Robespierre and his associates made the assassination of Marat the ground for increased severity toward the broken remains of the Girondists, seventy-three of whom were speedily proscribed and thrown into prison. Marie Antoinette, the beautiful and accomplished Queen of France, was the next victim. Since the death of the king, the unfortunate royal family had been closely confined in the Temple and subjected to new insults and deprivations. Their fare was reduced to the humblest kind; and wicker lamps were the only lights and the coarsest habiliments the only dress, accorded to them. The young prince was next separated from his mother and placed in solitary confinement under the charge of Simon. "What am I to do with the child?" said Simon to the Committee: "banish him?" "No." "Stab him?" "No." "Poison him?" "No." "What then?" "Get rid of him!" This direction was too faithfully executed. Deprived of air, exercise, occupation, the ill-fated prince pined away and died.

Meantime, the queen, after having been for a while also subjected to solitary confinement in a dark and loathsome cell, was brought to trial. Few formalities were observed on this occasion. Some witnesses were called, but none of them could or would testify anything against her, excepting the monsters Hebert and Simon: but she was not the less condemned by her murderous judges. She was conducted to the place of execution on the 16th of October, and died with a firmness worthy of her race.

The execution of the queen was followed by a measure of singular wantonness and barbarity: namely, the violation of the sepulchres of the kings of France and the destruction of the monuments of antiquity throughout the kingdom. The Convention next proceeded formally to abjure Christianity; or, in their own phrase, "to dethrone the King of Heaven as well as the monarchs of the earth." This monstrous act was consummated by the Assembly with forms and ceremonies, after which the churches were stripped of their ornaments and all their plate was confiscated. The worship of Reason was next established, and the goddess of the faith inaugurated in the person of a naked female of abandoned character, who was mounted on a magnificent car, conducted in triumph to the cathedral of Notre Dame, and there worshipped by the infatuated mob. The services of religion were now universally abandoned, and the pulpits deserted throughout the revolutionized districts; baptisms ceased; the burial service was no longer heard; the sick received no communion; the dying, no consolation. The village bells were silent; the Sabbath was obliterated; infancy entered the world without a blessing, and age left it without hope. On every tenth day, a Revolutionary preacher ascended the pulpit and preached atheism to the bewildered multitude. On all the public cemeteries was placed this inscription, "Death is an eternal sleep." At the same time, the most sacred relations of life were placed on a new footing. Marriage was declared a civil contract, binding only during the pleasure of the contracting parties. A decree of the Convention also suppressed the academies, public schools and colleges, including those of medicine and surgery. And in this general havoc, even the establishments of charity were not safe. The revenues of the hospitals and humane institutions were confiscated and their domains seized as part of the national property.

The Jacobins next proceeded to destroy their former friends and the rliest supporters of the Revolution. Bailly, Custine, and the Duke

Orleans, with many others of less note, were successively led to the scaf fold; and ere long Robespierre, finding his individual plans and aggrand. izement impeded by his rival, managed to cause the accusation and arrest of Danton, with some other powerful antagonists. This last measure produced a violent agitation in Paris, and some attempt was made at a rescue, but the power of Robespierre was absolute for the time, and Danton and Desmoulins were brought to trial. Here, they evinced their wonted firmness. Danton, being interrogated by the president concerning his age and profession, replied, "My name is Danton, well known in the Revolution; my age is thirty-five; my abode will soon be in nonentity, and my name will live in the pantheon of history." Desmoulins, in reply to the same question, said he was of the same age as the Sans Culotte, Jesus Christ, when he died." They displayed equal hardihood in their defence, and some of the Convention were not a little moved by their denunciations: but the influence of Robespierre at last prevailed, and they were condemned. In these cases, as in all the trials of the period, neither crime nor proof were essential to conviction: many that fell well deserved to die; but for both innocent and guilty the real question was, not whether the parties had committed a crime, but whether a majority of the Convention desired their death.

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The execution of Danton was followed by immediate and unqualified submission in every part of France; and Robespierre became in truth the sole dictator of the Republic. The vigor of his uncontrolled sway was soon felt. From an estimate made under his direction, it was ascertained that seven thousand prisoners, consisting of men, women and children, were on various pretexts now confined in the prisons of Paris, while the total throughout France exceeded two hundred thousand. As this number involved great expense and inconvenience to the government, and the present system of arrest was fast increasing it, it became necessary to inspire the Revolutionary Tribunal with new energy that, by accelerating the movements of the guillotine, the prisons might be relieved of their accumulating burdens. The number of executions, in Paris alone, was therefore raised to fifty and finally to eighty in a day: a trench was dug as far as the Place St. Antoine to carry off the blood of the victims, and it required the constant labor of four men to keep it in order.

The insolence of power and the atrocious cruelty of Revolutionary revenge were, if possible, more strongly evinced in the provinces than in the metropolis. Le Brun especially distinguished himself in the northern districts, by the aggravated character as well as by the number of his butcheries: upward of two thousand persons were executed by his orders in the city of Arras. The career of Carrier at Nantes was still more relentless. He caused five hundred children of both sexes, the eldest of whom was not fourteen years old, to be led out into one place and shot. So deplorable a scene was never before witnessed. The smallness of their stature caused most of the bullets, at the first discharge, to fly over their heads for the soldier in regular service is taught to fire on the level of his own shoulder, and the troops on this occasion did so from the force of habit. Immediately, the children broke their bonds, rushed into the ranks of their executioners, clung around their knees and prayed for mercy: but nothing could soften these assassins, and the helpless innocents were slaughtered at their feet. At Lyons, other modes of butchery were introduced by Collot d'Herbois. Sixty captives were first placed in a line

by the side of a trench dug for their graves, and two pieces of cannon loaded with grape and so placed as to enfilade the line, were discharged upon them: those who did not fall or were only wounded by the shot, were then dispatched by the gendarmes with sabres. On the following day, more than two hundred prisoners were taken into a meadow, fastened to each other with cords and dispatched by musketry. These fusillades were continued for some days, and in the mean time the guillotine was in active operation.

But there is a limit to human suffering; an hour when indignant nature will no longer submit, and courage arises out of despair. That avenging hour was fast approaching. The lengthened files of prisoners daily led to the scaffold had long excited the commiseration of the better classes in Paris the shops in the Rue St. Honoré were shut and its pavement deserted when the melancholy procession, on its regular route to the guillotine, passed along: and the people at length became alarmed at the rapid progress and evident descent of the proscriptions. While the aristocrats and nobility were alone condemned, they looked on at first with joy, and afterward with comparative indifference; but now the extending grasp of the tyrant approached their own doors, and they began to deliberate on the possibility and the means of assailing Robespierre in the height of his power. The majority of the Convention themselves adopted these views; and Robespierre, aware of some hostile movement but ignorant of its extent, prepared for a trial of strength with his antagonists. He communicated his suspicions and purposes to the most trusty Jacobin leaders, and at length an insurrection was organized to break out on the 27th of July. The leaders of the Convention were not idle: they spent the night of the 26th in planning their measures, and before daybreak were all firmly united for the overthrow of the tyrant.

At an early hour on the morning of the 27th, the benches were thronged by the deputies, and the leaders passed around from one member to another to confirm them in their bold resolution. At noon, Robespierre entered the hall and took his station near the tribune, in front, so that he might intimidate his adversaries by his looks: but notwithstanding the extent of his preparations, he was daunted by the appearance of the Assembly: his knees trembled, the color fled from his lips, and he seemed already to anticipate his fate.

His minion and advocate, St. Just, took the lead by denouncing his enemies; but he was interrupted by Tallien, who reped in a speech of vehement eloquence, boldly recommended extreme measures, and ended by drawing a dagger from his bosom and protesting, that if the Convention hesitated to pass a decree of accusation against Robespierre, he would himself stab him where he sat.

During this speech, Robespierre sat motionless with terror, and at its conclusion he strove in vain to obtain a hearing: the president, Thuriot, whom he had often threatened with death, constantly drowned his voice by ringing the bell. Various cries of appeal on the one hand and execration on the other ensued; but at length, Robespierre, Le Bas, Couthon, St. Just, and others were by a unanimous vote put under arrest and sent to prison: the Assembly then broke up at five o'clock in the afternoon. No sooner were the partisans of Robespierre aware of his arrest, than they sounded the tocsin, mustered their forces, and, proceeding to the prison, liberated and bore him in triumph to the Hotel de Ville. The Conven.

tion reassembled at seven o'clock, resolved to maintain their ground in defiance of consequences. They were soon informed that the artillery under Henriot, who had also been liberated, was now arrayed against them, and the guns were at that moment pointed toward the hall. In this extremity, Tallien and his friends acted with the firmness which in revolutions so often proves successful. He instantly recommended several energetic measures which were as promptly adopted, and messengers were dispatched to enforce them, when Henriot ordered the artillery to fire on the Assembly. The fate of France hung on the decision of these men; and, happily, they refused to obey the order. The aspect of things was now entirely changed, and the Convention became the assailants. The National Guard declared itself in their favor, marched to the Hotel de Ville, overbore all resistance, and Meda, with a few files of soldiers, rushed into the apartment where the liberated prisoners were assembled. Robespierre was sitting by a table, and Meda discharged a pistol at him, which broke his under jaw, but did not inflict a mortal wound. Le Bas shot himself and the rest were taken. The Revolutionary Tribunal made but short work with the trial, and the prisoners were all condemned.

On the morning of July 29th, all Paris was in motion to witness the tyrant's death. Twenty of his comrades were executed before him. When he ascended the scaffold, the executioner tore the bandage from his face, the lower jaw fell on his breast, and he uttered a yell which filled every one with horror. He was then placed under the axe, and the last sounds which reached his ears were the exulting shouts of the multitude.

Thus terminated the Reign of Terror: a period fraught with more political instruction than any other period of equal duration since the beginning of the world. The extent to which blood was shed during its continuance will hardly be credited by future ages: but it is correctly stated that the number of victims reached one million, twenty-two thousand, three hundred and fifty-one. Of this number, eighteen thousand six hundred and three were guillotined by the order of the Revolutionary Tribunals; thirty-two thousand were victims under Carrier, at Nantes; thirty-one thousand, at Lyons; three thousand four hundred women died of premature childbirth; three hundred and forty-eight in childbirth, from grief; and there were slain, during the war in La Vendée (of which an account will presently be given,) nine hundred thousand men, fifteen thousand women, and twenty-two thousand children. In this enumeration are not comprehended the massacres at Versailles; at the Abbey, the Carmes and other prisons on the 2nd of September; the victims shot at Toulon and Marseilles; or the persons slain in the little town of Bedoin, of which the whole population perished.

CHAPTER VI.

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WAR IN LA VENDEE.

THE district, immortalized by the name of La Vendée, embraces a part of Poitou, of Anjou, and of the territory of Nantes. The country differs both in its external aspect and the manners of its inhabitants from any other part of France. The northern division, called the Bocage, is sprinkled with trees, and is composed chiefly of inconsiderable and detached hills surrounded by fertile valleys, and the farms, which are small and numerous, are inclosed by stout hedges. The southern part, adjoining the ocean, is called the Marais; it is perfectly flat and interspersed with salt-marshes. The whole is mostly a grazing country, and the inhabitants live on the produce and sale of their cattle. A single great road from Nantes to Rochelle traverses the district, and another from Tours to Bordeaux diverges from it, leaving between them a space of thirty leagues in extent, intersected by innumerable cross-roads, dug out, as it were, between two hedges, the branches of which frequently meet over the passenger's head. This peculiar conformation affords the greatest obstacles to an invading army.

The distinctions between landholder and tenantry, in La Vendée, were almost nominal. A moderation of views on the one hand, and an unusual degree of virtue and intelligence on the other, combined with a universal religious sway that their excellent village pastors held over all, rendered the whole people a band of brothers who lived in harmony, detesting every species of innovation, and knew no principle in politics or religion but to fear God and honor the king.

Hence it followed that the violence of the Revolutionary party in Paris and elsewhere early aroused the indignation of the Vendéans, who uniformly took part with the king; and the attempt to enforce the levy of troops ordered by the Convention in 1793, occasioned a general resistance which, without any previous concert, broke out simultaneously over the whole of La Vendée. The earlier movements on both sides were confined to skirmishes between detached parties, in almost all of which the Vendéans were successful; so that the Convention soon found it necessary to increase the number of their troops and introduce more system into their manner of conducting the war. These measures and the success which had induced them, stimulated the Vendéans, also, to renewed exertions. Large numbers of the hardy peasantry flocked to the royal standard, and some of the citizens most distinguished by birth or talent placed themselves at the head of the troops.

M. Bonchamps, commanding the army of Anjou, was among the most able of the Royalist leaders: to great courage and eloquence he united consummate military ability; and, had his life been spared, would probably have proved himself one of the greatest commanders of the age. Cathelineau, a peasant by birth; Henri de Larochejacquelein, son of the Marquis of that name; M. de Lescure, an intimate friend of Larochejacquelein; M. d'Elbée, a Saxon; and Stofflet, an Alsacian, also became distinguished as leaders in this war; and Charette, the last of this illustrious band, attained great eminence as a Vendéan chief before the conclusion