sideration of an actual trial, the Girondists,
willing to save the prisoner's life, claimed that the Convention had
no jurisdiction, and must appeal to the sovereign people for
authorization. The Jacobins insisted on the sovereign power of the
Convention, Robespierre protesting in the name of the people against
an appeal to the people. Supported by the noisy outcries not only of
the Parisian populace, but of their followers elsewhere, the radicals
prevailed. By a vote of three hundred and sixty-six to three hundred
and fifty-five the verdict of death was pronounced on January
seventeenth, 1793, and four days later the sentence was executed. This
act was a defiance to all monarchs, or, in other words, to all Europe.

The younger Pitt was at this juncture prime minister of England. Like
the majority of his countrymen, he had mildly approved the course of
the French Revolution down to 1789; with them, in the same way, his
opinions had since that time undergone a change. By the aid of Burke's
biased but masterful eloquence the English people were gradually
convinced that Jacobinism, violence, and crime were the essence of the
movement, constitutional reform but a specious pretext. Between 1789
and 1792 there was a rising tide of adverse public sentiment so swift
and strong that Pitt was unable to follow it. By the execution of
Louis the English moderates were silenced; the news was received with
a cry of horror, and the nation demanded war. Were kings' heads to
fall, and republican ideas, supported by republican armies, to spread
like a conflagration? The still monarchical liberals of England could
give no answer to the case of Louis or to the instance of Belgium, and
were stunned. The English anti-Jacobins became as fanatical as the
French Jacobins. Pitt could not resist the torrent. Yet in his extreme
necessity he saw his chance for a double stroke: to throw the blame
for the war on France, and to consolidate once more his nearly
vanished power in parliament. With masterly adroitness France was
tempted into a declaration of war against England. Enthusiasm raged in
Paris like fire among dry stubble. France, if so it must be, against
the world! Liberty and equality her religion! The land a camp! The
entire people an army! Three hundred thousand men to be selected,
equipped, and drilled at once!

Nothing indicates that Buonaparte was in any way moved by the terrible
massacres of September, or even by the news of the King's