Strange Tales of French Crimes

Star (Christchurch), Volume XLIV, Issue 543, 27 August 1932, Page 33 (Supplement)

Strange Tales of French Crimes

„ - By . . .

DR EDMOND LOCARD and H. ASHTON -WOLFE.

FIFTEENTH OF SERIES. The Romance of Dr Guillotin and the Guillotine.

! By the irony of fate Dr. Joseph Gnll- « • lotin fell a victim to the machine he ! ! invented—the guillotine, nick-named ; I “The Widow,” which ended so many . > lives during the red days of the revo- | ; lution. As he took his place under the ■ ■ terrible knife he handed Henri Sanson, , } who had beheaded Marie Antoinette, his | v diary, and it was afterwards placed in < r his file in the police archives, Paris. I ; i have reconstructed the strange story of ; 'J Guillotin’s life from contemporary doc it- , • ments and, above all, from this diary, | ! in which he describes his meeting with * | the woman he loved all his days. Guillotin was a fully-fledged doctor in 1775, practised for some time at Nantes, was later doctor at the Chatelet prison, Paris, and travelled abroad to study systems of executing criminals as the methods in use in France, hanging and beheading, filled him with horror. It was when journeying from Paris to Nantes, where he meant to settle down, that he met the woman who was to change the whole course of his life. Accompanied by his servant, a bold exsailor named Camille Savatier, he had set out from Angrsrs, hoping to reach his destination befftre night, despite the menace of many lawless bands infesting the country at that time. Suddenly the sound of firing fell on their ears, and they heard a woman’s screams. Almost immediately afterwards three horsemen galloped up, and one of them carried at his saddle bow a struggling female. One of the men raised a heavy whip and lashed at the victim.

Guillotin and hi«s servant accounted for two of the bandits, and the third was stunned when his horse, shot by Guillotin, fell heavily.

Punning to the woman who lay in a swoon by the roadside, Guillotin lifted her head and her entrancing beauty held him spellbound.

As he stared fascinated, the girl’s eyes opened. Fear and pain quickly gave place to wonder as she drew herself into a sitting posture and gazed in wonder at the man whose arms still clasped her.

“Those assassins,” she whispered where are they?”

“Dead, I think, mademoiselle. I killed the ruffian who struck you, my servant shot another, and as for the fellow thrown from his horse, I fancy his neck ia broken. Can you stand?” “Not yet, I fear,” she replied. “Let me rest a little thus. Your presence gives me courage. My coach was stopped not far from here by four masked men. One of them at once slashed at the postillion with a sword and pulled him from the saddle; my servant, too, was murdered before my eyea, but as he fell he shot the man who had stabbed him. It was horrible, horrible! You, monsieur, who are you?” “My name is Joseph Guillotin* I am a doctor, travelling to Nantes with my servant Camille.”

“I am Eugenie de Launay. My father is the King’s Lieutenant-General at Nantes. He will be very grateful to you for this.” Camille approached, swinging a cutlass taken, from one of the bandits with evident satisfaction.

“May I suggest, monsieur,” he said “that we continue our journey, if the lady can mount one of these horses. There may be more of the villains about, and It is almost dark.”

But a moan of pain burst from the girl’s lips when she tried Xo rise, and Guillotin found that one of her ankles was badly twisted. Thereupon, Camille offered to fetch the post-chaise, taking the bandits’ horses, in case the others had been killed. Fortunately, the vehicle eouid still be utilised.

While the sailor mounted as postillion, Guillotin wrapped the girl in a blanket and, clasping her in his arms, seated himself beside her, for now a violent reaction had set in and the cold wind whistled unhindered through the shattered woodwork. Thug the long ride, instead of being irksome, became a wonderful experience to the young doctor, who was already madly in love with his beautiful patient. No doubt, too, the romance of this meeting, and the courage and devotion of her rescuer, had overthrown all the barriers of convention and won her heart, since she pillowed her head on his breast with a grateful sigh.

The arrival of the blood-stained horses and battered post-chaise in Nantes the following morning caused a sensation, and when it leaked out that Eugenic de Launay had been attacked an<f abducted by bandits, an excited crowd escorted the travellers to her home. The Lieutenant-General was at the Palace of Justice when the newg reached him. He arrived to find his daughter in bed, and Dr. Guillotin in attendance. The twisted ankle and the many hurts sustained when she was dragged over the stony highway caused her much pain, and one shoulder was greatly swollen from the lash of the bandit’s whip. Although in his heart he resented his daughter s obvious intimacy with a stranger, he had the good grace to make him welcome and thanked him effusively for his courageous intervention. But from the first Guillotin felt that he was regarded with suspicion.

“One would think,” said the brave Camille bluntly, “that the proud lieu-tenant-general suspects us of having staged the abduction. The police have been visiting the spot, and say there is not a trace of any bandits.”

“What!” said Guillotin; “such a tale is absurd.

Camille grinned maliciously. “Eith*»r some of their friends came and buried them—or the police did.” GuinSfi n why ' in heaven ’ 9 namcr ’

i n< leed ? Have you not realised that some plot is afoot? Apparently your wooing of the young lady is not opportune. No doubt her father nas other plans for her. I think we should leave the house as quickly as We ,na - v a lettrc e cachet has been signed by the Kin-* consigning Us to the Bastiile, while a convent, maybe, will take charge of mademoiselle. If she is fond of ySu she feign indifference until von can future ”” BCCret and decide for th «

hor a moment the doctor glared angrily, and then said, “I fear you are right, Camille. I will tell this heartless nobleman that since his daughter is

recovered, we shall leave at once. Find temporary lodgings quickly and let me know where they are.”

The obvious satisfaction with which the flews of his departure was received convinced Guillotin that his servant had not exaggerated.

Guillotin managed to snatch a brief interview with the girl, told her of the network of spies round them, and arranged to come secretly at night as soon as he had found a safe retreat in the neighbourhood.

Camille found a lonely house on the outskirts of the town. Guillotin started out in a post-chaise ostensibly for Paris, but only went the first stage and theu rode back by devious ways to the house his servant had hired.

For two weeks Guillotin waited patiently, while Camille, dressed as a peasant, went into the town with farm produce and watclied affairs at the do Launay house. He got In touch with the girl, who told him her father was absent for several weeks on King’s business. Every night, thereafter, as soon as the servants were safely out of the way, Guillotin and Eugenie de Launay met in secret. Their love grew into a passion, and he abruptly proposed that they should flee together to England, where they would bo safe. He was sure that in that country of freedom they could marry without hindrance, and the friends he had made there in former years would assist him to a practice that would enable them to live in comfort.

He had come prepared to give battle to her scruples with passionate kisses and wild eloquence; but, to his surprise, at the first words he uttered the girl flung her arms about his neck with a little cry of joy and murmured: “I love you, Joseph/ and I will follow you anywhere.” And so it was arranged that the following evening, soon after dark, Guillotin should come to the secret gate with a post-chaise. They would drive through the night in order to reach Brest as quickly as possible, and from there they would cross to England. It was fortunate Guillotin had spoken when he did, for a messenger from Monsieur de Launay arrived the next day to apprise Eugenie that her father was even then on his way to Nantes. Instead of waiting for the post-chaise, she ran to her lover breathless with fright, and urged him to start at once. Her terror was so contagious that, despite his servant’s advice to wait until dark, Guillotin ordered him to saddle the horses at once. He hoped by the evening to reach Redon and, after a hurried meal, to hire a coach from there.

It is probable that spies had informed the Lieutenant-General of the lovers’ secret meetings and that they were seen when they set out, but for some hours trace of them was lost, because Camille had guided them through the forest instead of keeping to the main road, and thus they gained the little town without hindrance. Hardly had they begun their evening meal, however, when Camille came to their table and, under pretence of serving his master with wine, whispered:

“Several armed men, who look like police officers, are talking to the landlord. I am afraid, monsieur, that mademoiselle’s father ie already on our track. I will stroll round to the stables and bribe one of the grooms to lead our horses into the lane behind the house. Ask the host for candles and retire to your rooms at once. The windows are not high, and you can both climb by knotting several sheets together. Do not waste a minute, or we may be caught.”

Guillotin looked anxiously at his sweetheart. She had caught the ominous message, but, although pale, her face was resolute, and she instantly signed to him to do as Camille advised. Soon a low whistle apprised them that faithful Camille had succeeded in obtaining the horses, and quickly fastening two of the coarea sheets to the window bar. he lowered the girl safely to tile ground and at once followed.

“I have tied strips of sacking over tile hoofs, monsieur,” his servant said in a low voice. “The stable lads had been ordered to lock and bolt every door, but a few gold pieces soon persuaded one of them that the matter was urgent. I have a lantern. As soon ae we are away from the house I shall hang it to the saddle.” Thus the fugitives started, Camille taking the lead and holding Eugenie’s bridle, while Guillotin, his pistols ready, followed some paces in the rear. The uncertain light made their progress slow and difficult, and soon a thin, cold rain began to fall, adding much to their discomfort, and towards dawn the girl begged her lover to halt for an hour in the shelter of some trees, while she rested. He was about to comply when Camille spurred liis horse towards them with an exclamation of dismay.

“Listen!” he cried, holding up his hand, and in the ensuing silence a faint but menacing sound was borne towards them.

“Those are dogs, monsieur. They will find us where the men alone would search in vain. Ride on to the coast with all speed, keeping to the fields and woods. I will take the main road and draw them away. It is your only

chance. When you come to Keravon. a little village near Brest, ask for Jean le Barzac. He is an old shipmate of mine and a smuggler of bran <*y an ” lace. He’ll take you across the Channel. Tell him to look for me in a week. Ride, ride! There they are!”

While he was speaking, twinkling lights had appeared in the distance, and a chorus of hoarse voices and excited yelps warned them of the need foi instant action. Camille slipped to the ground and tore the sacking from his horse’s hoofs, then, with shout and clatter, he turned and galloped away. But his gallant attempt to save the lovers was vain. A line of horsemen had drawn across the road, barring the way, and several shots whistled past his head. From the forest, too, came yells and shots, and he realised that escape was impossible. A moment later Guillotin came stumbling from the tree? holding Eugenie in his arms. “They shot our horses,” he gasped “What shall we do?” “Let me go, Joseph,” the girl-wailed struggling to free herself. “My father is without pity. He will kill you if w-e are caught together. Alone and on foot you and Camille may escape. I can hold him in check by giving myself up. You must come back to me later. I am ■yours in life and death.” And, twisting from his arms, she ran towards the horsemen, crying shrilly: “Father, father, I am here!’ Loud shouts answered her, and for a moment the two men were forgotten. Camille at once dragged Guillotin behind some bushes. “Come, monsieur, we must crawl until we get through their lines. The girl has probably saved us.” They advanced a mile or more, worming their way through the grass across the open spaces, and running swiftly when trees gave them cover, for a grey dawn was in the sky. Already they believed themselves safe when three men, who had been hidden in a ditch, sprang at them with drawn swords. Happily, the foremost slipped and stumbled on the wet soil, and, with a. sudden lunge, Camille van him through the throat. He at once engaged the second, disarming him by an upward tln-ust, and, as Guillotin appeared on his left, the fellow turned and fled, followed by his companion.

“Their horses!” Camille cried triumphantly. “Look, they have left them!” But his shout hail been heard, and as they prepared to mount, a shot cracked from the undergrowth and Guillotin fell limply against a tree. Before his knees touched the ground, however, Camille had caught him in his arms, and, dragging him across the saddle, mounted behind and galloped away.

Late in the afternoon they reached Keravon. Camille at once sought his smuggler friend, who consented to take them across the Channel. Guillotin’s wound was, fortunately, not serious, and when they were safely out at sea his rough-and-ready surgery soon located the bullet, which had iodged near the shoulder. The terrible events of the night had been so sudden, and the catastrophe so overwhelming, that it was only when all danger of pursuit and capture was past, that the unhappy lover realised how completely that fatal meeting with Eugenie had wrecked a future that once had been briarht and prosperous, but which now seemed only a dreary waste of shattered hopes. All night he paced the slippery foredeck, a prey to bitter thoughts, ceaselessly reproaching himself for fleeing and leaving the girl behind. In vain, Camille tried to console him, pointing out that the only result had he persisted would have been death at the hands of de Launay’s men, or imprisonment and torture in a foul dungeon. “I will return with the smuggler, monsieur, and try to discover what hap]>ened. They will not be watching for me; perhaps I shall succeed where you failed, and bring Mademoiselle Eugenie to you. At the worst, we must wait until the hue and cry has died down and you can safely come to France.” So it was arranged, and when he had seen liis master settled with friends in London, Camille crossed to Brest once more, and by devious, roundabout journeys, entered Nantes in the guise of a drover. He found, to his surprise, that the mansion of the Lieutenant-General was closed. Only vague rumours of the frustrated elopement had reached the inhabitants, but it was whispered that Mile, de Launay had been taken to Paris and that her father had sought and obtained a post at Court, and thence Camille travelled in haste.

It was no easy matter for a man in liis lowly position to gather news of a powerful nobleman or hi 3 daughter; months passed while he wandered from house to house, now engaged for a time as valet to an official of the Bastille, now working as a subordinate in the King’s stables at Versailles. And there, one evening, lie saw Eugenie de Launay again. It was only a glimpse he caught, while standing near the palace gates, idly watching the glittering carriage* disgorge bejewelled women in silks and satins, escorted by swaggering courtiers. She was leaning on the arm of a pale, elderly man dressed in the uniform of the Royal Guard, and chatting gaily with her companion, as frivolous and light-hearted, apparently, as any in that insolent throng. Obsessed only with the wild desire to carry a cheering message to his exiled master, lie elbowed his way through the noisy crowd, with the insane object of speaking to the girl. Fortunately, a Swiss soldier in gorgeous blue and white caught sight of him in time and struck him brutally on the breast with a pike. The momentary scuffle occurred just as Eugenie passed the spot, and his cry of pain caused her to glance up. She recognised Camille instantly. Her eyes widened with terror, and colour and life ebbed from her face, leaving her deathly pale. But her quick frown and the white finger laid on her lips as she feigned to stumble, recalled him to his senses. Swaying drunkenly, with vacant eyes and clownish gestures, he clawed at the soldier whose weapon still pressed him back, and demanded to know who the beautiful woman might be. A shrug of the shoulders was his onlv answer, but a lass from the Royal kitchens turned with a laugh and said: “That is the daughter of the great Monsieur de Launay, and to-day is her official betrothal. Soon she will be the Marquise de Kersaint. That was the Marquis with her.”

(See next Wednesday for conclusion of atory.)