Execution: A Guide to the Ultimate Penalty by Geoffrey Abbott Read Free Book Online Page B

offered him gold, anything, to allow the condemned man to escape, but Charles valued his own head more than any bribe, promising, however, to whisper her name in the victim’s ear before dispatching him.
    On the day of the execution Sanson collected his prisoners from the Conciergerie, the prison, to find them both severely crippled. In accordance with the law, they had both been subjected to torture designed to make them admit the names of any accomplices. The instrument used had been the dreaded brodequins, iron boots which could be tightened with agonising slowness by means of screw mechanisms until the wearer’s ankles were crushed to the bone.
    Sanson and his assistants carried them out to the tumbril and laid them on the straw. In view of the possibility of a rescue attempt, the cart was strongly guarded, and it soon arrived at the Place de Grève, where the scaffold stood. Two wheels had already been mounted on posts in readiness, with a St Andrew’s Cross lying flat on each, and to these the two condemned men were bound. Without any delay Sanson gave the order. Instantly, Nicolas Gros and his other assistant seized the iron clubs and proceeded to strike at the arms and legs of the helpless victims. Fearsome screams issued from the chevalier, who was now writhing in agony, but from de Horn came only silence. In defiance of orders, Sanson had surreptitiously administered the retentum; the young man was already dead.
    The crowd, horrified yet unable to look away, watched the tragedy unfolding before them as the priest sought to ease the chevalier’s sufferings by wiping his brow and pouring a few drops of water into his mouth. His cries of pain increased, cries accompanied by the screams of the women around the scaffold, and at last Sanson gave the final order. Gros obediently picked up a large block of iron and dropped it on to the chevalier’s chest, caving it in and bringing merciful relief to the mangled victim. After some time the corpses, their limbs adhering to their bodies only by shreds of skin, were cut free from the wheels and gently carried to waiting carriages, then taken to a nearby chapel where the clergy would perform the mass of the dead before the funerals took place.
    And on the afternoon of the execution an envelope was delivered to the sorrowing Comtesse de Parabère, a missive from Charles Sanson which bore the inscription ‘Promised souvenir’. Inside, it contained a lock of Antoine de Horn’s hair.
    The next occupant of the wheel came from a decidedly different walk of life. A matter of months later, on 15 October 1721, the Paris paper Barbier’s Journal excitedly announced that ‘Cartouche, the notorious robber who was sought everywhere and found nowhere, is captured! He has been discovered committing a robbery, and M. le Blanc, Secretary of State for War, who conducted the whole affair, took with him forty picked soldiers and a number of policemen, who had orders to take Cartouche dead or alive, that is, to fire on him if he attempted to run away.’
    It would seem that the house had been surrounded. When caught, the much-wanted criminal had six pistols on the table. Arrested, he was taken to the Chatelet prison, where he was confined in a cell with triple doors and not only guarded by four men but was also chained to a stake attached to a pillar.
    But who was this desperado who, with his gang, had terrified the worthies of Paris? Louis Dominic Cartouche, thief and pickpocket, although only 4½ feet tall, was the scourge of the French gendarmerie. A typical Parisian gamin, unable to read or write, but inherently intelligent and tinning, he soon recruited a large gang of miscreants and remained at large for many years.
    Despite all the precautions taken in the prison he, with the aid of his cellmate, a mason, managed to make a hole in the sewer gallery beneath the floor. Falling in the water, they waded to the end of the gallery and, removing a large stone, emerged in the cellar of a