Now that I am upon this subject I will mention some circumstances respecting this event which have not, I believe, been ever made known to the public. I was present at the trial and sat very near to the King. Before he was brought to the bar, it was decreed, on the motion of one Legendre,[1] a butcher, that “No person, except the President, should be permitted to speak a word while Louis Capet was present.” Legendre premised his motion by this remark: “Citizen President, I demand that this Assembly preserves the mournful silence of the tomb, so that when the bloody tyrant enters it may strike his guilty soul with horror.” This speech was received with unbounded applause, and the bloodstained hypocrite Barrère,[1] who was President, apostrophised the people on the propriety of observing silence. There were very few people of respectable or even decent appearance in the galleries; they were filled with the vilest rabble. During the night preceding this mock trial the people in the galleries kept themselves awake by singing the Marseillaise hymn, which was vociferated more than a hundred times. The officers of the National Guard provided wine and cakes for those who were willing to purchase them. In the morning the deputies assembled and proceeded upon the order of the day, Santerre,[1] the brewer, being despatched to the Temple to conduct the King to the Convention. [Sidenote: THE NATIONAL CONVENTION] It was arranged the President should first read the whole of the charges and then propose them severally to the King, demanding answers. He was authorised to interrogate the monarch, and any refusal to answer was to be construed into a confession of guilt. Santerre now presented himself at the bar, and thus addressed the President: “Citizen President, Louis Capet awaits your orders.” Before Barrère[1] had time to reply, Mailhé, one of the Secretaries, exclaimed: “Bring him in!” The King attended by several of the officers of the Paris Etat[AAÉtat?]-Majeur, and followed by Santerre, then advanced to the bar, standing erect and firm, and casting (as it seemed to me) a look of defiance upon the silent Assembly. A little before the King entered a member of the Convention said to an Englishman who was present: “This will give you a correct idea of your country in the last century.” To which he replied with uncommon spirit: “No, indeed, we shall see too many tricks here.” I watched the King with the minutest attention, and I observed that in looking round the assembly, he cast his eye upon the standards taken from the Austrians and Prussians, and gave a sudden start, from which, however, he recovered himself in an instant. A wooden chair was brought, upon which Barrère invited him to be seated. He then read the whole of the charges, during which the King fixed his eyes attentively upon him. To every charge he answered directly, without premeditation, and with such skilful propriety that the audience were astonished.