The Sun.
London, England, 1863-11-05 00:00:00

SECOND ETATION.

SUN OFFICE, HALF-PAST 4 o'CLocx.

SPORTING INTELLIGE NCE.---This Day,

HEREFORD RACES —Tills DAY.
(BY ELECTRIC TELEC;RAPII.)
TRIAL STAKE;S.

Buckland
pact ton
13ellaciruie
, .............
Five ran.
lIEREFORDSHIRE

Blondin
Lothian's Kin..............................
g
2
Five ran.

Visit of Alexandre Dumas to Sanson, the
French Executioner.

In the Indipendente
of Naples M. xle rad
Dumas has just published, under the title of
Aire
moires de Monsieur de Paris,"
which we subjoin :—" I had read,"a curious recital,
says that writer
4. in many narratives of the death of Louis XVI,
that he refused to ascend the scaffold, that it was
necessary to use force, and that a struggle took
place between him and the executioner's assistants.
The incident seemed to me so contrary to the
cha.
racter of the King that I was anxious to ascertain
the truth, if possible, and, for that purpose, resolved
to apply to Monsieur de Paris, who was the son of
Sanson, who guillotined Louis XVI.; he was oziy
twelve or fourteen years old at the time, and, as
he was present on the scaffold, he must certainly
remember all that took place on that memorable
occasion. But I wanted some excuse for call-
ing on him, which I soon found ; so one
evening I went to Sanson's house to purchase a pot
of the ointment which he sold as a cure for rheumatic
pains, and which, according to popular report, was
wade of human fat. I was introduced to M. Sanson's
business room, and found him engaged in looking
over accounts, and in an adjoining room I heard a
piano played with considerable skill. M. Sanson
rose on my entrance, and having heard what I
wanted, he told his servant to fetch the ointment.
I asked the price, and he replied that it depended
on circumstances, as he gave it gratis to the poor,
and sold it for 10f. to those who could afford to pay
for it. I gave him the money, and was hesitating
how to introduce the subject which was the real
cause of my visit, when Sanson, perceiving that I
you
ureto ttoakesa_av,
seraetrmarkleiod :w—hic'hl
had something
hardly dare ask
I replied that I would willingly do so, and at
once sat down, and said, M. Sanson, I see that
you suspect the pot of ointment to be only apre-
text, and that you wish me to explain
what more I
have to say.' You want to ask me something, I
suppose, sir. If so, speak ; for the happiest days of
my life arc those in which men of the world do me
the honour to converse with me.' I then told him
who I was, and, after an exclamation of surprise, he
eagerly requested to know what he could do to
oblige me. You can clear up,' 1 said, an histori-
cal doubt. You were present at the execution of
Louis XVI. ?" I was.' And you remember it
perfectly ?" I do.' Well, sir, some historians say
that, at the foot of the scaffold, Louis XVI. shrank
from death; that he struggled with the executioners,
and was in a manner lifted on to the scaffold. For
my part, I do not believe the statement, as it was
contrary to his character and temperament.'
There is, nevertheless, some truth in it ;' re-
plied the other, as Louis XVI. did struggle
violently for a moment with my father's assistants,
and for the reason lam about to explain. You are
aware that Louis XVI. was conveyed to the place
of execution in his own carriage, and without being
pinioned. Before he ascended the steps the execu-
tioner's assistants, fearing he might struggle at the
last moment, wished to bind his hands with a cord;
but this indignity roused all the pride still remain-
ing in the unhappy monarch, and he resisted, cx-
claiming " No, no, I will never submit to that The
men were about to use force, when my father stepped
forward, and taking from his pocket a handkerchief,
said in a tremulous voice and with tearful eyes,
" With this handkerchief, Sire?" Louis XVI. had
not heard himself called Siro for six months before.
He looked at my father, saw his tears, and at once
held out his hands, which my father tied with
the handkerchief. The rest passed as re-
lated by the historians.' Having obtained

Sanson's permission to ask a few other questions, I
requested to know whether it was true that the
office he held was hereditary and obligatory in his

family. 'No, sir,' he replied, ' but in the absence
of a positive law, there is the law of proprieties.
What profession but his father's can the son of an
executioner follow ? I await your other questions.'

My next inquiry was whether it was true that he
could not have a carriage, except on condition that
his name should be inscribed on the doors. ' There
is no obligation,' replied he; `but such is the cus-
tom. Should you like to see how we elude it in
practice ?' Having answered in the affirmative, he
said that he would take me down to see the car-
riage, and accordingly ordered the servant to
bring a lantern. While the man was gone,
Sanson said that his daughter would never
forgive him if he allowed me to leave
without her seeing me, and was about to fetch
her when I remarked that I would rather go to
her in the drawing-room. He seemed pleased with
my proposal, and we went there. On entering the
room we found her seated at the piano. She was
a fair girl of about 19, with blue eyes, and a rather
melancholy expression of countenance. My dear,'
said Sanson, here is a gentleman whom you think
much of ; knowing all your admiration for him, 1
could not let him leave without doing you. the
honour to embrace him.' She looked embarrassed
and blushed quite red. ' First of all, father,' said
she with some confusion, I wish to know the gen.;
tleman's name.' He replied, I
You shall know
afterwards, for I told you first, it is you thatl
would embrace him.' Oh! father !' she exclaimed
in a tone of reproach. I then embraced her,
at
anlirer
after Which she looked inquiringly
father, who said, Well, he is AL Aleaxnd °
chair'
.ra well,
Dumas.' She then dropped on a
looking at me as if amazed. 'Loolc I
melancholy accent
girl,' said the father with that
lisprobal- the
which was habitual to him, ' for 'or behold him !)
on me that
first and the last time you will
ever
This little scene made such
we went down to the
novel of La Reine Alarg°t.two or three Carriages.
fifteen years later I attempta,:d
coach-house, in which weredso
meat, and showed me
Sanson took me to the har!it itr:Preproduce it in the
under it as a motto
and
pdresented a broken bell
sou, being a pan on the
were the two words Having
argent
eenstcuotcaheaonreocin tghresodiNnosdr,
learned all I wished to know,
family sat"' Ha -hanks to M. Sanson, and took
ImF
I now expressed t

leave.'