The commander-in-chief of the National Guard had the way cleared for him, and addressing the crowd, repeated, though in more energetic terms, every argument that Bailly had endeavored to enforce.
His speech produced a great effect on all those who were near enough to hear it, and the cause of Foulon was completely gained in the electors’ hall.
But on the square were twenty thousand furious people who had not heard Monsieur de Lafayette, and who remained implacable in their frenzy.
“Come, now,” said Lafayette, at the conclusion of his oration, very naturally imagining that the effect he had produced on those who surrounded him had extended to all outside,—”come, now, this man must be tried.”
“Yes,” cried the mob.
“And consequently I order that he be taken to prison,” added Lafayette.
“To prison! to prison!” howled the mob.
At the same time the general made a sign to the guards of the Hôtel de Ville, who led the prisoner forward.
The crowd outside understood nothing of all that was going on, excepting that their prey was about to appear. They had not even an idea that any one had the slightest hope of disputing it with them.
They scented, if we may be permitted the expression, the odor of the human flesh which was descending the staircase.
Billot had placed himself at the window with several electors, whom Bailly also joined in order to follow the prisoner with their eyes while he was crossing the square, escorted by the civic guards.
On the way, Foulon here and there addressed a few incoherent words to those around him, which, although they were protestations of confidence, clearly evinced the most profound and ill-disguised terror.
“Noble people,” said he, while descending the staircase, “I fear nothing; I am in the midst of my fellow-citizens.”
And already bantering laughs and insults were being uttered around him, when suddenly he found himself outside of the gloomy archway at the top of the stone steps which led into the square, and felt on his face the wind and sunshine.
Immediately one general cry—a cry of rage, a howling threat, a roar of hatred—burst from twenty thousand lungs. On this explosion of the public feeling, the guards conducting the prisoner are lifted from the ground, broken, dispersed; Foulon is seized by twenty powerful arms, raised above their shoulders, and carried into the fatal corner under the lamp-post,—ignoble and brutal executioner of the anger of the people, which they termed their justice.
Billot from his window saw all this, and cried out against it; the electors also did all they could to stimulate the guards, but they were powerless.
Lafayette, in despair, rushed out of the Hôtel de Ville, but he could not break through the first rank of that crowd, which spread out like an immense lake between him and the victim.
The mere spectators of this scene jumped upon posts, on window-sills, on every jutting part of a building, in order to gain a better view; and they encouraged by their savage shouts the frightful effervescence of the actors.
The latter were playing with their victim, as would a troop of tigers with an inoffensive prey.
They were disputing who should hang Foulon; at last they understood that if they wished to enjoy his agony, it was necessary that their several functions should be agreed upon.
But for that he would have been torn to pieces.
Some of them raised up Foulon, who had no longer strength enough to cry out.
Others, who had taken off his cravat and torn off his coat, placed a rope round his neck.
And others, who had climbed up the lamp-post, had handed to their companions below the rope which they put round the neck of the ex-minister.
For a moment they raised Foulon above their heads and showed him thus to the crowd,—a rope twined round his neck, and his hands tied behind him.
Then, when the crowd had had due time to contemplate the sufferer; when they had clapped their hands sufficiently,—the signal was given, and Foulon, pale and bleeding, was hoisted up to a level with the lantern, amid a hooting which was more terrible even than death.