those whom the Revolutionary Tribunal had
imprisoned on suspicion. The tribunal itself, together with
the Committee of Public Safety, who had executed the fierce
will of the Convention, was speedily swept away.

It is a hideous spectacle to contemplate the enthusiasm of crime, and
see men madly intoxicating themselves with their own atrocities. The
Revolutionary Tribunal was in operation from March, 1793; the registry
of condemnations had reached the number of five hundred seventy-seven.
From 22 Prairial to 9 Thermidor (June 10, to July 27, 1794), two
thousand two hundred eighty-five unfortunates perished on the scaffold.
Fouquier-Tinville[41] comprehended the thought of Robespierre. For the
dock he had substituted benches, upon which he huddled together at one
time the crowd of the accused. One day he erected the guillotine in the
very hall of the tribunal.

The Committee of Public Safety had a moment of fright. "Thou art wishing
then to demoralize punishment!" cried Collot d'Herbois. A hundred sixty
accused persons had been brought from the Luxembourg under pretence of a
conspiracy in prison. The lower class of prisoners were encouraged to
act as spies, thus furnishing pretexts for punishment. The judges sat
with pistols ready to hand; the President cast his eyes over the lists
for the day and called upon the accused. "Dorival, do you know anything
of the conspiracy?" "No!"

"I expected that you would make that reply; but it won't succeed. Bring
another."

"Champigny, are you not an ex-noble?"

"Yes."

"Bring another."

"Guidreville, are you a priest?"

"Yes, but I have taken the oath."

"You have no right to say any more. Another."

"Menil, were you not a domestic of the ex-constitutional Menou?"

"Yes."

"Another."

"Vely, were you not architect for Madame?"

"Yes, but I was disgraced in 1789."

"Another."

"Gondrecourt, is not your father-in-law at the Luxembourg?"

"Yes."

"Another."

"Durfort, were you not in the bodyguard?"

"Yes, but I was dismissed in 1789."

"Another."

So the examination went on. The questions, the answers, the judgment,
the condemnation, were all simultaneous. The juries did not leave the
hall; they gave their opinions with a word or a look. Sometimes errors
were evident in the lists. "I am not accused," exclaimed a prisoner one
day.

"No matter; what is thy name? See, it is written now. Another."

M. de Loizerolles perished under the name