Queen Hortense | Page 8

called.
"Why a physician!" said the man, indifferently. "Death is the best
physician. He called the general to-day; in a few days he will restore to
him his wife."
This prophecy was almost verified. Josephine, scarcely recovered from
her illness, received her citation from the Tribunal of Terror. This was
the herald of certain death, and she courageously prepared for the grave,
troubled only by thoughts of the children she must leave behind.
A fortunate and unforeseen occurrence saved her. The men of the
revolution had now attained the summit of their power, and, as there
was no standing still for them, they sank into the abyss which
themselves had digged.

The fall of Robespierre opened the prisons and set at liberty thousands
of the already condemned victims of the revolution.
Viscountess Josephine left her prison; she was restored to liberty, and
could now hasten to her children, but she came back to them as a poor
widow, for the seals of the "one and indivisible republic" were on hers
and her children's property as well as on that of all other aristocrats.
CHAPTER III.
CONSEQUENCES OF THE REVOLUTION.
France drew a breath of relief; the Reign of Terror was at an end, and a
milder and more moderate government wielded the sceptre over the
poor land that had so lately lain in the agonies of death. It was no
longer a capital offence to bear an aristocratic name, to be better
dressed than the sans-culottes, to wear no Jacobin-cap, and to be related
to the emigrants. The guillotine, which had ruled over Paris during two
years of blood and tears, now rested from its horrid work, and allowed
the Parisians to think of something else besides making their wills and
preparing for death.
Mindful of the uncertainty of the times, the people were disposed to
make the most of this release from the fear of immediate death, and to
enjoy themselves to the utmost while they could.
They had so long wept, that they eagerly desired to laugh once more; so
long lived in sorrow and fear, that they now ardently longed for
amusement and relaxation. The beautiful women of Paris, who had
been dethroned by the guillotine, and from whose hands the reins had
been torn, now found the courage to grasp these reins again, and
reconquer the position from which the storm-wind of the revolution had
hurled them.
Madame Tallien, the all-powerful wife of one of the five directors who
now swayed the destinies of France; Madame Récamier, the friend of
all the eminent and distinguished men of that period; and Madame de
Staël, the daughter of Necker, and the wife of the ambassador of

Sweden, whose government had recognized the republic--these three
ladies gave to Paris its drawing-rooms, its reunions, its fêtes, its
fashions, and its luxury. All Paris had assumed a new form, and,
although the Church had not yet again obtained official recognition, the
belief in a Supreme Being was already re-established. Robespierre had
already been bold enough to cause the inscription, "There is a Supreme
Being," to be placed over the altars of the churches that had been
converted into "Temples of Reason." Yes, there is a Supreme Being;
and Robespierre, who had first acknowledged its existence, was soon to
experience in himself that such was the case. Betrayed by his own
associates, and charged by them with desiring to make himself dictator,
and place himself at the head of the new Roman-French Republic as a
new Caesar, Robespierre fell a prey to the Tribunal of Terror which he
himself had called into existence. While engaged in the Hôtel de Ville
in signing death-sentences which were to furnish fresh victims to the
guillotine, he was arrested by the Jacobins and National Guards, who
had stormed the gates and penetrated into the building, and the attempt
to blow out his brains with his pistol miscarried. Bleeding, his jaw
shattered by the bullet, he was dragged before Fouquier-Tainville to
receive his sentence, and to be conducted thence to the scaffold. In
order that the proceeding should be attended with all formalities, he
was, however, first conducted to the Tuileries, where the Committee of
Public Safety was then sitting in the chamber of Queen Marie
Antoinette. Into the bedchamber of the queen whom Robespierre had
brought to the scaffold, the bleeding, half-lifeless dictator was now
dragged. Like a bundle of rags he was contemptuously thrown on the
large table that stood in the middle of the room. But yesterday
Robespierre had been enthroned at this table as almighty ruler over the
lives and possessions of all Frenchmen; but yesterday he had here
issued his decrees and signed the death-sentences, that lay on the table,
unexecuted. These papers were now the only salve the ghastly,
groaning man could apply