Trang Vu

Mrs. Ballato

English 10-3

June 03, 2010

Last Moment of Terror

July 28, 1794. Two o’clock in the morning. The sound of weapons and men’s footsteps broke

the silence on the streets of Paris. Under Francois Hanriot’s command, Commune troops were

quickly leaving the City Hall - Hotel de Ville (Maximilien). The fear and worry could be seen on

their faces, and be heard in their breath and every hurry step they were making. From the

window of a room in the City Hall, Francois Hanriot was looking over the streets through the

darkness and uttered a sigh.

- This is the best we can do. The troops would not be able to make a stand against the

Conventional anyway. – said Hanriot.

No one said anything. The pallid yellow light reflected on the pale faces of six men in the room,

all shattered, drained and extremely exhausted. Robespierre sat next to the window watching his

fellows – St. Just, Couthon, Hanriot, Le Bas and his brother Augustine (Maximilien).

- My friends, my loyal associates. Have we together built up this revolution. Have we together

brought the justice back to this country with the Reign of Terror. Have we together shared ups

and downs ever since. Stay with me to the very last moment of our lives. – spoke Robespierre.

Suddenly, the echo of footsteps made the revolutionaries agitatedly gasp and look out the

window. The Conventional troops fully equipped with weapons were moving towards Hotel de

Ville (Maximilien). They were coming very, very close, completely focused on the room with

six men watching out in the light up.

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- Here comes the time! Remember how we have changed this country! Never will these patriots

give in! Long live the French Revolution! For long live Justice! – Robespierre and his followers

cried out.

The Conventional troops were then entering the City Hall. In the hope of not being caught by the

Conventionals, Augustine and Hanriot jumped out of the windows. St. Just and Le Bas calmly

shot themselves in the head. Couthon madly ran towards the staircase. Watching his friends

dispatch themselves for self-esteem, Robespierre pulled out his gun and held it next to his head.

Right at the moment the troops entered the room and forced him to give in, he pulled the trigger.

Unfortunately, the shot did not kill him but broke his jaw, left him in ghastly pain while being

bound by the enemies (Maximilien)…

Robespierre slowly opened his eyes. The first thing he was able to sense was the sharp pain as if

pricked by thousands of needles around his jaw that he had never felt. The wound kept bleeding

abundantly. He looked around and realized that the room in which he was staying was the

anteroom of the Conventional Hall. And by all of a sudden, the main door opened. A doctor

came in, followed by a young man who apparently was his assistant.

- I was told to come to fix your jaw – said the doctor.

Robespierre stared at him in silence and closed his eyes. In fact he was not able to say anything

with his broken jaw. The shot did not kill him, but the pain was even more terrible than death.

Half an hour went by, and the doctor finally finished his work. The young assistant gave

Robespierre his handkerchief to sop up the blood leaked out on his neck.

- Merci, Monsieur – Robespierre indistinctly whispered. He did not know that they were his very

last words then (Maiximilien).

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The doctor and his assistant quickly left the room, right before the Conventional men

aggressively came in. They stood around the table and stared at Robespierre. He lied stretched on

the table with the hard deal box as his pillow. His trousers were nankeen as his stockings had

fallen down over the ankles. Men started bullying and insulting him with all the cruelest words.

They mocked and laughed at him and his “Reign of Terror”. They blamed him of Georges

Danton’s death not long ago. Despite all the curses, Robespierre just kept looking up straight to

the ceiling. Not a word, nor even a sound he let out from his mouth, though the sheath of the

pistol which he had used to shoot himself was clenched convulsively in his hand (1794). His

eyes still indicated intelligence, though it was full of outrage. Eventually, the Conventional

realized that they could no more get any information from him, so they threw him into a cell for

the remainder of the day before the execution. By a coincidence, that was the same cell in which

Jacques Hébert , Pierre Chaumette and Danton had stayed before their executions in the Reign of

Terror (Horne)…

At four in the afternoon on July 28, 1794, or 10 Thermidor in the Revolutionary Calendar.

Streets of Paris were filled up with people, that it was believed to be the most crowded ever seen.

The masses from every corner of the city were converging to Place de la Révolution. Some

watched the execution from the windows opened from houses and buildings around the square.

They were all eager with extreme curiosity and strange gladness. Their eyes were set on

Robespierre’s tumbril (1794). His mouth was full of blood, his eyes were half-closed while his

jaw was still bound up to his head with bloody and dirty linen (Horne). His half-dead brother

Augustine and his fellows, Couthon and Hanriot lied shattered in the same tumbril (1794).

- Make way for monsieur the incorruptible! – cried out the jailer when the Parisians obstructed

the passage (Horne).

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The gendarmes pointed their swords at Robespierre to show the curious crowd which he was.

With excitement, a woman then jumped on the tumbril, clutched its sides.

- The death of thee gladdens my very heart, m’enivre de joie. – exclaimed the woman.

Robespierre opened his eyes in horror, while the woman continued her curses:

- Scelerat, go down to Hell with the curses of all wives and mothers! (1794)

She jumped off the tumbril when it came near the scaffold. He was stretched on the ground

waiting for his turn to come (1794). His friends, his brother, one after another were taken to the

guillotine. He closed his eyes, but he could still listen to the sound of the blade when it came

down and cut off their heads. Eventually it came to his turn. He was lifted up in the crowd’s

shouting. He opened his eyes, for the last time. The summer’s sky was right above him as if it

would take him in right after a few more minutes. He then realized that he was the only one

executed face-up among the prisoners when his eyes caught the bloody axe with his fellows’

blood all over it (Maximilien). He closed his eyes and was completely ready for his soon coming

death. The executioner wrenched off his coat, and cleared his neck. Suddenly, he rudely tore off

the bandage around his wound, which made his lower jaw separate itself from the upper. His

blood massively spouted out. He uttered a cry of the most frightful horror and pain (Horne). The

blade fell down and cut off his hideous head as well as his painful screaming. He died in agony

at the age of thirty-six. His death marked the end of the Reign of Terror, after over one year of

numerous executions with thousands of people killed under La Guillotine in Place de la

Révolution.