e Tuileries. This celebrated
instrument of death was invented in Italy by a physician named
Guillotin, and from him received its name. A heavy ax, raised by
machinery between two upright posts, by the touching of a spring fell,
gliding down between two grooves, and severed the head from the body
with the rapidity of lightning. The palace in which Louis had passed the
hours of his infancy, and his childhood, and the days of his early
grandeur; the magnificent gardens of the palace, where he had so often
been greeted with acclamations; the spacious Elysian Fields, the pride
of Paris, were all spread around, as if in mockery of the sacrifice
which was there to be offered. This whole space was crowded with a
countless multitude, clustered upon the house tops, darkening the
windows, swinging upon the trees, to witness the tragic spectacle of the
beheading of their king. Arrangements had been made to have the places
immediately around the scaffold filled by the unrelenting foes of the
monarch, that no emotions of pity might retard the bloody catastrophe.
As the carriage approached the place of execution, the hum of the
mighty multitude was hushed, and a silence, as of death, pervaded the
immense throng.

At last the carriage stopped at the foot of the scaffold. The king
raised his eyes, and said to his confessor, in a low but calm tone, "We
have arrived, I think." By a silent gesture the confessor assented. The
king, ever more mindful of others than of himself, placed his hand upon
the knee of the confessor, and said to the officers and executioners who
were crowded around the coach, "Gentlemen, I recommend to your
protection this gentleman. See that he be not insulted after my death. I
charge you to watch over him." As no one made any reply, the king
repeated the admonition in tones still more earnest. "Yes! yes!"
interrupted one, jeeringly, "make your mind easy about that; we will
take care of him. Let us alone for that." Three of the executioners then
approached the king to undress him. He waved them from him with an
authoritative gesture, and himself took off his coat, his cravat, and
turned down his shirt collar. The executioners then came with cords to
bind him to a plank. "What do you intend to do?" he exclaimed,
indignantly. "We intend to bind you," they replied, as they seized his
hands. To be bound was an unexpected indignity, at which the blood of
the monarch recoiled. "No! no!" he exclaimed, "I will never submit t