Decapitating Fear
by Emily Reed
The chosen 11 Frenchmen filed into a dimly lit room filled with a large wooden oval table and twelve chairs. They belonged to an organization called the Committee of Public Safety that was anything but tight knit and safe. Each one of them was hiding something from the other and wouldn't hesitate to turn the knife on one of their supposed friends.
They each carried on small conversations but they lacked depth. It was unfortunate that living in that environment made the men used to empty discussions.
They blamed the necessity to resort to these primitive survival tactics on Robespierre, their lone leader who was seated at the head of the table. As usual, their leader wore his white powdered wig piled high and an oversized gray overcoat. His clothing showed his power and warded off any challengers that believed they could beat Robespierre.
Their conversations ceased as they hastily took their seats. Robespierre was all business and he didn't like to be kept waiting.
"Gentlemen, I trust that you received your mail and reviewed today's agenda? If you did as I asked, then you'd realize that we have a long day ahead of us. At least 100 traitors, Dantonists, and resistance fighters will pass through these walls. By law, we are required to offer them a fair trial, and a trial we will give them!" said Robespierre.
Always the dynamic speaker with perfect timing, the door was pushed in. A guard and a prisoner stood on the other side and were beckoned in by the mischievous man himself. The gruff guard dragged the prisoner into the room and placed him in front of the judge.
The man was dressed in the old clothes of bourgeois from the feudal system. His otherwise dapper attire was dampened by the smells of the sewer that exuded from his body. It was obvious that he worked in a filthy tannery so why did Robespierre list the man as a traitor?
One glimpse of the man's expression reveals that he was anything but a traitor. He wasn't even a revolutionary hero. He had no radical ideas because his sole love in life was farming. They couldn't believe that Robespierre had stooped to rounding up innocents to keep his reign of terror alive.
Yet, they did nothing to stop the chain of events as it unfolded.
"Are you indeed Guillaume Matthieu?" said Robespierre.
"Yes," the small man murmured.
"Where are you from?"
"Paris, France."
"Are you aware that in this country, the crime you committed is punishable by death?"
"No, I was not aware. Whatever crime you're accusing me of, I'm innocent, I swear!"
Robespierre laughed, "I would advise you to tell the truth if you want to keep your head."
The kiss-ups and the vulgar men chuckled at his comment that made light of the murderous contraption known as the guillotine.
The man continued, "I didn't offer the man anything that he couldn't afford. I apologize for not meeting my quota, but sir, the French people are starving. The people that you've sworn to protect are suffering and it was the least I could do to offer the men a cow. The loss of one cow will not make a difference in your diets."
"That's enough. I did not ask for your opinion on how to run my government."
One brave soul at the table decided to speak up. "I believe he is entitled to express his opinion. And after all, he'll die anyways."
The man let out a gasp at this news. Apparently he didn't know that he was a dead man walking.
"I don't want to hear his opinion in any way, shape or form. He can take his useless opinions to the grave for all I care."
Robespierre appeared miffed until he picked up his quill and began furiously scribbling on parchment. He cleared his throat and said, "I charge you with treason and you are hereby sentenced to death by guillotine tomorrow on August 21st, 1783, and you will forever be remembered as an enemy of France."
The men shuffled in their seats and crossed one leg over the other anxiously. They knew what was happening wasn't right, but they felt that they couldn't do anything about it.
They had their wives and children to provide for. As the sole breadwinner, if they were hanged, they might as well hang the rest of the family with them because they'd die in a month of starvation. Because of the scarcity of resources, every man looked after himself and his family only. His family does not include men who he has never met before and will never meet again.
Yet, as the accused screamed his last words before being taken away, some of the men felt compelled to help the man even though it was too late. "Your goal is to promote justice, not execute the innocent."
The crooked man just smiled at the prisoner, as he flashed him a few of his chipped tooth. Robespierre seemed convinced that his desensitized approach to justice was morally right. That these "criminals" were less than humans and they all deserved to be condemned for their sins.
As the guard yanked the man away from the table that he was clutching in a vain attempt to convince Robespierre of his worth, Robespierre let out a soft sigh of casual indifference.
He didn't care about whether people lived or died, as long as their deaths fueled his own political goals.
Robespierre's fear eating monster terrorizes the people as long as the men in power shivered in cowardice. They were the people so could make a difference, but they were too complacent and attached to their heads.
They each carried on small conversations but they lacked depth. It was unfortunate that living in that environment made the men used to empty discussions.
They blamed the necessity to resort to these primitive survival tactics on Robespierre, their lone leader who was seated at the head of the table. As usual, their leader wore his white powdered wig piled high and an oversized gray overcoat. His clothing showed his power and warded off any challengers that believed they could beat Robespierre.
Their conversations ceased as they hastily took their seats. Robespierre was all business and he didn't like to be kept waiting.
"Gentlemen, I trust that you received your mail and reviewed today's agenda? If you did as I asked, then you'd realize that we have a long day ahead of us. At least 100 traitors, Dantonists, and resistance fighters will pass through these walls. By law, we are required to offer them a fair trial, and a trial we will give them!" said Robespierre.
Always the dynamic speaker with perfect timing, the door was pushed in. A guard and a prisoner stood on the other side and were beckoned in by the mischievous man himself. The gruff guard dragged the prisoner into the room and placed him in front of the judge.
The man was dressed in the old clothes of bourgeois from the feudal system. His otherwise dapper attire was dampened by the smells of the sewer that exuded from his body. It was obvious that he worked in a filthy tannery so why did Robespierre list the man as a traitor?
One glimpse of the man's expression reveals that he was anything but a traitor. He wasn't even a revolutionary hero. He had no radical ideas because his sole love in life was farming. They couldn't believe that Robespierre had stooped to rounding up innocents to keep his reign of terror alive.
Yet, they did nothing to stop the chain of events as it unfolded.
"Are you indeed Guillaume Matthieu?" said Robespierre.
"Yes," the small man murmured.
"Where are you from?"
"Paris, France."
"Are you aware that in this country, the crime you committed is punishable by death?"
"No, I was not aware. Whatever crime you're accusing me of, I'm innocent, I swear!"
Robespierre laughed, "I would advise you to tell the truth if you want to keep your head."
The kiss-ups and the vulgar men chuckled at his comment that made light of the murderous contraption known as the guillotine.
The man continued, "I didn't offer the man anything that he couldn't afford. I apologize for not meeting my quota, but sir, the French people are starving. The people that you've sworn to protect are suffering and it was the least I could do to offer the men a cow. The loss of one cow will not make a difference in your diets."
"That's enough. I did not ask for your opinion on how to run my government."
One brave soul at the table decided to speak up. "I believe he is entitled to express his opinion. And after all, he'll die anyways."
The man let out a gasp at this news. Apparently he didn't know that he was a dead man walking.
"I don't want to hear his opinion in any way, shape or form. He can take his useless opinions to the grave for all I care."
Robespierre appeared miffed until he picked up his quill and began furiously scribbling on parchment. He cleared his throat and said, "I charge you with treason and you are hereby sentenced to death by guillotine tomorrow on August 21st, 1783, and you will forever be remembered as an enemy of France."
The men shuffled in their seats and crossed one leg over the other anxiously. They knew what was happening wasn't right, but they felt that they couldn't do anything about it.
They had their wives and children to provide for. As the sole breadwinner, if they were hanged, they might as well hang the rest of the family with them because they'd die in a month of starvation. Because of the scarcity of resources, every man looked after himself and his family only. His family does not include men who he has never met before and will never meet again.
Yet, as the accused screamed his last words before being taken away, some of the men felt compelled to help the man even though it was too late. "Your goal is to promote justice, not execute the innocent."
The crooked man just smiled at the prisoner, as he flashed him a few of his chipped tooth. Robespierre seemed convinced that his desensitized approach to justice was morally right. That these "criminals" were less than humans and they all deserved to be condemned for their sins.
As the guard yanked the man away from the table that he was clutching in a vain attempt to convince Robespierre of his worth, Robespierre let out a soft sigh of casual indifference.
He didn't care about whether people lived or died, as long as their deaths fueled his own political goals.
Robespierre's fear eating monster terrorizes the people as long as the men in power shivered in cowardice. They were the people so could make a difference, but they were too complacent and attached to their heads.