my home.
I followed with keen interest both the proceedings against Mme. Graveau, and the approaching hanging day. I had the freedom to split my attention so, for no fewer than three Adjoints enthusiastically offered to direct the recherché for the eleven Accounts that would come out of Tyburn next, as well as to draft them – subject to my review and revisions. I was grateful for the assistance. My efforts were no closer to freeing Mme. Graveau, but I intended to work harder, not less.
Mme. Graveau herself would not allow me to become discouraged. I visited her often at Newgate – I had moved heaven and Earth for dispensation to do so – and never once did I find her anything but confident and cheerful. Once, in a fit of hopelessness on my part, I railed against God, fate, the government, and my own impotence. I might convince a thousand people she should be freed immediately, I cried, but if none were Kings or Aldermen or Sheriffs, she might still hang. Her stoic reply was unforgettable: “I might hang, but you create a thousand yous? Mon cher, you make a thousand yous and England may endure until Kingdom come.”
That was why I thundered and raged in print and, increasingly, in public speech: I was sowing seeds. With hard work from many others, and much time, and a favorable environment, those seeds could become shoots, roots anchored in the soil, striving toward the sun, to the benefit of England and Liberty herself. Mme. Graveau would rather have been around to see those shoots burst into the sunshine, but if that were impossible, she was at least happy to be there at the beginning.
I saw much less of Susan than had been the case six months before. Mme. Graveau was to be tried just three days after the