During the revolution, Dr. Guillotin was committed to prison, from which he was released, after a tedious confinement. He died in his bed, at Paris, an obscure and inoffensive, old man; deeply deploring, to the day of his decease, the association of his name, with this terrible instrument—an instrument, which he attempted to introduce, in good faith, and with a merciful design, but which had been employed by the devils incarnate of the revolution, for the purposes of reckless and indiscriminating carnage.
Dr. Guillotin was a weak, consequential, well-meaning man, willing to mount any hobby, that would lift him from the ground. He is described, in the Portraits des Personnes célebres, 1796, as a simple busybody, meddling with everything, à tort et à travers, and being both mischievous and ridiculous.
He had sundry benevolent visions, in regard to capital punishment, and the suppression, by legal enactment, of the sentiment of prejudice, against the families of persons, executed for crime! Among the members of the faculty, in every large city, there are commonly two or three, at least, exhibiting striking points of resemblance to Dr. Guillotin. In urging the merits of this machine, upon merciful considerations, his integrity was unimpeachable. He considered hanging a barbarous and cruel punishment; and, by the zeal and simplicity of his arguments, produced, even upon so grave a topic, universal laughter, in the constituent assembly—having represented hanging, as a tedious and painful process, he exclaimed, “Now, with my machine, Je vous sauter le tête, I strike off your head, in the twinkling of an eye, and you never feel it.”
No. CLII.
The Sansons, hereditary executioners, in Paris, were gentlemen. In 1684, Carlier, executioner of Paris, was dismissed. His successor was Charles Sanson a lieutenant in the army, born in Abbeville, in Picardy, and a relative of Nicholas Sanson, the celebrated geographer. Charles Sanson married the daughter of the executioner of Normandy, and hence a long line of illustrious executioners. Charles died in 1695; and was succeeded by his son Charles.
Charles Sanson, the second, was succeeded by his son, Charles John Baptiste, who died Aug. 4, 1778, when his son Charles Henry was appointed in his place; and, in 1795, retired on a pension. By his hand, with the assistance of two of his brothers, the King, Louis XVI. was guillotined. This Charles Henry had two sons. His eldest, the heir-apparent to the guillotine, was killed, by a fall from the scaffold, while holding forth the head of a man, executed for the forgery of assignats. Henry, the younger son of Charles Henry, therefore became his successor, at the time of his retirement, in 1795. To fill this office, he gave up his military rank, as captain of artillery. He died Aug. 18, 1840. He was an elector, and had a taste for music and literature. He was succeeded by his son, Henry Clement, Dec. 1, 1840. These particulars will be found on page 27 of Recherches Historiques et Physiologiques, sur la Guillotine, &c., par M. Louis du Bois. Paris, 1843. Monsieur du Bois informs us, that all these Sansons were very worthy men, and that the present official possesses a fine figure, features stamped with nobility, and an expression sweet and attractive. How very little all this quadrates with our popular impressions of the common hangman!
The objection to the guillotine, which was called, for a time, Louison, after M. Louis, Secretary of the College of Surgeons, that it would make men familiar with the sight of blood, was urged by the Abbé Maury, and afterwards, by A. M. La Cheze. The Duke de Liancourt, inclined to mercy, that is, to the employment of the guillotine. He contended, that it was necessary to efface all recollections of hanging, which, he gravely remarked, had recently been so irregularly applied, referring to the summary process of lynching, as we term it—à la lanterne.
It is curious to note the doubt and apprehension, which existed, as to the result of the first experiment of decollation. March 3, 1792, the minister, Duport du Tertre, writes thus to the Legislative Assembly—“It appears, by the communications, made to me, by the executioners themselves, that, without some precautions, the act of decollation will be horrible to the spectators. It will either prove them to be monsters, if they are able to bear such a spectacle; or the executioner, himself, alarmed, will fall before the wrath of the people.”
The matter being referred to Louis, then Secretary of the Academy of Surgeons, he made his report, March 7, 1792. The new law required, that the criminal should be decapitated—aura la tête tranchée; and that the punishment should be inflicted without torture. Louis shows how difficult the execution of such a law must be—“We should recollect,” says he, “the occurrences at M. de Lally’s execution. He was upon his knees, with his eyes covered—the executioner struck him, on the back of his neck—the blow was insufficient. He fell upon his face, and three or four cuts of the sabre severed the head. Such hacherie excited a feeling of horror.” To such a polite and gentle nation, this must have been highly offensive.