THE RULERS OF THE COUNTRY.
Let us follow the operations of the new government from top to bottom， from those of its ruling bodies and leaders， to its assemblies， committees， delegates， administrators and underlings of every kind and degree. Like living flesh stamped with a red-hot iron， so will the situation put one their brows the two marks， each with its own different depth and discoloration. In vain do they， too， strive to conceal their scars： we detect under the crowns and titles they assume the brand of the slave or the mark of the tyrant.
I. The Convention.
The Convention. - The "Plain." - The "Mountain." - Degradation of Souls. - Parades which the Convention is obligated to make.
At the Tuileries， the omnipotent Convention sits enthroned in the theater， converted into an Assembly room. It carries on its deliberations daily， in grand style. Its decrees， received with blind obedience， startle France and upset all Europe. At a distance， its majesty is imposing， more august than that of the Republican senate in Rome. Near by， the effect is quite otherwise； these undisputed sovereigns are serfs who live in trances， and justly so， for， nowhere， even in prison， is there more constraint and less security than on their benches. After the 2nd of June， 1793， their inviolable precincts， the grand official reservoir from which legal authority flows， becomes a sort of tank， into which the revolutionary net plunges and successfully brings out its choicest fish， singly or by the dozen， and sometimes in vast numbers； at first， the sixty-seven Girondist deputies， who are executed or proscribed； then， the seventy-three members of the "Right，" swept off in one day and lodged in the prison of La Force； next， the prominent Jacobins：
Osselin， arrested on the 19th of Brumaire， Bazire， Chabot， and Delaunay， accused by decree on the 24th Brumaire， Fabre d'Eglantine， arrested on the 24th of Niv？se， Bernard， guillotined on the 3rd of Pluvi？se， Anacharsis Clootz guillotined on the 4th of Germinal， Hérault de Séchelles， Lacroix， Philippeaux， Camille Desmoulins and Danton， guillotined with four others on the 10th of Germinal， Simon， guillotined on the 24th of Germinal， and Osselin， guillotined on the 8th of Messidor. - Naturally， the others take warning and are careful. At the opening of the session they are seen entering the hall， looking uneasy， full of distrust，"[1] like animals driven into a pen and suspicious of a trap.
"Each，" writes an eye-witness， "acted and spoke with circumspection， for fear of being charged with some crime： in effect， nothing was unimportant， the seat one took， a glance of the eye， a gesture， a murmur， a smile."Hence， they flock instinctively to the side which is best sheltered， the left side.
"The tide flowed towards the summit of the Mountain； the right side was deserted. . . . Many took no side at all， and， during the session， often changed their seats， thinking that they might thus elude the spy by donning a mixed hue and keeping on good terms with everybody. The most prudent never sat down； they kept off the benches， at the foot of the tribune， and， on matters getting to be serious， slipped quietly out of the hall."Most of them took refuge in their committee-rooms； each tries to be over-looked， to be obscure， to appear insignificant or absent.[2]
During the four months following the 2nd of June， the hall of the Convention is half or three-quarters empty； the election of a president does not bring out two hundred and fifty voters；[3] only two hundred， one hundred， fifty votes， elect the Committees of Public Safety and General Security； about fifty votes elect the judges of the Revolutionary Tribunal； less than ten votes elect their substitutes；[4] not one vote is cast for the adoption of the decree indicting the deputy， Dulaure；[5] "no member rises for or against it；there is no vote；" the president， nevertheless， pronounces the act passed and the Marais lets things take their course." - "Marais frogs"[6] is the appellation bestowed on them before the 2nd of June， when， amongst the dregs of the "Center，" they "broke" with the "Mountain；" now， they still number four hundred and fifty， three times as many as the " Montagnards； "but they purposely keep quiet； their old name "renders them， so to say， soft； their ears ring with eternal menaces； their hearts shrivel up with terror；[7] while their tongues， paralyzed by habitual silence， remain as if glued to the roofs of their mouths. In vain do they keep in the back-ground， consent to everything， ask nothing for themselves but personal safety， and surrender all else， their votes， their wills and their consciences；they feel that their life hangs by a thread. The greatest mute among them all， Siéyès， denounced in the Jacobin Club， barely escapes， and through the protection of his shoemaker， who rises and exclaims ：
"That Siéyès ！ I know him. He don't meddle with politics. He does nothing but read his book. I make his shoes and will answer for him."[8]