to cross the
streets on the line of march, or even to show themselves at the windows.
Sixty drums kept up a deafening clamor as the vast procession of
cavalry, infantry, and artillery marched before, behind, and on each
side of the carriage. Cannon, loaded with grape-shot, with matches
lighted, guarded the main street on the line of march, to prevent the
possibility of an attempt even at rescue. The noise of the drums, the
clatter of the iron hoofs of the horses, and the rumbling of the heavy
pieces of artillery over the pavements prevented all discourse, and the
king, leaning back in his carriage, surrendered himself to such
reflections as the awful hour would naturally suggest. The perfect
calmness of the king excited the admiration of those who were near his
person, and a few hearts in the multitude, touched with pity, gave
utterance to the cry of "Pardon! pardon!" The sounds, however, died away
in the throng, awakening no sympathetic response. As the procession
moved along, no sound proceeded from human lips. A feeling of awe
appeared to have taken possession of the whole city. The sentiment of
loyalty had, for so many centuries, pervaded the bosoms of the French
people, that they could not conduct their monarch to the scaffold
without the deepest emotions of awe. A feeling of consternation
oppressed every heart in view of the deed now to be perpetrated. But it
was too late to retract. Perhaps there was not an individual in that
vast throng who did not shudder in view of the crime of that day. At one
spot on the line of march, seven or eight young men, in the spirit of
desperate heroism which the occasion excited, hoping that the pity of
the multitude would cause them to rally for their aid, broke through the
line, sword in hand, and, rushing toward the carriage, shouted, "Help
for those who would save the king." Three thousand young men had
enrolled themselves in the conspiracy to respond to this call. But the
preparations to resist such an attempt were too formidable to allow of
any hopes of success. The few who heroically made the movement were
instantly cut down. At the Place de la Revolution, one hundred thousand
people were gathered in silence around the scaffold. The instrument of
death, with its blood-red beams and posts, stood prominent above the
multitudinous assemblage in the damp, murky air.

The guillotine was erected in the center of the Place de la Revolution,
directly in the front of the garden of th