text:  A few years passed on--Louis the Sixteenth was hurried to the scaffold--the golden locks of Marie Antoinette were defiled with the blood and sawdust which Young France regarded as the most acceptable offering to the goddess of liberty; and who is that sharp-featured little man sitting in the front row of the spectators of those heaven-darkening murders with a red cap on his head and a many-stringed harp in his hand chanting the praises of the murderers and exciting the drunken populace to greater horrors? Lebrun