To think that I was safe in Nantes was a foolish thought.
I should have been more cautious, more careful of my presence in the city, as my face has never been more recognizable than it is now. Well, I suppose not now, considering that my face is no longer attached to the rest of my body, but as the past mayor of Paris, it wasn’t difficult to identify and arrest me in my place of retirement. Oh, the injustice! When my people expressed that they no longer wanted me as their leader, I made no protest and left peacefully from my city, which now is filled with turmoil and death. I had no choice but to be tried, my greeting with the guillotine made for the next day, cruelly located at the Champ de Mars where the massacre took place earlier this year. I left the world with dignity, mind you, and despite the rain, the cold, and the bitter remarks from the crowd, my head was held high. At least until it was severed from my body, of course.
‘Tu trembles Bailly?’
‘Oui, mais c’est seulement de froid’
I am quite sure that my last words will prove themselves memorable.
It is indeed quite curious. The sensation I feel now in death could only be described as a certain type of release in leaving my blood bathed world behind me. Or below me. I cannot quite be sure of where the guillotine has brought me, but I know that I no longer tremble, neither from the cold or fear. Indeed, I am no longer fearful for myself, but if I still possess a heart in my current state, it lies with the people who continue to suffer under the tyrannical Robspierre. I had said this in the beginning of my endeavors, that many people would die in the pursuit of freedom, but the horrifying number of lives lost to the National Razor is truly devastating. I find myself giving the same advice to the survivors as before; separation is fatal. United purpose is what will overthrow the Robspierre in all of his supposedly ‘virtuous’ acts, and for the sake of France’s future, we must forget the various sanctions of belief. To expel Robspierre is the only way to escape this murderous time for our nation, and the people must realize that our strength lies in our numbers. Robspierre is merely one man, and they are many. It is this simple statement that France has become blind to, a simple that could save many more thousands of lives.
Thousands of lives. Lives spent on murder to feed the ruthless guillotine, lives still tirelessly spent defending the future of France. Although my own personal revolution has ended, I look back fondly on my passionate hope to change France for the better. From the signing of the Oath to the Champ de Mars, my presence shall be remembered as a hero of France, one that provided hope and momentum to the citizens of our country. And while the fate of Robespierre lies in living’s hand, I can only hope that my people continue on with my morals, now that I have been transformed into nothing more than legacy.