A surging, seething, murmuring crowd of beings that are human only in name, forto the eye and ear they seem naught but savage creatures, animated by vilepassions and by the lust of vengeance and of hate. The hour, some little timebefore sunset, and the place, the West Barricade, at the very spot where, adecade later, a proud tyrant raised an undying monument to the nation’sglory and his own vanity.
During the greater part of the day the guillotine had been kept busy at itsghastly work: all that France had boasted of in the past centuries, of ancientnames, and blue blood, had paid toll to her desire for liberty and forfraternity. The carnage had only ceased at this late hour of the day becausethere were other more interesting sights for the people to witness, a littlewhile before the final closing of the barricades for the night.
And so the crowd rushed away from the Place de la Grève and made for thevarious barricades in order to watch this interesting and amusing sight.