On the one side the enemies of the Government had fallen. It only remained for them to dispose of the rest. The extreme Terrorists had consented to allow their friends in the Commune to perish, but only on condition that the advocates of mercy should perish too. The moderate party had many supporters in the Convention, and were a serious danger to the supremacy of the Committee. They counted on the support of Danton, and though Danton gave them little encouragement, they used his great name to forward their designs. 'Danton sleeps,' said Desmoulins, as he took up his pen again to attack the system and the agents of the Terror, 'Danton sleeps, but it is the sleep of a lion, and he will wake to defend us.' But Danton's power and energy seemed destined never to wake again. Heartily weary of conspiracies and factions, discerning plainly enough the danger which confronted him but unable to rouse himself to avert it, disdaining to take measures to defend himself or to fight his opponents with their own weapons of intrigue, Danton remained undecided and inert. He would not compass his enemies' destruction, and he did not believe that his enemies would dare to compass his. Perhaps he relied on Robespierre's friendship, and forgot that Robespierre was not the man to risk his own ascendency in order to save another's life. At any rate when the crisis came, Robespierre swallowed any scruples that he felt, and consented to unite the Government by abandoning Danton to his opponents. On the night of the 30th March, Danton, Desmoulins and their colleagues were arrested, and next day Robespierre came forward and denounced the 'broken idol' in the Convention. Danton's bearing before the Revolutionary Tribunal was marked by his habitual scornful courage. 'My abode,' he said, in answer to the judge's questions, 'will soon be in eternity; my name you will find in the Pantheon of history.' He defended himself hotly and proudly against the ridiculous charges of royalist conspiracy. His vigorous eloquence created so profound an impression that his accusers trembled for the consequences, and took exceptional measures to cut the trial short. On the 5th April, Danton was guillotined. 'I see now,' he said, 'that in times of Revolution, power falls ultimately to the greatest scoundrels.... Ah, better be a poor fisherman than meddle with the governing of men!'