Barère's celebrated epigram: “Il n'ya que les morts qui ne reviennent pas"-"It is only the dead who never return," which it was alleged was used by him as an argument in favor of the guillotine, is shown to have had an entirely different application. In so poetic and tender a vein did he allude to the executions, that he was called the "Anacreon of the guillotine."

The story is told that he was in the habit of saying to a woman whom he visited: "Well! to-morrow we shall get rid of twenty or thirty of them," and when she expressed her horror, he would laughingly add: "We must grease the wheels of the Revolution." This story, however, may not be true, as it does not harmonize with that related above.

Among the distinguished men of his day few have been more vilified. Macaulay paints his character in the darkest shades and his essay on Barère is one of the finest pieces of vituperation in the whole range of English literature. It seems strange, however, that the great essayist devoted so lengthy an article merely to the abuse of a man whom he considered so mean and detestable.

"Ocean into tempest wrought

To waft a feather or to drown a fly."

CHAPTER XIX

TRIAL OF THE KING HIS EXECUTION

SON OF DUMOURIEZ · LASOURCE

DANTON

DUMOURIEZ

GIRONDINS

RAT ACCUSED HALL OF THE CONVENTION.

The Republic had a dethroned king on its hands and some disposition had to be made of him, for his presence was a menace to the new government. To hold him as a captive would arouse the sympathy of the world; against treatment so cruel every throne in Europe would protest, and Louis would become the nucleus around which would gather all the opposition to the Republic.

The temper of the people was wrought up to frenzy by the frantic appeals of the demagogues who clamored for the king's death, mobs paraded through the streets shouting: "To the guillotine with Louis the Last," and every citizen who did not favor the execution was denounced by the radicals as a royalist.

All sorts of reasons were given for and against his execution. "I am opposed to the shedding of human blood," said a certain deputy, "but the blood of a king is not the blood of a man." Another deputy declared: "While the tyrant breathes liberty suffocates;" and still another:

"The only way to get rid of tyranny is to strangle it."

On the other hand, "the indulgents," as they were called, argued that it was "foolish for the Republic to behead a man whom Rome would canonize as a saint "; that "it would be wise to let Louis live that he might wander as a ghost among thrones"; and that "to make a Charles I was to make a Cromwell." "Condemn Louis to learn a trade," cried one of the moderates, "that the world may see a dethroned king earn his living." These reasons were considered by the red republicans as only flimsy excuses to save the life of the king.

Robespierre declared unreservedly that the execution of Louis was a political necessity. "You have not to pass sentence for or against a single man," he said addressing the Convention; "but you have to take a resolution on a question of the public safety and to decide a question of national foresight. A dethroned king in the bosom of a revolution, which is anything but cemented by laws, a king whose name suffices to draw the scourge of war on the agitated nation- neither prison nor exile can render his existence immaterial to the public welfare. It is with regret I pronounce the fatal truth. Louis ought to perish rather than a hundred thousand virtuous citizens. Louis must die that the country may live."

In November, the iron chest, which Louis had made with the assistance of Gamain the locksmith, was found in a wall of the palace.

Roland carried it to his office, examined the contents, and the secret was out that the king had been in correspondence with the allies and was conspiring with the emigrants.

The Jacobins charged Roland with having suppressed the letters found in the box which implicated several of the leading Girondins in the court intrigues; and in proof of this, Bozé, a royalist, publicly stated that Vergniaud, Gensonné, and Guadet had written to the king before the 10th of August, 1792, promising to render him all the assistance in their power to save the monarchy. In addition to this it was rumored that Guadet had once made a midnight visit to Louis in the Tuileries; that, after the interview was over, the queen had with her own hands lighted a candle and taken Guadet into the bedroom of the dauphin to show him the little fellow fast asleep; and that Guadet, with tears in his eyes, had kissed the boy's forehead.

The Jacobins, as keen politicians, took every advantage of the condition of affairs and used the stories in circulation to weaken the influence and the popularity of their opponents.

Christmas, in the year of our Lord 1792, was anything but a merry season in the royal household, for the 26th day of December had been fixed for the opening of the trial of Louis.1

In many of its features the trial was a farce, a travesty on justice; it was neither solemn nor impressive; force, intimidation, and fear effected his conviction. The proceedings in the Con

1 See "Danton and the French Revolution," p. 334

vention were noisy and riotous; instead of a court, it seemed to be a cavern of furies, or an amphitheatre filled with wild beasts, into which had been thrown a victim to be torn to pieces. Howling mobs of men and women, drunk with wine and vengeance, invaded the galleries and the lobbies of the hall and demanded the king's death. No matter how grievous may have been the charges that were preferred against Louis, the method of his conviction was a crime.

His doom was sealed by the cowardice of the Girondins, who, against their real convictions and as a matter of self-preservation and political necessity, voted for his execution. By this conduct they brought upon themselves the contempt of their enemies and lost much of their popularity in the provinces. Many of them first voted to submit the matter to the sanction of the people, and yet, when the ballot was taken on the final and all-important question, these same men voted for the king's death. Conduct so inconsistent required explanation. The political party that apologizes for its action abdicates its power.

While the trial was in progress, Robespierre received information that Madame Campan had in her possession some papers and a number of letters consigned to her care by the king. In the attempt made by Robespierre to verify this information, Madame Campan got a hint of his purpose and without delay destroyed every trace of the documents. Some royal seals that had been entrusted to her custody she threw forthwith into the Seine.