As for Saint-Just, in his icy dandyism, he did not approve of the learned, predatory Capuchin. “The leading figure in Strasbourg,” wrote Michelet, “was the ex-Capuchin Schneider, well-versed in ancient literature, formidable in his German tongue and a zealous preacher, a spiritual advisor adored by women. Even today, in this city where a story of loathing has built up around him, certain women (now elderly) are not yet consoled.

“Schneider was a rabid democrat in the mould of the old Anabaptists, of John, the tailor king of Leyden, who sought to compete with Solomon for the number of women. This monk was insatiable: not satisfied with the women who ran after him of their own accord, we are assured that he took women wherever he went.

“Nevertheless, he wanted a wife, and had just married one by force and by terror. He returned to Strasbourg in the evening, in great pomp, in a four-horse carriage. It was late for a city at war; the gates were shut, he had them opened. Saint-Just takes advantage of this situation, namely Schneider’s aristocratic behavior with his carriage and retinue, and has him captured that same night in his marriage bed. Strasbourg can hardly believe its eyes the following morning at the sight of its tyrant tied to the guillotine. He remained there for three hours, in that wretched position, and left it only to be sent to Paris, to his death.

“While he was displayed like that, Saint-Just was seen to appear on the balcony overlooking the square, and to watch his suffering with haughty indifference.¹⁴⁷ The Catholic population, witnessing the humiliation of that renegade, recognized the hand of God and heaped blessings on God’s and Robespierre’s envoy.”

Young Nodier was there that day, at the square in Strasbourg, in front of Saint-Just’s balcony. He describes what really happened. Schneider had decided to marry in the hope that his religious past, about which he was still reminded, might be completely forgotten. He had chosen the pretty daughter of an Alsatian aristocrat whom he had put into prison. He had noticed her among the crowd of supplicants. He released the father and forced him to invite him for lunch. The daughter had remained in her rooms. Schneider ordered that she take part in the banquet and, in her presence, asked for her hand. Before any answer had been given, he rose from the table and went across to the open window. Outside they were building the guillotine. The girl begged her father to accept the marriage proposal and, turning to her future husband, she, too, made a proposal: she wanted to be married straightaway, but in Strasbourg, not in that small town of theirs, so that the marriage would be a glorious occasion and everyone could forget the mistresses that Schneider had till then dragged behind him. The suitor agreed. Schneider made his entry into Strasbourg the next day, preceded by his hussars of death, in a carriage drawn by six horses, sitting beside his radiant bride-to-be, followed by a low red cart on which his mobile guillotine was mounted, and finally a small carriage where the executioner sat—a pale, gaunt, serious man on whom all eyes were fixed. It was three thirty in the afternoon, a few minutes after the gates were due to close.