Lisle, Saturday.

We are just on our departure for Arras, where, I fear, we shall scarcely
arrive before the gates are shut. We have been detained here much beyond
our time, by a circumstance infinitely shocking, though, in fact, not
properly a subject of regret. One of the assassins of General Dillon was
this morning guillotined before the hotel where we are lodged.--I did
not, as you will conclude, see the operation; but the mere circumstance
of knowing the moment it was performed, and being so near it, has much
unhinged me. The man, however, deserved his fate, and such an example
was particularly necessary at this time, when we are without a
government, and the laws are relaxed. The mere privation of life is,
perhaps, more quickly effected by this instrument than by any other
means; but when we recollect that the preparation for, and apprehension
of, death, constitute its greatest terrors; that a human hand must give
motion to the Guillotine as well as to the axe; and that either accustoms
a people, already sanguinary, to the sight of blood, I think little is
gained by the invention. It was imagined by a Mons. Guillotin, a
physician of Paris, and member of the Constituent Assembly. The original
design seems not so much to spare pain to the criminal, as obloquy to the
executioner. I, however, perceive little difference between a man's
directing a Guillotine, or tying a rope; and I believe the people are of
the same opinion. They will never see any thing but a _bourreau_
[executioner] in the man whose province it is to execute the sentence of
the laws, whatever name he may be called by, or whatever instrument he
may make use of.--I have concluded this letter with a very unpleasant
subject, but my pen is guided by circumstances, and I do not invent, but
communicate.--Adieu. Yours, &c.