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Contents
Preface xix
vii
Flowcharts 58
Types of Flowcharts 58
Program Flowcharts 63
Business Process Diagrams 63
Summary and Case Conclusion 65 ■ Key Terms 66
AIS IN ACTION: Chapter Quiz 66 ■ Comprehensive Problem 67 ■ Discussion Questions 67 ■
Problems 68
CASE 3-1 Dub 5 75
AIS IN ACTION SOLUTIONS: Quiz Key 76 ■ Comprehensive Problem Solution 78
CHAPTER 5 Fraud 126
Introduction 127
AIS Threats 128
Introduction to Fraud 130
Misappropriation of Assets 131
Fraudulent Financial Reporting 132
SAS No. 99 (AU-C Section 240): The Auditor’s Responsibility to Detect Fraud 133
Who Perpetrates Fraud and Why 133
The Fraud Triangle 134
Computer Fraud 138
The Rise in Computer Fraud 138
Computer Fraud Classifications 140
Preventing and Detecting Fraud and Abuse 142
Summary and Case Conclusion 143 ■ Key Terms 144
AIS IN ACTION: Chapter Quiz 144 ■ Discussion Questions 145 ■ Problems 146
CASE 5-1 David L. Miller: Portrait of a White-Collar Criminal 150
CASE 5-2 Heirloom Photo Plans 152
AIS IN ACTION SOLUTIONS: Quiz Key 153
Privacy 274
Privacy Controls 274
Privacy Concerns 275
Privacy Regulations and Generally Accepted Privacy Principles 277
Encryption 278
Factors That Influence Encryption Strength 279
Types of Encryption Systems 280
Hashing 282
Digital Signatures 282
Digital Certificates and Public Key Infrastructure 284
Virtual Private Networks (VPNS) 285
Summary and Case Conclusion 285 ■ Key Terms 286
AIS IN ACTION: Chapter Quiz 286 ■ Discussion Questions 288 ■ Problems 288
CASE 9-1 Protecting Privacy of Tax Returns 292
CASE 9-2 Generally Accepted Privacy Principles 293
AIS IN ACTION SOLUTIONS: Quiz Key 293
Feasibility Study 633
Information Needs and Systems Requirements 633
Systems Analysis Report 635
Summary and Case Conclusion 636 ■ Key Terms 637
AIS IN ACTION: Chapter Quiz 638 ■ Comprehensive Problem 639 ■
Discussion Questions 639 ■ Problems 640
CASE 20-1 Audio Visual Corporation 648
AIS IN ACTION SOLUTIONS: Quiz Key 649 ■ Comprehensive Problem Solution 652
Glossary 708
Index 729
To the Instructor
This book is intended for use in a one-semester course in accounting information systems at
either the undergraduate or graduate level. Introductory financial and managerial accounting
courses are suggested prerequisites, and an introductory information systems course that cov-
ers a computer language or software package is helpful, but not necessary.
The book can also be used as the main text in graduate or advanced undergraduate man-
agement information systems courses.
The topics covered in this text provide information systems students with a solid under-
standing of transaction processing systems that they can then build on as they pursue more in-
depth study of specific topics such as databases, data warehouses and data mining, networks,
systems analysis and design, cloud computing, virtualization, computer security, and informa-
tion system controls.
In addition, you may choose an alternate version of the REA material presented in
Chapters 17–19 that uses the Batini style notation instead of the crows feet notation featured in
this book.
To explore how to create a customized version of the book you can contact your Pearson
representative.
SUPPLEMENTAL RESOURCES
As with prior editions, our objective in preparing this fourteenth edition has been to simplify
the teaching of AIS by enabling you to concentrate on classroom presentation and discussion,
rather than on locating, assembling, and distributing teaching materials. To assist you in this
process, the following supplementary materials are available to adopters of the text:
●● Solutions Manual prepared by Marshall Romney at Brigham Young University and Paul
John Steinbart at Arizona State University
●● Instructors Manual prepared by Robyn Raschke at University of Nevada–Las Vegas
●● Test Item File prepared by Lawrence Chui at University of St. Thomas
●● TestGen testing software, a computerized test item file
●● PowerPoint Presentation slides developed by Robyn Raschke at University of Nevada–
Las Vegas
The fourteenth edition includes an entirely new set of PowerPoint slides that make exten-
sive use of high-quality graphics to illustrate key concepts. The slides do not merely consist
of bullet points taken verbatim from the text, but instead are designed to help students notice
and understand important relationships among concepts. The large number of slides provides
instructors a great deal of flexibility in choosing which topics they wish to emphasize in class.
In addition, you can access all these supplements from the protected instructor area of
www.pearsonhighered.com.
We recognize that you may also wish to use specific software packages when teaching
the AIS course. Contact your Pearson representative to learn about options for bundling this
text (or a customized version) with software packages or other texts such as Computerized
Practice Set for Comprehensive Assurance & System Tool (CAST); Manual Practice Set for
Comprehensive Assurance and Systems Tool (CAST); Comprehensive Assurance & System
Tools (CAST): An Integrated Practice Set; or Assurance Practice Set for Comprehensive As-
surance & System Tool (CAST), all written by Laura R. Ingraham and J. Gregory Jenkins, both
at North Carolina State University.
REVEL™
Educational Technology Designed for the Way Today’s Students Read, Think, and Learn
When students are engaged deeply, they learn more effectively and perform better in their
courses. This simple fact inspired the creation of REVEL: an interactive learning environment
designed for the way today’s students read, think, and learn.
REVEL enlivens course content with media interactives and assessments—integrated di-
rectly within the authors’ narrative—that provide opportunities for students to read, practice, and
study in one continuous experience. This immersive educational technology replaces the text-
book and is designed to measurably boost students’ understanding, retention, and preparedness.
Learn more about REVEL http://www.pearsonhighered.com/revel/
To the Student
As did previous editions, the fourteenth edition of Accounting Information Systems is designed
to prepare you for a successful accounting career whether you enter public practice, industry,
or government. All of you will be users of accounting information systems. In addition to being
users, some of you will become managers. Others will become internal and external auditors,
and some of you will become consultants. Regardless of your role, you will need to understand
how accounting information systems work in order to effectively measure how cost-effectively
MY HISTORY.
[Note. The pages which immediately followed this have not been found.
Perhaps, as the next chapter seems to indicate, the Condemned had not time to write
his history, as it was so late when he thought of it.]
FORTY-FIFTH PAPER.
From a Chamber of the Town Hall.
The Town Hall. Yes, I am here; the execrable journey is over. The place of
execution is before me, and beneath the window, a horrible throng, laughing and
yelling, while they await my appearance. My efforts at composure were vain: when
above the heads of the crowd I saw the frightful scaffold, my heart failed. I expressed
a wish to make my last declaration; so they brought me in here, and have sent for
some law-officer to receive it. I am now waiting for him; so there is thus much
gained. Here is what occurred, on my removal from the Conciergerie.
At three o’clock they came to tell me it was time. I trembled as if I had thought of
any thing else during the last six hours, six weeks, six months. It produced on me the
effect of something quite unexpected. They made me cross corridors, and descend
stairs, they pushed me through a low door into a sombre room, narrow, arched, and
scarcely lighted by a day of rain and fog. A chair was in the centre, on which I seated
myself at their desire. Some persons were standing near the door; and beside the
Priest and gendarmes, there were three men. The first of these, the tallest and oldest,
was stout, with a red countenance. This was HE.
This was the Executioner,—the servant of the Guillotine; the others were his own
servants. When I was seated, these walked quietly behind me; then suddenly I felt the
cold of steel in my hair, and heard the grating action of scissors. My hair, cut
carelessly, fell in heavy locks on my shoulders, and the executioner removed them
gently with his coarse hand.
The parties in the room spoke in subdued tones. There was a heavy dull sound
from without, which I fancied at first was caused by the river; but a shout of laughter
soon proved to me it came from the crowd.
A young man near the window, who was writing with a pencil, in his pocket-
book, asked one of the turnkeys, what was the name of the present operation? He
was answered “The Toilet of the Condemned.” From this I gathered that he was
preparing the Report for to-morrow’s newspaper. One of the servants then removed
my waistcoat, and the other one taking my hands, placed them behind me, and I felt
the knots of a cord rolled slowly round my wrists; at the same time the other took off
my cravat. My linen,—the only remains of former times,—being of the finest quality,
caused him a sort of hesitation for a moment; but at length he began to cut off the
collar.
At this dreadful precaution, and the sensation of the steel touching my neck, a
tremor passed over me, and a stifled groan escaped; the man’s hand trembled.
“Sir,” said he, “I beg your pardon; I fear I’ve hurt you.”
The people shouted louder in the street. The tall red-faced man offered a
handkerchief, steeped in vinegar, for me to inhale.
“Thank you,” said I to him, in the firmest tone I could summon, “it is needless; I
am recovered.”
Then one of the men stooped down and fastened a small cord to my ankles, which
restricted my steps; and this was again tied to the cord around my wrists; finally, the
tall man threw my jacket over my shoulders, and tied the sleeves in front. All was
now completed.
Then the Priest drew near with his Crucifix.
“Come, my son,” said he.
The men raised me by my arms; and I walked, but my steps were weak and
tottering. At this moment the folding doors were thrown open. A furious clamour, a
chill breeze, and a strong white light reached me in the shade. From the extreme of
the dark chamber I saw through the rain a thousand yelling heads of the expectant
mass. On the right of the doorway, a range of mounted gendarmes; in front, a
detachment of soldiers; on the left, the back of the cart, with a ladder. A hideous
picture, with the appropriate frame of a prison-door.
It was for this dread moment that I had reserved my courage. I advanced a few
steps, and appeared on the threshold.
“There he is! there he is!” bellowed the crowd. “He’s come out at last!” and the
nearest to me clapped their hands. Much as a king might be loved, there could not be
more greeting for him.
The tall man first ascended the cart.
“Good morning, Mr. Sampson!” cried the children hanging by the lamp-posts.
One of his servants next followed. “Bravo, Tuesday!” cried out the children, as the
two placed themselves on the front seat.
It was now my turn, and I mounted with a firm step.
“He goes well to it!” said a woman beside the gendarmes.
This atrocious commendation gave me courage. The Priest took his seat beside
me. They had placed me on the hindmost seat, my back towards the horse. I
shuddered at this last attention. There is a mixture of humanity in it.
I wished to look around me,—gendarmes before and behind: then crowd! crowd!
crowd! A sea of heads in the street. The officer gave the word, and the procession
moved on, as if pushed forward by a yell from the populace.
“Hats off! hats off!” cried a thousand voices together, as if for the King. Then I
laughed horribly also myself, and said to the Priest, “Their hats—my head.”
We passed a street which was full of public-houses, in which the windows were
filled with spectators, seeming to enjoy their good places, particularly the women.
There were also people letting out tables, chairs, and carts; and these dealers in
human life shouted out, “Who wishes for places?”
A strange rage seized me against these wretches, and I longed to shout out to
them, “Do you wish for mine?”
The procession still advanced. At each step the crowd in the rear dispersed; and I
saw, with my wandering eyes, that they collected again farther on, to have another
view. I know not how it was, that, notwithstanding the fog and the small white rain
which crossed the air like gossamer, nothing which passed around escaped me; every
detail brought its torture: words fail to convey my emotions. My great dread was lest
I should faint. Last vanity! Then I endeavoured to confuse myself into being blind
and deaf to all, except to the Priest, whose words I scarcely heard amidst the tumult.
I took the Crucifix and kissed it.
“Have mercy on me,” said I. “O my God!”
And I strove to engross myself with this thought.
But every shake of the cart disturbed me; and then I became excessively chilled,
as the rain had penetrated my clothes, and my head was bare.
“Are you trembling with cold, my son?” demanded the Priest.
“Yes,” answered I. “Alas! not only from cold.”
At the turn to the Bridge, the women expressed pity at my being so young. We
approached the fatal Quay. My hearing and sight seemed about to fail me. All those
voices, all those heads at the windows, at doors, at shop fronts, on lamp-posts; these
thirsting and cruel spectators; this crowd where all knew me, and I knew none; this
road paved and walled with human visages,—I was confounded, stupefied, senseless.
There is something insupportable in the weight of so many looks being fixed upon
one. I could scarcely maintain my place on the seat, and lent no further attention to
the Priest. In the tumult which surrounded me, I no longer distinguished
exclamations of pity from those of satisfaction, or the sounds of laughter from those
of complaint. All formed together a noise in my ears like sounding brass.
My eyes read mechanically the signs over the shops.
Once I felt a painful curiosity to look round on that which we were approaching.
It was the last mental bravado, and the body would not aid it; for my neck
remained paralyzed, and I could not turn it.
And the cart went on, on. The shops passed away; the signs succeeded each other,
—written, painted, gilt; and the populace laughed while they tramped through the
mud; and I yielded my mind, as persons do in sleeping. Suddenly this series of shops
ended as we turned into the square; the voice of the mob became still more loud,
yelling, and joyous; the cart stopped suddenly, and I had nearly fallen on my face.
The Priest held me up.
“Courage!” murmured he.
They next brought a ladder to the back of the cart. I leaned on the arm of the
Priest and descended. I made one step, and turned round to advance another, but I
had not the power; beyond the lamp I saw something startling....
Oh, it was the Reality!
I stopped as if staggered by a blow.
“I have a last declaration to make,” cried I, feebly.
And then they brought me up here.
I asked them to let me write my last wishes; and they unbound my hands; but the
cord is here, ready to be replaced.
FORTY-SIXTH PAPER.
FOUR O’CLOCK.
PREFACE
OF
M. VICTOR HUGO,
I N the earlier editions of this work, published at first without the name of the
author, the following lines formed the sole introduction to the subject:—
“There are two ways of accounting for the existence of the ensuing work. Either there really has
been found a roll of papers on which were inscribed, exactly as they came, the last thoughts of a
condemned prisoner; or else there has been an author, a dreamer, occupied in observing nature for the
advantage of society, who, having been seized with those forcible ideas, could not rest until he had
given them the tangible form of a volume.”
At the time when this book was first published, I did not deem fit to give
publicity to the full extent of my thoughts; I preferred waiting to see whether the
work would be fully understood, and I find such has been its fate.
I may now, therefore, unmask the political and social ideas which I wished to
render popular under this harmless literary guise. I avow openly, that “The Last Day
of a Condemned” is only a pleading, direct or indirect, for the abolition of
punishment by death. My design herein (and what I would wish posterity to see in
my work, if its attention should ever be given to so slight a production) is, not to
make out the special defence of any particular criminal, such defence being
transitory as it is easy: I would plead generally and permanently for all accused
persons, present and future; it is the great point of Human Right stated and pleaded
before society at large,—that highest judicial court; it is the sombre and fatal
question which breathes obscurely in the depths of each capital offence, under the
triple envelopes of pathos in which legal eloquence wraps them; it is the question of
life and death, I say, laid bare, denuded of the sonorous twistings of the bar, revealed
in daylight, and placed where it should be seen, in its true and hideous position,—not
in the law courts, but on the scaffold,—not among the judges, but with the
Executioner!
This is what I have desired to effect. If futurity should award me the glory of
having succeeded,—which I dare not hope,—I desire no other crown.
I proclaim and repeat it, then, in the name of all accused persons, innocent or
guilty, before all courts, juries, or judges. And in order that my pleading should be as
universal as my cause, I have been careful, while writing “The Last Day of a
Condemned,” to omit any thing of a special, individual, contingent, relative, or
modifiable nature, as also any episode, anecdote, known event, or real name,—
keeping to the limit (if “limit” it may be termed!) of pleading the cause of any
condemned prisoner whatever, executed at any time, for any offence; happy if, with
no other aid than my thoughts, I have mined sufficiently into my subject to make a
heart bleed, under the æs triplex of a magistrate! happy if I could render merciful
those who consider themselves just! happy if I penetrate sufficiently deep within the
Judge to reach the man.
When this book first appeared, some people thought it was worth while to dispute
the authorship. Some asserted that it was taken from an English work, and others that
it was borrowed from an American author. What a singular mania there is for seeking
the origin of matters at a great distance,—trying to trace from the source of the Nile
the streamlet which flows through our village! In this work there is no English,
American, or Chinese assistance. I formed the idea of “The Last Day of a
Condemned” where you all might form it,—where perhaps you may all have formed
it (for who is there that has not reflected and had reveries of “the last day of a
condemned”?)—there, on the public walk, the place of execution!
It was there, while passing casually during an execution, that this forcible idea
occurred to me; and, since then, after those funereal Thursdays of the Court of
Cassation, which send forth through Paris the intelligence of an approaching
execution, the hoarse voices of the assembling spectators, as they hurried past my
windows, filled my mind with the prolonged misery of the person about to suffer,
which I pictured to myself, from hour to hour, according to what I conceived was its
actual progress. It was a torture which commenced from daybreak, and lasted, like
that of the miserable being who was tortured at the same moment, until four o’clock.
Then only, when once the ponens caput expiravit was announced by the heavy toll of
the clock, I breathed again freely, and regained comparative peace of mind. One day
at length—I think it was after the execution of Ulbach—I commenced writing this
work; and since then I have felt relieved. When one of those public crimes called
legal executions is committed, my conscience now acquits me of participation
therein. This, however, is not sufficient; it is well to be freed from self-accusation,
but it would be still better to endeavour to save human life. I do not know any aim
more elevated, more holy, than that of seeking the abolition of capital punishment;
with sincere devotion I join the wishes and efforts of those philanthropic men of all
nations who have laboured, of late years, to throw down the patibulary tree,—the
only tree which revolution fails to uproot! It is with pleasure that I take my turn to
give my feeble stroke, after the all-powerful blow which, seventy years ago, Beccaria
gave to the ancient gibbet, which had been standing during so many centuries of
Christianity.
I have just said that the scaffold is the only edifice which revolutions do not
demolish. It is rare indeed that revolutions are temperate in spilling blood; and
although they are sent to prune, to lop, to reform society, the punishment of death is a
branch which they have never removed! I own, however, if any revolution ever
appeared to me capable and worthy of abolishing capital punishment, it was the
Revolution of July, 1830. It seemed, indeed, as if it belonged to the merciful popular
rising of modern times to erase the barbarous enactments of Louis the Eleventh, of
Richelieu, and of Robespierre, and to inscribe at the head of the code, “the
inviolability of human life!” 1830 was worthy of breaking the axe of 1793.
At one time we really hoped for it. In August, 1830, there seemed so much
generosity afloat, such a spirit of gentleness and civilization in the multitude, that we
almost fancied the punishment of death was abolished, by a tacit and unanimous
consent, with the rest of the evils which had oppressed us. For some weeks confiding
and credulous, we had faith in the inviolability of life, for the future, as in the
inviolability of liberty.
In effect, two months had scarcely passed, when an attempt was made to resolve
into a legal reality the sublime Utopia of Cæsar Bonesana. Unfortunately, this
attempt was awkward, imperfect, almost hypocritical, and made in a different spirit
from the general interest.
It was in the month of October, 1830, as may be remembered, that the question of
capital punishment was brought before the Chamber of Deputies, and discussed with
much talent, energy, and apparent feeling. During two days there was a continued
succession of impressive eloquence on this momentous subject; and what was the
subject?—to abolish the punishment of death? Yes and No! Here is the truth.
Four “gentlemen,”—four persons well known in society,[7]—had attempted in the
higher range of politics one of those daring strokes which Bacon calls crimes, and
which Machiavel calls enterprises. Well! crime or enterprise,—the law, brutal for all,
would punish it by death; and the four unfortunates were prisoners, legal captives
guarded by three hundred tri-coloured cockades at Vincennes. What was now to be
done? You understand the impossibility of sending to the place of execution, in a
common cart, ignobly bound with coarse ropes, seated back to back with that
functionary who must not be named,—four men of our own rank,—four
“gentlemen”!
If there were even a mahogany Guillotine!
Well, to settle the matter, they need only abolish the punishment of death; and
thereupon the Chamber set to work!
Only yesterday they had treated this abolition as Utopian,—as a theory, a dream,
a poetic folly. This was not the first time that an endeavour had been made to draw
their attention to the cart, the coarse ropes, and the fatal machine. How strange it is
that these hideous details acquired such sudden force in their minds!
Alas! it was not on account of the general good that they sought to abolish capital
punishment, but for their own sakes,—as Deputies, who might become Ministers.
And thus an alloy of egotism alters and destroys the fairest social combinations. It is
the dark vein in statuary marble, which, crossing everywhere, comes forth at each
moment unexpectedly under the chisel!
It is surely unnecessary for me to declare that I was not among those who desired
the death of the Ministers. When once they were imprisoned, the indignant anger I
had felt at their attempt changed with me, as with every one else, into profound pity.
I reflected on the prejudices of education of some among them; on the ill-developed
head of their chief (fanatic and obstinate relapse of the conspiracies of 1804),
whitened before its time, in the damp cells of state prisons; on the fatal necessity of
their common position; on the impossibility of their placing a drag on that rapid
slope down which monarchy rushed blindly on the 8th of August, 1829; on the
influence of personal intercourse with Royalty over them, which I had hitherto
under-rated: and finally I reflected, above all, on the dignity which one among them
spread, like a purple mantle, over their misfortunes! I was among those who
sincerely wished their lives saved, and would have readily lent my aid to that effect.
If a scaffold had been raised for them in Paris, I feel quite certain (and if it be an
illusion, I would preserve it) that there would have been an insurrection to pull it
down; and I should have been one of the rioters.
Here I must add that, in each social crisis, of all scaffolds, the political one is the
most abominable, the most fatal, the most mischievous, the most necessary to
extirpate.
In revolutionary times, beware of the first execution. It excites the sanguinary
passions of the mob.
I therefore agreed thoroughly with those who wished to spare the four Ministers,
both as a matter of feeling and of political reasoning. But I should have liked better
that the Chamber had chosen another occasion for proposing the abolition of capital
punishment. If they had suggested this desirable change not with reference to those
four Ministers, fallen from a Palace to a Prison, but in the instance of the first
highwayman,—in the case of one of those wretches to whom you neither give word
nor look, and from whom you shrink as they pass: miserable beings, who, during
their ragged infancy, ran barefoot in the mud of the crossings; shivering in winter
near the quays, or seeking to warm themselves outside the ventilator from the
kitchens of the hotels where you dine; scratching out, here and there, a crust of bread
from the heaps of filth, and wiping it before eating; scraping in the gutter all day,
with a rusty nail, in the hopes of finding a farthing; having no other amusement than
the gratuitous sight of the King’s fête, and the public executions,—that other
gratuitous sight,—poor devils! whom hunger forces on theft, and theft to all the rest;
children disinherited by their step-mother, the world; who are adopted by the House
of Correction in their twelfth year,—by the Galleys at eighteen,—and by the
Guillotine at forty! unfortunate beings whom, by means of a school and a workshop,
you might have rendered good, moral, useful; and with whom you now know not
what to do,—flinging them away like a useless burthen, sometimes into the red ant-
heaps of Toulon, sometimes into the silent cemetery of Clamart; cutting off life after
taking away liberty.
If it had been in the instance of one of these outcasts that you had proposed to
abolish the punishment of death, oh, then your councils would have indeed been
noble, great, holy, majestic! It has ever belonged to those who are truly great and
truly powerful, to protect the lowly and weak. How grand would be a Council of
Bramins advocating the cause of the Paria! And with us the cause of the Paria is the
cause of the people. In abolishing the penalty of death for sake of the people, and
without waiting until you were personally interested in the question, you would have
done more than a political work,—you would have conferred a social benefit.
Instead of this, you have not yet even completed a political act, while seeking to
abolish it not for the abolition’s sake, but to save four unfortunate Ministers detected
in political delinquency. What has happened? As you were not sincere, the people
were distrustful; when they suspected the cause of your change, they became angry
at the question altogether, and, strange to say, they declared in favour of that condign
punishment, the weight of which presses entirely on themselves.
Immediately after the famous discussion in the Chamber, orders were given to
respite, indefinitely, all executions. This was apparently a great step gained; the
opponents of punishment by death were rendered happy; but the illusion was of short
duration. The lives of the Ministers were spared, and the fortress of Ham was
selected as a medium, between death and liberty. These different arrangements once
completed, all fear was banished from the minds of the ruling statesmen; and along
with fear humanity was also banished. There was no farther question of abolishing
capital punishment; and, when they no longer wished to prove to the contrary, Utopia
became again Utopia!
There were yet in the prisons some unfortunate condemned wretches, who,
having been allowed during five or six months to walk about the prison-yards and
breathe the fresh air, felt tranquil for the future, sure of life, mistaking their reprieve
for pardon.
There had indeed been a reprieve of six months for these hapless captives, whose
sufferings were thus gratuitously aggravated, by making them cling again to life:
then, without reason, without necessity, without well knowing why, the respites were
all revoked, and all these human beings were launched into eternity.
Let me add, that never were executions accompanied by more atrocious
circumstances than since that revocation of the reprieve of July. Never have the
“anecdotes” been more revolting, or more effectual to prove the execration of capital
punishment. I will cite here two or three examples of the horrors which have
attended recent executions. I must shock the nerves of the wives of king’s counsel. A
wife is sometimes a conscience!
In the South, towards the close of last September, the following circumstance
occurred: I think it was at Pamiers. The officers went to a man in prison, whom they
found quietly playing at cards, and gave him notice that he was to die in two hours.
The wretched creature was horror-struck; for during the six months he had been
forgotten, he had no longer thought on death; he was confessed, bound, his hair cut
off, he was placed in the fatal cart, and taken to the place of execution. The
Executioner took him from the Priest; laid him down and bound him on the
Guillotine, and then let loose the axe. The heavy triangle of iron slowly detached
itself, falling by jerks down the slides, until, horrible to relate, it wounded the man,
without killing him! The poor creature uttered a frightful cry. The disconcerted
Executioner hauled up the axe, and let it slide down again. A second time, the neck
of the malefactor was wounded, without being severed. Again he shrieked, the crowd
joining him. The Executioner raised the axe a third time, but no better effect attended
the third stroke. Let me abridge these fearful details. Five times the axe was raised
and let fall, and after the fifth stroke, the condemned was still shrieking for mercy.
The indignant populace commenced throwing missiles at the Executioner, who hid
himself beneath the Guillotine, and crept away behind the gendarmes’ horses: but I
have not yet finished. The hapless culprit, seeing he was left alone on the scaffold,
raised himself on the plank, and there standing, frightful, streaming with blood, he
demanded with feeble cries that some one would unbind him! The populace, full of
pity, were on the point of forcing the gendarmes to help the hapless wretch, who had
five times undergone his sentence. At this moment the servant of the Executioner, a
youth under twenty, mounted on the scaffold, told the sufferer to turn round, that he
might unbind him: then taking advantage of the posture of the dying man, who had
yielded himself without any mistrust, sprang on him, and slowly cut through the neck
with a knife! All this happened; all this was seen.
According to law, a judge was obliged to be present at this execution; by a sign he
could have stopped all. Why was he leaning back in his carriage then, this man,
while they massacred another man? What was he doing, this punisher of assassins,
while they thus assassinated, in open day, his fellow-creature? And the Judge was not
tried for this; nor the Executioner was not tried for it; and no tribunal inquired into
this monstrous violation of all law on one of God’s creatures.
In the seventeenth century, that epoch of barbarity in the criminal code, under
Richelieu, under Christophe Fouquet, Monsieur de Chalais was put to death at
Nantes by an awkward soldier, who, instead of a sword-stroke, gave him thirty-four
strokes of a cooper’s adze.[8] But at least it was considered execrable by the
parliament of Paris, there was an inquest and a trial; and, although Richelieu and
Fouquet did not suffer, the soldier was punished,—an injustice doubtless, but in
which there was some show of justice.
In the modern instance, nothing was done. The fact took place after July, in times
of civilization and march of intellect, a year after the celebrated lamentation of the
Chamber on the penalty of death. The circumstance attracted no attention; the Paris
papers published it as an anecdote, and no one cared about it. It was only known that
the Guillotine had been put out of order by a dismissed servant of the Executioner,
who, to revenge himself, had taken this method of action.
Another instance. At Dijon, only three months ago, they brought to the scaffold a
woman (a woman!). This time again the axe of the Guillotine failed of its effect, and
the head was not quite detached. Then the Executioner’s servants pulled the feet of
the woman; and, amidst the yells of the populace, thus finished the law!
At Paris, we have come back to the time of secret executions; since July they no
longer dare to decapitate in the town, for they are afraid. Here is what they do. They
took lately from the Bicêtre prison a man, under sentence of death, named
Desandrieux, I think; they put him into a sort of panier on two wheels, closed on
every side, bolted and padlocked; then with a gendarme in front, and another at the
back, without noise or crowd, they proceeded to the deserted barrier of St. James. It
was eight in the morning when they arrived, with but little light. There was a newly
erected Guillotine, and for spectators, some dozens of little boys, grouped on the
heaps of stones around the unexpected machine. Quickly they withdrew the man
from the basket; and without giving him time to breathe, they furtively, secretly,
shamefully deprived him of life! And that is called a public and solemn act of high
justice! Infamous derision! How then do the lawgivers understand the word
civilization? To what point have we attained? Justice reduced to stratagems and
frauds! The law reduced to expedient! Monstrous! A man condemned to death, it
would seem, was greatly to be feared, since they put an end to him in this traitorous
fashion!
Let us be just, however; the execution was not quite secret. In the morning people
hawked and sold, as usual, the sentence of death through the streets. It appears there
are people who live by such sales. The crime of a hapless fellow-creature, its
punishment, his torture, his agony, forms their stock in trade—a paper that they sell
for a penny. Can one conceive anything more hideous than this coin, verdigrised in
blood?
Here are enough of facts; here are too many. Is not all this horrible? What can be
alleged in favour of punishment by death?
I put this question seriously. I ask it that it may be answered; I ask it of
Legislators, and not of literary gossips. I know there are people who take “the
excellence of punishment by death” for a text of paradoxes, like any other theme;
there are others who only advocate capital punishment because they hate so-and-so
who attack it. It is for them almost a literary question, a question of persons, and
proper names; these are the envious, who do not find more fault with good lawyers
than with good artists. The Joseph Grippas are no more wanting to the Filangieri than
the Torregiani to the Michael Angelos, and the Scuderies to the Corneilles.
It is not to these that I address myself, but to men of law, properly so called,—to
logicians, to reasoners; to those who love the penalty of death for its beauty, its
goodness, its grace!
Let them give their reasons.
Those who judge and condemn say that “punishment by death is necessary,—
first, because it is requisite to remove from the social community a member which
has already injured it, and might injure it again.”
If this be all, perpetual imprisonment would suffice. What is the use of inflicting
death? You argue that a prisoner may escape from gaol,—keep watch more strictly!
If you do not believe in the solidity of iron bars, how do you venture to have
menageries? Let there be no executioner where the jailer can be sufficient.
They continue, “But society must avenge itself, society must punish.”
Neither one nor the other; vengeance is an individual act, and punishment belongs
to God. Society is between the two; punishment is above its power, retaliation
beneath it. Society should not punish, to avenge itself; it should correct, to ameliorate
others!
Their third and last reason remains, the theory of example. “We must make
examples. By the sight of the fate inflicted on criminals, we must shock those who
might otherwise be tempted to imitate them!”
Well, in the first place, I deny the power of the example. I deny that the sight of
executions produces the desired effect. Far from edifying the common people, it
demoralizes and ruins their feeling, injuring every virtue; proofs of this abound and
would encumber my argument if I chose to cite them. I will allude to only one fact,
amongst a thousand, because it is of recent occurrence. It happened only ten days
back from the present moment when I am writing; namely, on the 5th of March, the
last day of the Carnival. At St. Pol, immediately after the execution of an incendiary
named Louis Camus, a group of Masqueraders came and danced round the still
reeking scaffold!
Make, then, your fine examples! Shrove Tuesday will turn them into jest!
If, notwithstanding all experience, you still hold to the theory of example, then
give us back the Sixteenth Century; be in reality formidable. Restore to us a variety
of suffering; restore us Farinacci; restore us the sworn torturers; restore us the gibbet,
the wheel, the block, the rack, the thumb-screw, the live-burial vault, the burning
cauldron; restore us in the streets of Paris, as the most open shop among the rest, the
hideous stall of the Executioner, constantly full of human flesh; give us back
Montfaucon, its caves of bones, its beams, its crooks, its chains, its rows of
skeletons; give us back, in its permanence and power, that gigantic outhouse of the
Paris Executioner! This indeed would be wholesale example; this would be
“punishment by death,” well understood; this would be a system of execution in
some proportion,—which, while it is horrible, is also terrible!
But do you seriously suppose you are making an example, when you take the life
of a poor wretch, in the most deserted part of the exterior Boulevards, at eight
o’clock in the morning?
Do not you see then, that your public executions are done in private? That fear is
with the execution, and not among the multitude? One is sometimes tempted to
believe, that the advocates for capital punishment have not thoroughly considered in
what it consists. But place in the scales, against any crime whatever, this exorbitant
right, which society arrogates to itself, of taking away that which it did not bestow:
that most irreparable of evils!
The alternatives are these: First, the man you destroy is without family, relations,
or friends, in the world. In this case, he has received neither education nor
instruction; no care has been bestowed either on his mind or heart; then, by what
right would you kill this miserable orphan? You punish him because his infancy
trailed on the ground, without stem, or support: you make him pay the penalty of the
isolated position in which you left him! you make a crime of his misfortune! No one
taught him to know what he was doing; this man lived in ignorance: the fault was in
his destiny, not himself. You destroy one who is innocent.
Or, Secondly,—the man has a family; and then do you think the fatal stroke
wounds him alone?—that his father, his mother, or his children will not suffer by it?
In killing him, you vitally injure all his family: and thus again you punish the
innocent.
Blind and ill-directed penalty; which, on whatever side it turns, strikes the
innocent!
Imprison for life this culprit who has a family: in his cell he can still work for
those who belong to him. But how can he help them from the depth of the tomb? And
can you reflect without shuddering, on what will become of those young children,
from whom you take away their father, their support? Do you not feel that they must
fall into a career of vice?
In the Colonies, when a slave is condemned to public execution, there are a
thousand francs of indemnity paid to the proprietor of the man! What, you
compensate a master, and you do not indemnify a family! In this country, do you not
take the man from those who possess him? Is he not, by a much more sacred tie than
master and slave, the property of his father, the wealth of his wife, the fortune of his
children?
I have already proved your law guilty of assassination; I have now convicted it of
robbery!
And then another consideration. Do you consider the soul of this man? Do you
know in what state it is, that you dismiss it so hastily?
This may be called “sentimental reasoning,” by some disdainful logicians, who
draw their arguments only from their minds. I often prefer the reasonings of the
heart; and certainly the two should always go together. Reason is on our side, feeling
is on our side, and experience is on our side. In those States where punishment by
death is abolished, the mass of capital crime has yearly a progressive decrease. Let
this fact have its weight.
I do not advocate, however, a sudden and complete abolition of the penalty of
death, such as was so heedlessly attempted in the Chamber of Deputies. On the
contrary, I desire every precaution, every experiment, every suggestion of prudence:
besides, in addition to this gradual change, I would have the whole penal code
examined, and reformed; and time is a great ingredient requisite to make such a work
complete. But independently of a partial abolition of death in cases of forgery,
incendiarism, minor thefts, et cætera, I would wish that, from the present time, in all
the greater offences, the Judge should be obliged to propose the following question
to the Jury: “Has the accused acted from Passion, or Interest?” And in case the Jury
decide “the accused acted from Passion,” then there should be no sentence of death.
Let not the opposite party deceive themselves; this question of the penalty of
death gains ground every day. Before long, the world will unanimously solve it on
the side of mercy. During the past century, punishments have become gradually
milder: the rack has disappeared, the wheel has disappeared; and now the Guillotine
is shaken. This mistaken punishment will leave France; and may it go to some
barbarous people,—not to Turkey, which is becoming civilized, not to the savages,
for they will not have it;[9] but let it descend some steps of the ladder of civilization,
and take refuge in Spain, or Russia!
In the early ages, the social edifice rested on three columns, Superstition,
Tyranny, Cruelty. A long time ago a voice exclaimed, “Superstition has departed!”
Lately another voice has cried, “Tyranny has departed!” It is now full time that a
third voice shall be raised to say, “The Executioner has departed!”
Thus the barbarous usages of the olden times fall one by one; thus Providence
completes modern regeneration.
To those who regret Superstition, we say, “God remains for us!” To those who
regret Tyranny, we say, “Our Country remains!” But to those who could regret
the Executioner we can say nothing.
Let it not be supposed that social order will depart with the scaffold; the social
building will not fall from wanting this hideous keystone. Civilization is nothing but
a series of transformations. For what then do I ask your aid? The civilization of penal
laws. The gentle laws of Christ will penetrate at last into the Code, and shine
through its enactments. We shall look on crime as a disease, and its physicians shall
displace the judges, its hospitals displace the Galleys. Liberty and health shall be
alike. We shall pour balm and oil where we formerly applied iron and fire; evil will
be treated in charity, instead of in anger. This change will be simple and sublime.
The Cross shall displace the Gibbet.
THE END.
FOOTNOTES:
[1] The Gypsy form of marriage.
[2] There were grave differences between Denmark and Sweden, because Count d’Ahlefeld
insisted, during the negotiation of a treaty between the two States, that the Danish king should
be addressed as rex Gothorum, which apparently attributed to him supremacy over Gothland, a
Swedish province; while the Swedes persisted in styling him rex Gotorum, a vague title,
equivalent to the ancient name of Danish sovereigns,—King of the Goths. It is probably to this
“h”—the cause not of a war, but of long and threatening negotiations—that Schumacker alluded.
[3] Certain chroniclers assert that in 1525 a bishop of Borglum made himself notorious by
his depredations. He is said to have kept pirates in his pay, who infested the coast of Norway.
[4] According to popular superstition, Nistheim was the hell reserved for those who died of
disease or old age.
[5] This forcible passage scarcely requires the explanation that in France a parricide has the
right hand taken off, prior to execution, and all criminals about to be guillotined have their hair
removed, lest the axe might be impeded, and cause extra suffering.
[6] The translator having a detestation of “slang idiom” in any language has declined the
task of rendering this prison-song into English; not from any actual indecorum being in its
clever though coarse composition, but from a doubt of any advantage to be obtained by
familiarizing the reading public with the idiom of a Gaol, and which was doubtless invented for
the concealment and furtherance of immoral or criminal purposes.
It has become a sort of fashion of the hour to descend from the utmost refinement of
sentiment, or the most elevated speculation of philosophy, to grovel and almost revel in the
phraseology hitherto confined to the obscure haunts of crime. In order to render justice to M.
Victor Hugo’s versatile powers, his skilful imitation of a low ballad shall be given here, in the
original, the translator only disliking to be the means of interrupting the refined illusion arising
from the author’s elegant conception of the “Condemned.” The general meaning of the song is
given afterwards in the text.
II.
Ils m’ont mis la tartouve, lirlonfa malurette,
Grand Meudon est aboulé, lirlonfa maluré;
Dans mon trimin rencontre, lirlonfa malurette,
Un peigre du quartier, lirlonfa maluré.
III.
IV.
V.
VI.
VII.
[7] The Ministers, who were afterwards imprisoned in the fortress of Ham.
[8] La Porte says twenty-two strokes, but Aubery says thirty-four. Monsieur de Chalais
shrieked until the twentieth.
[9] The Parliament of Otaheite have just abolished capital punishment.
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