To U. S. crooks the electric chair is the “Hot Squat.” To French crooks the guillotine is “The Widow.” Last week the Widow raised her black arms outside the Prison de la Sante in Paris. A morbid crowd of night club habitues in evening dress, messenger boys, street sweepers, workmen and tramps gathered in the grey morning light to see what is said to be the first guillotining of a French aristocrat since the Revolution.
Georges Gauchet, 25, well brought up son of a millionaire, squandered a fortune on Montmartre, became a dope addict, was cut off by his family. Impoverished, he broke into a jeweler’s store on the fashionable Avenue Mozart, killed the jeweler with a hammer and a revolver.
“I deserve to die,” said he. He refused to apply for executive clemency.
By an old and grim law of the French Republic, the guillotine must be set up in a public place to discourage wrongdoers. Modern French police do everything in their power to make it difficult for the morbid to see an execution. Last week strong police cordons blocked off the street 200 yards on either side of the Widow. Gaping butchers’ boys peered over policemen’s shoulders to see the tiny figure descend from a horse-drawn van. refuse the traditional cigar and glass of rum. There was a huddle round the base of the guillotine, then the knife crashed down as a church bell struck seven.
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