Decapitation by design: the horrifying history of the guillotine

By the end of 1789, Dr Joseph-Ignace Guillotin was speaking as a reformer rather than as an inventor when he stood before the National Assembly and proposed a change that would alter the nature of the death penalty in France.

He called for a method intended to be swift, painless, and uniform that would treat nobles and commoners alike.

His argument rested on the belief that the law should act without discrimination and that no citizen, regardless of birth or wealth, should suffer a cruel death.

At the time, punishments largely remained divided by social class. Noblemen often faced decapitation by sword, and commoners faced hanging, burning, or the breaking wheel. 

On 1 December 1789, the Assembly approved the idea in principle, though Guillotin did not design the machine that later bore his name and reportedly disliked the association, as he had opposed the death penalty altogether.

Instead, the task fell to Dr Antoine Louis, who was Secretary of the Academy of Surgery and who worked alongside the German craftsman Tobias Schmidt, who apparently made harpsichords before this.

Together, they produced a tall wooden frame that was fitted with a weighted blade that typically slid downwards towards its victim.

The first working model had been completed in early 1792 at a cost estimated between 300 and 960 livres and had included a slanted edge rather than a straight one, a change intended to maximise cutting force.

Officials generally praised the design for the consistency and fairness it promised rather than for its engineering features.

For a brief time, the machine was known as the "Louisette" or "Louison," before the public associated it permanently with Guillotin's name. 

On 25 April 1792, the new machine claimed its first victim when Nicolas Jacques Pelletier, who had been convicted of violent robbery, faced the guillotine in the Place de Grève.

Crowds gathered to witness the debut. They had expected a display of punishment, yet they reacted with confusion at the speed and silence of the event.

Some complained about the lack of show, but officials focused instead on the result.

Since the device had worked exactly as intended, they now had a method of execution that offered both reliability and equality. 

Interestingly, earlier examples of similar machines had already existed. In Halifax, a large wooden gallows-like frame had been used to execute criminals by means of a falling blade.

A comparable device in Scotland, known as the Maiden, operated on the same principle.

Still, the French guillotine introduced key refinements, as its angled blade tended to cut more effectively and its heavier frame generally offered increased steadiness.

Its simple design generally meant that officials began to view it as a scientific solution to a political and social problem rather than as a grim necessity. 

At its core, the guillotine used a simple mechanism. A tall frame usually stood about 14 feet high and held two vertical guides along which a heavy blade (approximately 40 kilograms) would fall.

A latch at the top secured the blade until the moment of execution, when the executioner released the cord, the blade dropped and picked up speed as it fell, and struck the neck of the prisoner below.

The entire process typically took only seconds. 

Before execution, the prisoner ascended a short wooden staircase while assistants strapped the victim to a plank, then locked the neck in position with a hinged collar known as the lunette.

Below the blade, a wicker basket caught the severed head, while another container collected the body.

After the blade fell, assistants removed the remains and prepared the device for the next sentence.

During the height of the Terror, the process moved so quickly that the time between executions could sometimes be as short as two minutes. 

As a side note, the most experienced executioner in France was Charles-Henri Sanson.

He was the chief executioner of Paris, and he maintained the guillotine and trained a team of assistants, who typically numbered up to six.

Occasionally, strange stories spread among the public. Some onlookers claimed that severed heads showed signs of movement, while others said they had seen eyes blink or lips twitch after the blade struck.

Reports that doctors called out names or that they observed facial responses added to the rumours.

In 1905, Dr Beaurieux conducted an experiment in which he called out to a freshly severed head and noted eye movements, though the brain's survival for more than a few moments remained unproven.

Because the stories persisted, they likely added to the fear that already surrounded the guillotine. 

Over time, its very design came to mean more than punishment. To many citizens, the guillotine no longer looked like a tool of justice, but became widely regarded as a permanent threat.

Once the machine appeared in a town square, it brought silence and dread and made plain that death could come without warning. 

On 21 January 1793, the French monarchy ended with a single stroke of the blade.

At the Place de la Révolution, which is known today as the Place de la Concorde, King Louis XVI stepped onto the scaffold surrounded by a large crowd.

He attempted to speak, but a drumroll largely drowned his voice. Moments later, the blade fell. The king’s head landed in the basket, and the crowd reacted in a variety of ways: some wept, others cheered, while quite a few remained indifferent. 

Soon after, the Revolution entered its most violent stage, as tensions rose and the government faced both internal and external threats.

Revolutionary tribunals, which were under the influence of the Jacobins and the Committee of Public Safety, sentenced thousands to death.

Trials became shorter since accusations often required little evidence. In many cases, just a rumour or personal association proved fatal. 

On 16 October 1793, Marie Antoinette followed her husband to the scaffold. Her execution drew crowds from every corner of Paris and the newspaper Le Père Duchesne mocked her final appearance, while others described her walk to the guillotine as calm and resigned.

By then, the guillotine had already claimed many nobles, priests, and moderate revolutionaries.

However, it now threatened anyone increasingly seen as an enemy of the Republic, regardless of class or record. 

By mid-1794, the Reign of Terror had reached its peak as Maximilien Robespierre, who had defended the use of terror as a means to preserve the Revolution, largely controlled the government.

He had sent former allies such as Georges Danton, who was executed on 5 April 1794, and Camille Desmoulins to their deaths, while he accused others of conspiracy or corruption.

On 10 June 1794, the Law of 22 Prairial removed the right to a full defence, and each day brought new names to the scaffold.

Ultimately, Paris saw more than 2,600 recorded executions. Across France, the number reached well over 17,000 based upon official tribunal records, although some historians estimate the total, including killings carried out outside the courts, may have reached up to 40,000. 

On 28 July 1794, Robespierre himself faced the guillotine. He had been shot in the jaw the day before and he appeared on the scaffold with his mouth bound in blood-soaked cloth.

Alongside him stood close allies, all condemned without trial. As the blade fell, the crowd watched in silence. His death effectively ended the Terror, and by the end of the week, executions slowed.

After 1794, the guillotine remained in use as France, which was governed first by the Directory and later by Napoleon, who kept the machine as the official method of execution.

Officials no longer viewed it as a revolutionary emblem, but instead, they treated it as a tool of order.

However, punishments moved behind prison walls and executions became less frequent, which meant that also public interest declined. 

By the mid-nineteenth century, the guillotine had become relatively ordinary.

Courts sentenced murderers, robbers, and arsonists to death and the public no longer routinely celebrated the process.

More often than not, people read about it in newspapers but seldom attended in person.

As a result, some viewed it as outdated while others considered it necessary. 

On 17 June 1939, Eugene Weidmann became the last person executed publicly in France.

Authorities carried out the sentence in Versailles where a film crew captured the moment of death.

However, public reaction turned sharply and widely against the spectacle. Officials responded quickly and they banned all executions in front of the public, although they continued behind prison walls. 

Later, on 10 September 1977, Hamida Djandoubi became the final victim of the machine.

Convicted of torture and murder, he died at Baumettes Prison in Marseille. After his death, the machine had largely gone into storage.

In 1981, under President François Mitterrand, France ended the death penalty, which meant that France was among the later nations in Western Europe to end the death penalty. 

For decades, the guillotine had promised what seemed to be fair justice. It usually delivered fast death, but at a heavy cost.

Once raised as a tool of reform, it became a symbol of abuse.