Transcript of 505. The French Revolution: The Shadow of the Guillotine (Part 3)

Thank you for listening to The Rest is History. For weekly bonus episodes, add free listening, early access to series, and membership of our much loved chat community, go to therestishistory. Com and join the club. That is therestishistory. Com. Hello, everybody. Now, Theo, our producer, has asked me to point out to you that this episode is very, very gory. So if you're listening in the car with small children, consider yourselves warned. Enjoy. It was the popular theme for gests. It was the best cure for headache. It infallibly prevented the hair from turning gray. It imparted a peculiar delicacy to the complexion. It was the National Razor, which shaved close. Who, kissed la guillotine, looked through the little window and sneezed into the sack. It was the sign of the regeneration of the human race. It superseded the cross. Models of it were worn on breasts from which the cross was discarded, and it was bowed down to and believed in where the cross was denied. It sheared off heads so many that it and the ground it most polluted were a rotten red. It was taken to pieces like a toy puzzle for a young devil and was put together again when the occasion wanted it.

It hushed the eloquent, struck down the powerful, abolished the beautiful and good. Twenty-two friends of high public mark, 21 living and one dead. It had lopped the heads off in one morning in as many minutes. The name of the strong man of old scripture had descended to the chief functionary who worked it. But so armed, he was stronger than his namesake and blinded her and tore away the gates of God's own temple every day. So that was Charles Dickens in A Tale of Two Cities, and he is writing, of course, about the guillotine. And Tom, when people think about the French Revolution in the English-speaking world, in particular, the guillotine is at the absolute center of our mental picture, isn't it? There's the guillotine, the blade stained with blood, there's the basket with the heads of the aristocrats. There are cackles cackling, oak-faced old women with knitting needles, knitting at their foot, and the grim pale mermadons of the revolution who are ordering more carts to rattle through the streets. Yeah, with guests of Madame Gillotine. So we thought now we'd talk about the guillotine as the supreme symbol of the revolution, because, of course, it's at this point in the story that the guillotine starts to feature.

So I think you're absolutely right that for us in the English-speaking world, the guillotine is perhaps the the supreme symbol of the revolution, and particularly of the terror. And often in the English-speaking world, the two are conflated. So the guillotine, I think, for Dickens and for Carlyle before him, and for English people who lived through the revolutionary period, It was an object of dread because it facilitated slaughter on an almost industrial scale. Enormous quantities of people are being killed in mass execution sessions, but also because the guillotine ends up in the very center of Paris. And so it enshrines a spectacle of death physically at the heart of the capital of the country that is going through the revolution. And you see it. It's menace endures in Master and Commander, where Russell Crowe, when he's rallying his men to face the French, he has the line, Do you want to see a guillotine in Piccadilly?

Do you want your children to sing their master eyes?

No. Terrible prospect, obviously. So the shadow of the guillotine, I think, hangs heavy over the English imagination. But I think in France, obviously, it has slightly different connotations. They love it. In France, the guillotine continues to be used long after the Revolution because it is seen as being the most humane and progressive method of execution. And amazingly, the last public guillotining takes place as late as June 1939. That's bonkers. And a serial killer is executed outside the prison he's been kept in. And the place where he's executed is Versailles. It Just amazing irony.

Do we know how many people went to watch it? I mean, that's mad, isn't it?

A fair few, I think. Unbelievable. Actually, Dominic, the last person in France to be guillotined, he's executed in September 1977, which is five months after the release of Star Wars.

That's crazy. The fact that you could... I mean, at least it wasn't public because otherwise, you could have gone to see both in a single year.

No, it isn't. That's crazy. I think it's not just the French who share this assumption that the guillotine is progressive, and humane. You can see this because it gets adopted in lots of countries that are inspired by the French Revolution. In Belgium, in Switzerland, in Sweden, in Greece, actually in Germany. I mean, we did the White Rose, didn't we? The activists who opposed the Nazis and who end up being guillotined. But we also talked about how von Pappen, the effete, bouffon-haired aristocrat who proceeds Hitler, and he viewed the guillotine as too humane, too effete, and he wanted abolished and replaced with the ax, which he saw as much more traditionally Germanic.

I think both sides of that argument are pretty derranged.

Yeah, but I think the English and the French attitude to the guillotine is what makes it the perfect symbol of the revolution, because it's seen as being simultaneously a symbol of horror, a symbol of humane enlightenment, an emblem of terror, an emblem of compassion, almost. It's spattered in blood, but it is a clean method of execution. And those paradoxes are beautifully exemplify broader paradoxes about the revolution. And so because of that, because the guillotine has this totemic status, listeners may be wondering, we haven't mentioned it, really, until now. We alluded it to at the end of the last episode. And the reason for that is that it isn't introduced until 1792. But having said that, it's not as though the revolution hasn't already displayed a taste for public displays of punishment and of retribution. So Dominic, in the episode you did on the Bastille, you drew attention to the fact that alongside the role the Bastille plays as a narrative of despotism being overthrown, of the banner of liberty being planted on the stones of toppled despotism, there are also salutary displays of punishment. And on that day, so notoriously, there's Fouon, isn't there? The guy who said, Let them eat straw, and his son-in-law, and they're both decapitated, and their heads are put on pikes, and their mouths are stuffed with straw, and they're paraded round, and they bring the two heads together, and they shout out, Kiss papa, to the head of the son-in-law.

Then the one that we did last time, the upskirters at the Shon de Mars.

The Shon de Mars, yeah.

When they get caught, they get beheaded, and their heads get paraded round. And in all these cases, the way that they are killed is by being hung from a lamppost, a lantern. And so the great revolutionary cry of vengeance and punishment is always à la lantern. Camille Desmoulins, who we've talked about a a lot his journalism, in September 1789, so just a few months after the storming of the Bastille, he ventriloquises a lantern, giving a talk in this remarkable piece of journalism called The Lantern Speaks to the Parisians. And he imagines the Lantern saying, Thank you for making me so famous, for making me so admired, then complains, There are so many criminals. There are so many villains who've escaped me. I want more. And I guess it costs a slightly sinister perspective on De Mulan's journalism. You also mentioned this other article he wrote, The Declaration of the Rights of the Accuser in the last episode we did, the one we did on Tuesday. So his journalism is quite intimidating, isn't it?

Well, also, Tom, that Lantern speaks to the Parisians. What's that? September 1789. So early on in the story of the Revolution. So that thirst for vengeance, that bloodthirstiness, isn't a later... It's not that Dickinson and Carlyle have tainted the Revolution by pretending that it was always there.

It was always there. Well, it's an instinct, isn't it? Demulai is articulating a particularly radical and aggressive take on the revolution. Actually, most of the enthusiasts for the revolution, most of the delegates to the National Assembly, are twitchy about the idea of revolutionary justice. In the two years that follow the fall of the Bastille, there are regular lynchings. So between May 1790 and February 1792, 13 lynchings are known to have taken place in Parisian neighborhoods. To delegates at the National Assembly, to people who see themselves as the embodiment of the revolution, this is terrifying. I mean, this is an expression of the incipient anarchy that lots and lots of them are worried about. But there is this sense on the streets among the radical journalists like Desmoulins and Marat, that these lynchings aren't just legitimate, but that they are a patriotic expression of revolutionary values. This is very potently expressed in the first great anthem of the French Revolution, Satirat, so it's all going to be fine. The initial lyrics of that are actually quite dull. It's full of stuff like, When Boileau spoke about the clergy.

It sounds great.

It's not great stuff. They mentioned the Le Prudent Lafayette, the careful Lafayette. So lots of enthusiasm for him as well. But the lyrics get more and more radical, and it ends up, the most vengeful version, explicitly He promises, Les aristocrates à la lanturne, the aristocrats will be hanged from the lampe post. And this becomes so totemic that in the opening ceremony of the Olympics in Paris this summer, this is what Marie-Antoinette, the beheaded Marie-Antoinette, is singing. And the reason that it becomes totemic is that it is summing up the idea of executions, mass executions, as a purging of France, as a public display of violence that is assumed to be not just necessary on a purely criminal level, but a catharsis, a freeing of France from the taint and evil of what had gone before.

And again, that's not just an Anglo-saxon projection, because if you look at the rhetoric of your Marat, Robespierre, Saint-Jus, later on in the Revolution, they absolutely say that a Republic of Virtu can only be born through blood.

But here's the thing, Dominic. This idea that executions should instill a powerful and dramatic moral which the French Revolution absolutely buys into, is not original to the French Revolution. It is an assumption that derives from the Ancien Régime. So it comes naturally to people in France because they have been raised to take it for granted. And so often in this series, obviously, we recognize how complete the rupture is that the revolution embodies, but also trace the way in which there are continuities. And in the context of executions, in the process by which the guillotine comes to be invented and enshrined at the heart of the revolution, there is one really totemic figure who exemplifies this, and it's a man who was mentioned by Dickets, the strong man of old scripture, which, of course, is Samson. And the name of probably the most famous executioner in French history, and maybe all history, he is Saint-Saëns, Charles-Henri Saint-Saëns. He claimed over the course of his life to have executed something like 3,000 people. Many of these are some of the most famous names in the history of the French Revolution. But before the Revolution, he had served as the Royal Executioner of France, and he is one of an entire dynasty of executioners.

It's a family business. Well, as we see, it's something more than a business. But his great grandfather, who was also called Charles Saint-Saëns, had been appointed the Parisian executioner back in 1688. And before the Saint-Saëns become the Executioning dynasty, there had been a previous dynasty of executioners called the Guillaume, who He'd been in office since 1594. So as you say, a family business, but also something much more, because under the monarchy, the executioner, he's not an agent of rational justice. He's not a bureaucrat. He's not a function reemployed by the state. He's something much weirder, much more menacing than that. And there is a brilliant book on this by Paul Friedland called Seeing Justice Done: The Age of Spectacular Capital Punishment in France. When I was doing the research for this, I wanted something that would take me deeper than most of the books on the French Revolution that I've got do. I went to the London Library, they got stacks of books, and I went through all the things, the various shelves. This was the book I found, and it's superb. It tells you all the deep history of it, which we'll be going into in this episode.

So essentially, what you're going to hear in this episode, it comes from Friedland's book. And in fact, Dominic, I mentioned to you that the last public execution in France took place outside Versailles in 1939. Friedland has actually done a video on that as well, a lecture. So if it guillotining is your thing, Paul Friedland is your man. Anyway, he explains exactly what it is that's weird and menacing about the figure of the executioner by comparing them to other groups of people. He says that they're like Jews in pre-Revolutionary France, in that they are outcasts, and Jews in Christian societies for a long, long time have performed role of usury, which obviously makes them hated and feared. The executioner, similarly, is seen to be doing something that's very important, that's very essential to the functioning of the state, and yet puts him beyond the pale, marks him as a figure of sin and menace. Again, like Jews, but also like prostitutes and like lepers, they are restricted to certain quarters of town. There's a sense that their very presence spreads a form of moral pestilence. They can't be allowed to come into contact with decent citizens.

So as late as 1781, a riot breaks out when an executioner goes to the local theater to see a play, and the entire audience erupts and hurls him out.

So it's a bit like being an MP in Britain today.

A bit.

A necessary but unpleasant part of the national life.

But what MPs don't have to do, which the Executioner did, is wear distinctive clothing. So Executioners would have official costumes and it would be prescribed by the different towns. So in Paris, the Royal Executioner always has to wear a blood red coat.

Like a hunting coat.

Yes, but of course, you know- Stained with a mark of his trade. Yeah. Wow. So very menacing. But Friedland also points out that they are actually possessed of an almost royal charisma. So this is why they have hereditary dynasties. This is something that Kings do. They are reputed to cure diseases with their touch, which again is something that Kings traditionally do, scroffula, whatever. And they have these rights to walk through marketplaces and take whatever they want for their daily use. What?

Like a supermarket sweep? Yes, exactly.

That's crazy. But what makes it even more like a game show is that they're not actually allowed to They don't take anything up with their fingers or hands because their touch is tainted. In Paris, they have a tin-plated spoon.

What if you want to buy clothing? How does your spoon help you then?

No, it doesn't. It's if you're getting coffee or sugar or whatever.

It's helping yourself with this. I just think it's like a big spoon.

Oh, it is a massive spoon. Yeah, massive spoon. Yes, it's a huge tinplated spoon.

It's the spoon with which Alan Partridge would go to the market, like a huge spoon.

Well, trying to raise Alan Partridge in your mind, I'll give you a brilliant description from Friedland's book. It is not difficult, Friedland writes, to imagine the shudder that went through the crowd at the approach of this figure dressed in his required ceremonial robes, bearing perhaps the insignia of the gallows, accompanied by his wife and by his aides, often drawn from the ranks younger siblings or cousins. And all these people, individuals who one usually caught sight of only when they were routing around in sewers, skinning dead animals, harassing lepers and prostitutes, and of course, rending the flesh of live human beings on the scaffold, would fan out across the marketplace and begin to demand their allotted egg, their measure of butter, and their herring, etc. Spoon or no spoon, they made everyone cringe.

Theo would make it. Theo could done that stuff, wouldn't he? Yeah. It's like being a producer at Gohan.

I have to say it's a great passage. Friedland's book is a wonderful work of scholarship. It's also brilliantly well written as well. So all very weird, but I think it adds to the sense of horror that a condemned person feels to be handed over to such a man, because I think there's a sense that his very touch is a form of the punishment. And to go from being someone who has not been convicted of a crime to being convicted of a crime, to being convicted of a crime, is symbolized by the fact that this guy with his spoon and his red coat and everything lurches forward and physically takes possession of you, physically takes command of you. It's a marker of the fact that you've passed beyond the limits of the decent citizen into a dimension of punishment. The execution is responsible. He's not just doing the actual capital punishment. He would also be doing brandings or locking people up in the pillory or shackling them to be taken to the gallies. We talked about Joan de la Motte, the fraudster in the case of the affair of the diamond necklace and how she's branded and shaved and everything.

That is the role of the executioner. He's doing that. If you think about that, the process by which Joan de la Motte, for instance, is given the coarse robe and sentenced to what had been a hospital for penitence. There is a sense in which all of this display, all of this weirdness, is about repentance as well as punishment. It's clearly steeped in very deeply Catholic notions of penance and absolution. When you read about accounts of executions, it's as though the the root to the scaffold is almost conjuring up echoes of a passion play. There's the sense in which the journey from the prison to the scaffold is about turning a criminal back into a Christian ready to be received by his or her creator. There's a French scholar, Michel Bay, who's brilliant on this. He writes, The criminal who has violated the prohibition of murder has, by his act, entered into the world of the sacred. He has endowed himself with an energy that renders his presence harmful and contagious. He introduces disorder into society and in the relations between society with the divine. The only reconciliation possible between the murderer and the society rests, therefore, in the sacrifice which frees him from his stain.

Tom, does does that mean... Well, we started with Dickens. When you think of a Dickensian London or 18th century London execution, there are people hooting with laughter, eating pies. It's a tremendous carnival. Does that suggest that in France, there is a perhaps more somber atmosphere and that it feels more like a religious ceremony than a day out at the fair?

As we will see, public executions are hugely popular. As in England, they have the quality of a grand sports occasion. People look forward to them hugely. But I think there is a, dare I say, sacral quality to them that in Protestant England you don't get. Okay, interesting. You just don't have the Catholic echoes of penance and absolution that you get in an execution in France. This is Why? We talked before about Jean Calin, who was the Protestant who gets falsely accused of killing his son, gets broken on the wheel. His case gets taken up by Voltaire, who campaigns against it. He's a, the infam is the monstrousness of the religious system that required him to be broken like that. But Voltaire's campaign works because there are Catholic instincts as well that would say that torturing to death an innocent person on an instrument of torture is also against Christian. Of traditions for very obvious reasons. The Calla case is pointing to the way in which, even before the revolution, people are starting to have reservations about what is happening, that there is something... Well, this is an age When everyone basically is still very devoutly Christian, there is something un-Christian about it.

This is exemplified by the most notorious of all public executions that takes place in the Ancien regime. This happens in 1757 in the reign of Louis XV, so the grandfather of Louis XVI. It is a punishment that is inflicted on a domestic servant called Robert François Damien, who had attempted to kill Louis XV, to stab him with a dagger, as Louis XV was Versailles in a carriage. And Damien gets seized and imprisoned. And the executioners prepare for him a fate that is designed to be the most terrifying, the most salutatory spectacle that the French justice system can possibly devise. And everybody knows about this. And if you think of it as being like a great sports occasion, this is the World Cup final where your team has qualified. This is the biggest match that you've ever seen. So you get two months before the actual execution, you get a newspaper called the Gazette D'Oustedam writing, Never has a spectacle had as many spectators as the punishment of Damian will have. People are whipping themselves up into a frenzy of excitement about it. And of course, it's a massive occasion for the young lad, Charles-Henri Samson, who's only 18, pretty much making his debut as a superstar executioner.

So he doesn't want to mess up. And he will be assisting his uncle, Nicolas Samson, on the big day. So a huge occasion for him, huge occasion for Damien. How's it going to go down? Is it going to measure up to expectations? So the day if the execution arrives, the crowds are indeed massive. The authorities have to set up barriers to keep them back. The wealthy have hired rooms so that they can look out over it. It's noted that lots of the people there are women. We have a diarist, Monsieur Babier, and he wrote in his diary, People noticed that there were many women and even some of distinction, and they never left the windows, and that they were better able to stand the horror of the punishment than the men, something that did not do them honor.

Women are made of stronger stuff, though, aren't they, Tom? That's the lesson of history.

Well, the horror is indeed immense. So on the morning of his execution, which is the 28th of March, 1757, so he's had a month and a half to ponder what's going to happen to him. The jail has come and he's alleged to have said, La journée sera rude. This is going to be a terrible day.

That's such a sportsman thing to say. It's going to be a tough game, Tom, but I'll take each moment as it comes. Yeah, dig deep.

So it is indeed a terrible day for the lad, Daniel. So he gets put into a tumble. He gets given a torch of burning wax to carry, and he's taken to the square where executions conventionally happen, which is the Place de Greve by the Hotel de Ville. The hand with which he had plunged the dagger into Louis XV is burned using sulph, so connotations of hell. The executioners then take red hot pincers and remove little gobbets of flesh from his body. And the office of the watch, who was supervising, later recorded that what the executioner took away formed at each part a wound about the size of a £6 crown piece. We know that executioners love spoons. They have another spoon at this point.

Yeah, I hope it's a different spoon.

It is a different, because what he's dipping it into is a mixture of malt and lead, boiling oil, burning resin, wax, and sulph melted together. And he then pours this into the various wounds that have been created. God, imagine that. As the flesh is being pulled off, as this liquid is being poured into the wounds, Paul Damian is crying out as the damned in hell are supposed to cry out, Pardon my God, pardon Lord. So he's still alive. He's then publicly emasculated. So his testicles and penis are chopped off, held up to the gawping crowd. And Then comes the pièce de la Résistance. Four horses are led into the square. Each of his four limbs are attached to a horse. The horses are whipped to make them move off. But unfortunately, this hasn't been done for about 100 years. So the executions are up to speed with what you need to do. Nothing happens. He's not torn to pieces. So they stop the horses. They stop the horses, they then cut his tendons, and the horses are then whipped forward. And at this point, the limbs go And all you have left is his trunk.

His limbs are burnt in front of him. He's still alive at this point. And then-Sure you're not conscious. What remains of him is burnt at the stake.

This is probably the worst thing we've ever heard about on the rest of his history.

This is unbelievable. So basically, the lads have done good. They've set up the spectacle that people were hoping for.

That's what the public wanted.

That's what the public wanted. However, it's actually so horrific that it backfires. Executions do continue to be as popular as they've ever been after this particular spectacular. But I think that it leaves a sense among opinion formers, which has already been developing even before it, that it is actually unfashionable to gorp at them. And this, in part, no doubt reflects the the growing impact of the Enlight. Voltaire, as we've said, was a vehement campaigner against these forms of punishment. But remember, it is the King himself. So Louis XV, who had been the object of Damian's assassination attempt, who actually gives the postum as pardon to Cala. It's not as though there's a complete divergence between enlightenment thinkers and upholders of the Ancien Regime. Rousseau, with his cult of sensibility, is also, I think, a big influence in changing attitudes to these public executions. But again, remember, Marie-Antoinette, great enthusiast for it. I think also there is a slightly misogynistic tinge to it because we mentioned how people focus on the women who are watching these executions. There's one notorious woman who watches it, Madame Préandot, and she's described by a disapproving intellectual as one of the prettiest and one of the most stupid creatures that God created.

She had been watching the horses pull poor Damien to pieces and cried out, Oh, Jesus, the poor horses. How I pity them.

Oh, the poor horses.

Oh, my word. It becomes representative of the frivoleity and cruelty and unthinking, lack of-The heedless sadism, almost.

Yeah. And on Let Them Eat Cake, so Marion Sainte herself, she never went to an execution. So she didn't enjoy the spectacle. No.

Interesting. No. I mean, the point of that is that I don't think there's anything inherently revolutionary about revulsion against the penal system. So potential for its reform is incubating within the Ancien regime.

Within those enlightenment monarchy of the 18th century Europe, so Joseph II or Leopold II in Austria, for example, they had been reformers. They had been trying to clean up what they saw as these antiquated relics of a barbaric dark age.

Yeah. But having said that, it is striking how the memory of executions like Damian's execution and of people broken on the wheel and all that, it does play a huge part in the image of the Ancien Régime that comes to be enshrined by the Revolution, and actually, which endures to this day. It is seen as representative of everything that the Revolution is fighting against. It is striking how many of the future leaders of the are, in the decades before the Revolution breaks out, swept up on a wave of opposition to the death penalty. Robespierre, in 1785, he had written an article in which he proposed that the death penalty if it absolutely has to be imposed, should be swift, should be merciful. There's a class element to this. So he wrote, Whereas the gallows stigmatize the relatives of a commoner forever, the iron which fills the head of a great man imprints no stain on his posterity. His actual preference, ironically, is for the death penalty to be abolished altogether. Yeah, I love that irony. I mean, he's very keen on that, as is Briceau, who we talked about in our previous episode. And we talked about how he was an activist, a humanitarian activist.

And in 1780, he won a prize for an essay in which he compared the death penalty in France to the atrocity of cannibals. And he argued that criminals, instead of being executed, should be put into penal servitude, and that this would kill two birds with one stone, because on the one hand, it would be humane. There'd be no shedding of blood by the state. And on the other hand, it would enable the Black slaves in the Caribbean colonies to be set free and to be replaced by criminals. So he wrote, Replace those unhappy Negroes who are guilty only of having a languid look and of absorbing the rays of light in the epidermis. Replace those Negroes in your plantations, your sugar factories, and your mills with the condemned whom you judge deserve deserving of being deprived of a liberty which is dangerous to the human race. And so for all these reasons, it's unsurprising, I think, that when the revolution breaks out, the reform of the death penalty, whether to abolish it completely or whether to introduce new strictures, new articles that would govern how it's applied, comes to be very high on the agenda.

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Painting a portrait, which was as picturesque as it was sensitive, of the terrifying punishments which have endured even in the century of humanity, gibbets, wheels, scaffolds, burnings at the stake, barbarous punishments, invented by barbarous futilism, he concluded by proposing the following article. In all cases in which the law pronounced the death penalty against the accused, the punishment will be the same, no matter the nature the crime for which he has been found guilty. Decapitation, and the execution will take place by the effect of a simple mechanism. Monsieur Gillatin gave a description of the mechanism. The mechanism falls like thunder The head flies off. The blood spires. The man is no more. So that was a report in the Journal des Étés Généraux, the newspaper of the Estates General, on a speech that was given by Dr. Dr. Joseph Ignyas Guiotin to the National Assembly in November 1789. So the revolution is less than six months old. And there's Dr. Guiotin explaining how this humane, progressive, merciful, egalitarian form of capital punishment will lead France into a brave new dawn. So Tom, take it away.

So just to say, the sources for all this are really amazing. I mean, you can trace the way that the argument on all of this evolves over the course of the early months and years of the revolution. Anyone interested, Paul Friedland has translated them in his book, so this is where I've got the translations from. They're really interesting to follow. Anyway, back to Dr. Ghiatan. We've actually already met him in this series because listeners may remember that when the members of the third estate had found themselves locked out of their meeting hall in June 1789, and they didn't have anywhere to go, Dr. Guiatan stands up and proposes that they meet in the tennis court, which they then proceed to do. So he's exactly the man who gets elected to the third estate in the elections to that crucial and decisive assembly of the States General. He's actually a Girondin. He's born north of Bordeaux in 1738. And according to family tradition, which I really like to believe actually happened, he was born prematurely because his mother had been started bottled by the screams of a man being broken on the wheel.

That undoubtedly happened.

Yeah, I like to think so. So he was a very clever boy. He was brought up by the Jesuits, actually trained as a Jesuit, then left the order when he was 25, became a doctor. He was a very passionate social reformer. He was a great man for being co-opted onto quangoes, that thing, doing investigations into social injustices. So he wrote a whole report for the government on the draining of swampss. He was also rather sinistially, but I'm sure he did it from the most humanitarian principles. He was against doing rabies experiments on animals and thought that it should be done on criminals. But he justified this by saying it was very progressive. So he wrote, Abiting sensation, the painful symptoms of illness. Are these to be compared with the appalling torments undergone by a man whose bones are being broken, who is forced to expire in the anguish of despair?

Do you rather be Britain by a rabid rat, or would you rather be broken on the wheel?

I think I would rather be bitten by a rabid rat.

Yeah, I would too, I think. I take that over the wheel.

Definitely. Yeah, I think I would. So I think Girtan is. Hats off to him. Sensible policies for a happier France. And so you can imagine this being the man he is. He loves the early days of the revolution because there are committees being set up left, right, and center. Brilliant.

I can write loads of reports, spend all my time on committees, and have people bitten by rabid rats. Love it.

He's obviously a genuinely very compassionate man who really works hard to try and improve the condition of those who are suffering, those who are poor, those who are disadvantaged. So he's elected a member of the Poverty Committee. The Marquis de Sade, remember, was co-opted onto a committee investigating orphanages, and maybe not entirely the best person to be enrolled in that responsibility. But Guillaume, I think, who also has a focus on foundlings and orphans, he's much better qualified for this work. And he also writes a massive report on sickness provision for the poor. So he's very much on the cause of good. But the cause for which he becomes, well, not famous, notorious, really, is penal reform. And personally, Like Robespierre, he wants to abolish the death penalty. But he also knows that probably this is too much to hope for. It's too big an ask. And so his secondary ambition is to make it more humane, to make it more enlightened. And the thing is, as we in the first half, he is pushing it an open door with this. It's not as though there is an institutional opposition to this on the part, say, of the monarchy.

Louis XVI has been introducing laws here, laws there, to make it less likely that people will be sentenced to death. 1775, for instance, he'd abolished death penalty for desertion unless there was an actual war being fought at the time. 1788, so the year before the revolution breaks out, he had increased the number of judges that were required to deliver a death sentence. So in other words, to make it harder. So he's working with that, but he's also working with the natural instinct of the revolutionaries to get rid of anything that smacks of feudalism and smacks of superstition. Obviously, having an executioner in a blood red robe, pulling bits of flesh out with red hot pincers, this is exactly the thing that a revolutionary instinctively is going to be opposed Yeah, of course. This is why he feels when he stands up in the National Assembly on the eighth of October 1789, he feels that he's going to get a good audience. The problem is that this is immediately after the removal of the King and Queen from Versailles. By the women who've come out from Paris. The delegates are still in Versailles, but they're understandably a little bit shell-shocked, a little bit unsettled.

And so, Guillaume's proposals don't really get the attention that they may be deserved. But there But there are a few people who turn up to listen to him. And his proposals, the first of which is, in his words, crimes of the same kind should be punished by the same kinds of punishment, whatever the rank or a state of the criminal. So in other words, rather than having people broken on the wheel or being pulled apart by horses or whatever.

Pinsers and all that. Yeah.

You just have the one system of execution for everybody, no matter their rank, no matter their status, no matter their gender. He proposes, furthermore, that the form of execution should be be beheading because it the most humane way of death. And he proposes that the decapitations be done by, and I quote, a simple mechanism. And these proposals are seen as being controversial. The delegates pass the first article, so the one that there should be a single form of execution. They feel it's going too far to pass the other provisions, the other articles. And so a month and a half later, Guiertin goes back to the attack. And this is a speech that was being reported in the newspaper that you quoted. Finally, on the 21st of January 1790, all of his proposals are accepted except for the sixth and last one. And that's the one where Guillaume proposes the introduction of a simple mechanism for beheading the condemned. And this is reported widely, and it makes Guiata an object of public ridicule. People just find this, the whole idea of this, hilarious.

The idea of a machine, they find inherently ridiculous.

I mean, the thing is, it's not a novelty. These machines have been developed and invented. Actually, there was one in England. But it's seen as being ludicrous, a bit like the scientists in Gulliver's travels who are trying to extract some beams from cucumber. Oh, cucumber. Yeah. Yeah. It's seen as- A boffin's mad scheme. Yes. And Guita, particularly, comes to seem the the archetype of a do-gooding utopianist who schemes simply outrun what is sensible. And so a song is written about him in which his machine is called the guillotine, the guillotine. And it becomes very, very popular. Like songs are spreading across the streets of Paris, this song about the guillotine. People love it.

So the guillotine, the word, it begins as a joke of the guillotine and guillotin's expense.

It does. It's part of a comic song. But the truth is that guillotin, he's ahead of the curve. Because as events will show, his proposal for a beheading machine that will be swift and humane is brilliant for enabling the two seemingly opposed trends that we've been discussing in this episode to meet and to fuse. So on the one hand, this relish for a spectacular and salutary display of justice that will be thrilling to people, that people can feel it's simultaneously moral and exciting. And secondly, the notion that executions should be humane and should repudiate feudalism, should repudiate superstition.

So it's both improving. Well, it's improving in every sense. It's improving as it works as a spectacular deterrent to crime, but it's improving proving in that it also it's more humane, it's clean, it's progressive, it's modern. So what's not to like?

Right. And so an obvious way in which you can make the penal system modern is to get rid of all the shenanigans around- Big Spoons. Executioners having their tin-plated spoons and their blood-red robes and all this thing. And to do that requires the delegates in the National Assembly, essentially, to rule that the executioner is just a state functionary. He's nothing special. It's crucial. He's part of a group of people that include Jews and brilliantly include actors who had suffered this civic disabilities under the Ancien Regime, and now they're to be enrolled simply as everyday citizens. But even in the final legislation that passes this, they still can't bring themselves to specify executioners. There's still a superstitious sense in which, even to mention the name, is cursed. But the legislation gets passed, and so the civic status of Saint-Saëns and other executioners executioners is normalized. This is significant because it transforms the figure of the executioner into a servant of the revolution, into someone who is simply doing a civic duty. Nothing wrong with that. Perfectly rational Well, perfectly enlightened, perfectly progressive. But having said all that, there are still limits on how far the National Assembly are prepared to go in being progressive.

Right. They're not going to scrap it completely. I mean, that's the pale, right?

At the end of May 1791, there is a debate on precisely this, and there is a vote on whether the death penalty should be completely abolished. Robespierre argues that it should, votes in favor of its abolition. But the majority of delegates disagree, and so the death penalty is maintained. There is an even more radical proposal than simply abolishing the death penalty. I mean, this strikes at the heart of so many assumptions that people are utterly shocked by it, which is that executions, if they are to be maintained, and it's decided that they will be, should be done privately. In other words, the salutary quality of it, the way in which executions serve to educate a people, that should be removed. The removal of a criminal should be like the excision of a cancerous tumor or something. It should just be done neatly, cleanly, and privately. People can't get their heads around this idea at all. It's howled down. It's agreed that public executions will be maintained And they will be public. But then there is the problem of how, how should these executions take place? It's been agreed that there will be only the one method.

So that one method needs to be decided upon. Essentially, there are two alternatives. There's hanging, which is traditionally the way for the poor.

As in Britain.

Or to be be beheaded, which traditionally has been the way for the aristocracy. And because nothing is too good for the people, it's taken for granted that actually hanging is unacceptable, that everyone should now enjoy the rights that traditionally had been the rights of the aristocracy, partly because of that, but also because it is seen as being quicker, it's more humane. But the person who raises objections to this, because if everyone is going to be beheaded, that would potentially require large numbers of people to be dispatched by losing their heads in one go. The person who objects to this is Saint-Saëns, who is no longer the Royal Executioner, but he's still the Chief Executioner, now the Revolution. He presents various arguments against doing it. One is that it requires this great skill, which, of course, Saint-Saëns would argue that. But he's not wrong.

Because we've covered executions on this podcast. I think about the Duke of Monmouth and Jack Ketch, who had to take eight strokes of the ax or whatever before he managed to get his head off. That's a standard, isn't it? There's always these disastrous scenes on the block where they make a mess of it, and it's really bloody and horrible.

Yeah. And Saint-Solom is saying that the only way that you could possibly do this is to train up other people, but it takes a long time to do it. Also, there's the risk that if you're using the same the blade will become dull. But above all, he says, it is very, very bloody. So if you remember how Guillotin presented his arguments in favor of it, he's very insuciant about it. He's saying, the blood spurts, the man is no more. Brilliant. But Sanson is saying, actually, this is going to be horrific. Blood just going everywhere. We can't do that. We need a much more efficient way of sorting this out. I'll quote you this memorandum that he writes to the National Assembly. When there shall be several criminals who will be executed at the same time, the terror created by this form of execution, because of the immensity of blood which it produces and which it spreads out, will give rise to fright and weakness in even the most intrepid of those who remain to be executed.

So in other words, you got people lining up and there's blood everywhere. So the people at the back of the queue will completely lose it and will not be executed in a decarious way because they'll be shouting and gibbering and behaving badly.

Yeah. And this won't be teaching an elevated lesson to the people.

It'll be a shambles, Tom. It'll be rubbish. Yeah.

So the delegates take all this on board and they think, actually, Dr. Guiatas' proposal, it's not completely mad. So they go to a surgeon, Dr. Antoine-louis, who as permanent secretary to the Academy of Surgery. They say, Could you work out what the best machine would be? Louis goes away and he analyzes what angle the blade should be at, what would be the most efficient angle for the blade to come down. He inspects the vertebrae, works out what's the best way to cut through them, and he draws up his report and he hands it back to the National Assembly. Louis' conclusion is, For the certainty of the procedure and to ensure that decapitation will take place in an instant, in accord with the spirit and the will of the new law, there is no option but to rely on invariable mechanical methods. So in other words, remove human error, get a machine. And so the delegates to the National Assembly go to Dr. A guitar and say, Do you want to take control of this? He's so infended by this. He doesn't have anything to do with it. Really? He turns them down.

Because he's been made fun of in the song and stuff. Yeah.

So he's very disgruntled by this.

He's in a huge sulk.

Yeah, he's in a strop. So Dr. Louis, he keeps control of the project, and he turns to this guy called Tobias Schmidt, who is a German, as his name implies. He's a pianomaker. He's also an alcoholic, which you might think is slightly worrying for a man who's going to a decapitation machine. But actually, he does a tremendous job. It's already one month later, and Louis then does tests. So first of all, he does it on a sheep, then he does it on a calf, and then finally, he gets three human corpses and heads off. And Louis is absolutely delighted. So to quote him, One is astonished by the force and celerity of its action. And it is now April 1792, and so the time is ready to try the execution machine on the first victim. The first victim is a highwayman called Nicolas Jacques Pelletier, who had committed armed robbery in October 1791, had been sentenced to death in December, has been in prison awaiting his execution. He is the person who, on the 25th of April 1792, is led out to the Place de la Greve, the traditional place of execution, where there is standing a peculiar-looking machine, and the news has got out.

So there's a large crowd to witness it. Peletier is led up to the scaffold by Saint-Saure. Saint-saure cuts off his hair, ties Peletier's hands behind his back, straps him down onto a board, pushes him out so that his neck is exposed to the blade, pulls on a rope, the blade slices down, the head vanishes into a sack, and that's it. It's all over. And the crowd are completely bewildered.

Yeah. Gutting for the crowd who've been queuing there probably for hours, and it's done and dusted in seconds.

Yeah. So a witness, very disgruntled eye witness, wrote, From the first point of contact to the last, there is no distance. It is an indivisible point. The blade falls and the patient no longer exists.

The patient, isn't that so interesting? The medical metaphor? Yes. Because it is like a surgical operation.

Yes. When Guita first proposed this machine, he commissioned illustrations which show a priest ministering to the person who's about to have his head cut off as though, tending a deathbed or something like that. This idea that it's like having an operation. It's smooth, it's clear, it's dignitas. I think that the ambivalence is suggested by the name which the machine comes to be given, which, of course, is guillotine. It's initially called a Louisette, but the association of Guilletin's name with this contraption is too strong, and so it ends up being named after him. And it's reflective of the way, I think, in which it comes to have its own mythology very, very rapidly. It's quick, it's efficient, it's humane, certainly relative to what had gone before, but it is also very, very bloody. And as Samson had pointed out, the more criminals who are executed in one go, the more bloody the spectacle will become. And so, as we said, this fusion between the traditional spectacle and the new way of doing things. The guillotine and it exemplifies it.

But Tom, isn't it also that it's the fact that you can do so many people in one go? Yeah. And the uniformity of it is what is chilling. So the previous way of execution, as unbelievably horrific as that was, there was something about it that respected you as an individual. You are Callas or Damian or whatever his name is, and you are brought out. And this whole day is about you. You're at the center of it, and it's specific to you.

I'm not sure that's a great consolation. No, of course not.

It's not a great consolation. But with this, isn't it? The ominous thing about it, especially looking back from the 21st century, is that you can polish off dozens, hundreds of people in a day or two, and there's just numbers, people in a queue.

Yeah, they're anonymous.

They're anonymous. It's the anonymity of it that they think is the frightening thing, isn't it?

Isn't that what- Yes. But it also, of course, forms its own spectacle. The spectacle of a large line of people being beheaded is extraordinary. No one's ever seen anything like it before. And so even though the theatrical quality of the as you said, has been banned. There is a new theatricality about this, and you get larger and larger crowds for it. And so the guillotine is moved from the Place de la Greve to ever larger venues, and it will end up being put in what today is the Place de la Concorde, but comes to be named the Place de la Revolution after the abolition of the monarchy. And there it comes to stand as the defining emblem of the revolution, and people want to watch it. So it has become a spectacle despite itself. And that's why it's so appropriate that Saint-Saëns, who had been the Royal Executioner, is now the Executioner operating for the execution of the enemies of the Revolution. And it's why, even though you no longer have female aristocrats, gathering at private windows to go up, you do have women, in particular, who become notorious for the delight they take in the spectacle of death.

And these, of course, are the tricoteurs, the women who knit. These are the women from the market who had gone and seized the king and queen from Versailles in 1789 and who have particular privileges as a result. They get the front row. So the sense of rupture is obviously very profound. But so too, beneath the seeming show, there are continuities as well. And that, I guess, is one of the reasons why the guillotine is the perfect symbol of the revolution, really.

Absolutely. Tom, that was absolutely fascinating. So the guillotine has been set up. The blade has been sharpened, the tumbrals are rattling through the streets, and there is going to be a steady stream of customers for Madame guillotine because, as we discussed last time, Tom, France is going to war. If you thought this episode was bloody, there is a lot more blood to come tomorrow. So you can listen to that episode right now if you're a member of the Rest is History Club. If not, if you prefer the old fashioned ways of the wheel and the ax, then you'll just have to wait.

Bye, bye.bye. Happy on two.