tragedy hastened to its denouement. On the night of the 9th, the tocsin
was sounded, and the King and the Royal Family looked upon their fate as
sealed. Notwithstanding the personal firmness of His Majesty, he was a
coward for others. He dreaded the responsibility of ordering blood to be
shed, even in defence of his nearest and dearest interests. Petion,
however, had given the order to repel force by force to De Mandat, who
was murdered upon the steps of the Hotel de Ville. It has been generally
supposed that Petion had received a bribe for not ordering the cannon
against the Tuileries on the night of the 9th, and that De Mandat was
massacred by the agents of Petion for the purpose of extinguishing all
proof that he was only acting under the instructions of the Mayor.

I shall not undertake to judge of the propriety of the King's impression
that there was no safety from the insurgents but in the hall, and under
the protection of the Assembly. Had the members been well disposed
towards him, the event might have proved very different. But there is
one thing certain. The Queen would never have consented to this step but
to save the King and her innocent children. She would have preferred
death to the humiliation of being under obligations to her sworn enemies;
but she was overcome by the King declaring, with tears in his eyes, that
he would not quit the palace without her. The Princesses Elizabeth and
de Lamballe fell at her feet, implored Her Majesty to obey the King, and
assured her there was no alternative between instant death and refuge
from it in the Assembly. "Well," said the Queen, "if our lot be death,
let us away to receive it with the national sanction."

I need not expatiate on the succession of horrors which now overwhelmed
the royal sufferers. Their confinement at the Feuillans, and their
subsequent transfer to the Temple, are all topics sufficiently enlarged
upon by many who were actors in the scenes to which they led. The