[495:1]First published (as an octavo pamphlet) at Cambridge by Benjamin Flower in 1794: included inLiterary Remains, 1836, i. (1)-32. First collected inP. and D. W., 1877-80, in. (1)-39. 'It will be remarked,' writes J. D. Campbell (P. W., 1893, p. 646), 'that neither title-page nor dedication contains any hint of the joint authorship.' On this point Coleridge writes to Southey, September 19, 1794:—'The tragedy will be printed in less than a week. I shall put my name because it will sell at least a hundred copies in Cambridge. It would appear ridiculous to print two names to such a work. But if you choose it, mention it and it shall be done. To every man whopraisesit, of course I give thetruebiography of it.'Letters of S. T. C., 1895, i. 85.
[495:1]First published (as an octavo pamphlet) at Cambridge by Benjamin Flower in 1794: included inLiterary Remains, 1836, i. (1)-32. First collected inP. and D. W., 1877-80, in. (1)-39. 'It will be remarked,' writes J. D. Campbell (P. W., 1893, p. 646), 'that neither title-page nor dedication contains any hint of the joint authorship.' On this point Coleridge writes to Southey, September 19, 1794:—'The tragedy will be printed in less than a week. I shall put my name because it will sell at least a hundred copies in Cambridge. It would appear ridiculous to print two names to such a work. But if you choose it, mention it and it shall be done. To every man whopraisesit, of course I give thetruebiography of it.'Letters of S. T. C., 1895, i. 85.
Barrere.The tempest gathers—be it mine to seekA friendly shelter, ere it bursts upon him.But where? and how? I fear the Tyrant'ssoul—Sudden in action, fertile in resource,And rising awful 'mid impending ruins;5In splendor gloomy, as the midnight meteor,That fearless thwarts the elemental war.When last in secret conference we met,He scowl'd upon me with suspicious rage,Making his eye the inmate of my bosom.10I know he scorns me—and I feel, I hate him—Yet there is in him that which makes me tremble![Exit.
Barrere.The tempest gathers—be it mine to seekA friendly shelter, ere it bursts upon him.But where? and how? I fear the Tyrant'ssoul—Sudden in action, fertile in resource,And rising awful 'mid impending ruins;5In splendor gloomy, as the midnight meteor,That fearless thwarts the elemental war.When last in secret conference we met,He scowl'd upon me with suspicious rage,Making his eye the inmate of my bosom.10I know he scorns me—and I feel, I hate him—Yet there is in him that which makes me tremble![Exit.
EnterTallienandLegendre.
Tallien.It was Barrere, Legendre! didst thou mark him?Abrupt he turn'd, yet linger'd as he went,And towards us cast a look of doubtful meaning.15Legendre.I mark'd him well. I met his eye's last glance;It menac'd not so proudly as of yore.Methought he would have spoke—but that he dar'd not—Such agitation darken'd on his brow.Tallien.'Twas all-distrusting guilt that kept from bursting20Th' imprison'd secret struggling in the face:E'en as the sudden breeze upstarting onwardsHurries the thundercloud, that pois'd awhileHung in mid air, red with its mutinous burthen.Legendre.Perfidious Traitor!—still afraid to bask25In the full blaze of power, the rustling serpentLurks in the thicket of the Tyrant's greatness,Ever prepared to sting who shelters him.Each thought, each action in himself converges;And love and friendship on his coward heart30Shine like the powerless sun on polar ice;To all attach'd, by turns deserting all,Cunning and dark—a necessary villain!Tallien.Yet much depends upon him—well you knowWith plausible harangue 'tis his to paint35Defeat like victory—and blind the mobWith truth-mix'd falsehood. They led on by him,[497]And wild of head to work their own destruction,Support with uproar what he plans in darkness.Legendre.O what a precious name is Liberty40To scare or cheat the simple into slaves!Yes—we must gain him over: by dark hintsWe'll shew enough to rouse his watchful fears,Till the cold coward blaze a patriot.O Danton! murder'd friend! assist my counsels—45Hover around me on sad Memory's wings,And pour thy daring vengeance in my heart.Tallien! if but to-morrow's fateful sunBeholds the Tyrant living—we are dead!Tallien.Yet his keen eye that flashes mighty meanings—50Legendre.Fear not—or rather fear th' alternative,And seek for courage e'en in cowardice—But see—hither he comes—let us away!His brother with him, and the bloody Couthon,And high of haughty spirit, young St. Just.55[Exeunt.
Tallien.It was Barrere, Legendre! didst thou mark him?Abrupt he turn'd, yet linger'd as he went,And towards us cast a look of doubtful meaning.15
Legendre.I mark'd him well. I met his eye's last glance;It menac'd not so proudly as of yore.Methought he would have spoke—but that he dar'd not—Such agitation darken'd on his brow.
Tallien.'Twas all-distrusting guilt that kept from bursting20Th' imprison'd secret struggling in the face:E'en as the sudden breeze upstarting onwardsHurries the thundercloud, that pois'd awhileHung in mid air, red with its mutinous burthen.
Legendre.Perfidious Traitor!—still afraid to bask25In the full blaze of power, the rustling serpentLurks in the thicket of the Tyrant's greatness,Ever prepared to sting who shelters him.Each thought, each action in himself converges;And love and friendship on his coward heart30Shine like the powerless sun on polar ice;To all attach'd, by turns deserting all,Cunning and dark—a necessary villain!
Tallien.Yet much depends upon him—well you knowWith plausible harangue 'tis his to paint35Defeat like victory—and blind the mobWith truth-mix'd falsehood. They led on by him,[497]And wild of head to work their own destruction,Support with uproar what he plans in darkness.
Legendre.O what a precious name is Liberty40To scare or cheat the simple into slaves!Yes—we must gain him over: by dark hintsWe'll shew enough to rouse his watchful fears,Till the cold coward blaze a patriot.O Danton! murder'd friend! assist my counsels—45Hover around me on sad Memory's wings,And pour thy daring vengeance in my heart.Tallien! if but to-morrow's fateful sunBeholds the Tyrant living—we are dead!
Tallien.Yet his keen eye that flashes mighty meanings—50
Legendre.Fear not—or rather fear th' alternative,And seek for courage e'en in cowardice—But see—hither he comes—let us away!His brother with him, and the bloody Couthon,And high of haughty spirit, young St. Just.55[Exeunt.
EnterRobespierre, Couthon, St. Just, andRobespierre Junior.
Robespierre.What? did La Fayette fall before my power?And did I conquer Roland's spotless virtues?The fervent eloquence of Vergniaud's tongue?And Brissot's thoughtful soul unbribed and bold?Did zealot armies haste in vain to save them?60What! did th' assassin's dagger aim its pointVain, as adreamof murder, at my bosom?And shall I dread the soft luxurious Tallien?Th' Adonis Tallien? banquet-hunting Tallien?Him, whose heart flutters at the dice-box? Him,65Who ever on the harlots' downy pillowResigns his head impure to feverish slumbers!St. Just.I cannot fear him—yet we must not scorn him.Was it not Antony that conquer'd Brutus,Th' Adonis, banquet-hunting Antony?70The state is not yet purified: and thoughThe stream runs clear, yet at the bottom liesThe thick black sediment of all the factions—It needs no magic hand to stir it up!Couthon.O we did wrong to spare them—fatal error!75Why lived Legendre, when that Danton died?And Collot d'Herbois dangerous in crimes?[498]I'vefear'd him, since his iron heart enduredTo make of Lyons one vast human shambles,Compar'd with which the sun-scorcht wilderness80Of Zara were a smiling paradise.St. Just.Rightly thou judgest, Couthon! He is oneWho flies from silent solitary anguish,Seeking forgetful peace amid the jarOf elements. The howl of maniac uproar85Lulls to sad sleep the memory of himself.A calm is fatal to him—then he feelsThe dire upboilings of the storm within him.A tiger mad with inward wounds!—I dreadThe fierce and restless turbulence of guilt.90Robespierre.Is not the Commune ours? The stern tribunal?Dumas? and Vivier? Fleuriot? and Louvet?And Henriot? We'll denounce an hundred, norShall they behold to-morrow's sun roll westward.Robespierre Junior.Nay—I am sick of blood; my aching heart95Reviews the long, long train of hideous horrorsThat still have gloom'd the rise of the Republic.I should have died before Toulon, when warBecame the patriot!Robespierre.Most unworthy wish!He, whose heart sickens at the blood of traitors,100Would be himself a traitor, were he notA coward! 'Tis congenial souls aloneShed tears of sorrow for each other's fate.O thou art brave, my brother! and thine eyeFull firmly shines amid the groaning battle—105Yet in thine heart the woman-form of pityAsserts too large a share, an ill-timed guest!There is unsoundness in the state—To-morrowShall see it cleans'd by wholesome massacre!Robespierre Junior.Beware! already do the sections murmur—110'O the great glorious patriot, Robespierre—Thetyrant guardianof the country'sfreedom!'Couthon.'Twere folly sure to work great deeds by halves!Much I suspect the darksome fickle heartOf cold Barrere!Robespierre.I see the villain in him!115Robespierre Junior.If he—if all forsake thee—what remains?
Robespierre.What? did La Fayette fall before my power?And did I conquer Roland's spotless virtues?The fervent eloquence of Vergniaud's tongue?And Brissot's thoughtful soul unbribed and bold?Did zealot armies haste in vain to save them?60What! did th' assassin's dagger aim its pointVain, as adreamof murder, at my bosom?And shall I dread the soft luxurious Tallien?Th' Adonis Tallien? banquet-hunting Tallien?Him, whose heart flutters at the dice-box? Him,65Who ever on the harlots' downy pillowResigns his head impure to feverish slumbers!
St. Just.I cannot fear him—yet we must not scorn him.Was it not Antony that conquer'd Brutus,Th' Adonis, banquet-hunting Antony?70The state is not yet purified: and thoughThe stream runs clear, yet at the bottom liesThe thick black sediment of all the factions—It needs no magic hand to stir it up!
Couthon.O we did wrong to spare them—fatal error!75Why lived Legendre, when that Danton died?And Collot d'Herbois dangerous in crimes?[498]I'vefear'd him, since his iron heart enduredTo make of Lyons one vast human shambles,Compar'd with which the sun-scorcht wilderness80Of Zara were a smiling paradise.
St. Just.Rightly thou judgest, Couthon! He is oneWho flies from silent solitary anguish,Seeking forgetful peace amid the jarOf elements. The howl of maniac uproar85Lulls to sad sleep the memory of himself.A calm is fatal to him—then he feelsThe dire upboilings of the storm within him.A tiger mad with inward wounds!—I dreadThe fierce and restless turbulence of guilt.90
Robespierre.Is not the Commune ours? The stern tribunal?Dumas? and Vivier? Fleuriot? and Louvet?And Henriot? We'll denounce an hundred, norShall they behold to-morrow's sun roll westward.
Robespierre Junior.Nay—I am sick of blood; my aching heart95Reviews the long, long train of hideous horrorsThat still have gloom'd the rise of the Republic.I should have died before Toulon, when warBecame the patriot!
Robespierre.Most unworthy wish!He, whose heart sickens at the blood of traitors,100Would be himself a traitor, were he notA coward! 'Tis congenial souls aloneShed tears of sorrow for each other's fate.O thou art brave, my brother! and thine eyeFull firmly shines amid the groaning battle—105Yet in thine heart the woman-form of pityAsserts too large a share, an ill-timed guest!There is unsoundness in the state—To-morrowShall see it cleans'd by wholesome massacre!
Robespierre Junior.Beware! already do the sections murmur—110'O the great glorious patriot, Robespierre—Thetyrant guardianof the country'sfreedom!'
Couthon.'Twere folly sure to work great deeds by halves!Much I suspect the darksome fickle heartOf cold Barrere!
Robespierre.I see the villain in him!115
Robespierre Junior.If he—if all forsake thee—what remains?
Robespierre.Myself! the steel-strong Rectitude of soulAnd Poverty sublime 'mid circling virtues!The giant Victories my counsels form'dShall stalk around me with sun-glittering plumes,120Bidding the darts of calumny fall pointless.[Exeunt caeteri. ManetCouthon.Couthon (solus).So we deceive ourselves! What goodly virtuesBloom on the poisonous branches of ambition!Still, Robespierre! thou'lt guard thy country's freedomTo despotize in all the patriot's pomp.125While Conscience, 'mid the mob's applauding clamours,Sleeps in thine ear, nor whispers—blood-stain'd tyrant!Yet what is Conscience? Superstition's dream,Making such deep impression on our sleep—That long th' awakened breast retains its horrors!130But he returns—and with him comes Barrere.[ExitCouthon.
Robespierre.Myself! the steel-strong Rectitude of soulAnd Poverty sublime 'mid circling virtues!The giant Victories my counsels form'dShall stalk around me with sun-glittering plumes,120Bidding the darts of calumny fall pointless.[Exeunt caeteri. ManetCouthon.
Couthon (solus).So we deceive ourselves! What goodly virtuesBloom on the poisonous branches of ambition!Still, Robespierre! thou'lt guard thy country's freedomTo despotize in all the patriot's pomp.125While Conscience, 'mid the mob's applauding clamours,Sleeps in thine ear, nor whispers—blood-stain'd tyrant!Yet what is Conscience? Superstition's dream,Making such deep impression on our sleep—That long th' awakened breast retains its horrors!130But he returns—and with him comes Barrere.[ExitCouthon.
EnterRobespierreandBarrere.
Robespierre.There is no danger but in cowardice.—Barrere! wemakethe danger, when wefearit.We have such force without, as will suspendThe cold and trembling treachery of these members.135Barrere.'Twill be a pause of terror.—Robespierre.But to whom?Rather the short-lived slumber of the tempest,Gathering its strength anew. The dastard traitors!Moles, that would undermine the rooted oak!A pause!—amoment'spause?—'Tis alltheir life.140Barrere.Yet much they talk—and plausible their speech.Couthon's decree has given such powers, that—Robespierre.That what?Barrere.The freedom of debate—Robespierre.Transparent mask!They wish to clog the wheels of government,Forcing the hand that guides the vast machine145To bribe them to their duty—Englishpatriots!Are not the congregated clouds of warBlack all around us? In our very vitalsWorks not the king-bred poison of rebellion?Say, what shall counteract the selfish plottings150Of wretches, cold of heart, nor awed by fearsOf him, whose power directs th' eternal justice?[500]Terror? or secret-sapping gold? The firstHeavy, but transient as the ills that cause it;And to the virtuous patriot rendered light155By the necessities that gave it birth:The other fouls the fount of the republic,Making it flow polluted to all ages:Inoculates the state with a slow venom,That once imbibed, must be continued ever.160Myself incorruptible I ne'er could bribe them—Therefore they hate me.Barrere.Are the sections friendly?Robespierre.There are who wish my ruin—but I'll make themBlush for the crime in blood!Barrere.Nay—but I tell thee,Thou art too fond of slaughter—and the right165(If right it be) workest by most foul means!Robespierre.Self-centering Fear!how well thou canst apeMercy!Too fond of slaughter!—matchless hypocrite!Thought Barrere so, when Brissot, Danton died?Thought Barrere so, when through the streaming streets170Of Paris red-eyed Massacre o'erweariedReel'd heavily, intoxicate with blood?And when (O heavens!) in Lyons' death-red squareSick Fancy groan'd o'er putrid hills of slain,Didst thou not fiercely laugh, and bless the day?175Why, thou hast been the mouth-piece of all horrors,And, like a blood-hound, crouch'd for murder! NowAloof thou standest from the tottering pillar,Or, like a frighted child behind its mother,Hidest thy pale face in the skirts of—Mercy!180Barrere.O prodigality of eloquent anger!Why now I see thou'rt weak—thy case is desperate!The cool ferocious Robespierre turn'd scolder!Robespierre.Who from a bad man's bosom wards the blowReserves the whetted dagger for his own.185Denounced twice—and twice I saved his life![Exit.Barrere.The sections will support them—there's the point!No! he can never weather out the storm—Yet he is sudden in revenge—No more!I must away to Tallien.[Exit.190
Robespierre.There is no danger but in cowardice.—Barrere! wemakethe danger, when wefearit.We have such force without, as will suspendThe cold and trembling treachery of these members.135
Barrere.'Twill be a pause of terror.—
Robespierre.But to whom?Rather the short-lived slumber of the tempest,Gathering its strength anew. The dastard traitors!Moles, that would undermine the rooted oak!A pause!—amoment'spause?—'Tis alltheir life.140
Barrere.Yet much they talk—and plausible their speech.Couthon's decree has given such powers, that—
Robespierre.That what?
Barrere.The freedom of debate—
Robespierre.Transparent mask!They wish to clog the wheels of government,Forcing the hand that guides the vast machine145To bribe them to their duty—Englishpatriots!Are not the congregated clouds of warBlack all around us? In our very vitalsWorks not the king-bred poison of rebellion?Say, what shall counteract the selfish plottings150Of wretches, cold of heart, nor awed by fearsOf him, whose power directs th' eternal justice?[500]Terror? or secret-sapping gold? The firstHeavy, but transient as the ills that cause it;And to the virtuous patriot rendered light155By the necessities that gave it birth:The other fouls the fount of the republic,Making it flow polluted to all ages:Inoculates the state with a slow venom,That once imbibed, must be continued ever.160Myself incorruptible I ne'er could bribe them—Therefore they hate me.
Barrere.Are the sections friendly?
Robespierre.There are who wish my ruin—but I'll make themBlush for the crime in blood!
Barrere.Nay—but I tell thee,Thou art too fond of slaughter—and the right165(If right it be) workest by most foul means!
Robespierre.Self-centering Fear!how well thou canst apeMercy!Too fond of slaughter!—matchless hypocrite!Thought Barrere so, when Brissot, Danton died?Thought Barrere so, when through the streaming streets170Of Paris red-eyed Massacre o'erweariedReel'd heavily, intoxicate with blood?And when (O heavens!) in Lyons' death-red squareSick Fancy groan'd o'er putrid hills of slain,Didst thou not fiercely laugh, and bless the day?175Why, thou hast been the mouth-piece of all horrors,And, like a blood-hound, crouch'd for murder! NowAloof thou standest from the tottering pillar,Or, like a frighted child behind its mother,Hidest thy pale face in the skirts of—Mercy!180
Barrere.O prodigality of eloquent anger!Why now I see thou'rt weak—thy case is desperate!The cool ferocious Robespierre turn'd scolder!
Robespierre.Who from a bad man's bosom wards the blowReserves the whetted dagger for his own.185Denounced twice—and twice I saved his life![Exit.
Barrere.The sections will support them—there's the point!No! he can never weather out the storm—Yet he is sudden in revenge—No more!I must away to Tallien.[Exit.190
Scenechanges to the house ofAdelaide.
Adelaideenters, speaking to aServant.
Adelaide.Didst thou present the letter that I gave thee?Did Tallien answer, he would soon return?Servant.He is in the Thuilleries—with him Legendre—In deep discourse they seem'd: as I approach'dHe waved his hand as bidding me retire:195I did not interrupt him.[Returns the letter.Adelaide.Thou didst rightly.[ExitServant.O this new freedom! at how dear a priceWe've bought the seeming good! The peaceful virtuesAnd every blandishment of private life,The father's cares, the mother's fond endearment,200All sacrificed to liberty's wild riot.The wingéd hours, that scatter'd roses round me,Languid and sad drag their slow course along,And shake big gall-drops from their heavy wings.But I will steal away these anxious thoughts205By the soft languishment of warbled airs,If haply melodies may lull the senseOf sorrow for a while.[Soft music.
Adelaide.Didst thou present the letter that I gave thee?Did Tallien answer, he would soon return?
Servant.He is in the Thuilleries—with him Legendre—In deep discourse they seem'd: as I approach'dHe waved his hand as bidding me retire:195I did not interrupt him.[Returns the letter.
Adelaide.Thou didst rightly.[ExitServant.O this new freedom! at how dear a priceWe've bought the seeming good! The peaceful virtuesAnd every blandishment of private life,The father's cares, the mother's fond endearment,200All sacrificed to liberty's wild riot.The wingéd hours, that scatter'd roses round me,Languid and sad drag their slow course along,And shake big gall-drops from their heavy wings.But I will steal away these anxious thoughts205By the soft languishment of warbled airs,If haply melodies may lull the senseOf sorrow for a while.[Soft music.
EnterTallien.
Tallien.Music, my love? O breathe again that air!Soft nurse of pain, it sooths the weary soul210Of care, sweet as the whisper'd breeze of eveningThat plays around the sick man's throbbing temples.SONG[501:1]Tell me, on what holy groundMay domestic peace be found?Halcyon daughter of the skies,215Far on fearful wing she flies,From the pomp of scepter'd state,From the rebel's noisy hate.In a cottag'd vale she dwellsList'ning to the Sabbath bells!220[502]Still around her steps are seen,Spotless honor's meeker mien,Love, the sire of pleasing fears,Sorrow smiling through her tears,And conscious of the past employ,225Memory, bosom-spring of joy.Tallien.I thank thee, Adelaide! 'twas sweet, though mournful.But why thy brow o'ercast, thy cheek so wan?Thou look'st as a lorn maid beside some streamThat sighs away the soul in fond despairing,230While sorrow sad, like the dank willow near her,Hangs o'er the troubled fountain of her eye.Adelaide.Ah! rather let me ask what mystery lowersOn Tallien's darken'd brow. Thou dost me wrong—Thy soul distemper'd, can my heart be tranquil?235Tallien.Tell me, by whom thy brother's blood was spilt?Asks he not vengeance on these patriot murderers?It has been borne too tamely. Fears and cursesGroan on our midnight beds, and e'en our dreamsThreaten the assassin hand of Robespierre.240He dies!—nor has the plot escaped his fears.Adelaide.Yet—yet—be cautious! much I fear the Commune—The tyrant's creatures, and their fate with hisFast link'd in close indissoluble union.The pale Convention—Tallien.Hate him as they fear him,245Impatient of the chain, resolv'd and ready.Adelaide.Th' enthusiast mob, confusion's lawless sons—Tallien.They are aweary of his stern morality,The fair-mask'd offspring of ferocious pride.The sections too support the delegates:250All—all is ours! e'en now the vital airOf Liberty, condens'd awhile, is bursting(Force irresistible!) from its compressure—To shatter the arch chemist in the explosion!
Tallien.Music, my love? O breathe again that air!Soft nurse of pain, it sooths the weary soul210Of care, sweet as the whisper'd breeze of eveningThat plays around the sick man's throbbing temples.
SONG[501:1]
Tell me, on what holy groundMay domestic peace be found?Halcyon daughter of the skies,215Far on fearful wing she flies,From the pomp of scepter'd state,From the rebel's noisy hate.
In a cottag'd vale she dwellsList'ning to the Sabbath bells!220[502]Still around her steps are seen,Spotless honor's meeker mien,Love, the sire of pleasing fears,Sorrow smiling through her tears,And conscious of the past employ,225Memory, bosom-spring of joy.
Tallien.I thank thee, Adelaide! 'twas sweet, though mournful.But why thy brow o'ercast, thy cheek so wan?Thou look'st as a lorn maid beside some streamThat sighs away the soul in fond despairing,230While sorrow sad, like the dank willow near her,Hangs o'er the troubled fountain of her eye.
Adelaide.Ah! rather let me ask what mystery lowersOn Tallien's darken'd brow. Thou dost me wrong—Thy soul distemper'd, can my heart be tranquil?235
Tallien.Tell me, by whom thy brother's blood was spilt?Asks he not vengeance on these patriot murderers?It has been borne too tamely. Fears and cursesGroan on our midnight beds, and e'en our dreamsThreaten the assassin hand of Robespierre.240He dies!—nor has the plot escaped his fears.
Adelaide.Yet—yet—be cautious! much I fear the Commune—The tyrant's creatures, and their fate with hisFast link'd in close indissoluble union.The pale Convention—
Tallien.Hate him as they fear him,245Impatient of the chain, resolv'd and ready.
Adelaide.Th' enthusiast mob, confusion's lawless sons—
Tallien.They are aweary of his stern morality,The fair-mask'd offspring of ferocious pride.The sections too support the delegates:250All—all is ours! e'en now the vital airOf Liberty, condens'd awhile, is bursting(Force irresistible!) from its compressure—To shatter the arch chemist in the explosion!
EnterBillaud VarennesandBourdon l'Oise.
[Adelaideretires.
Bourdon l'Oise.Tallien! was this a time for amorous conference?255Henriot, the tyrant's most devoted creature,[503]Marshals the force of Paris: The fierce Club,With Vivier at their head, in loud acclaimHave sworn to make the guillotine in bloodFloat on the scaffold.—But who comes here?260
Bourdon l'Oise.Tallien! was this a time for amorous conference?255Henriot, the tyrant's most devoted creature,[503]Marshals the force of Paris: The fierce Club,With Vivier at their head, in loud acclaimHave sworn to make the guillotine in bloodFloat on the scaffold.—But who comes here?260
EnterBarrereabruptly.
Barrere.Say, are ye friends to freedom?I am her's!Let us, forgetful of all common feuds,Rally around her shrine! E'en now the tyrantConcerts a plan of instant massacre!Billaud Varennes.Away to the Convention! with that voice265So oft the herald of glad victory,Rouse their fallen spirits, thunder in their earsThe names of tyrant, plunderer, assassin!The violent workings of my soul withinAnticipate the monster's blood!270
Barrere.Say, are ye friends to freedom?I am her's!Let us, forgetful of all common feuds,Rally around her shrine! E'en now the tyrantConcerts a plan of instant massacre!
Billaud Varennes.Away to the Convention! with that voice265So oft the herald of glad victory,Rouse their fallen spirits, thunder in their earsThe names of tyrant, plunderer, assassin!The violent workings of my soul withinAnticipate the monster's blood!270
[Cry from the street of—No Tyrant! Down with the Tyrant!
Tallien.Hear ye that outcry?—If the trembling membersEven for a moment hold his fate suspended,I swear by the holy poniard, that stabbed Caesar,This dagger probes his heart![Exeunt omnes.
Tallien.Hear ye that outcry?—If the trembling membersEven for a moment hold his fate suspended,I swear by the holy poniard, that stabbed Caesar,This dagger probes his heart![Exeunt omnes.
[501:1]This Song was reprinted in Coleridge'sPoemsof 1796, and later under the title ofTo Domestic Peace,vide ante, pp. 71, 72.
[501:1]This Song was reprinted in Coleridge'sPoemsof 1796, and later under the title ofTo Domestic Peace,vide ante, pp. 71, 72.
Robespierre mounts the Tribune.Once more befits it that the voice of Truth,Fearless in innocence, though leaguered roundBy Envy and her hateful brood of hell,Be heard amid this hall; once more befitsThe patriot, whose prophetic eye so oft5Has pierced thro' faction's veil, to flash on crimesOf deadliest import. Mouldering in the graveSleeps Capet's caitiff corse; my daring handLevelled to earth his blood-cemented throne,My voice declared his guilt, and stirred up France10To call for vengeance. I too dug the graveWhere sleep the Girondists, detested band!Long with the shew of freedom they abusedHer ardent sons. Long time the well-turn'd phrase,The high-fraught sentence and the lofty tone15[504]Of declamation, thunder'd in this hall,Till reason midst a labyrinth of wordsPerplex'd, in silence seem'd to yield assent.I durst oppose. Soul of my honoured friend,Spirit of Marat, upon thee I call—20Thou know'st me faithful, know'st with what warm zealI urg'd the cause of justice, stripp'd the maskFrom faction's deadly visage, and destroy'dHer traitor brood. Whose patriot arm hurl'd downHébert and Rousin, and the villain friends25Of Danton, foul apostate! those, who longMask'd treason's form in liberty's fair garb,Long deluged France with blood, and durst defyOmnipotence! but I it seems am false!I am a traitor too! I—Robespierre!30I—at whose name the dastard despot broodLook pale with fear, and call on saints to help them!Who dares accuse me? who shall dare belieMy spotless name? Speak, ye accomplice band,Of what am I accus'd? of what strange crime35Is Maximilian Robespierre accus'd,That through this hall the buz of discontentShould murmur? who shall speak?Billaud Varennes.O patriot tongueBelying the foul heart! Who was it urg'dFriendly to tyrants that accurst decree,40Whose influence brooding o'er this hallowed hall,Has chill'd each tongue to silence? Who destroyedThe freedom of debate, and carried throughThe fatal law, that doom'd the delegates,Unheard before their equals, to the bar45Where cruelty sat throned, and murder reign'dWith her Dumas coequal? Say—thou manOf mighty eloquence, whose law was that?Couthon.That law was mine. I urged it—I propos'd—The voice of France assembled in her sons50Assented, though the tame and timid voiceOf traitors murmur'd. I advis'd that law—I justify it. It was wise and good.Barrere.Oh, wonderous wise and most convenient too!I have long mark'd thee, Robespierre—and now55Proclaim thee traitor tyrant![Loud applauses.Robespierre.It is well.[505]I am a traitor! oh, that I had fallenWhen Regnault lifted high the murderous knife,Regnault the instrument belike of thoseWho now themselves would fain assassinate,60And legalise their murders. I stand hereAn isolated patriot—hemmed aroundBy faction's noisy pack; beset and bay'dBy the foul hell-hounds who know no escapeFrom Justice' outstretch'd arm, but by the force65That pierces through her breast.[Murmurs, and shouts of—Down with the Tyrant!Robespierre.Nay, but I will be heard. There was a timeWhen Robespierre began, the loud applausesOf honest patriots drown'd the honest sound.But times are chang'd, and villainy prevails.70Collot d'Herbois.No—villainy shall fall. France could not brookA monarch's sway—sounds the dictator's nameMore soothing to her ear?Bourdon l'Oise.Rattle her chainsMore musically now than when the handOf Brissot forged her fetters; or the crew75Of Hébert thundered out their blasphemies,And Danton talk'd of virtue?Robespierre.Oh, that BrissotWere here again to thunder in this hall,That Hébert lived, and Danton's giant formScowl'd once again defiance! so my soul80Might cope with worthy foes.People of France,Hear me! Beneath the vengeance of the lawTraitors have perish'd countless; more survive:The hydra-headed faction lifts anewHer daring front, and fruitful from her wounds,85Cautious from past defects, contrives new wilesAgainst the sons of Freedom.Tallien.Freedom lives!Oppression falls—for France has felt her chains,Has burst them too. Who traitor-like stept forthAmid the hall of Jacobins to save90Camille Desmoulins, and the venal wretchD'Eglantine?
Robespierre mounts the Tribune.Once more befits it that the voice of Truth,Fearless in innocence, though leaguered roundBy Envy and her hateful brood of hell,Be heard amid this hall; once more befitsThe patriot, whose prophetic eye so oft5Has pierced thro' faction's veil, to flash on crimesOf deadliest import. Mouldering in the graveSleeps Capet's caitiff corse; my daring handLevelled to earth his blood-cemented throne,My voice declared his guilt, and stirred up France10To call for vengeance. I too dug the graveWhere sleep the Girondists, detested band!Long with the shew of freedom they abusedHer ardent sons. Long time the well-turn'd phrase,The high-fraught sentence and the lofty tone15[504]Of declamation, thunder'd in this hall,Till reason midst a labyrinth of wordsPerplex'd, in silence seem'd to yield assent.I durst oppose. Soul of my honoured friend,Spirit of Marat, upon thee I call—20Thou know'st me faithful, know'st with what warm zealI urg'd the cause of justice, stripp'd the maskFrom faction's deadly visage, and destroy'dHer traitor brood. Whose patriot arm hurl'd downHébert and Rousin, and the villain friends25Of Danton, foul apostate! those, who longMask'd treason's form in liberty's fair garb,Long deluged France with blood, and durst defyOmnipotence! but I it seems am false!I am a traitor too! I—Robespierre!30I—at whose name the dastard despot broodLook pale with fear, and call on saints to help them!Who dares accuse me? who shall dare belieMy spotless name? Speak, ye accomplice band,Of what am I accus'd? of what strange crime35Is Maximilian Robespierre accus'd,That through this hall the buz of discontentShould murmur? who shall speak?
Billaud Varennes.O patriot tongueBelying the foul heart! Who was it urg'dFriendly to tyrants that accurst decree,40Whose influence brooding o'er this hallowed hall,Has chill'd each tongue to silence? Who destroyedThe freedom of debate, and carried throughThe fatal law, that doom'd the delegates,Unheard before their equals, to the bar45Where cruelty sat throned, and murder reign'dWith her Dumas coequal? Say—thou manOf mighty eloquence, whose law was that?
Couthon.That law was mine. I urged it—I propos'd—The voice of France assembled in her sons50Assented, though the tame and timid voiceOf traitors murmur'd. I advis'd that law—I justify it. It was wise and good.
Barrere.Oh, wonderous wise and most convenient too!I have long mark'd thee, Robespierre—and now55Proclaim thee traitor tyrant![Loud applauses.
Robespierre.It is well.[505]I am a traitor! oh, that I had fallenWhen Regnault lifted high the murderous knife,Regnault the instrument belike of thoseWho now themselves would fain assassinate,60And legalise their murders. I stand hereAn isolated patriot—hemmed aroundBy faction's noisy pack; beset and bay'dBy the foul hell-hounds who know no escapeFrom Justice' outstretch'd arm, but by the force65That pierces through her breast.[Murmurs, and shouts of—Down with the Tyrant!
Robespierre.Nay, but I will be heard. There was a timeWhen Robespierre began, the loud applausesOf honest patriots drown'd the honest sound.But times are chang'd, and villainy prevails.70
Collot d'Herbois.No—villainy shall fall. France could not brookA monarch's sway—sounds the dictator's nameMore soothing to her ear?
Bourdon l'Oise.Rattle her chainsMore musically now than when the handOf Brissot forged her fetters; or the crew75Of Hébert thundered out their blasphemies,And Danton talk'd of virtue?
Robespierre.Oh, that BrissotWere here again to thunder in this hall,That Hébert lived, and Danton's giant formScowl'd once again defiance! so my soul80Might cope with worthy foes.People of France,Hear me! Beneath the vengeance of the lawTraitors have perish'd countless; more survive:The hydra-headed faction lifts anewHer daring front, and fruitful from her wounds,85Cautious from past defects, contrives new wilesAgainst the sons of Freedom.
Tallien.Freedom lives!Oppression falls—for France has felt her chains,Has burst them too. Who traitor-like stept forthAmid the hall of Jacobins to save90Camille Desmoulins, and the venal wretchD'Eglantine?
Robespierre.I did—for I thought them honest.And Heaven forefend that Vengeance e'er should strike,Ere justice doom'd the blow.Barrere.Traitor, thou didst.Yes, the accomplice of their dark designs,95Awhile didst thou defend them, when the stormLower'd at safe distance. When the clouds frown'd darker,Fear'd for yourself and left them to their fate.Oh, I have mark'd thee long, and through the veilSeen thy foul projects. Yes, ambitious man,100Self-will'd dictator o'er the realm of France,The vengeance thou hast plann'd for patriotsFalls on thy head. Look how thy brother's deedsDishonour thine! He the firm patriot,Thou the foul parricide of Liberty!105Robespierre Junior.Barrere—attempt not meanly to divideMe from my brother. I partake his guilt,For I partake his virtue.Robespierre.Brother, by my soul,More dear I hold thee to my heart, that thusWith me thou dar'st to tread the dangerous path110Of virtue, than that Nature twined her cordsOf kindred round us.Barrere.Yes, allied in guilt,Even as in blood ye are. O, thou worst wretch,Thou worse than Sylla! hast thou not proscrib'd,Yea, in most foul anticipation slaughter'd115Each patriot representative of France?Bourdon l'Oise.Was not the younger Caesar too to reignO'er all our valiant armies in the south,And still continue there his merchant wiles?Robespierre Junior.His merchant wiles! Oh, grant me patience, heaven!120Was it by merchant wiles I gain'd you backToulon, when proudly on her captive towersWav'd high the English flag? or fought I thenWith merchant wiles, when sword in hand I ledYour troops to conquest? fought I merchant-like,125Or barter'd I for victory, when deathStrode o'er the reeking streets with giant stride,And shook his ebon plumes, and sternly smil'dAmid the bloody banquet? when appall'dThe hireling sons of England spread the sail130[507]Of safety, fought I like a merchant then?Oh, patience! patience!Bourdon l'Oise.How this younger tyrantMouths out defiance to us! even soHe had led on the armies of the south,Till once again the plains of France were drench'd135With her best blood.Collot d'Herbois.Till once again display'dLyons' sad tragedy had call'd me forthThe minister of wrath, whilst slaughter byHad bathed in human blood.Dubois Crancé.No wonder, friend,That we are traitors—that our heads must fall140Beneath the axe of death! when Caesar-likeReigns Robespierre, 'tis wisely done to doomThe fall of Brutus. Tell me, bloody man,Hast thou not parcell'd out deluded France,As it had been some province won in fight,145Between your curst triumvirate? You, Couthon,Go with my brother to the southern plains;St. Just, be yours the army of the north;Meantime I rule at Paris.Robespierre.Matchless knave!What—not one blush of conscience on thy cheek—150Not one poor blush of truth! most likely tale!That I who ruined Brissot's towering hopes,I who discover'd Hébert's impious wiles,And sharp'd for Danton's recreant neck the axe,Should now be traitor! had I been so minded,155Think ye I had destroyed the very menWhose plots resembled mine? bring forth your proofsOf this deep treason. Tell me in whose breastFound ye the fatal scroll? or tell me ratherWho forg'd the shameless falsehood?Collot d'Herbois.Ask you proofs?160Robespierre, what proofs were ask'd when Brissot died?Legendre.What proofs adduced you when the Danton died?When at the imminent peril of my lifeI rose, and fearless of thy frowning brow,Proclaim'd him guiltless?Robespierre.I remember well165The fatal day. I do repent me muchThat I kill'd Caesar and spar'd Antony.[508]But I have been too lenient. I have sparedThe stream of blood, and now my own must flowTo fill the current.[Loud applauses.Triumph not too soon,170Justice may yet be victor.
Robespierre.I did—for I thought them honest.And Heaven forefend that Vengeance e'er should strike,Ere justice doom'd the blow.
Barrere.Traitor, thou didst.Yes, the accomplice of their dark designs,95Awhile didst thou defend them, when the stormLower'd at safe distance. When the clouds frown'd darker,Fear'd for yourself and left them to their fate.Oh, I have mark'd thee long, and through the veilSeen thy foul projects. Yes, ambitious man,100Self-will'd dictator o'er the realm of France,The vengeance thou hast plann'd for patriotsFalls on thy head. Look how thy brother's deedsDishonour thine! He the firm patriot,Thou the foul parricide of Liberty!105
Robespierre Junior.Barrere—attempt not meanly to divideMe from my brother. I partake his guilt,For I partake his virtue.
Robespierre.Brother, by my soul,More dear I hold thee to my heart, that thusWith me thou dar'st to tread the dangerous path110Of virtue, than that Nature twined her cordsOf kindred round us.
Barrere.Yes, allied in guilt,Even as in blood ye are. O, thou worst wretch,Thou worse than Sylla! hast thou not proscrib'd,Yea, in most foul anticipation slaughter'd115Each patriot representative of France?
Bourdon l'Oise.Was not the younger Caesar too to reignO'er all our valiant armies in the south,And still continue there his merchant wiles?
Robespierre Junior.His merchant wiles! Oh, grant me patience, heaven!120Was it by merchant wiles I gain'd you backToulon, when proudly on her captive towersWav'd high the English flag? or fought I thenWith merchant wiles, when sword in hand I ledYour troops to conquest? fought I merchant-like,125Or barter'd I for victory, when deathStrode o'er the reeking streets with giant stride,And shook his ebon plumes, and sternly smil'dAmid the bloody banquet? when appall'dThe hireling sons of England spread the sail130[507]Of safety, fought I like a merchant then?Oh, patience! patience!
Bourdon l'Oise.How this younger tyrantMouths out defiance to us! even soHe had led on the armies of the south,Till once again the plains of France were drench'd135With her best blood.
Collot d'Herbois.Till once again display'dLyons' sad tragedy had call'd me forthThe minister of wrath, whilst slaughter byHad bathed in human blood.
Dubois Crancé.No wonder, friend,That we are traitors—that our heads must fall140Beneath the axe of death! when Caesar-likeReigns Robespierre, 'tis wisely done to doomThe fall of Brutus. Tell me, bloody man,Hast thou not parcell'd out deluded France,As it had been some province won in fight,145Between your curst triumvirate? You, Couthon,Go with my brother to the southern plains;St. Just, be yours the army of the north;Meantime I rule at Paris.
Robespierre.Matchless knave!What—not one blush of conscience on thy cheek—150Not one poor blush of truth! most likely tale!That I who ruined Brissot's towering hopes,I who discover'd Hébert's impious wiles,And sharp'd for Danton's recreant neck the axe,Should now be traitor! had I been so minded,155Think ye I had destroyed the very menWhose plots resembled mine? bring forth your proofsOf this deep treason. Tell me in whose breastFound ye the fatal scroll? or tell me ratherWho forg'd the shameless falsehood?
Collot d'Herbois.Ask you proofs?160Robespierre, what proofs were ask'd when Brissot died?
Legendre.What proofs adduced you when the Danton died?When at the imminent peril of my lifeI rose, and fearless of thy frowning brow,Proclaim'd him guiltless?
Robespierre.I remember well165The fatal day. I do repent me muchThat I kill'd Caesar and spar'd Antony.[508]But I have been too lenient. I have sparedThe stream of blood, and now my own must flowTo fill the current.[Loud applauses.Triumph not too soon,170Justice may yet be victor.
EnterSt. Just, and mounts the Tribune.
St. Just.I come from the Committee—charged to speakOf matters of high import. I omitTheir orders. Representatives of France,Boldly in his own person speaks St. Just175What his own heart shall dictate.Tallien.Hear ye this,Insulted delegates of France? St. JustFrom your Committee comes—comes charg'd to speakOf matters of high import, yet omitsTheir orders! Representatives of France,180That bold man I denounce, who disobeysThe nation's orders.—I denounce St. Just.[Loud applauses.St. Just.Hear me![Violent murmurs.Robespierre.He shall be heard!Bourdon l'Oise.Must we contaminate this sacred hallWith the foul breath of treason?Collot d'Herbois.Drag him away!185Hence with him to the bar.Couthon.Oh, just proceedings!Robespierre prevented liberty of speech—And Robespierre is a tyrant! Tallien reigns,He dreads to hear the voice of innocence—And St. Just must be silent!Legendre.Heed we well190That justice guide our actions. No light importAttends this day. I move St. Just be heard.Freron.Inviolate be the sacred right of man.The freedom of debate.[Violent applauses.St. Just.I may be heard then! much the times are chang'd,195When St. Just thanks this hall for hearing him.Robespierre is call'd a tyrant. Men of France,Judge not too soon. By popular discontentWas Aristides driven into exile,Was Phocion murder'd. Ere ye dare pronounce200[509]Robespierre is guilty, it befits ye well,Consider who accuse him. Tallien,Bourdon of Oise—the very men denounced,For that their dark intrigues disturb'd the planOf government. Legendre the sworn friend205Of Danton, fall'n apostate. Dubois Crancé,He who at Lyons spared the royalists—Collot d'Herbois—Bourdon l'Oise.What—shall the traitor rearHis head amid our tribune—and blasphemeEach patriot? shall the hireling slave of faction—210St. Just.I am of no one faction. I contendAgainst all factions.Tallien.I espouse the causeOf truth. Robespierre on yester morn pronouncedUpon his own authority a report.To-day St. Just comes down. St. Just neglects215What the Committee orders, and haranguesFrom his own will. O citizens of FranceI weep for you—I weep for my poor country—I tremble for the cause of Liberty,When individuals shall assume the sway,220And with more insolence than kingly prideRule the Republic.Billaud Varennes.Shudder, ye representatives of France,Shudder with horror. Henriot commandsThe marshall'd force of Paris. Henriot,225Foul parricide—the sworn ally of Hébert,Denounced by all—upheld by Robespierre.Who spar'd La Valette? who promoted him,Stain'd with the deep dye of nobility?Who to an ex-peer gave the high command?230Who screen'd from justice the rapacious thief?Who cast in chains the friends of Liberty?Robespierre, the self-stil'd patriot Robespierre—Robespierre, allied with villain Daubigné—Robespierre, the foul arch-tyrant Robespierre.235Bourdon l'Oise.He talks of virtue—of morality—Consistent patriot! he Daubigné's friend!Henriot's supporter virtuous! preach of virtue,Yet league with villains, for with RobespierreVillains alone ally. Thou art a tyrant!240I stile thee tyrant, Robespierre![Loud applauses.
St. Just.I come from the Committee—charged to speakOf matters of high import. I omitTheir orders. Representatives of France,Boldly in his own person speaks St. Just175What his own heart shall dictate.
Tallien.Hear ye this,Insulted delegates of France? St. JustFrom your Committee comes—comes charg'd to speakOf matters of high import, yet omitsTheir orders! Representatives of France,180That bold man I denounce, who disobeysThe nation's orders.—I denounce St. Just.[Loud applauses.
St. Just.Hear me![Violent murmurs.
Robespierre.He shall be heard!
Bourdon l'Oise.Must we contaminate this sacred hallWith the foul breath of treason?
Collot d'Herbois.Drag him away!185Hence with him to the bar.
Couthon.Oh, just proceedings!Robespierre prevented liberty of speech—And Robespierre is a tyrant! Tallien reigns,He dreads to hear the voice of innocence—And St. Just must be silent!
Legendre.Heed we well190That justice guide our actions. No light importAttends this day. I move St. Just be heard.
Freron.Inviolate be the sacred right of man.The freedom of debate.[Violent applauses.
St. Just.I may be heard then! much the times are chang'd,195When St. Just thanks this hall for hearing him.Robespierre is call'd a tyrant. Men of France,Judge not too soon. By popular discontentWas Aristides driven into exile,Was Phocion murder'd. Ere ye dare pronounce200[509]Robespierre is guilty, it befits ye well,Consider who accuse him. Tallien,Bourdon of Oise—the very men denounced,For that their dark intrigues disturb'd the planOf government. Legendre the sworn friend205Of Danton, fall'n apostate. Dubois Crancé,He who at Lyons spared the royalists—Collot d'Herbois—
Bourdon l'Oise.What—shall the traitor rearHis head amid our tribune—and blasphemeEach patriot? shall the hireling slave of faction—210
St. Just.I am of no one faction. I contendAgainst all factions.
Tallien.I espouse the causeOf truth. Robespierre on yester morn pronouncedUpon his own authority a report.To-day St. Just comes down. St. Just neglects215What the Committee orders, and haranguesFrom his own will. O citizens of FranceI weep for you—I weep for my poor country—I tremble for the cause of Liberty,When individuals shall assume the sway,220And with more insolence than kingly prideRule the Republic.
Billaud Varennes.Shudder, ye representatives of France,Shudder with horror. Henriot commandsThe marshall'd force of Paris. Henriot,225Foul parricide—the sworn ally of Hébert,Denounced by all—upheld by Robespierre.Who spar'd La Valette? who promoted him,Stain'd with the deep dye of nobility?Who to an ex-peer gave the high command?230Who screen'd from justice the rapacious thief?Who cast in chains the friends of Liberty?Robespierre, the self-stil'd patriot Robespierre—Robespierre, allied with villain Daubigné—Robespierre, the foul arch-tyrant Robespierre.235
Bourdon l'Oise.He talks of virtue—of morality—Consistent patriot! he Daubigné's friend!Henriot's supporter virtuous! preach of virtue,Yet league with villains, for with RobespierreVillains alone ally. Thou art a tyrant!240I stile thee tyrant, Robespierre![Loud applauses.