inion of the mob may be judged by his remarks on the 20th June, 1792,
when, disgusted at seeing the King appear with the red cap on his head, he
exclaimed, "Che coglione! Why have they let in all that rabble? Why
don't they sweep off 400 or 500 of them with the cannon? The rest would
then set off." ("Bourrienne," vol. i., p.13, Bentley, London, 1836.)
Bonaparte carried out his own plan against a far stronger force of
assailants on the Jour des Sections, 4th October, 1795.]

The Marseillais began by driving from their posts several Swiss, who
yielded without resistance; a few of the assailants fired upon them; some
of the Swiss officers, seeing their men fall, and perhaps thinking the
King was still at the Tuileries, gave the word to a whole battalion to
fire. The aggressors were thrown into disorder, and the Carrousel was
cleared in a moment; but they soon returned, spurred on by rage and
revenge. The Swiss were but eight hundred strong; they fell back into the
interior of the Chateau; some of the doors were battered in by the guns,
others broken through with hatchets; the populace rushed from all quarters
into the interior of the palace; almost all the Swiss were massacred; the
nobles, flying through the gallery which leads to the Louvre, were either
stabbed or shot, and the bodies thrown out of the windows.

M. Pallas and M. de Marchais, ushers of the King's chamber, were killed in
defending the door of the council chamber; many others of the King's
servants fell victims to their fidelity. I mention these two persons in
particular because, with their hats pulled over their brows and their
swords in their hands, they exclaimed, as they defended themselves with
unavailing courage, "We will not survive!--this is our post; our duty is
to die at it." M. Diet behaved in the same manner at the door of the
Queen's bedchamber; he experienced the same fate. The Princesse de
Tarente had fortunately opened the door of the apartments; otherwise, the
dreadful band seeing several women collected in the Queen's salon would
have fancied she was among us, and would have immediately massacred us had
we resisted them. We were, indeed, all about to perish, when a man with a
long beard came up, exclaiming, in the name of Potion, "Spare the women;
don't dishonour the nation!" A particular circumstance placed me in
greater danger than the others. In my confusion I imagined, a moment
before the assailants entered the Queen's apartm