on of Lacenaire and his co-mate
in murder, Avril. But as we came to the ground (a gloomy round space,
within the barrier--three roads lead to it; and, outside, you see
the wine-shops and restaurateurs' of the barrier looking gay and
inviting,)--as we came to the ground, we only found, in the midst of it,
a little pool of ice, just partially tinged with red. Two or three idle
street-boys were dancing and stamping about this pool; and when I asked
one of them whether the execution had taken place, he began dancing more
madly than ever, and shrieked out with a loud fantastical, theatrical
voice, "Venez tous Messieurs et Dames, voyez ici le sang du monstre
Lacenaire, et de son compagnon he traitre Avril," or words to that
effect; and straightway all the other gamins screamed out the words in
chorus, and took hands and danced round the little puddle.

O august Justice, your meal was followed by a pretty appropriate grace!
Was any man, who saw the show, deterred, or frightened, or moralized
in any way? He had gratified his appetite for blood, and this was
all. There is something singularly pleasing, both in the amusement of
execution-seeing, and in the results. You are not only delightfully
excited at the time, but most pleasingly relaxed afterwards; the mind,
which has been wound up painfully until now, becomes quite complacent
and easy. There is something agreeable in the misfortunes of others, as
the philosopher has told us. Remark what a good breakfast you eat after
an execution; how pleasant it is to cut jokes after it, and upon it.
This merry, pleasant mood is brought on by the blood tonic.

But, for God's sake, if we are to enjoy this, let us do so in
moderation; and let us, at least, be sure of a man's guilt before we
murder him. To kill him, even with the full assurance that he is guilty
is hazardous enough. Who gave you the right to do so?--you, who cry out
against suicides, as impious and contrary to Christian law? What use is
there in killing him? You deter no one else from committing the crime
by so doing: you give us, to be sure, half an hour's pleasant
entertainment; but it is a great question whether we derive much moral
profit from the sight. If you want to keep a murderer from farther
inroads upon society, are there not plenty of hulks and prisons, God
wot; treadmills, galleys, and houses of correction? Above all, as in
the case of Sebastian Peytel and his family, there have been two
deaths already; was a t