Suddenly, shots sounded close at hand. The members thought it was the Swiss guard, about to fire upon and massacre the National Assembly. In truth, it was the National Guard firing upon that division of the Swiss which had accompanied the King to the National Assembly.
“Now,” cried the President, “is the time to prove ourselves worthy of the people, and of the position they have given us, by dying at our posts.”
It was a false alarm; it was royalty dying.
The people now rallied, broke into the palace, and, maddened by the sight of the dead citizens in the great hall, charged the Swiss, who were serried on the grand staircase.
Upon those stairs they were driven, leaving comrades upon every step. The incline afforded good shooting to the people, who, when they had forced their way to the top of the stairs, had slain every soldier who had faced them. The Swiss guard died bravely to the very last man.
After that it was massacre, not fighting. Wherever a Swiss was found on guard throughout the palace, he was hacked to pieces. Many were thrown alive from the windows to the people below. Some few of these solitary Swiss sentinels showed fight; many threw down their arms, and either faced death unarmed, or uselessly asked for mercy.
Seventeen were found kneeling in the palace chapel. In vain did they show their fire-arms, which, clear and bright, proved they had not fired upon the people. They were foreigners; the news came hourly that all Europe was about to pour upon France, and they were killed before the very altar.
It is said the people had, to stimulate their bloodthirstiness, dissolved gunpowder in the wine and brandy they drank.
Not a Swiss escaped.