ouncil and expelled them from
their own council-chamber by main force, and then sent off Mandat to
prison, whither, a few minutes later, they dispatched a gang of assassins
to murder him.

The news of his death soon reached the Tuileries, where it struck a chill
even into the firm heart of the queen,[3] who had deservedly placed great
reliance on his fidelity and resolution. She had now to trust to the valor
and loyalty of the troops themselves, though thus deprived of their
commander; and, as a last hope, she persuaded the king to go down and
review them, hoping that his presence might animate the faithful, and
perhaps fix the waverers. Louis consented, as he would have consented to
any course that was recommended to him; but on such occasions more depends
on the grace and spirit with which a thing is done than on the act itself,
and grace and spirit were now less than ever to be looked for in the
unhappy Louis. He visited first the courts of the palace, and the
Carrousel, and then the gardens, at whose different entrances strong
detachments of troops were stationed. When he first appeared he was
greeted by one general cheer of "Vive le roi!" But as he passed along the
ranks the unanimity and loyalty began to disappear. Even of those
regiments which were still true to him the cheers were faint, as if half
suppressed by alarm; while many companies mingled shouts for "the nation"
with those for himself, and individual soldiers murmured audibly, "Down
with the Veto!" or, "Long live the Sans-culottes!" secure that their
officers would not venture to reprove, much less to chastise them. The
Swiss Guard alone showed enthusiasm in their loyalty and resolution in
their demeanor.

But when he reached the artillery, on whom perhaps most depended, many of
the gunners made no secret of their disaffection. Some even quit their
ranks to offer him personal insults, doubling their fists in his face, and
shouting out the coarsest threats which the Revolution had yet taught
them. Both cheers and insults the hapless king received with almost equal
apathy. The despair which was in his heart was shown in his dress, which
had no military character or decoration, but was a suit of plain violet
such as was never worn by kings of France but on occasions of mourning. It
was to no purpose that the queen put a sword into his hand, and exhorted
him to take the command of the troops himself, and to show himself ready
to fight in person for his cro