There might even have been some hope had not Louis himself actually interfered to check their exertions.  Hearing what they had accomplished, the gallant D’Hervilly made his way to them, and called on them to follow him to the rescue of the king.  They hesitated, unwilling to leave their wounded comrades to the mercy of their enemies; but their hesitation was brief, for it was put an end to by the wounded men themselves, who bid them hasten forward; their duty, they told them, was to save the king; for themselves, they could but die where they lay.[4] There were still plenty of gallant spirits to do their duty to the king, if he could but have been persuaded to take a right view of his duty to himself and to them.

The Swiss gladly obeyed D’Hervilly’s summons.  Forming in close order, and as steady as on parade, they marched through the garden, one battalion moving toward the end opposite to the palace, where there was a draw-bridge which it was essential to secure; the other following D’Hervilly to the Assembly hall.  Nothing could resist their advance:  they forced their way up the stairs; and in a few moments a young officer, M. de Salis, at the head of a small detachment, sword in hand, entered the chamber.  Some of the deputies shrieked and fled, while others, more calm, reminded him that armed men were forbidden to enter the hall, and ordered him to retire.  He refused, and sent his subaltern to the king for orders.  But Louis still held to his strange policy of non-resistance.  Even the terrible scenes of the morning, and the deliberate attack of an armed mob upon his palace, had failed to eradicate his unwillingness to authorize his own Guards to fight in his behalf, or to convince him that when his throne (perhaps even his life and the lives of all his family) was at stake, it was nobler to struggle for victory, and, if defeated, to die with arms in his hands, than tamely to sit still and be stripped of his kingly dignity by brigands and traitors.  Could he but have summoned energy to put himself at the head of his faithful Guards, as we may be sure that his brave wife urged him to do; could he have even sent them one encouraging order, one cheering word, there still might have been hope; for they had already proved that no number of Santerre’s ruffians could stand before them.[5] But Louis could not even now bring himself to act; he could only suffer.  His command to the officer, the last he ever issued, was for the whole battalion to lay down their arms, to evacuate the palace, and to retire to their barracks.  He would not, he said, that such brave men should die.  They knew that in fact he was consigning them to death without honor; but they were loyal to the last.  They obeyed, though their obedience to the first part of the order rendered the last part impracticable.  They laid down their arms, and were at once made prisoners; and the fate of prisoners in such hands as those of their captors was certain.  A small handful, consisting, it is said, of fourteen men, escaped through the courage of one or two friends, who presently brought them plain clothes to exchange for their uniforms, but before night all the rest were massacred.