Ramage and the Guillotine

‘Two hundred?' Stafford repeated unbelievingly.

'Only two hundred, because Amiens is a small city. In Paris it was nothing for a single guillotine to execute five hundred in a day. What slows down the rate is getting the decapitated bodies out of the way ...'

'Why is it called a guillotine?' Ramage found himself asking, fascinated by Louis's narrative. 'Did a M. Guillotine invent it?'

'Not exactly. A few years before the Revolution a member of the Assembly called Dr Guillotin (there was no final "e") proposed a resolution that a way of executing people should be found which was swift and avoided the risk of mistakes by an executioner. His motives were of the highest. The College of Surgeons were consulted about the swiftest and most painless method, and the decapitating machine with a falling blade was designed. When it was adopted for executions it was named after Dr Guillotin, who still lives in Paris. I heard he had a quarrel with Citizen Robespierre and was imprisoned during the Revolution, though I believe he has been set free by now.'

"Ow does it work?' Stafford asked, and Ramage knew he shared the Cockney's fascination, although it was unlikely Stafford shared his fears.

'Well, you saw how it looks: a vertical frame in which the blade falls is built at the end of a bench on which the victim lies, his head protruding over the end so that the neck is exactly below the blade.

'The neck rests in a shaped piece like the lower half of a pair of stocks, and there's an upper piece that is clamped down when the victim is in position. Some guillotines have a fixed bench so that the condemned person - who of course is bound - has to be lifted on to it. The newest ones have a bascule which pivots on an axle like a seesaw between vertical and horizontal.

'The guillotine blade (which is very heavy) has a diagonal cutting edge and is hoisted up by the bourreau - the executioner - who hauls on a rope. The rope is attached to the upper side of the blade, goes up through a pulley at the top of the frame, and comes down to a cleat at the side. There's a basket to catch the head, and a long basket to one side of the bascule for the body.

'Now, this is what happens at an execution: the bourreau’s assistants - they are called valets - seize the man. His wrists are tied behind his back, and his ankles are secured. The bascule is swung up vertically and the man is pushed against it. It is just the right length, so that he is looking over the top edge at the frame and blade.

'The valets push his shoulders so that he swings over with the bascule like someone lying on a seesaw, and is now horizontal, his neck resting in the shaped piece. The upper piece is clamped in position as though he has his head in the stocks, and the valets jump back out of the way in case they get their fingers nipped by the blade.

'The bourreau, who has already hoisted up the blade, flips the rope off the cleat and the blade falls so quickly the eye can hardly follow it. There is a thud, the head falls in the basket, and it is all over. The body is pushed sideways into the other basket and the bourreau hoists the blade again. It is kept well honed, although towards the end of a busy day it gets blunt and -'

‘That's enough, Louis,' Ramage interrupted. 'My neck feels sore already, and if Stafford can't picture it by now he never will.'

'You must admit it's interesting, sir,' Stafford said. 'You ever seen anyone get turned orf at Newgate?'

'No. I know it is regarded as great entertainment, but somehow I...’

'Oh, it's not too bad,' Stafford said enthusiastically. 'It's worse when you know the condemned man. Saw a cousin o' mine turned orf, once. Stood there a couple o' hours I did, waiting. Then as they fetched him out, St Sepulchre's church bell began tolling, the parson began saying the funeral service, an' that was that. Born to be cropped, my cousin was.'

'Cropped?' Louis asked, puzzled at the word.

'Yus, "Knocked down fer a crop." That's when the judge says the cramp words.'

The Frenchman shook his head, mystified, and Ramage looked puzzled. 'It's slang, yes, but what does it mean?'

'Mean yer don't know, sir?' Stafford said disbelievingly, 'Well, the cramp words is what the judge says when he knocks - when he sentences yer ter death. An' sentencing a man to death is - well, it's putting the noose round the neck and cropping 'im on collar day.'

'Collar day?' Louis exclaimed. 'Mon Dieu, what English is this?'

‘The noose fits like a collar,' Stafford explained crossly. 'Honest, Louis, yer don't speak English very good, really.'

'I do my best,' the Frenchman said wryly.

When Jobert and his wife brought up their supper promptly at seven o'clock there was still no sign of the lieutenant-de-vaisseau. Louis came in while the food was being served and as he sat down he said casually to the landlord: ‘I hope the lieutenant won't be too late tonight; we have a card tournament arranged.'

'Ah, we do not know what has delayed him. His other friend - the one you were playing cards with on Monday night - called in a few minutes ago. He said he did not want to miss another exciting evening.'

His wife made a disapproving noise and Louis raised his eyebrows questioningly. 'Gambling,' she sniffed. 'Such a waste of good time!'

'The citizens must choose how they divert themselves,' the landlord said reprovingly. 'They work hard for the Republic, and they deserve some relaxation.'

The woman muttered something Ramage and Louis could not catch, but her husband turned to them apologetically. 'My daughter - she is upset. She has not seen much of the lieutenant on his last two visits. I keep telling them that it is not often we have citizens in the hotel with whom the lieutenant can relax, but...'

Louis was quick to make profuse apologies to the woman. This is our last night here,' he concluded sadly.

She sniffed. 'You have not settled your account yet, Citizen,' she said acidly.

'Mon Dieu!' Louis muttered, and helped himself to more soup.

As soon as they had finished eating and Jobert had cleared the table, Louis followed him downstairs to settle the bill. He returned fifteen minutes later, cursing the landlord for a thief.

'There is a special charge for the "medicine",' he said angrily. 'And they've charged for a full meal every time you and Stafford had a plate of broth. The "medicine" is . . .'

'But you paid?' Ramage interrupted anxiously. "We don't want -'

'Don't worry, I made just the amount of fuss a French landlord would expect another Frenchman to make, and I made him reduce the bill by twenty per cent. He would have been suspicious if I'd paid the full amount!'

'No sign of the lieutenant?'

'No, the landlord is quite worried and his daughter in tears. He has never been as late as this. The girl is sure he has been thrown from his horse and is lying dead in a ditch.'

Ramage took out his watch. 'Just before nine o'clock. 1 hope she's not right!'

‘Tonight of all nights,' Louis said grimly. 'I thought everything had been going too well.' He rubbed his bristly chin in a characteristic gesture. 'Of course it could be the fault of Admiral Bruix . . .'

Ramage said nothing. From the time they had told the landlord that they would be returning to Boulogne on Sunday morning, he had known that the one thing that could wreck all their plans was the Admiral being late with the report. He might not finish it until late Saturday evening, and the lieutenant would get orders to ride direct to Paris without stopping - a hard ride but not impossible. The Admiral might not finish it until Sunday, and even then the lieutenant could still arrive in Paris in time to deliver it to the Minister on Monday.

Come to think of it - and he cursed himself for not paying more attention to the point - there was really nothing in Bruix's earlier letter that promised the Minister that the report would be sent off from Boulogne on Saturday. It was all his own assumption - that because the weekly dispatch to the Minister was always sent off on a Saturday, the special report would be treated in the same way. Yet the fact that it was a special report could mean that it would be dealt with specially: sent off to Paris as soon as it was ready, rather than have it dispatched in the regular way.