appeal.  An  attempt  was  made  by 
the  party  to  which  they  belonged  to  bribe  the  governor 
of  Bicetre  and  enable  the  prisoners  to  escape  ;  but  the 
governor's  uncle — an  unworthy  priest — betrayed  the 
secret  and  thereby  frustrated  all  other  plans  of  the  same 
kind. 

On  September  21  Bories  and  his  companions  were 
taken  to  the  Conciergerie.  They  one  and  all  declined 
the   consolations  of  religion.     When  they  entered  the 


LOUIS    XVIII.,    KING    OF    FRANCE 


MY  EXECUTIONS.  259 

room  whence  they  were  to  be  transferred  to  the  guillo- 
tine, Bories  spoke  to  his  three  friends :  '  Dear  comrades,' 
he  said,  *  our  time  is  come  ;  let  us  show  that  we  were 
worthy  of  our  cause.  Forgive  me  for  having  led  you  to 
this  miserable  death.  Our  blood  shall  not  flow  without 
result.     Long  live  liberty  ! ' 

The  three  sergeants  rushed  into  his  arms,  repeating 
his  cry  with  extraordinary  enthusiasm.  The  toilet 
began ;  they  all  submitted  to  it  with  noble  dignity. 
Raoulx,  the  youngest,  was  the  most  cheerful.  *  Poor 
Raoulx  ! '  said  he,  alluding  to  his  short  stature,  '  what 
shall  remain  of  you  when  your  head  is  gone } '  Our 
departure  from  the  Conciergerie  was  appointed  for  four 
o'clock  P.M. ;  we  were  still  at  the  prison  at  five  o'clock. 
During  this  long  hour  the  Council  of  Ministers  was 
deliberating  on  the  question  whether  the  convicts  should 
be  reprieved  or  not  King  Louis  XVI 1 1.,  it  was  said, 
was  in  favour  of  clemency  ;  Monsieur,  his  brother,  and 
his  friends  were  for  execution,  and  the  latter  opinion 
prevailed.  Vain  efforts  were  made  to  obtain  revelations 
from  the  four  sergeants.  They  refused  to  answer,  say- 
ing that  they  preferred  death  to  dishonour. 

At  five  o'clock  we  started  for  the  Greve.  There  was 
a  numerous  gathering  of  soldiers  and  gendarmes,  for 
the  authorities  apprehended  an  attempt  to  save  the 
prisoners.  At  the  foot  of  the  scafl"old  the  four  young 
men  again  refused  to  listen  to  the  exhortations  of  the 
ecclesiastic  who  was  with  them.  Bories,  being  a  Pro- 
testant, had  more  reasons  than  his  friends  to  decline  the 
services  of  a  Catholic  clergyman.    They  again  embraced, 


26o  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  SANSONS. 

and  then  the  youngest  stepped  forward  and  gave  him- 
self up  to  us.  He  advanced  on  the  platform  with  an 
unfaltering  step,  and  while  he  was  being  strapped  to  the 
plank  he  cried  :  ^  Vive  la  liberie  ! ' 

Goubin  came  next,  and  he  displayed  as  much  forti- 
tude as  Raoulx.  He  also  cried  in  a  clear  and  firm 
voice  :  '  Vive  la  liberie  !  ' 

Pommier  was  the  third  victim  ;  he  uttered  the  same 
cry  as  his  friends. 

At  last  Bories'  turn  came.  The  sight  of  a  treble 
execution  had  at  last  shaken  the  young  sergeant's 
stoicism,  and  his  eyes  were  full  of  tears  ;  but  he  re- 
covered his  self-possession  on  reaching  the  platform, 
and  looking  at  the  crowd  below  he  said  : 

*  Brothers,  if  I  am  weeping,  it  is  not  for  myself  but  for 
my  poor  friends  who  have  just  been  killed  before  me. 
To-day  you  are  silent ;  but  a  time  shall  come  when  you 
will  repeat  my  last  cry  of  "  Vive  la  liberie  !'' ' 

He  was  pushed  towards  the  plank,  and  his  head  fell 
into  the  basket.  Eight  years  after  a  conquering  people 
entered  the  H6tel-de-Ville  and  overthrew  the  last  of 
the  Bourbons,  to  the  dying  cry  of  the  four  sergeants  of 
La  Rochelle. 


H.   Castaing. 

It  is  the  executioner's  fate  to  fall  from  political  victims 
to  the  most  vulgar  criminals,  and  vice  versa.  Before 
passing  to  the  year  1823  I  have  to  mention  two  cases, 
not   of  execution,   but  of  exhibition  on   the   scaffold. 


Enf" 


SA]R]RAZIW 


'Z^i 


I  Krtractrfl   p-nvi  the  Fhiljjsovha  .• 


AIV  EXECUTIONS.  261 

Firstly,  that  of  Cognard,  calling  himself  Count  de  Saint- 
Helene ;  and  secondly,  that  of  General  Jean  Sarrasin. 
The  history  of  the  former  is  well  known.  He  was  an 
escaped  convict,  and  had  taken  possession  of  the  papers 
of  the  real  Count  de  Saint-Helene,  who  died  in  Spain 
under  suspicious  circumstances.  Cognard  happened  to 
resemble  the  Count ;  he  returned  to  France,  passed 
himself  off  for  the  dead  nobleman,  was  accepted  as 
such,  led  a  brilliant  life,  and  rose  to  the  highest  military 
dignities,  until  he  was  identified  by  a  fellow  convict. 
Cognard  was  sentenced  to  hard  labour  for  life,  and  to 
exhibition  on  the  scaffold.  The  hardened  ruffian  suf- 
fered punishment  with  extreme  cynicism,  and  died  at 
Toulon  sixteen  years  after  his  identification. 

Sarrasin  was  no  impostor;  he  was  a  real  general. 
His  crime  was  polygamy,  for  which  he  was  sentenced 
to  ten  years'  imprisonment  and  to  exhibition  during  an 
hour.  He  had  married  three  wives :  one  in  Italy,  another 
in  England,  and  a  third  one  in  France. 

My  next  execution  occurred  on  May  21,  1823.  The 
culprit  was  a  German  tailor  of  the  name  of  Feldtmann, 
who  had  murdered  his  daughter.  On  July  18  follow- 
ing, my  father  and  I  executed  at  Montreuil  an  agri- 
cultural labourer,  named  Laizier,  who  had  murdered  his 
father-in-law. 

On  December  6  of  the  same  year  I  had  to  take  the 
life  of  one  of  those  great  criminals  who  might  be  called 
the  lions  of  crime  because  they  have  the  privilege  of 
engrossing  public  attention  ;  I  allude  to  Edme-Samuel 
Castaing,  physician,  aged    27.     Castaing  poisoned  two 


262  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  SANSONS. 


A 


of  his  intimate  friends — two  brothers  named  Ballet — 
after  inducing  them  to  bequeath  their  property  to  their 
friend  and  doctor.  Castaing  was  sentenced  to  death  on 
November  19,  and  a  little  more  than  a  fortnight  after  I 
had  to  deal  with  him.  My  father  was  with  me.  When 
the  culprit  was  brought  before  us  we  wondered  how  so 
black  a  soul  could  lie  under  so  prepossessing  an  appear- 
ance. Castaing's  face  was  soft  and  expressive  ;  his 
features  were  strikingly  handsome;  and  his  blue  eyes 
were  void  of  any  ferocious  expression.  When  he  saw 
us  he  shook  a  little,  and  appeared  afraid  that  we  should 
in  any  way  hurt  him,  for  he  said  :  *  Pray  do  not  harm 
me  ;  you'll  kill  me  ere  long ;  until  then  it  is  of  no  use 
to  make  me  suffer.'  While  his  hair  was  being  cut  he 
exclaimed,  alluding  to  his  victims :  *  Oh,  my  poor 
friends,  what  would  you  say  if  you  saw  me  in  this  sad 
position  "i  I  would  have  given  my  life  to  save  you,  and 
I  am  charged  with  your  death ! '  These  words  moved 
me ;  I  was  young  and  inexperienced,  and  it  seemed  to 
me  impossible  that  a  man  could  persist  in  a  heinous 
falsehood  in  the  face  of  death.  I  suppose  he  noticed 
the  effect  his  words  produced,  for  just  as  Fauconnier, 
our  chief  assistant,  was  proceeding  to  bind  his  hands, 
he  turned  to  me  and  said :  '  Bind  my  hands,  sir,  and  do 
not  draw  the  cords  too  tight'  I  acquiesced,  and  he 
thanked  me.  On  the  way  to  the  Greve  he  never  ceased 
protesting  that  he  was  innocent.  The  Abbe  Montes 
listened  to  him  with  anything  but  a  convinced  air,  and 
he  besought  him  to  relieve  his  conscience  and  confess 
his   guilt.     The   sight   of  the  scaffold    made    Castaing 


MY  EXECUTIONS.  263 

shudder ;  the  sinister  aspect  of  the  guillotine  obviously- 
caused  him  more  terror  than  the  idea  of  death.  His 
fortitude  vanished,  and  our  assistants  had  to  carry  him 
up  to  the  platform.  He  fell  on  his  knees,  and  stretching 
out  his  hands  towards  the  Abbe  Montes,  he  cried  in  a 
lamentable  voice:  'Forgive  me,  father;  I  am  guilty. 
Will  God  forgive  me?'  The  priest  blessed  him,  and 
made  him  kiss  a  crucifix.  As  for  me,  I  was  astounded. 
The  suddenness  of  the  man's  confession  almost  over- 
came me.  Henceforth  I  was  more  sceptical  when  culprits 
assured  me  of  their  innocence. 


HI.  Brochetti^  Dagron,  Papavoine,  &c. 

On  January  24,  1824,  I  led  a  mother  and  her  son  to 
the  guillotine.  A  young  working  man  of  the  name  of 
Lecouffe  murdered  an  old  woman  known  by  the  name 
of  Mother  Jerome,  with  the  purpose  of  appropriating  her 
money.  It  was  eventually  discovered  that  the  idea  of 
this  horrible  deed  belonged  to  the  murderer's  mother. 
Both  were  sentenced  to  death.  Their  journey  from  the 
Conciergerie  to  the  Greve  was  one  of  the  most  disgusting 
I  ever  saw.  Lecouffe  spoke  to  his  mother  with  extreme 
violence  of  language,  and  the  woman  answered  in  the 
same  tone.     They  insulted  each  other  to  the  last. 

Three  executions  on  April  20  of  the  same  year 
Ochard,  Renaud,  and  Delaporte  were  highwaymen  who 
excelled  in  the  art  of  waylaying  stage-coaches,  and  killing 
the  passengers  if  they  refused  to  give  up  their  money 


:i64  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  SANSONS. 

The  scene  of  their  exploits  was  the  Forest  of  Bondy^ 
near  Paris.  They  were  executed  at  four  o'clock  in  the 
afternoon,  and  died  as  fearlessly  as  if  they  had  been  in-: 
nocent. 

On  May  22  the  scaffold  was  again  erected  for  the 
.execution  of  an  Italian,  a  native  of  Rome,  named 
Antonio  Brochetti.  He  w^as  imprisoned  at  Bicetre  at 
the  time  of  the  murder,  he  having  been  previously  sen- 
tenced to  hard  labour  for  life.  He  killed  one  of  the 
turnkeys,  with  no  other  object  than  putting  an  end  to  his 
own  life.  Life  in  a  prison  or  in  the  hulks  seemed  to 
him  a  much  more  severe  punishment  than  death.  His 
wish  was  fulfilled ;  he  was  condemned  to  death,  and 
executed  on  the  Place  de  Greve  five  days  after,  at  four 
o'clock  in  the  afternoon. 

He  went  to  the  scaffold  with  eagerness.  *  I  would 
rather  die  a  thousand  times  than  go  to  the  hulks ! ' 
he  exclaimed  several  times.  Since  Brochetti's  execu- 
tion the  severity  displayed  in  French  penitentiaries 
has  increased  ;  and  his  example  has  been  followed  by 
many. 

After  Brochetti  I  executed  a  gardener,  Nicolas  Robert 
Dagron.  This  man  had  poisoned  his  wife  and  his  son. 
He  was  guillotined  on  July  I.  Four  o'clock  Avas  then 
the  usual  time  for  executions  in  Paris,  as  mid-day  was 
the  time  appointed  in  the  provinces.  On  the  same 
evening  we  received  the  visit  of  a  woman  who  claimed 
Dagron's  body  ;  I  complied  with  her  wish. 

No  other  executions  took  place  in  Paris  in  the  course 
of  the  year   1824;    but  I  had  to   go   to  Beauvais  on 


MV  EXECUTIONS.  265 

August  14  to  execute  a  young  murderer  of  the  name  of 
Dupuis. 

On  February  26,  in  the  following  year  (1825),  I  again 
went  to  Beauvais  to  put  to  death  two  men,  Francois 
Morel  and  Jacques  Couvreux,who  had  murdered  a  priest 
and  his  servant.  As  one  may  see,  executions  at  Beau- 
vais were  frequent. 

My  next  execution  demands  more  circumstantial  de- 
tails than  those  I  have  just  mentioned.  It  was  on 
March  24,  1825,  that  I  received  an  order  to  put  to  death 
on  the  following  afternoon  Louis  Auguste  Papavoine,. 
cloth  merchant,  aged  41,  who  had  been  sentenced  on 
the  26th  of  the  preceding  month  by  the  assize  court  of 
the  Seine  for  having  murdered  two  children  in  the  wood 
of  Vincennes.  Papavoine  was  one  of  the  strangest  men 
we  ever  had  to  deal  with.  He  had,  as  it  were,  no  con- 
science of  his  villany.  He  murdered  two  children,  re- 
spectively aged  5  and  6,  in  open  daylight  and  in  pre- 
sence of  their  mother,  without  the  slightest  motive  for 
committing  the  crime.  His  case,  I  think,  was  one  for 
doctors,  not  for  judges.  A  long  and  minute  investigation 
v/as  made,  but  no  connection  whatever  between  the 
family  of  the  victims  and  Papavoine  could  be  discovered. 
When  Papavoine  appeared  before  the  jury  he  at  first 
tried  to  deny  his  crime,  but  soon  after  he  made  a  full 
confession  ;  he  was,  however,  unable  to  furnish  a  reason 
for  the  murder,  but  he  said  that  at  the  time  he  was 
under  the  influence  of  fever  and  delirium. 

This  was  a  premature  excuse  for  a  jury  of  the  period. 
In  our  days  Papavoine  could  hardly  have  been  sentenced,. 


.266  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  SANSONS. 

but  science  was  not  then  as  advanced  and  liberal  as  itj 
is  now.  The  plea  of  insanity  was,  however,  urged  by 
Papavoine's  counsel,  M,  Paillet.  A  slight  acquaintance 
with  Papavoine's  family  induced  this  eminent  barrister  to 
accept  the  task  of  defending  the  child-killer.  He  dis- 
charged it  with  an  eloquence  which  should  have  secured 
a  favourable  verdict  ;  but  his  theory  appeared  too  novel 
to  the  jury ;  and  although  the  same  plea  was  success- 
fully urged  on  many  subsequent  occasions,  Papavoine 
was  declared  answerable  and  sentenced  to  death.  The 
jurors  believed  in  his  ruse  and  hypocrisy,  and  they 
not  only  brought  in  a  verdict  of  guilty,  but  declared  the 
crime  to  have  been  committed  With,  premeditation.  It  is 
difficult  to  understand  how  such  premeditation  could 
have  existed,  for  it  was  proved  that  Papavoine  had  no 
knowledge  of  the  persons  he  chanced  to  meet  in  the 
wood  of  Vincennes. 

The  culprit  was  unmoved  by  his  sentence.  *  I  appeal 
to  Divine  justice,'  were  his  only  words. 

Divine  justice  was,  indeed,  his  only  hope,  for  his  ap- 
peal was  dismissed,  and  his  family  vainly  implored  royal 
clemency.  Papavoine  was  executed  on  March  25,  at 
twenty-five  minutes  past  four  o'clock.  He  went  to  death 
in  a  state  of  indifference  and  apathy,  seemingly  uncon- 
scious of  his  fearful  position.  The  Abbe  Montes  was  the 
only  man  who  could  bespeak  his  attention.  On  the 
way  he  turned  twice  to  me  asking  whether  we  had  a 
long  way  to  go  ;  he  was  anxious  to  see  the  end  as  soon 
as  possible.  When  we  reached  the  scaffold  he  addressed 
the  abbe  in  the  following  terms  : 


MY  EXECUTIONS.  267 

'  I  do  not  regret  life/  lie  said  ;  '  ill  as  I  was,  I  found 
no  pleasure  in  it.  I  do  not  even  think  of  my  poor  old 
mother.  What  smites  my  conscience  is  the  death  of 
those  poor  little  children  I  was  unfortunate  enough  to 
slay.' 

The  Abbe  Montes  congratulated  him  on  his  good 
sentiments.  Papavoine  knelt  at  the  foot  of  the  scaffold, 
kissed  the  crucifix,  and  went  up  the  steps  supported  by 
two  assistants.  While  the  weigh-plank  on  which  he  was 
strapped  was  being  lowered,  I  distinctly  heard  him  say 
the  following  words  : 

*  M}^  God,  have  mercy  upon  me ! ' 

I  touched  my  father's  arm,  and  we  waited  until  his 
last  word  to  give  the  signal. 

Opinions  are  still  divided  on  Papavoine ;  some  per- 
sist in  regarding  him  as  a  type  of  bestial  ferocity,  while 
the  majority  agree  in  thinking  that  he  was  a  maniac. 
It  seems  impossible  that  he  could  have  deliberately 
killed  for  the  mere  pleasure  of  killing.  Similar  instances 
of  the  same  kind  of  crime  have  occurred  since,  and  juries 
have  taken  a  merciful  view  of  the  case.  On  the  whole  I 
preferred  executing  Papavoine,  to  being  a  member  of  the 
jury  who  found  him  guilty. 


IV.  Asselincau  and  Ulbach. 

After  the  execution  of  Papavoine  we  went  to  Ver- 
sailles on  May  17  following,  for  the  execution  of  a  young 
man  of  nineteen,  Gilbert  Prunier,  native  of  Poissy, 
sentenced  for  murder  and  robbery.     It  took  place  on  the 


268  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  SANSONS. 

old  market  square  at  twelve  o'clock.     On  October  28,  of] 
the  same  year,  we  executed  on  the  same  square  and  at  the' 
same  hour,  one  Frangois  Mercier,  sentenced  to  death  for] 
attempted  murder.     Our  presence  was  required  at  Beau- 
vais  on  November  5  for  the  execution  of  an  agricultural 
labourer,  who  had  attempted  to  murder  his  wife.     This 
time   the   execution   came   off  at   half-past  two.      On 
December  21  we  reappeared  on  the  Greve  to  execute  a 
man  named  Denis  Plessis,  who  had  poisoned  one  of  his 
fellow-workmen. 

I  must  beg  the  reader  not  to  tire  of  this  sad  and  dry 
list.  I  have  promised  a  history  of  the  scaffold,  and  I 
wish  it  to  be  as  complete  as  possible. 

In  1826  there  was  only  one  execution  ;  it  is  true  that 
two  men  perished  at  a  time.  Virgilio  Malaguti  and 
Gaetano  Rata,  Italians,  were  sentenced  to  death  for  the 
murder  of  a  money-changer  of  the  Palais  Royal.  They 
were  respectively  aged  twenty-three  and  nineteen  years. 
We  executed  them  on  the  26th. 

We  inaugurated  the  year  1827  by  two  executions  at 
Versailles  ;  Julien  Chevreau,  who  had  murdered  on  the 
high-road,  was  beheaded  on  February  16  ;  Therese  Des- 
places,  aged  thirty-six,  was  sentenced  to  death  for 
poisoning,  and  executed  on  March  13. 

On  the  2 1st  of  the  following  month  we  went  to  Pro- 
vins  (Seine-et-Marne),  for  a  double  execution.  An  agri- 
cultural labourer  and  his  wife,  Cyprien  and  Adelaide 
Ninonet,  were  neighbours  of  a  rich  widow  of  the  name  of 
Corpedanne,  who  lived  with  her  daughter.  Ninonet  and 
his  wife  did  not  hesitate  to  murder  these  two  women,  in 


MV  EXECUTIONS.  269 

the  hope  of  stealing  whatever  property  might  be  in  the 
house.  The  murderers  were  not  immediately  appre- 
hended ;  they  were  not  even  suspected.  Their  crime  was 
revealed  in  a  way  worth  relating.  One  of  the  victims, 
Madame  Corpedanne,  was  not  dead.  As  she  was  re- 
covering from  a  state  of  insensibility,  she  was  horrified 
on  discovering  that  the  charge  of  her  body  (for  she  Avas 
thought  to  be  dead)  was  given  to  Ninonet's  wife.  The 
unfortunate  victim  saw  herself  in  the  hands  of  her  mur- 
deress ;  she  had  the  presence  of  mind  to  give  no  signs  of 
life,  and  as  soon  as  a  third  party  arrived,  she  pointed  to 
the  woman  and  her  husband  as  her  assassins. 

The  Ninonets  were  executed  at  twelve  o'clock  on  the 
Place  Saint  Ayeul,  before  the  church  Avhich  bears  that 
name.  The  woman  moaned  piteously,  but  public  indig- 
nation was  so  intense  that  she  failed  to  excite  any  sym- 
pathy. 

I  have  now  to  mention  one  of  the  executions  that 
impressed  me  most  in  the  coarse  of  my  career.  The 
culprit  was  an  unfortunate  young  man,  Jean-Baptiste 
Asselineau  by  name,  native  of  the  department  of  the 
Nievre,  who  was  executed  on  May  8,  1827,  on  the  Place 
de  Greve.  He  was  barely  twenty,  and  his  face  was  one 
of  the  most  intelligent  and  sympathetic  I  ever  saw. 
Somehow  or  other  he  had  got  into  bad  habits,  and  then 
stepped  into  crime.  From  1825  to  1826  he  committed 
a  considerable  number  of  forgeries.  From  forgery  to 
murder  there  is  but  a  step ;  Asselineau  yielded  to  evil 
temptation  and  murdered  a  man  he  knew,  Jean-Baptiste 
Brouet.    He  took  possession  of  his  victim's  property,  and 


270  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  SANSONS. 

it  was  while  attempting  to  pass  off  bills  belongin 
Brouet  that  he  was  apprehended. 

The  public  was  surprised  at  the  precocious  perversity 
of  a  boy  whose  criminal  career  had  commenced  at  the  age 
of  seventeen  and  reached  its  climax  three  years  after ;  and 
to  me  this  perversity  appeared  still  more  wonderful  when 
I  saw  Asselineau  for  the  first  time.  He  was  calm  and 
resigned  when  we  took  him  at  the  Conciergerie.  He 
expressed  much  grief,  not  on  his  own  account,  but  be- 
cause of  the  dishonour  he  had  heaped  upon  his  family. 
On  the  way  to  the  Greve  he  showed  unlimited  repent- 
ance ;  and  I  was  profoundly  moved  by  the  softness  of 
his  words  and  the  evident  sincerity  of  his  anguish.  He 
embraced  the  Abbe  Montes  and  offered  no  resistance. 

Ten  days  after  we  again  erected  the  guillotine  for 
one  Alexandre  Buisson,  aged  twenty-nine  years,  who 
had  murdered  and  robbed.  On  July  i8,  at  Versailles, 
we  executed  a  native  of  Rambouillet,  named  Charles 
Christopher  Herv6,  sentenced  for  poisoning  his  daughter. 
On  August  4  we  likewise  put  to  death  Jean-Baptiste 
Emery,  aged  thirty-eight  years,  for  attempting  to  poison 
one  of  his  friends. 

Here  is  another  of  the  few  murderers  who  are  of  a 
nature  to  inspire  interest,  if  not  sympathy.  Honore 
Frangois  Ulbach  was  the  murderer  of  Aimee  Millot, 
better  known  as  the  shepherdess  of  Ivry.  This  affair  was 
so  interesting  that,  like  the  Lesurques  business,  it  has 
been  dramatised  and  put  on  the  stage.  Ulbach  was  an 
orphan  ;  he  was  employed  by  a  wine-merchant  of  the 
Barriere  Fontainebleau,  and  he  was  remarkable  for  his 


MY  EXECUTIONS.  271 

zeal  and  good  temper  up  to  the  time  when  he  fell  in  love 
with  a  young  girl  called  Aimee  Millot,  who  was  in  the 
service  of  a  lady  in  the  neighbourhood.  The  girl  used 
to  take  her  mistress's  goats  to  graze  near  the  wine-mer- 
chant's shop.  The  young  people  got  to  know  each  other, 
and  a  mutual  affection  sprung  up  between  them.  This 
led  Ulbach  to  neglect  his  duties  so  much  that  his  master 
at  first  remonstrated,  and  then  discharged  him ;  in  con- 
sequence of  this  the  girl,  on  the  advice  of  her  mistress, 
told  Ulbach  that  they  must  part.  The  unfortunate 
young  man  tried  to  change  her  mind,  but  perceiving  that 
his  arguments  were  fruitlessly  urged,  he  drciV  a  knife  and 
stabbed  her  five  times. 

Ulbach  was  twenty  years  of  age,  and  Aimee  was 
nineteen.  The  poor  girl  died  almost  immediately.  As  to 
Ulbach  he  gave  himself  up  to  the  police,  seeking  in  ex- 
piation some  consolation  for  a  crime  which  he  bitterly 
regretted. 

Ulbach  was  arraigned  before  the  assize  court  of  the 
Seine  ;  he  did  not  even  take  the  trouble  to  defend  him- 
self After  a  trial  of  a  few  hours  he  was  sentenced  to 
death.  He  heard  the  awful  sentence  without  a  word  of 
regret,  and  when  the  president  of  the  court  informed  him 
that  he  had  a  delay  of  three  days  to  appeal  against 
capital  punishment,  he  coldly  answered  : 
'  I  have  no  wish  to  appeal' 

Such  was  his  intention,  but  his  counsel  and  the  Abb6 
Montes  persuaded  him  not  to  persist  in  his  purpose. 
His  appeal,  however,  was  rejected,  and  on  September  10 
he  was  given  up  to  us.     '  I  do  not  regret  life,'  he  said  ; 


272  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  SANSONS. 

■*  I  was  only  a  poor  orphan,  and  I  have  lost  the  only- 
person  I  wanted  to  be  my  wife.'  He  seemed  to  listen 
with  respect  to  the  words  of  the  priest ;  but  his  thoughts 
were  not  altogether  divested  of  the  feelings  of  this  earth, 
for  he  said  to  the  Abbe  Montes  :  '  Yes,  father,  I  am  sorry 
I  murdered  my  beloved,  since  I  lost  her  for  ever  ;  but  if  I 
find  her  in  heaven,  do  you  think  she  will  forgive  me  ? ' 

The  unfortunate  man  thought  more  of  the  forgive- 
ness of  his  victim  than  of  the  judgment  of  the  Almighty. 
Several  witnesses  said  that  Ulbach  had  had  a  foreboding 
of  his  death,  for  when  he  began  to  feel  jealous  he  said 
on  several  occasions  :  *  I  feel  I  shall  die  on  the  scaffold.' 
On  another  occasion,  hearing  a  public  crier  who  sold  ac- 
counts of  a  recent  execution,  he  observed  :  '  This  is  what 
shall  soon  be  done  for  me,'  and,  imitating  the  crier's 
voice,  he  said  :  * "  Buy  for  a  penny  the  sentence  of 
death  and  execution  of  Honore  Francois  Ulbach."  ' 

Ulbach's  execution  was  the  last  that  occurred  in 
1827.  My  services  had  been  required  eight  times  during 
the  year.     Our  office  was  not  a  sinecure. 


V.  ContrafattOy  Robert  Saiitt- Clair,  and  Benoit. 

It  was  at  the  beginning  of  the  year  1828  that  the 
•exhibition  of  the  Abbe  Joseph  Contrafatto  took  place. 
This  priest,  who  was  born  at  Piazza,  in  Sicily,  was  sen- 
tenced by  the  assize  court  of  Paris  to  hard  labour  for 
life,  and  to  exhibition  during  an  hour,  after  being  marked 
on  the  right  shoulder  with  the  letters  T  F.      His  crime 


MY  EXECUTIONS.  273 

can  hardly  be  described  :  he  had  committed  a  criminal 
attempt  upon  a  Httle  girl. 

I  am  bound  to  say  that  the  Abbe  Contrafatto's  atti- 
tude was  full  of  Christian  humility.  The  crowd  insulted 
and  hooted  him  ;  as  long  as  the  exhibition  lasted  he  did 
not  give  the  slightest  sign  of  impatience.  His  counte- 
nance was  undoubtedly  that  of  an  innocent  man.  Singu- 
larly enough,  he  found  a  devoted  friend  in  the  person  of 
M.  Charles  Ledru,  son  of  a  friend  of  Lesurques,  who,  as 
counsel  in  the  civil  suit,  had  contributed  more  than  any- 
body else  to  his  conviction.  M.  Ledru  gave  his  close 
attention  to  the  affair,  and  soon  became  convinced  that 
Contrafatto  was  innocent.  He  spared  no  pains  to  allay 
the  misfortune  for  which,  in  his  own  opinion,  he  was 
partly  responsible.  Contrafatto's  punishment  was  gra- 
dually softened,  and  at  length,  after  remaining  in  the 
hulks  for  seventeen  years,  the  abbe  recovered  his  liberty. 
His  generous  saviour  was  no  small  loser  in  consequence 
of  his  efforts  to  obtain  Contrafatto's  freedom  ;  he  made 
certain  declarations  which  were  considered  more  than 
imprudent  by  his  colleagues,  who  took  upon  themselves 
to  disbar  him.  Of  course  the  question  whether  Contra- 
fatto was  guilty  or  not  still  remains  open,  but  there  is 
every  reason  to  believe  in  his  innocence. 

Five  months  after  Contrafatto's  exhibition  we  re- 
turned to  the  more  cruel  necessities  of  our  functions. 
We  had  to  execute  a  man  of  the  name  of  Nicolas  Roch, 
who  had  been  sentenced  to  death  for  murder  on  the  high 
road.  On  October  28  in  the  same  year  I  executed  two 
women  at  Versailles  ;  one  had  murdered  her  husband, 
VOL.  II.  T 


274     .  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  SANSONS. 

the  other  her  mother.  The  latter,  according  to  the  law 
of  the  time,  was  to  suffer  the  amputation  of  the  fist 
before  execution.  For  this  complication  of  capital  pun- 
ishment, my  father  had  invented  a  contrivance  by  which 
the  fist  was  so  compressed  that  the  pain  was  consider- 
ably diminished.  Catherine  Darcy  (the  murderess  in 
question),  however,  uttered  fearful  shrieks  when  her  fist 
was  cut ;  her  cries  only  subsided  when  the  knife  of  the 
guillotine  came  down  upon  her  neck. 

On  June  13,  1829,  we  returned  to  the  Place  de 
Greve,  and  executed  a  Belgian  named  Philippe  Frangois 
Debacker,  who  had  murdered  his  mistress  and  another 
woman.  Thirteen  days  after  we  went  again  to  Versailles, 
where  we  executed  Francois  Blonde,  carrier,  for  murder. 
On  August  5,  Pierre  Augustin  Billau,  pork  butcher, 
was  executed.  This  man's  crime  produced  great  sensa- 
tion in  Paris  :  he  attempted  to  murder  his  wife  with  a 
devilish  display  of  cruelty.  The  market  women  of  La 
Halle  hooted  him  on  his  way  to  the  Greve.  On  January 
27,  1830,  I  executed  Jean-Baptiste  Guerin,  Jean  Louis 
Bardon,  and  Louis  Chandelet,  condemned  for  murder  and 
theft.  Then  came  Andre  Lepauvre,  sentenced  for  the 
murder  of  his  uncle  (Feb.  9) ;  Eugene  Poteau,  for  at- 
tempted murder  (Feb.  26) ;  Jean  Pierre  Martin,  for  murder- 
in  the  Bois  de  Boulogne  (July  22).  This  was  the  last 
head  that  fell  under  the  Restoration — the  last  also  that 
fell  on  the  Place  de  Greve.  A  revolution  swept  away 
the  old  monarchy,  and  placed  on  the  throne  the  son  of  a 
man  executed  by  my  grandfather,  the  Duke  d'Orleans, 
better  known  as  Philippe  Egalite.     One  of  the  effects  of 


MV  EXECUTIONS,  275 

the  revolution  was  the  transfer  of  the  guillotine  to  the 
Barriere  Saint-Jacques. 

No   execution  took   place  in  Paris  throughout   the 
year  1 83 1.     It  was  otherwise  in  other  parts  of  my  juris- 
diction.    The  first  of  the  year  occurred    at  Versailles, 
and   the  culprit  was   an  accomplice  of  a  man   named 
Daumas-Dupin,  who  had  robbed  and  murdered  one  M. 
Prudhomme   and   his   wife.     Robert    Saint-Clair,    such 
was  the  criminal's  name,  was  an  escaped  convict.     He 
had  sought  shelter  in  Switzerland,  where  he  was  appre- 
hended and  handed  over  to  the  French  authorities.     His 
arrest  was  attended  with  rather  curious  circumstances. 
Robert  Saint-Clair  was  dining  at  a  table  d'hote  opposite 
a  distinguished  writer  who  gave  a  great  deal  of  attention 
to  phrenology  and  physiognomy — sciences  which  were 
then  in  fashion.     The   writer   in   question  was  a  very 
amiable  and  amusing  caiLScur,  and  he  entertained  those 
who   were   at    table   by   the   novelty   of  his    observa- 
tions.     Robert  Saint-Clair  alone  was  incredulous,  and 
little  disposed  to  like  a  science  which  enabled  the  adept 
to   discover  the  secret  instincts  and    leanings   of  other 
persons   from    a  mere  scrutiny  of  their  features.      He 
shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  even  expressed  in  an  uncivil 
way  his  disgust  for  the  theories  of  the  speaker.      The 
latter,  on  his   side,  began  to  observe  the  dissenter ;  he 
seemed  struck  by  some  idea  suggested  by  his  scrutiny, 
and  suddenly  addressing  Saint-Clair : 

'  You  seem  to  doubt  the  truth  of  what  I  say,'  said 
he  ;  '  will  you  allow  me  to  give  you  a  proof  of  what  I 
said  by  telling  you  what  your  features  indicate  t ' 


276  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  SANSONS.  ,      ; 

'Very  well/  answered  Saint-Clair,  though  not  with- 
out hesitation. 

*  They  show  the  cunning  of  the  fox  and  the  ferocity 
of  the  wolf.' 

The  remark  was  anything  but  flattering.  Saint- 
Clair  started,  and  as  he  had  passed  himself  off  as  an 
officer  it  was  at  first  feared  that  he  would  challenge  the 
bold  physiognomist.  But  nothing  of  the  kind  occurred  ; 
Saint-Clair  did  not  move,  and  remained  silent  until  the 
end  of  the  dinner.  He  was  rising  with  the  others  when 
a  number  of  gendarmes  entered  the  room  and  asked  the 
travellers  to  exhibit  their  passports.  Saint-Clair  showed 
his,  and  although  it  was  quite  en  regie,  he  was  identified, 
arrested  on  the  spot,  and  shortly  after  sent  back  to 
France.     I  may  add  that  he  died  with  courage. 

It  was  only  on  February  3,  1832,  after  an  interrup- 
tion of  eighteen  months,  that  the  guillotine  was  again 
required.  It  was  erected,  not  on  the  Place  de  Greve, 
but  on  the  cross  road  of  the  Barriere  Saint-Jacques. 
The  execution  took  place  in  the  morning  at  nine  o'clock, 
and  the  culprit  was  brought  straight  from  Bicetre  in  a 
covered  carriage.     The  hideous  cart  had  seen  its  time. 

On  July  13,  1832,  I  had  to  put  to  death  a  very 
young  although  very  great  criminal,  whose  deeds  had 
created  much  sensation :  Nicolas  Theodore  Frederic 
Benoit,  son  of  a  highly  respected  justice  of  the  peace  in 
the  Ardennes,  who  suffered  in  atonement  of  two  murders, 
the  second  of  which  had  been  perpetrated  in  order  to 
conceal  the  first  deed. 

Young  Benoit  began  by  murdering  his  mother,  after 


MY  EXECUTIONS.  277 

stealing  from  her  bedroom  a  bag  which  contained  4,000 
francs.  The  crime  was  so  horrible  that  no  one  thought 
of  suspecting  the  real  murderer,  who  was  only  nineteen, 
and  had  received  an  excellent  education.  A  neighbour 
of  M.  Benoit's,  who  had  a  grudge  against  him,  was  sus- 
pected, arrested,  and  tried.  He  was  acquitted  by  a  bare 
majority,  and  but  just  escaped  the  scaffold.  Meanwhile 
Frederic  was  sent  to  Nancy,  and  then  to  Paris,  where  he 
began  to  study  law.  But  the  young  murderer  plunged 
into  a  life  of  dissipation  and  vice,  and  an  unworthy 
fellow  of  the  name  of  Formage  became  his  boon  com- 
panion. Their  intimacy  was  such  that  Frederic  Benoit 
told  Formage  of  his  previous  crime.  Formage  was  not 
much  better  than  Benoit,  for,  instead  of  separating  from 
him,  he  continued  on  intimate  terms  with  him,  until  his 
return  home.  He  then  wrote  to  him,  asking  for  money, 
and  threatening  to  reveal  his  secret  if  he  refused  to  send 
him  the  requisite  sum.  Benoit  was  quite  equal  to  the 
situation  :  he  returned  to  Paris,  cajoled  his  companion, 
and  one  afternoon  he  murdered  him  in  an  hotel  at 
Versailles. 

What  he  regarded  as  the  guarantee  of  his  safety  was 
the  cause  of  his  death.  Benoit  had  been  seen  in  Paris 
on  the  eve  of  the  crime,  and  at  Versailles  in  Formage's 
company ;  and  although  he  had  managed  to  escape 
from  the  hotel  after  the  murder,  he  was  apprehended 
and  charged.  An  investigation  led  to  the  discovery  of 
a  copy  of  the  letter  in  which  Formage  threatened  to 
inform  against  him,  and  thus  the  cause  of  his  crime 
became  known. 


278  MEMOIRS   OF  THE  SANSONS. 

Benoit  stoutly  denied  the  overwhelming  charges! 
brought  against  him  ;  he  displayed  throughout  his 
defence  no  ordinary  ability,  but  he  had  to  deal  with  a 
formidable  opponent.  The  inhabitant  of  Vougiers  who 
had  been  tried  by  mistake  took  up  the  civil  prosecution,  ■ 
and  entrusted  M.  Chaix  d'Est-Ange,  the  celebrated  ' 
barrister,  with  the  task  of  showing  his  innocence.  M. 
Chaix  joined  the  public  prosecutor  in  his  denunciation 
of  the  prisoner,  and  Benoit  was  sentenced  to  the  death 
of  parricides  ;  that  is,  with  bare  feet,  a  shirt  as  his  only 
garment,  and  a  black  veil  over  his  head. 

When  we  reached  the  prison  of  Bicetre,  where  the 
unhappy  young  man  was  incarcerated,  we  heard  his 
cries  through  the  walls  of  the  cell  when  he  was  informed 
that  death  was  at  hand.  He  appeared  in  the  hall,  where 
we  were  waiting  for  him,  supported  by  two  warders. 
This  was  the  first  time  I  beheld  such  weakness  before 
death.  He  said  nothing  while  my  assistants  were 
cutting  his  hair,  but  when  they  undressed  him  he  uttered 
frightful  shrieks.  The  only  words  of  his  I  could  under- 
stand were  '  Mercy  ! '  '  Pity  ! '  '  I  am  innocent ! '  '  Do  not 
kill  me  ! '  He  tried  to  rise,  but  could  not.  The  black  veil 
was  spread  over  his  head,  and  we  started  for  the  guillotine. 
Benoit  fainted  several  times  on  the  way.  Whenever 
he  recovered  he  exclaimed  in  a  piteous  tone :  '  M.  Chaix 
d'Est-Ange  has  caused  my  death.  My  poor  mother, 
you  know  I  am  innocent ! '  The  priest  who  supported 
him  did  not  spare  his  encouragements,  but  Benoit  still 
persisted  in  saying  he  was  innocent.  It  was  only  when 
he  saw  the  guillotine  that  he  knelt  and  confessed  his 


MY  EXECUTIONS.  279 

guilt.  This  confession  I  distinctly  heard,  although  it 
was  only  intended  for  the  ears  of  the  priest,  and  I  was 
relieved  when  it  came  out,  for  I  had  followed  the  trial, 
and  in  my  humble  judgment  Benoit  had  been  convicted 
on  proofs  which  appeared  to  me  anything  but  conclusive. 

Benoit  was  carried  up  to  the  platform,  for  he  could 
not  be  induced  to  walk.  He  was  insensible  while  my 
assistants  strapped  him  to  the  weigh-plank. 

On  retiring,  my  father  (who  usually  accompanied  me 
on  such  occasions)  said  to  me  that,  since  the  execution 
of  Madame  Dubarry,  he  had  never  seen  an  instance  of 
such  weakness  on  the  scaffold. 

'  Remark,'  he  added,  ^  the  powerlessness  of  capital 
punishment ;  we  have  just  executed  a  man  who  had  the 
greatest  fear  of  death.  Well,  the  man  was  not  twenty- 
one,  and  yet  he  had  already  committed  two  murders. 
Fear  of  capital  punishment  did  not  deter  him.' 

I  was  quite  of  his  opinion.  My  father  shrugged  his 
shoulders,  and  continued :  'Fear  of  death  is  a  physical 
sentiment  which  is  linked  with  the  instinct  of  conser- 
vation. When  a  man  is  ill,  or  in  great  peril,  then  he 
fears  death,  but  never  is  he  deterred  by  the  prospect  of 
distant  death;  and  if  the  man  be  a  ruffian  the  temptation 
of  crime  will  get  the  better  of  whatever  lurking  appre- 
hension he  may  have.' 


VI.  Lacenaire,  Fieschi,  and  Alibaitd. 

Few  executions  took  place  in  1833,  and    1834  was 
one  of  happy  inaction.      It  was  only  on  July  ii,  1835, 


28o  MEMOIRS  OF   THE   SANSONS. 

that  we  received  an  order  to  put  to  death  one  Jean 
Laborde,  an  agricultural  labourer  sentenced  for  murder ; 
he  was  executed  at  Melun.  On  October  24  a  soldier 
named  Roch  Belard,  who  had  murdered  one  of  his 
friends,  passed  through  our  hands  ;  and  two  celebrated 
criminals,  Lacenaire  and  Avril,  were  executed  at  the 
beginning  of  1836. 

Lacenaire  especially  deserved  the  name  of  *  lion  of 
crime '  which  I  ventured  to  give  to  Castaing.  Never 
before  did  a  murderer  engross  public  attention  to  such  a 
degree ;  never  before  was  a  criminal  beheld  with  more 
curiosity — I  will  even  say  with  more  enthusiasm.  The 
object  of  Lacenaire  and  his  accomplice  was  theft,  and 
the  means  murder.  To  murder  and  rob  the  commis- 
sionnaire  of  a  bank  in  charge  of  bank-notes,  was  the 
chimera  which  he  pursued  with  incredible  pertinacity. 
He  was  not  successful;  and  several  fruitless  attempts 
betrayed  Lacenaire  and  his  accomplices  into  the  hands 
of  the  police. 

Lacenaire  displayed  the  most  extraordinary  cynicism 
and  audacity.  Instead  of  confessing  that  he  was  led  to 
commit  his  crimes  by  his  evil  passions,  he  endeavoured 
to  explain  them  by  his  principles ;  and  he  expressed 
doctrines  which  were  alike  antagonistic  with  morality 
and  good  sense.  Gifted  with  eminent  faculties,  he 
clothed  his  shameless  sophisms  in  brilliant  language ; 
and  he  was  listened  to  with  indulgence;  his  prose,  his 
verses,  were  read  with  avidity,  and  he  became  the 
hero  of  the  day.  This,  I  think,  was  a  mistake.  Lace- 
naire made  a  pedestal  of  the   scaffold,  and  died   with 


MY  EXECUTIONS,  281 

the  consoling  consciousness  that  he  was  a  celebrated 
man. 

Lacenaire  and  Avril,  his  accomplice — or  rather  one 
of  his  accomplices — was  sentenced  to  death  on  November 
1 5.  Both  appealed  against  the  sentence  ;  but  the  former 
declared  that  he  only  did  so  ^  in  order  to  have  time  to  write 
his  memoirs.'  Lacenaire's  expectations  were  frustrated ; 
he  could  not  conclude  his  scandalous  biography  ;  but  a 
well-known  writer  undertook  the  task  after  Lacenaire's 
death,  and  the  work  was  published. 

The  reader,  if  he  likes,  can  find  in  the  '  Causes 
Celebres,'  by  M.  Fouquier,  an  account  of  Lacenaire's  last 
acts.  There  is  no  need,  therefore,  for  me  to  give  further 
details  than  those  of  my  personal  contact  with  this  famous 
murderer.  When  we  arrived  at  Bicetre,  he  came  to  us 
gracefully,  and  smoked  a  cigar  while  his  hair  was  being 
cut.  Avril  showed  no  less  coolness.  The  morning  was 
raw  and  cold ;  he  could  not  help  shivering.  '  It's  awfully 
cold,'  he  said  ;  '  they'll  think  I  am  afraid.'  He  asked  for 
a  glass  of  brandy,  which  was  handed  to  him  by  a  warder. 
*  Thanks,  old  fellow,'  said  Avril,  drinking  it  off.  He 
then  bade  farewell  to  the  turnkeys,  while  Lacenaire  was 
bowing  ceremoniously.  The  journey  to  the  guillotine 
was  a  long  one,  for  the  roads  were  muddy,  and  the  car- 
riage advanced  with  some  difficulty.  Abbe  Montes  made 
a  final  effort  to  touch  the  heart  of  Lacenaire,  but  the 
man's  scepticism  was  too  much  for  him.  It  was  nearly 
half-past  eight  o'clock  when  we  arrived.  The  culprits 
alighted  first,  and  Ave  followed  them.  Avril,  whose 
execution  was  to  take  place  first,  embraced  the  priest^ 


282  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  SANSONS, 

who  escorted  him  to  the  foot  of  the  scaffold.     He  turnec 
to  Lacenaire,  and  cried  in  a  strong  voice  : 

'  Farewell,  Lacenaire  ;  farewell,  my  mate  ! '  ^ 
A  smile  appeared  on  the  lips  of  the  other  culprit. 
The  thump  of  the  knife  did  not  even  make  him  start. 
In  his  turn  he  firmly  went  up  the  steps  of  the  guillotine, 
and  looked  intently  at  the  crowd.  We  thought  he  was 
about  to  speak ;  but  he  held  his  tongue,  and  stretched 
out  of  his  own  accord  on  the  plank,  which  was  still 
dripping  with  Avril's  blood.  The  knife  came  down,  and 
Lacenaire's  head  fell  into  the  basket.  Some  newspapers 
of  the  period  pretended  that  there  was  an  interval  of 
twenty  seconds,  and  that  the  knife  stopped  before  it 
reached  Lacenaire's  neck.  This  was  altogether  untrue. 
This  detail  was  probably  invented  for  the  sake  of  effect. 
No  extraordinary  event  occurred  while  Lacenaire  was 
being  guillotined.  I  tried  to  conttadict  the  report  of  the 
above  invention,  but  no  paper  would  print  my  letter. 
All  I  can  say  is  that  the  famous  criminal  was  remarkably 
cool  and  resolute,  and  that  he  suffered  no  more  than 
Avril.  My  account,  I  know,  differs  from  the  official 
one,  but  I  venture  to  assert  that  mine  is  correct. 

Four  weeks  later  the  guillotine  was  again  at  work  ; 
the  criminals  were  Fieschi,  Morey,  and  Pepin,  who  had 
•attempted  to  murder  King  Louis  Philippe  on  July  28. 
Fieschi's  attempt  is  well  known  :  he  invented  an  infernal 
machine,  which  he  discharged  as  the  King  and  his  family 
were  passing.  None  of  the  royal  personages  were 
wounded,  but  forty  persons  fell  under  Fieschi's  bullets ; 


/nu^ 


MV  EXECUTIONS.  283 

among  others  a  marshal  of  France,  several  generals,  and 
other  men  of  distinction. 

Fieschi  was  arrested.  He  was  found  to  be  an  ad- 
venturer of  a  low  kind  ;  he  had  been  a  spy,  and  had 
become  a  political  murderer  out  of  interest  He 
tendered  his  services  to  a  few  fanatics,  who  were  foolish 
enough  to  accept  them.  Fieschi  began  by  naming 
them.  These  accomplices  were  no  higher  persons  than 
a  saddler  of  the  Rue  Saint-Victor,  and  a  grocer  of  the 
Faubourg  Saint-Antoine.  Fieschi's  cowardice  forfeited 
the  lives  of  these  two  men,  whose  participation  in  his 
crime  was  not  so  great  as  the  chief  criminal  made  it  out 
to  be.  Morey,  the  saddler,  and  Pepin,  the  grocer,  were 
sentenced  to  death,  while  another  accomplice  was  con- 
demned to  imprisonment  for  twenty  years. 

Morey  was  a  withered  old  man,  but  he  had  a  proud 
heart,  and  he  died  with  much  dignity.  Pepin  was  not 
forty  years  of  age,  and  had  four  young  children  ;  he  also 
was  brave  to  the  last.  As  to .  Fieschi,  he  fainted  away 
while  my  assistants  were  strapping  him. 

On  July  1 1  of  the  same  year,  we  had  to  execute 
•another  regicide.  Alibaud — such  was  his  name — was 
far  superior  to  Fieschi.  He  was  twenty-six  years  of 
age,  had  been  in  the  army,  and  was  known  as  an  honest 
and  honourable  man.  ,  He  waited  for  the  King's  car- 
riage at  the  corner  of  the  Carrousal,  and  fired  at  the 
prince.  Louis  Philippe  again  escaped  unhurt.  Alibaud 
was  led  to  the  scaffold  with  a  black  veil  over  his  head. 
He  advanced  to  the  side  of  the  scaffold,  and  said  :  *  I 


284  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  SANSONS. 

die  for  liberty  and  the  extinction  of  infamous  monarchy/ 
He  died  without  fear  or  bravado. 


VII.  Darmes,  Beliard,  Salmon ^  Potdmann,  Pont,  &c. 

There  was  no  execution  in  Paris  during  the  year 

1839.  The  scaffold  was  only  erected  on  February  29, 

1840,  for  a  common  and  not  particularly  interesting- 
criminal.  Only  two  more  instances  of  capital  punish- 
ment occurred  in  1840,  and  our  first  execution  in  1841 
was  on  the  person  of  one  Marius  Darmes,  sentenced  for 
firing  a  gun  at  King  Louis  Philippe.  Darmes  was  a 
man  of  the  same  category  as  Alibaud,  and  he  showed 
indomitable  energy  during  the  whole  of  his  trial  before 
the  House  of  Peers.  This  was  the  third  attempt  on  the 
King's  life. 

No  executions  in  1842.^ 

On  November  6,  1843,  ^t  Versailles,  execution  of 
Clovis  Joseph  Beliard,  condemned  to  death  for  murder. 
On  November  30  of  the  same  year,  execution  of  Henri 
Salmon  for  murdering  a  man  named  Sechepine  in  the 
wood  of  Vincennes.  For  some  time  past  I  had  merely 
appeared  on  the  scaffold,  and  I  left  the  irksome  duties 
of  fetching  the  culprits,  &c.,  to  Piot,  my  first  assistant. 
To  my  great  surprise  Piot  came  to  me  saying  that  Henri 
Salmon  wished  me  to  superintend  the  toilet  in  person. 
I  of  course  gratified  this  wish.  When  I  asked  Salmon 
why  he  wished  me  to  attend  him  rather  than  any  other, 

^  A  few  unimportant  executions  are  omitted  in  the  present  version  of 
Sanson's  Memoirs. 


MV  EXECUTIONS.  285 

lie  said  that  he  knew  my  family,  and  hoped  that  I  would 
spare  him  as  much  as  I  could.     I  was  touched,  and  did 
him  all  the  good  turns  I  could  on  the  way  to  the  guillotine. 
The  successor  of  Salmon  on  the  guillotine  was  the 
notorious  Poulmann,  alias  Durand,  alias  Legrand,  whose 
hideous    celebrity    was    almost    equal    to    Lacenaire's. 
Poulmann  was  very  intelligent  ;  and  if  he  did  make  a 
principle  of  murder  and  robbery,  he  at  least  possessed 
greater  physical  powers  than  Lacenaire.     He  was  sen- 
tenced to  death  on  January  27,  1844,  for  the  murder  of 
an  old  man  who  kept  a  wine-shop  near  Nangis.     When 
the   hour   of   punishment  came   he   showed   the   most 
extraordinary  courage.     He  was  a  confirmed  materialist, 
and  firmly  believed   in  nihilism.     Poulmann  was   par- 
ticularly proud  of  his  personal  strength  ;  and  as  it  was 
feared  that  he  would  try  and  make  a  show  of  it  before 
dying,  I  was  requested   to  double  the  number  of  my 
assistants.   These  apprehensions  were  groundless.    When 
my  assistants  advanced  to  bind  his  hands,   Poulmann 
looked  up  angrily  and  asked  whether  it  was  the  custom ; 
'  because  if  it  is  not,'  he  added,  *  Pll  send  you  all  tum- 
bling over  in  less  than  a  minute.'    He,  however,  submitted. 
He  would  not  allow  the  Abbe  Montes  to  accompany 
him.     When  we  reached  the  scaffold  Poulmann  looked 
at  it  without  a  shudder.     '  Is  that  all  ? '  said  he,  shrug- 
ging his  shoulders.    On  reaching  the  platform  Poulmann 
turned  towards  the  assistants  and  exclaimed :    '  I  say, 
you  fellows,  won't  you  put  a  franc  piece  in  my  pocket 
for  the  gravedigger }     It  is  bitterly  cold,  and  the  poor 
fellow  must  drink  my  health.' 


286  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  SANSONS. 

Such  were  his  last  words. 

On  October  28,  1844,  at  Versailles,  execution  of 
Antoine  Pont,  sentenced  to  death  for  having  poisoned 
his  wife  and  then  murdered  his  mistress  in  the  forest  of 
Senart.  The  atrocity  of  this  double  crime  absorbed 
public  attention,  and  the  scaffold  was  surrounded  by  an 
immense  crowd  who  hooted  the  culprit. 

And  now  I  have  done.  My  notes  end  here.  My 
father  died  in  1841,  and  from  the  time  of  his  death  I 
became  an  inactive  spectator  of  executions.  I  had 
executed  over  a  hundred  persons,  and  I  felt  it  was 
enough  for  me.  I  remained  de  nomine  executioner ; 
Piot,  my  first  assistant,  was  also  my  factotum,  and  I 
merely  attended  executions  as  a  matter  of  form.  In 
fact  I  retained  my  functions,  but  I  had  not  the  courage 
to  discharge  them.  Long  before  my  dismissal  in  1847 
I  was  expecting  and  hoping  that  the  Government  would 
fulfil  my  dearest  wish  and  enable  me  to  retire  without 
breaking  the  promise  I  had  made  to  my  father  of  never 
withdrawing  of  my  own  accord.  My  dismissal  did  come 
at  last,  and  while  some  fifty  eager  individuals  were  com- 
peting for  the  office  of  executioner  I  greeted  it  as  a 
deliverance. 


APPENDIX. 


PUNISHMENTS   NOT   FOLLOWED   BY  DEATH. 

DEGRADA  TION, 

The  first  category  of  punishments  in  force  in  France  comprised 
Degradation^  the  Pillory^  Amende  honorable,  Flagellation,  and 
Mutilation.  The  first  three  of  these  penalties  were  rather- 
moral  than  physical. 

By  degradation,  the  culprit  was  ignominiously  stripped  of  the 
functions,  privileges,  and  titles  wherewith  he  was  invested. 

Officers  of  justice  were  publicly  degraded.  The  execution 
of  a  sentence  of  death  was  always  to  be  preceded  by  degrada- 
tion. Thus,  when  Marshal  de  Biron  was  on  the  scaffold,  the 
Chancellor  of  France  deprived  him  of  the  insignia  of  the  Order 
ofthe  Holy  Ghost. 

The  degradation  of  a  nobleman  was  always  attended  with 
much  solemnity.  Thirty  knights  of  proved  courage  met  in 
council,  and  summoned  to  their  presence  the  nobleman  charged 
with  felony.  A  king-  or  a  herald-at-arms  pronounced  the 
accusation  of  treason,  or  broken  faith,  and  if  the  charge  was 
not  well  met,  degradation  took  place  in  the  following  manner. 
Two  scaffolds  were  erected  in  public  :  on  one  the  judges  were 
assembled,  surrounded  by  heralds  and  men-at-arms;  on  the 
other  stood  the  culprit,  fully  armed,  with  his  shield  stuck  in  a 
spike  before  him.      He  was  then  stripped  of  all  his  weapons^ 


:288  APPENDIX. 

beginning  with  the  hehnet ;  his  shield  was  broken  in  three  pieces ; 
the  king-at-arms  poured  a  basin  of  hot  water  on  his  head,  and 
priests  sang  the  service  of  the  dead  during  this  impressive  cere- 
mony. The  judges,  clad  in  mourning,  then  went  to  church, 
whither  the  culprit  was  borne  on  a  litter.  After  a  De  Fyo- 
fundis  he  was  given  up  to  the  royal  judge  to  be  dealt  with  by 
High  Justice.  On  some  occasions  he  was  allowed  to  out- 
live his  infamy,  as  in  the  case  of  Captain  Franget,  a  Gascon 
gentleman,  who  had  treacherously  surrendered  Fontarobia  to 
the  Spaniards.  He  was  degraded  at  Lyons  in  1523,  in  the 
manner  I  have  described,  and  afterwards  set  free. 

Subsequently  degradation  was  abandoned,  because  the 
sentence  in  itself  was  understood  to  imply  the  stigma.  It  was 
resumed  in  1791  under  the  name  of  civil  degradation.  The 
-clause  was  thus  worded  :  '  The  culprit  shall  be  led  to  the 
public  place,  where  sits  the  tribunal  that  passed  sentence  upon 
him.  The  clerk  of  the  court  shall  address  him  in  these  words  : 
"  Your  country  has  found  you  guilty  of  an  infamous  act ;  the 
law  and  the  court  strip  you  of  your  title  of  French  citizen.*' ' 

Civil  degradation  is  still  in  force,  but  it  is  not  coupled  with 
ceremony,  and  merely  consists  in  the  deprivation  of  certain 
rights  mentioned  in  Article  34  of  the  Penal  Code.  However, 
according  to  martial  law,  no  dishonourable  sentence  can  be 
carried  out  without  effective  degradation. 


PILLORY  AND   C ARC  AN. 

Pillory  succeeded  carcan,  which  was  adopted  in  17 19,  and 
only  disappeared  a  few  years  ago.  The  pillory  was  a  kind  of 
post  or  pillar  to  which,  in  token  of  infamy,  criminals  were 
■chained.  It  was  generally  placed  in  a  well-known  spot.  In 
Paris  it  was  situated  near  the  Halles.  It  consisted  in  an 
octagonal  tower  with  a  ground  floor,  and  only  one  landing. 
The  culprit  was  shown  there  during  three  consecutive  market- 


APPENDIX.  289 

days.  On  each  day  he  was  taken  round  the  pillory  every  half- 
hour,  so  that  he  should  be  seen  on  all  sides.  This  species  of 
exhibition  differed  according  to  towns  ;  thus,  at  Orleans,  where 
for  the  first  time  the  pillory  was  used,  it  consisted  in  a  wooden 
cage,  six  feet  high,  and  only  two  feet  and  a  half  broad,  in  which 
the  culprit  was  thrust,  and  obliged  to  remain  in  a  standing 
posture.  The  cage  revolved  on  a  pivot,  and  the  people  had 
the  right  to  turn  it  so  as  to  see  the  prisoner  on  all  sides,  to  hoot 
him,  and  to  throw  mud  in  his  face. 

The  Car  can  was  rather  an  adjunct  to  the  pillory  than  a 
new  punishment.  It  was  a  circle,  or  iron  collar,  which  the 
executioner  riveted  around  the  convict's  neck.  The  convict 
was  led  forth  on  foot,  both  hands  attached  behind  the  execu- 
tioner's cart,  or  tied  behind  his  back.  At  the  place  designated 
for  the  punishment  was  a  post,  to  which  was  linked  a  long 
chain,  terminated  by  an  iron  collar  six  inches  thick,  which  had 
a  hinge.  The  neck  of  the  convict  was  enclosed  in  this  collar, 
which  was  then  locked  with  a  padlock.  A  placard  indi- 
cating the  crime  of  the  culprit  was  sometimes  stuck  on  his 
breast. 

Crimes  punishable  by  the  pillory  were  bankruptcy,  forgery, 
bigamy,  fraud,  cheating  at  cards,  robbery  of  fruit,  sale  of  pro- 
hibited books,  and  blasphemy.  Under  Francis  I.  and  Henry 
II.  this  last  crime  was  met  by  six  hours  of  carcan.  The  appli- 
cation of  carcan  changed  by  dint  of  time,  and  when  it  disap- 
peared from  the  French  penal  code  it  consisted  in  being 
attached  in  public  by  the  neck  to  an  iron  collar  for  the  space 
of  an  hour. 


AMENDE   HONORABLE,  ETC. 

In  the  long  list  of  punishments  inflicted  in  former  days. 
Amende  honorable  held  the  last  place.  Perhaps  this  revolting 
punishment  should  have  had  a  higher  place,  but  it  was  intended 
to  touch  the  mind,  not  the  body.     It  was  frequently  a  pre- 

VOL.  II.  U 


290  APPENDIX. 

liminary  step  to  a  more  severe  punishment.  The  sole  act  of 
parading  a  prisoner  in  a  cart  through  the  streets  was,  however, 
a  punishment  inflicted  upon  petty  thieves.  In  some  cases  it 
was  also  inflicted  upon  noblemen. 

Among  other  moral  inflictions  should  be  mentioned  the  act, 
,  resorted  to  under  the  reign  of  St.  Louis,  of  breaking  a  knight's 
spurs  on  a  dunghill.  In  the  middle  ages  a  husband  who 
suffered  his  wife  to  beat  him  was  iriade  to  ride  about  the  streets 
pn  a  donkey  with  his  head  towards  the  tail.  Cutting  the  table- 
cloth before  whoever  had  committed  an  act  of  cowardice  was 
another  usage  of  the  same  kind.  This  was  done  to  William  of 
Hainaut,  at  the  King  of  France's  own  table,  because  he  had 
not  avenged  the  murder  of  his  grand-uncle. 


-      FLAGELLATION. 

Flagellation  has  been  one  of  the  most  cruel  and  humiliating 
punishments.  It  was  abolished  in  1789,  but  continued  in  force 
in  the  navy,  until  the  Provisional  Government  of  1848  finally 
suppressed  it.  Corporal  punishment,  however,  is  still  in  vigour 
in  the  hulks. 


MUTILATIONS. 

There  is  scarcely  a  single  part  of  the  body  that  has  not  been 
subjected  to  a  separate  and  special  torture  :  the  eyes,  mouth, 
tongue,  ears,  teeth,  arms,  hands,  feet,  and  heart  have  been  so 
many  sources  of  suffering  by  fire  and  iron.  Blindness,  resorted 
to  under  the  first  two  races  of  French  kings,  was  inflicted  by 
princes  upon  high  personages  whose  attacks  they  feared,  but 
whose  lives  they  dared  not  take.  Blindness  was  applied  to 
Bernard,  King  of  Italy,  grandson  of  Charlemagne  ;  and  the 
Parliament  of  Senlis,  in  873,  ordered  that  the  rebellious  son  of 
Charles  the  Bald  should  be  deprived  of  his  sight. 


APPENDIX.  291 

A  red-hot  iron  passed  before  the  eyes  until,  to  use  Join- 
ville's  expression,  they  were  cooked ;  a  steel  point  which  was 
plunged  in  the  centre  of  the  organ  ;  the  plucking  out  from  the 
socket — such  were  the  instruments  and  means  resorted  to  by 
justice  and  revenge,  which  in  barbarous  ages  were  often  con- 
founded. 

The  tongue  has  in  all  times  been  practised  upon  by  the  law. 
Louis  IX.,  generally  considered  one  of  our  wisest  kings,  ordered 
that  blasphemers  should  be  marked  on  the  brow,  that  their  lips 
should  be  burnt,  and  their  tongue  pierced  with  a  red-hot  iron. 
For  this  punishment  he  invented  a  round-shaped  iron,  which  the 
executioner  applied  to  the  lips  of  the  culprit,  after  heating  it. 
Louis  XIL,  the  '  father  of  the  people,'  enacted  that  whoever 
uttered  eight  blasj^hemies  should  have  his  tongue  torn  out,  and 
Louis  XIV.  re-established  the  law.  The  zeal  of  Francis  I.  for 
the  triumph  of  the  Catholic  religion  suggested  new  tortures, 
which  were  inflicted  on  the  Protestants.  Among  the  Hugue- 
nots burnt  alive  on  January  21,  1535,  in  the  presence  of  the 
King,  was  a  man  named  Antoine  Poile,  whose  tongue  was 
pierced  and  attached  to  his  cheek  with  an  iron  pin.  The 
infliction  usually  took  place  before  a  church. 

The  amputation  of  the  ear  was  a  common  punishment  in 
the  middle  ages.  It  was  priictised  on  the  serf  who  displeased 
his  master.  Two  laws,  one  enacted  in  1498,  the  other  in  1534, 
alluded  to  this  particular  mutilation,  which  is  also  particularised 
as  a  punishment  in  the  records  of  Anjou,  Loudunais,  La 
Marche,  &c.  Sauval  gives  the  following  account  of  it :  '  The 
amputation  of  one  ear  was  inflicted  on  dishonest  servants,  and 
cutpurses  ;  a  second  offence  cost  them  the  other  ear ;  death 
was  the  penalty  of  the  third  offence.  When  the  first  larceny 
was  considerable  it  was  the  left  ear  which  was  cropped.' 

The  teeth  also  were  within  reach  of  the  executioner.  It 
was  the  wont  to  pull  out  the  teeth  of  Jews  to  make  them  give 
up  their  money  ;  and  Louis  XL,  after  the  death  of  Jacques 

u  2 


292  APPENDIX. 

d'Armagnac,  Count  de  Nemours,  ordered  that  his  children  should 
be  taken  to  the  Bastille,  and  that  their  teeth  should  be  extracted. 

The  amputation  of  the  fist  is  the  form  of  mutilation  which 
has  the  longest  resisted  the  progress  of  civilisation.  The 
Code  of  1 791,  art  4,  enacted  that  *  whoever  shall  be  con- 
demned to  death  for  murder  or  arson,  shall  be  taken  to  the 
place  of  execution  clad  in  a  red  shirt.  A  parricide  shall  have 
his  head  and  face  covered  with  a  black  cloth,  which  shall  only 
be  taken  away  before  execution.'  But  the  Code  of  1810 
returned  to  the  old  legislation,  and  decreed  that  the  fist  of  a 
parricide  should  be  amputated.  It  was  only  in  1832  that  this 
useless  cruelty  was  finally  suppressed. 

The  amputation  of  the  feet  was  a  wholly  mediaeval  punish- 
ment. The  last  instance  of  this  cruel  infliction  was  under  the 
reign  of  St.  Louis. 

Another  punishment  which  may  be  classed  in  the  category 
of  mutilations,  was  that  which  consisted  in  branding  convicts 
with  a  red-hot  iron.  In  older  times,  the  culprit  was  branded 
with  the  fleiir-de-lys.  Afterwards,  the  letter  V,  impressed  on 
the  shoulder  of  thieves,  was  substituted,  or  the  letters  GAL 
{galores)  when  they  were  sent  to  the  hulks.  Soon  after,  the 
letters  T  F  {travaiix  forces)  took  the  place  of  previous  marks. 
This  infliction  was  abolished  by  the  law  of  April  28,  1832. 


PUNISHMENTS  FOLLOWED   BY  DEATH. 

Capital  punishment  has  prevailed  in  all  legislation  in 
France,  as  almost  everywhere  else,  and  during  a  long  period  it 
was  coupled  with  atrocious  sufferings.  And  murder,  or  con- 
spiracy against  the  State,  were  not  the  only  crimes  punished 
with  death  ;  among  other  crimes  in  which  it  was  inflicted  were 
pecuniary  exactions  committed  by  officers  of  the  law,  fraudulent 


APPENDIX,  293 

bankruptcy,  forgery  committed  by  State  officials,  peculation, 
false  evidence,  housebreaking  and  waylaying,  smuggling,  false 
marks  on  jewellery,  the  pettiest  acts  of  theft,  sacrilegious  pro- 
fanation, duelling,  &c.,  &c.  I  may  as  well  give  a  summary  of 
the  too  numerous  punishments  entailing  death  which  were  in 
practice  from  ancient  time  to  our  days. 


THE   CROSS. 

The  Cross  was  the  most  ancient  and  cruel  form  of  capital 
punishment.  In  France  it  was  rarely  resorted  to.  In  11 27 
Louis  the  Bulky  ordered  Bertholde,  the  murderer  of  Charles 
the  Righteous,  to  be  crucified.  Crucifixion  was  also  inflicted 
at  different  times  on  Jews  and  heretics. 


DECAPITATION, 

Decapitation  is  also  a  punishment  as  old  as  the  world.  It 
was  particularly  common  under  Richelieu's  rule.  The  Cardinal 
struck  hard  at  the  nobility,  and  caused  a  greater  number  of 
noble  heads  to  fall  under  the  sword  of  the  law  than  had  been 
sacrificed  since  the  first  origin  of  the  French  monarchy.  The 
advantage  of  this  capital  execution  reposed  in  the  executioner's 
dexterity,  which,  unfortunately,  could  only  be  acquired  by 
practice.  History  and  our  family  records  contain  frightful 
examples  of  awkwardness  in  decapitation  by  sword  or  axe. 
It  is  well  known  that  De  Thou's  head  only  fell  at  the  eleventh 
blow,  and  a  similar  event  happened  at  the  execution  of  Madame 
Tiquet. 


HANGING. 

Hanging  was    in    force   as    well    as   decapitation.      The 
latter  was  the  exclusive  privilege  of  the  nobility,  while  the  first 


294  APPENDIX. 

was  inflicted  upon  culprits  of  lower  station.  In  certain  cases, 
however,  the  rope  was  awarded  to  noblemen  also.  The  guillo- 
tine replaced  the  gibbet  under  the  Revolution. 


THE  STAKE. 

The  Stake  was  another  torture  followed  by  death  inflicted 
in  France  as  late  as  the  seventeenth  century. 


QUAKTERIiVG. 

Quartering  was  another  horrible  form  of  death  in  former 
days.  Damiens,  who  attempted  the  life  of  Louis  XV.  in  1757, 
was  the  last  who  perished  by  it.  Quartering  consisted  in  tying 
the  convict  by  the  arms  and  legs  to  four  horses,  which  were 
then  driven  in  diflerent  directions  until  the  execution  was  con- 
summated. Quartering  was  almost  exclusively  inflicted  on 
regicides.  Horrible  in  itself,  it  was  prefaced  by  other  tortures 
of  ingenious  cruelty. 

THE    WHEEL. 

The  Wheel,  or  rack,  was  as  barbarous  as  any  other  form  of 
capital  punishment.  It  consisted  in  tying  the  culprit  on  a 
wheel,  breaking  his  limbs,  and  leaving  him  on  the  wheel  until 
he  expired.  But  it  often  happened  that  the  judges  ordered,  by 
a  reteiitum,  that  he  should  be  strangled  before  his  limbs  were 
broken.  This  punishment  was  most  frequent  in  France,  and 
many  innocent  men  suffered  by  it,  among  others  the  unfor- 
tunate Galas.     The  wheel  was  abohshed  in  1789. 

DROWNING. 

At  the  origin  of  the  Monarchy,  sorcerers  and  witches  were 
sentenced  to  be  drow7ied.     Philippe  Auguste  extended  this 


APPENDIX. 


295 


punishment  to  untitled  persons  who  should  swear.  Charles  VI. 
applied  it  to  all  those  guilty  of  sedition.  Louis  XI.  seems  also 
to  have  sanctioned  drowning  in  certain  cases,  but  the  punish- 
ment disappeared  after  his  death. 


FLAYING  ALIVE. 

Flaying  alive  was  often  resorted  to  in  France.  The 
chamberlain  of  the  Count  de  Rouci  was  flayed  alive  in  1366 
for  betraying  Laon  into  the  hands  of  the  EngHsh  ;  and  the 
Constable  of  Armagnac,  when  he  was  made  prisoner,  was  sub- 
jected to  the  same  death  by  his  enemies. 


LAPIDATION  AND  EMPALEMENT. 

The    only   instance    of    Lapidation    and    Efnpalement    in 
France  occurred  under  Fredegonde. 


ESTRAPADE. 

Estrapade,  invented  under  Francis  L,  consisted  in  letting 
the  culprit  fall  from  a  height  in  such  a  manner  as  to  break  his 
limbs. 


BOILING. 

Another  kind  of  punishment,  applied  to  utterers  of  counter- 
feit coin,  was  Boilings  either  in  oil  or  water.  This  was  aban- 
doned in  the  seventeenth  century,  but  it  was  regularly  abolished 
only  in  1791. 

LA    GALE, 

La  Cale,  of  which  a  mild  form  is  retained  in  the  French 
navy,  consisted  in  hoisting  the  culprit  to  a  considerable  height, 


296  '  APPENDIX, 

and  then  letting  him  fall.      In  cale  seche  he  fell  on  deck  ;  in  cale 
huftiide  he  fell  in  the  water. 

Before  alluding  to  the  last  and  only  form  of  capital  punish- 
ment, it  is  worth  noticing  that  the  middle  ages  provided  a 
supreme  protection  against  death,  even  at  the  foot  of  the  scaf- 
fold. The  culprit  might,  if  he  succeeded  in  slipping  through 
the  hands  of  his  keepers,  seek  refuge  in  a  church,  and  his 
person  was  sacred  so  long  as  he  abided  there.  The  Church 
was  very  jealous  of  this  privilege  of  holy  sanctuary.  The 
culprit  could  be  still  more  efficiently  preserved  if  a  woman 
consented  to  marry  him.  Numerous  examples  of  this  supreme 
salvation  are  quoted  by  mediaeval  historians. 


THE   GUILLOTINE. 

The  French  Revolution,  which  made  all  citizens  equal 
before  the  law,  gave  them  the  same  privilege  before  death. 
On  January  21,  1790,  the  following  decree  was  published  : 
*  In  all  cases  of  capital  sentence,  the  punishment  shall  affect  a 
single  form,  whatever  may  be  the  nature  of  the  crime:  the 
criminal  shall  be  decapitated,  and  the  execution  shall  take 
place  by  means  of  a  special  apparatus.'  This  machine,  which 
was  to  bear  the  name,  not  of  its  inventor,  but  of  Doctor 
Guillotin,  who  had  improved  it,  was  the  guillotine.  This 
zealous  citizen,  impelled  by  a  humane  sentiment  which  merely 
aimed  at  abridging  decapitation,  and  depriving  it  of  much  of  its 
physical  suffering,  had  only  perfected  a  machine  known  in  Italy 
since  1507  under  the  name  oi  mannaia.  When  Doctor  Guillo- 
tin proposed  this  form  of  death  to  the  Constituent  Assembly, 
he  was  much  laughed  at ;  but  his  suggestion  was  eventually 
adopted.  The  machine  was  constructed  in  the  following 
manner,  and  it  has  been  but  slightly  altered  since  :  On  a 
scaffold  from  seven  to  eight  feet  high  two  parallel  bars  are 
made  fast  at  one  end ;  their  top  part  is  united  by  a  strong  cross- 


APPENDIX.  297 

bar.  To  this  cross-bar  is  added  a  thick  iron  ring,  in  which  is 
passed  a  rope  which  fixes  and  retains  a  ram.  This  is  per- 
pendicularly armed  with  a  sharp  and  broad  blade,  which  gradu- 
ally becomes  broader  on  all  its  surface,  so  that  instead  of 
striking  perpendicularly,  it  strikes  sideways,  so  that  there  is  not 
an  inch  of  the  blade  that  does  not  serve.  The  ram  weighs 
from  sixty  to  eighty  pounds,  and  its  weight  is  doubled  when  it 
begins  to  slide  down.  It  is  enclosed  in  the  groove  of  the  bars. 
A  spring  makes  it  fast  to  the  left  bar ;  a  band  of  iron  descends 
along  the  outside  of  this  same  bar,  and  the  handle  is  locked  to 
a  ring  with  a  padlock,  so  that  no  accident  is  possible,  and  the 
weight  only  falls  when  the  executioner  interferes.  To  a  weigh- 
plank  strong  straps  are  fastened,  by  which  the  criminal  is 
attached  under  the  armpits  and  over  the  legs,  so  that  the  body 
cannot  move.  As  soon  as  the  weigh-plank  goes  down,  the 
head,  being  between  the  bars,  is  supported  by  a  rounded  cross- 
bar, the  executioner's  assistants  lower  another  rounded  cross- 
bar, the  head  being  thus  grooved  in  a  perfect  circle,  which 
prevents  it  from  moving  in  any  way.  This  precaution  is 
indispensable,  in  regard  to  the  terrible  inconveniences  of  fear. 
The  executioner  then  touches  the  spring.  The  whole  affair  is 
done  so  quickly  that  only  the  thump  of  the  blade  when  it 
slides  down  informs  the  spectators  that  the  culprit  is  no  longer 
of  the  living.  The  head  falls  into  a  basket  full  of  bran,  and  the 
body  is  pushed  into  another  wicker  basket  lined  with  very  thick 
leather. 

Although  the  guillotine  was  the  common  instrument  of 
death,  according  to  the  law,  hanging  was  frequently  resorted  to 
during  the  Revolution.  '  A  la  lanterne  ! '  was  a  well-known 
cry.  It  signified  hanging  from  a  gibbet  to  which  was  attached 
a  lantern.  Foulon,  the  Councillor  of  State,  was  the  first  who 
suffered  in  this  way.^  But  the  lantern  was  ratlier  the  instru- 
ment of  summary  justice. 

'  The  Abbe  INTaury  was  once  pursued  hy  a  mob,  who  cried  *  A  la 
lanterne  ! '     'Do  you  think  you  can  see  the  clearer  for  putting  me  in  the 


298  APPENDIX. 


JUDICIAL   ORDEALS   AND   TORTURES. 

In  their  search  for  the  truth  our  ancestors  often  trusted  to 
hazard,  and  soon  persuaded  themselves  that  its  decrees  came 
from  the  Divinity.  The  duel  or  judicial  comhat  was  instituted 
at  the  time  of  the  invasion  of  the  barbarians.  The  law  of 
Burgundy  decreed  the  duel  when  the  parties  would  not  abide 
by  the  primitive  test  of  oath.  FeudaUsm  extended  judicial 
combat ;  women,  children,  and  priests  were  bound  to  bring 
forth  a  champion  to  sustain  their  cause  by  arms.  The  ordeal 
which  at  first  only  consisted  in  a  struggle,  was  aftenvards 
attended  with  solemn  and  specified  formalities.  It  was  pre- 
ceded by  a  challenge,  uttered  before  the  tribunal ;  the  person 
who  asked  for  a  judicial  duel,  threw  down  a  glove  as  a  gage  of 
battle.  The  judges  who  ordered  the  duel  were  bound  to  see  it 
out.  The  champions,  before  coming  to  blows,  swore  on  the 
cross  and  missal  not  to  have  recourse  to  magic  in  the  just 
quarrel  they  were  about  to  fight  for.  The  weapons  differed 
according  to  classes  :  serfs  were  armed  with  a  stick  or  a  knife, 
and  had  a  shield  of  leather  called  cana'as ;  squires  used  only 
sword  and  shield.  The  conquered  was  regarded  as  condemned 
by  judgment  of  Heaven,  and  an  ignominious  death  awaited  him 
if  he  did  not  perish  by  the  blows  of  his  opponent.  In  certain 
cases  men,  as  well  as  women  and  children,  could  defer  a  quarrel 
to  champions.  In  591,  Goutray  ordered  one  of  his  chamber- 
lains and  one  of  his  gamekeepers,  who  charged  each  other  with 
having  killed  a  buffalo,  to  fight  in  the  lists.  The  chamberlain's 
champion  and  the  gamekeeper  killed  each  other.  The  cham- 
berlain, duly  convicted  of  the  crime  by  the  death  of  his 
champion,  was  chained  to  a  post  and  stoned.  In  certain  cases 
a  combat  between  a  man  and  an  animal  was  permitted.      The 

place  of  a  lantern  ? '  said  he,  coolly.  A  general  burst  of  laughter  followed 
this  sally,  which  saved  his  life.  It  was  by  the  hand  of  this  prelate  that  I 
was  confirmed. — S. 


APPENDIX. 


299 


judicial  duel  was  authorised  in  civil  and  criminal  actions.  St. 
Louis  attempted  to  substitute  for  it  proof  by  witnesses  ;  and 
from  the  time  of  Philippe  Auguste  as  late  as  the  seventeenth 
century,  the  duel  could  only  take  place  with  the  permission  of 
the  King. 

One  of  the  most  celebrated  instances  of  these  judicial 
combats  was  that  of  Jarnac  and  La  Chataigneraie  in  1547, 
under  the  reign  of  Henry  IL,  when  Jarnac  cut  his  antagonist's 
ham  by  a  blow  which  remained  famous. 

The  so-called  ordeals  by  the  elements  were  four  in  number  : 

1.  The  ordeal  of  the  C7'0ss,  in  use  in  France  at  the  beginning 
of  the  ninth  century,  consisted  in  holding  out  one's  arms  cross- 
shape  as  long  as  possible  during  divine  service.  He  who 
retained  this  position  the  longest  had  the  better  of  his  opponent. 
In  his  will  Charlemagne  ordered  that  the  judgment  of  the  cross 
should  be  resorted  to  in  all  quarrels  that  might  arise  out  of  the 
division  of  his  states  between  his  children. 

2.  Ordeal  by  fire  was  one  of  the  most  solemn.  When  it 
applied  to  writings  the  books  were  thrown  into  the  fire,  and  the 
orthodoxy  or  the  falseness  of  their  contents  were  judged  by  the 
manner  in  which  the  works  suffered  the  ordeal.  When  the  ordeal 
was  applied  to  men,  two  piles,  of  which  the  flames  touched  each 
other,  were  erected  side  by  side.  The  accused,  with  the  Host  in 
his  hand,  rapidly  traversed  the  flames,  and  if  he  succeeded  in 
accomplishing  the  perilous  journey,  he  was  declared  innocent. 
Among  the  most  noteworthy  examples  of  this  kind  of  judgment, 
which  also  consisted  in  burning  the  feet  of  the  accused,  or  in 
exposing  them  bare  before  an  ardent  brazier,  I  may  quote 
Pierre  Barthelemy,  who  pretended,  at  the  time  of  the  first 
crusade,  that  he  had  found  the  spike  of  the  holy  lance;  charged 
with  falsehood,  he  crossed  through  the  flames  with  the  Host  in 
his  hands,  and  accomplished  the  test  successfully — but  it  is  said 
that  he  died  shortly  after. 

3.  Ordeal  by  cold  or  boiling  water. — The  first  of  these  tests 
was  generally  applied  to  people  of  low  condition.    The  prisoner 


300  APPENDIX. 

heard  mass,  after  which  the  priest  made  him  kiss  the  cross  and 
the  gospel,  and  finally  sprinkled  him  with  holy  water.  He  was 
then  undressed,  his  right  hand  was  tied  to  his  left  foot,  and  he 
was  thrown  into  the  water.  If  he  went  to  the  bottom,  as 
was  natural,  he  was  reputed  innocent ;  if,  on  the  other  hand, 
he  remained  at  the  surface,  it  was  said  that  the  water  would  not 
take  him,  and  he  was  considered  guilty.  Ordeal hy  boiling  water 
consisted  in  placing  a  cauldron  full  of  water  on  a  large  fire ; 
when  the  water  was  in  a  state  of  ebullition  it  was  taken  away 
from  the  flames,  a  rope  was  tied  above  it  to  which  was  sus- 
pended a  ring,  or  any  other  object,  which  was  then  lowered 
into  the  water  at  different  depths.  At  the  first  ordeal,  the 
accused  had  only  to  plunge  his  hand  to  catch  hold  of  the  ring ; 
at  the  second  ordeal  he  plunged  the  arm  up  to  the  elbow;  and 
at  the  third  all  the  arm.  When  the  ordeal  was  accomplished, 
the  sufferer's  arm  was  inserted  in  a  bag  on  which  the  judge  im- 
printed his  seal,  which  was  broken  three  days  after,  and  then, 
if  any  mark  of  burning  was  still  apparent,  the  accused  was 
declared  guilty ;  in  the  other  case  he  was  absolved. 

4.  Ordeal  hy  warm^  hot,  and  red-hot  iron. — This  ordeal  con- 
:sistecl  in  taking  with  the  hand  a  heated  iron,  or  in  walking  with 
bare  feet  on  burning  iron.  In  the  middle  ages  noblemen  and 
priests  had  recourse  to  it.  The  accused,  after  fasting  for  three 
<iays,  attended  mass,  and  was  led  to  the  part  of  the  church 
where  the  ordeal  was  to  take  place;  there  he  took  the  iron 
which  had  been  more  or  less  heated,  according  to  the  gravity  of 
the  crime ;  he  raised  it  two  or  three  times,  or  carried,  it  more  or 
less  far,  according  to  the  sentence.  As  in  the  preceding  test, 
his  hand  was  thrust  into  a  bag,  and  was  sealed  for  three  days, 
and  if  it  was  without  scar  the  accused  was  declared  innocent. 
Ordeal  by  red-hot  iron  consisted  in  putting  on  a  red-hot 
iron  gauntlet,  or  in  walking  on  iron  bars,  of  which  the  usual 
number  was  nine,  but  which  could  be  extended  to  twelve. 

Ordeals  founded  on  the  belief  that  God  always  proved  the 
innocence  of  the  accused  by  a  miracle  were  abandoned  in  the 


APPENDIX.  301 

thirteenth  century,  when  St.  Louis  declared  that  combat  was 
not  a  proof  of  right,  and  substituted  evidential  proof  for  judicial 
tests.  The  traces  of  this  institution,  however,  existed  until 
the  sixteenth  century. 

There  can  be  no  doubt  that  torture  was  the  result  of  the 
ancient  superstition  which  had  given  birth  to  judicial  ordeals. 
Torture  comprised  certain  graduated  torments  inflicted  upon  a. 
prisoner  either  to  compel  him  to  confess  his  crime,  or  to  ob- 
tain the  names  of  his  accomplices.  While  he  was  subjected  to 
these  sufferings,  a  judge,  standing  close  to  the  torturer  or  ques- 
tionnaire^ called  upon  the  accused  to  say  the  truth,  and  wrote 
down  his  declarations,  whence  the  name  of  question  which  was 
given  to  torture.  QjLiestion  was  of  two  sorts,  either  definite  or 
j^relimina7'y.  These  two  categories  were  subdivided  into  ques- 
tion ordinaire  and  extraordinaire.  Through  the  first  it  was 
sought  to  exact  from  the  accused  the  confession  of  his  guilt ; 
through  the  second  it  was  endeavoured  to  discover  the  names 
of  the  accomplices  who  had  helped  him  in  the  perpetration  of 
his  crime.  Torment  carried  to  a  certain  limit  constituted  qiies- 
tion  ordinaire ;  it  was  doubled  in  qnestion  extraordi?iai?'e,  which, 
as  a  rule,  was  only  inflicted  upon  culprits  previously  sentenced 
to  death. 

Torturers  had  multiplied  the  instruments  of  punishment. 
Further  it  may  be  seen  that  each  provincial  parliament  had  its 
particular  infliction,  from  which  it  could  not  depart.  I  shall 
begin  by  dwelling  on  the  more  general  species  of  tortures,  in 
which  water,  wood,  fire,  and  iron  were  always  used. 

Torture  by  water  consisted  in  seating  the  culprit  on  a  stone 
stool,  after  his  sentence  had  been  read  to  him.  His  wrists  were 
attached  behind  his  back  to  two  iron  rings  distant  from  each 
other.  All  the  cords  then  entwined  round  his  limbs  and  body 
were  then  pulled  as  much  as  possible,  and  v/hen  the  body  of 
the  sufferer  could  not  be  stretched  any  more,  a  trestle  was 
placed  under  his  back.  The  questionnaire  held  a  horn  in  one 
hand,  and  with  the  other  he  poured  water  in,  and  obliged  the 


302  APPENDIX. 

criminal  to  swallow  four  pints  in  qiiesiioji  ordinaire,  and  eight 
pints  in  question  extraordinaire. 

The  boot  was  an  instrument  consisting  of  four  planks, 
between  which  the  sufferer's  leg  was  pressed.  The  planks  were 
pierced  with  holes,  through  which  ropes  were  passed,  so  as  to 
press  the  planks  together.  The  executioner  then  drove  wedges 
between  the  planks  with  a  mallet,  thus  compressing  and  even 
breaking  the  limbs  of  the  culprit.  Ordinary  torture  included 
four  wedges  ;  eight  wedges  were  used  in  gitestion  extraordinaire. 

The  Parliament  of  Paris  applied  only  two  kinds  of  torture, 
by  water  and  boot.  In  Brittany,  the  sufferer  was  tied  to  an  iron 
chair,  while  his  legs  were  brought  by  degrees  in  contact  with 
the  fire.  At  Rouen,  the  thumb  and  another  finger,  or  the  leg, 
were  compressed  ;  at  Besangon,  the  horse,  which  consisted  in 
a  piece  of  wood  garnished  with  spikes,  on  which  the  culprit 
was  placed  astride,  was  generally  used.  At  Autun  torture  was 
inflicted  by  pouring  boiling  oil  on  the  feet.  Estrapade  pre- 
vailed at  Orleans. 

France  was  the  country  in  which  torture  prevailed  the 
longest.  A  declaration,  dated  October  24,  1780,  abolished 
preparatory  question,  and  another  decree  (March  i,  1788)  did 
away  with  torture  altogether. 


THE   EXECUTIONER. 


In  the  primitive  times  of  French  society,  the  man  on  whom 
devolved  the  sad  mission  of  putting  criminals  to  death,  or 
exacting  confession  by  torture,  took  the  name  of  Executioner 
of  High  Justice,  because  high  judges  and  also  royal  judges 
alone  had  the  right  to  pass  sentence  of  death.  In  1323  execu- 
tioners were  also  designated  as  commissaires  spiculateurs.  It 
was  only  under  Louis  XI.  that  the  epithet  of  Bourrean  was 
applied  to  the  executioner.  Before  the  Revohition  he  was 
considered  as  a  servant  of  the  State,  and  held  letters  patent 


APPENDIX.  303 

signed  by  the  King.  Custom  had  estabHshed  a  degree  of 
hierarchy  in  the  profession.  When  the  King  had  chosen  a  new 
executioner,  the  letters  of  nomination  were  thrown  on  the  table 
by  the  wax-chafers  of  the  high  chancellor's  office,  and  the 
■executioner  was  to  pick  them  up.  The  custom  was  abolished 
in  1645,  and  the  title  of  executioner  was  given  from  hand  to 
hand  to  the  holder.  The  headsman  was  sworn  before  the 
court  of  his  place  of  residence,  and  was  nominated  after 
ample  information  had  been  obtained  concerning  his  habits, 
conduct,  and  piety.  As  a  rule  he  was  not  allowed  to  reside  in 
town,  unless  he  took  up  his  residence  in  the  house  of  pillory, 
which  was  assigned  to  him  as  his  quarters. 

In  certain  localities  he  wore  a  costume  consisting  in  a 
jacket  bearing  the  arms  of  the  town,  with  a  ladder  embroidered 
on  the  breast,  and  a  gibbet  on  the  back.  The  office  of  execu- 
tioner was  not  in  France,  as  in  Spain,  strictly  hereditary ;  but 
for  many  reasons  not  difficult  to  imagine,  it  will  be  readily 
understood  that  the  functioa  seldom  passed  out  of  a  family 
when  they  had  once  got  into  it.  This  respect  of  direct  and 
legitimate  succession  went  so  far  as  to  admit  of  a  kind  of 
minority  in  the  monopoly  of  the  scaffold,  and  this  led  to  a 
decision  of  which  the  sacrilegious  horror  was  not  probably 
realised  by  the  magistrates  who  were  responsible  for  it.  I  said 
before  that  in  1726,  after  the  death  of  one  of  my  ancestors, 
Charles  Sanson,  his  son  Charles  Jean-Baptiste  Sanson  was 
called  upon  to  take  his  place  at  the  age  of  seven.  An  assistant 
•executioner  named  Prudhomme  was  entrusted  with  his  func- 
tions, in  regard  to  his  youth,  but  it  was  required  that  he  should 
sanction  every  execution  by  standing  beside  his  assistant. 

When  the  executioner  had  only  daughters,  his  son-in- 
law  was  expected  to  take  his  place  after  death.  Thus  it  was 
that  the  dismal  office  came  down  to  me  through  six  generations. 

If  the  office  of  executioner,  during  the  middle  ages  and 
under  the  Monarchy,  was  deprived  of  honour,  it  was  in  return 
invested  with  many  pecuniary  privileges.     The  executioner's 


304  APPENDIX. 

chief  right  was  that  of  havee  (from  avoi?',  to  have).  This  right 
consisted  in  taking  as  much  of  the  corn  sold  in  the  market  as 
he  could  take  with  his  hands.  This  privilege  had  been  granted 
to  the  executioner  to  help  him  in  his  personal  wants,  and  to 
save  him  the  trouble  of  buying  provisions,  which  he  could  not 
easily  procure  otherwise,  many  people  declining  to  receive 
money  which  came  from  such  hands  as  his.  The  executioner 
could  employ  assistants  to  collect  his  tax ;  and  the  number  of 
men  he  was  led  to  engage  for  the  purpose  all  but  absorbed  all 
his  profits.  In  consequence  of  this,  his  right  in  certain  towns 
was  exchanged  for  a  yearly  allowance  of  money.  In  a  letter 
addressed  to  the  authorities  by  Tardiveau,  the  local  execu- 
tioner, the  writer  complains  that  he  is  obliged  to  employ  a 
regular  army  of  assistants  in  collecting  havee.  So  as  to  dis- 
tinguish those  who  had  paid  him  from  his  other  debtors,  the 
executioner  or  his  assistants  marked  them  on  the  shoulder  or 
elbow  with  white  chalk.  This  brought  on  riots  and  seditions  \ 
and,  moreover,  as  the  right  of  havee,  or  rather  the  manner  of 
exercising  it,  caused  rising  discontent,  it  was  at  last  replaced 
by  an  increase  of  salary. 

Many  other  privileges  were  attached  to  the  office  besides 
that  which  I  have  mentioned.  By  an  order  of  the  Chateht, 
dated  1530,  the  executioner  of  Paris  had  a  right  of  taxation  on 
fruit,  grapes,  nuts,  hay,  eggs,  and  wool ;  also  a  toll  on  the  Petit- 
Pont,  a  tax  on  barges,  a  sum  for  each  patient  sufi'ering  from 
leprosy,  a  sum  on  brooms,  coals,  oysters,  fish,  cakes  of 
Epiphany,  water-cress  sellers,  and  on  stray  pigs.  When  one  of 
his  servants  captured  a  pig,  he  took  it  to  the  Hotel-Dieu,  and 
either  the  head  or  a  sum  of  money  was  given  in  return.  The 
executioner  had  also  a  right  to  a  part  of  the  apparel  of  the 
culprits  who  suffered  by  his  hands  ;  at  first  only  clothes  below 
the  waist  were  given  him,  but  eventually  he  obtained  the  whole 
apparel. 

In  certain  cities  the  executioner  levied  a  tax  on  women  of 
loose  life.     The  monks  of  Saint- Martin  gave  him  five  loaves 


APPENDIX.  305 

and  five  bottles  of  wine  for  every  execution  that  took  place  on 
their  lands  ;  those  of  Saint  Genevieve  paid  him  five  sols  yearly 
in  lieu  of  right  of  havee ;  and  on  St  Vincent  Day  the  abbot  of 
Saint  Germain-des-Pres  gave  him  a  pig's  head,  and  assigned  to 
him  a  prominent  place  in  the  procession  of  the  abbey. 

The  executioner  also  received  a  sum  of  money  for  each 
execution. 

In*  1 72 1  all  the  rights  appertaining  to  the  office  were 
abolished,  and  the  emoluments  of  the  executioner  were  fixed  at 
16,000  livres;  and  up  to  1793  the  execution  of  capital  sen- 
tences was  entrusted  to  the  three  following  functionaries  : 

1.  The  executioner. 

2.  The  questionnaire. 

3.  The  carpe?iter. 

All  punishments  followed  by  death  concerned  the  execu- 
tioner. Besides  his  salary  of  16,000  livres,  he  received  special 
fees  for  executions  outside  the  walls  of  Paris.  All  his  expenses 
were  defrayed.  His  assistants  were  of  two  sorts  :  r.  The  sons 
of  provincial  executioners,  unpaid,  but  fed  and  boarded.  2. 
The  servants,  who  also  acted  in  the  capacity  of  private 
domestics  to  the  executioner. 

The  questionnaire  was  sometimes  the  son  or  relative  of  the 
executioner.  He  inflicted  question  ordinaire  and  extraordifiaire, 
and  also  preliminary  torture. 

If  one  is  to  judge  by  the  salary  (from  40,000  to  50,000 
francs),  the  office  of  carpejiter  was  a  profitable  one.  The  car- 
penter's  business  was  to  construct,  repair,  and  keep  in  order 
scaffolds  and  instruments  of  punishment. 

In  1793  the  National  Convention  completely  altered  the 
position  of  public  executioners.  By  a  decree  issued  on  June 
13,  1793,  it  was  decided  that  an  executioner  should  be  attached 
to  each  department  of  the  Republic.  The  salary  of  execu- 
tioners was  to  be  paid  by  the  State.  In  towns  of  which  the 
population  did  not  ex,ceed  50,000  inhabitants^  the  salary  was 
fixed  at  2,400  livres  ;  in  those  numbering  from  50,000  to 
VOL.  II.  »    X 


3o6  APPENDIX. 

100,000  inhabitants,  at  4,000  livres  ;  and,  lastly,  the  emoluments 
of  the  executioner  of  Paris  were  diminished  from  16,000  to 
10,000  livres.  His  assistants  were  paid  on  the  same  scale. 
During  the  Reign  of  Terror,  however,  a  special  fee  of  8,000 
francs  was  added  to  his  salary.  It  was  not  too  much  for  what 
he  had  to  do  then. 

The  last  reform  in  the  position  of  executioners  was  enacted 
in  1849,  when  the  salary  of  the  executioner  of  Paris  was 
lowered  to  5,000  francs;  the  executioner  of  Lyons  received 
4,000  francs  ;  those  of  Bordeaux,  Rouen,  and  Toulouse,  3,000 
francs,  and  the  gang  of  less  important  headsmen,  each  2,400 
francs.  It  will  be  seen  that  we  are  far  from  the  time  when  M. 
de  Paris  collected  50,000  francs  only  for  his  right  of  havk.  It 
is  well  to  remark  that  no  more  letters  patent  are  held  by  execu- 
tioners ;  that  the  salary  has  become  a  kind  of  petty  stipend  ; 
and  the  conclusion  indicated  by  this  state  of  things  is  that  when 
occupations  of  the  kind  I  have  described  gradually  lose  in  im- 
portance, the  time  is  not  distant  when  they  shall  disappear 
altogether. 


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