CHAP ER XXV.

THE TRIBUNAL OF AUGUST 17, 1792.

THE hour is now at hand when the history of the scaffold and the history of France are to be blended into one. In a few days the despised headsman shall become the key of the vault of the social edifice which is being constructed. Until then he could answer to those who saluted him with the insulting epithet of bourreau, ‘Why do you despise me if you do not despise your laws?' The excitement of a nation now gives him the right to exclaim: 'It seems as if you had made a revolution only to give me work!'

The grandson of the Sanson of 1793—of the great Sanson, as he was called-might perhaps discard for a moment the humility which he has hitherto displayed; but let the reader be reassured. In pursuing the course of my narrative, I shall not trouble him with my personal opinions. I propose to be sparing of all observations concerning politics, and to relate as briefly as possible the events I am about to record. I will soon give up the pen to Charles Henri Sanson, my grandfather, and quote his diary exactly as he wrote it. This record begins at the end of the month of May,

some six weeks after the erection of the revolutionary tribunal, and is continued to the month of Vendémiaire of the year III. Written as it is, currente calamo, it is the most accurate diary of the scaffold which, I believe, can be found.

But nine months still separate us from the day when Charles Henri Sanson began to work in earnest; and during this lapse of time the guillotine was not altogether inactive. The Assembly had disappeared, and the King was abandoned to his own inspirations. On August 20, 1792, the Tuileries was invaded, and the King was made prisoner and incarcerated in the Temple. A revolutionary tribunal was instituted. This tribunal, although it numbered men like Fouquier-Tinville, used the guillotine with comparative moderation. It applied severe laws with severity; but it acted with justice, and respected the forms of law. It had chiefly to deal with common malefactors. From 1771 to 1792 the number of raids on persons and property considerably increased. Paper money, which was of recent creation, excited the cupidity of forgers. During a period of seven months, fifteen forgers were executed on the Place de Grève. On August 19, 1792, one Collot was condemned to death for forgery, and the guillotine was erected on the usual spot selected for executions. The Place de Grève was, as usual, well attended. As the cart, in which were Charles Henri Sanson and the culprit, drove up, a tremendous clamour greeted their appearance, and my grandfather distinguished a cry of 'To the Carrousel !'

The horse continued to advance; but a man seized the bridle and asked the driver why he did not obey the popular order. Charles Henri Sanson interposed;

but the man declared that the will of the Commune was that the guillotine should henceforth be erected opposite the palace of the last King, and that he must immediately transfer his tools there.

My grandfather replied that his duty was to carry out the orders which were transmitted to him, and not to meet the wishes of the magistrates before they were expressed. But the clamour became more vociferous, and the horse's head was turned in the direction of the Tuileries. Charles Henri Sanson's position was very perplexing. He asked, and at length obtained, leave to drive up to the Hôtel-de-Ville to ask for instructions.

After some hesitation the Procureur of the Commune authorised my grandfather to act according to the wishes of the mob. The scaffold was taken down and transferred to the Place du Carrousel; and the cart repaired thither, escorted by the crowd.

But a considerable time elapsed before the guillotine could be erected again; and the culprit, who had hitherto been calm, began to struggle violently. As the carpenters had gone away, the people helped my grandfather to reconstruct the instrument of death. This reconstruction, however, progressed so slowly that night came on before it was finished, and my grandfather, apprehending desperate resistance on the part of the doomed man, requested some of those who worked around him to go to the Commune and ask for an

adjournment of the execution. The request was received with jeers of anger and derision, and public irritation became ominously threatening. A beardless young man, who wore the red cap, came forward, shrieking that my grandfather was a traitor, and that he should taste of the guillotine himself unless he 'operated' without more ado.

Charles Henri retorted with some warmth that he could not execute the culprit without special assist

ance.

'Your assistants are drunk!' exclaimed the young man. 'You can find as much help as you require here. The blood of aristocrats cements the happiness of the nation, and there is not one man in the crowd who is not ready to lend you a hand.'

A general cry of assent followed these words; but the circle around the scaffold became wider, and it appeared obvious that few were prepared to stand by their word. My grandfather perceived this, and hastened to prevent the first speaker from retreating by accepting his offer.

The culprit was led to the steps of the scaffold, which he refused to mount, and Charles Henri was obliged to take him in his arms and carry him up to the platform. When the unfortunate man saw the dark outline of the machine, his resistance became more desperate, and he shrieked for mercy. The crowd was now silent. The improvised executioner did not budge, but he was very pale. At last, after a final struggle, the culprit was strapped to the plank, but his contor

tions were so violent that an assistant had to sit upon him.

Charles Henri Sanson now told the young man that he could not furnish a better proof of his patriotism than by taking a leading part in the execution; and he put in his hand the rope which communicated with the knife. At his bidding the young man gave a tug; the knife fell, and the head rolled in the basket.

This was not all; it was customary to show the head to the multitude after decapitation, and loud cries reminded my grandfather of the custom. He explained to the young man what he was to do, at the same time proposing himself to do the horrible duty. But his substitute refused; he took the head by the hair, and advanced to the edge of the scaffold; but as he was raising his arm to show the bloody trophy, he staggered and fell back. Charles Henri Sanson came to his assistance, thinking that he was fainting; but he discovered that he was dead. Violent emotion had brought on an apoplectic fit, which killed him instantaneously.

Such was the first execution that took place on the Place du Carrousel. Henceforth this place was the scene of every execution.

Defence, in those stormy times, was not less violent than attack. Royalist writers were as bitter as their adversaries of the patriotic party. Two journalists, Suleau and Durosoy, became especially conspicuous for the vehemence of their writings. The former was a man of action as well as a writer, and he had fought on