[140]
These ever open and hungry jaws must be daily fed with an ampler
supply of human flesh; not only is he bound to let it eat, but to
furnish the food, often with his own hands, except that he must
afterwards wash them, declaring, and even believing, that no spot of
blood has ever soiled them. He is generally content to caress and
flatter the brute, to excuse it, to let it go on. Nevertheless, more
than once, tempted by the opportunity, he has launched it against his
designated victim.[141] He is now himself starting off in quest of
living prey; he casts the net of his rhetoric[142] around it; he
fetches it bound to the open jaws; he thrusts aside with an
uncompromising air the arms of friends, wives and mothers, the
outstretched hands of suppliants begging for lives;[143] he suddenly
throttles the struggling victims[144] and, for fear that they might
escape, he strangles them in time. Near the end, this is no longer
enough; the brute must have grander quarries, and, accordingly, a pack
of hounds, beaters-up, and, willingly or not, it is Robespierre who
equips, directs and urges them on, at Orange, at Paris,[145] ordering
them to empty the prison's, and be expeditious in doing their work.
Pages:
312
313
314
315
316
317
318
319
320
321
322
323
324
325
326
327
328
329
330
331
332
333
334
335
336