the Fall of Robespierre

and other poems to H. Martin, Esq. of Jesus College, Cambridge Dear Sir Accept, as a small testimony of my grateful attachment, the following Dramatic Poem, in which I have endeavoured to detail, in an interesting form, the fall of a man, whose great bad actions have cast a disastrous lustre on his name. In the execution of the work, as intricacy of plot could not have been attempted without a gross violation of recent facts, it has been my sole aim to imitate the impassioned and highly figurative language of the French Orators, and to develope the characters of the chief actors on a vast stage of horrors. Yours fraternally, S. T. COLERIDGE. Jesus College, September 22, 1794. the Fall of Robespierre an Historic Drama. 1794 1 ACT I. scene ­ the Tuileries BARRERE.

The tempest gathers ­ be it mine to seek A friendly shelter, ere it bursts upon him. But where? and how? I fear the tyrant's soul ­ Sudden in action, fertile in resource, And rising awful 'mid impending ruins; In splendour 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. I know he scorns me ­ and I feel, I hate him ­ Yet there is in him that which makes me tremble!

Exit.

Enter

TALLIEN

and

LEGENDRE.

TALLIEN.

It was Barrere, Legendre! didst thou mark him? Abrupt he turn'd, yet linger'd as he went, And tow'rds us cast a look of doubtful meaning.

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 bursting Th' imprison'd secret struggling in the face: E'en as the sudden breeze upstarting onwards Hurries the thunder cloud, that pois'd awhile Hung in mid air, red with its mutinous burthen.

LEGENDRE.

Perfidious traitor! ­ still afraid to bask In the full blaze of power, the rustling serpent Lurks in the thicket of the tyrant's greatness, Ever prepar'd to sting who shelters him. Each thought, each action in himself converges; And love and friendship on his coward heart Shine 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 know With plausible harangue 'tis his to paint Defeat like victory ­ and blind the mob With truth-mix'd falsehood. They, led on by him, And wild of head to work their own destruction, Support with uproar what he plans in darkness.

LEGENDRE.

O what a precious name is liberty To scare or cheat the simple into slaves! Yes ­ we must gain him over: by dark hints We'll show enough to rouse his watchful fears, Till the cold coward blaze a patriot. O Danton! murder'd friend! assist my counsels ­ Hover around me on sad memory's wings, And pour thy daring vengeance in my heart. Tallien! if but to-morrow's fateful sun Beholds the tyrant living ­ we are dead!

TALLIEN.

Yet his keen eye that flashes mighty meanings ­

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.

Exeunt

.

Enter

ROBESPIERRE, COUTHON, ST. JUST,

and

ROBESPIERRE 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! What! did th' assassin's dagger aim its point Vain, as a dream of 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, Who ever on the harlots' downy pillow Resigns 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? The state is not yet purified: and though The stream runs clear, yet at the bottom lies The 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! Why lived Legendre, when that Danton died, And Collot d'Herbois dangerous in crimes? I've fear'd him, since his iron heart endured To make of Lyons one vast human shambles, Compar'd with which the sun-scorch'd wilderness Of Zara were a smiling paradise.

ST. JUST.

Rightly thou judgest, Couthon! He is one, Who flies from silent solitary anguish, Seeking forgetful peace amid the jar Of elements. The howl of maniac uproar Lulls to sad sleep the memory of himself. A calm is fatal to him ­ then he feels The dire upboilings of the storm within him. A tiger mad with inward wounds! ­ I dread The fierce and restless turbulence of guilt.

ROBESPIERRE.

Is not the Commune ours? the stern Tribunal? Dumas? and Vivier? Fleuriot? and Louvet? And Henriot? We'll denounce a hundred, nor Shall they behold to-morrow's sun roll westward.

ROBESPIERRE JUNIOR.

Nay ­ I am sick of blood! my aching heart Reviews the long, long train of hideous horrors That still have gloom'd the rise of the Republic. I should have died before Toulon, when war Became the patriot!

ROBESPIERRE.

Most unworthy wish! He, whose heart sickens at the blood of traitors Would be himself a traitor, were he not A coward! 'Tis congenial souls alone Shed tears of sorrow for each other's fate. O, thou art brave, my brother! and thine eye Full firmly shines amid the groaning battle ­ Yet in thine heart the woman-form of pity Asserts too large a share, an ill-timed guest! There is unsoundness in the state ­ to-morrow Shall see it cleansed by wholesome massacre!

ROBESPIERRE JUNIOR.

Beware! already do the Sections murmur ­ "O the great glorious patriot, Robespierre ­ The tyrant guardian of the country's freedom!"

COUTHON.

'Twere folly sure to work great deeds by halves! Much I suspect the darksome fickle heart Of cold Barrere!

ROBESPIERRE.

I see the villain in him!

ROBESPIERRE JUNIOR.

If he ­ if all forsake thee ­ what remains?

ROBESPIERRE.

Myself! the steel-strong rectitude of soul And poverty sublime 'mid circling virtues! The giant victories, my counsels form'd, Shall stalk around me with sun-glittering plumes, Bidding the darts of calumny fall pointless.

Exeunt

.

Manet

Couthon.

COUTHON.

So we deceive ourselves! What goodly virtues Bloom on the poisonous branches of ambition! Still, Robespierre! thou'l't guard thy country's freedom To despotize in all the patriot's pomp. While 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' awaken'd breast retains its horrors! But he returns ­ and with him comes Barrere.

Exit

Couthon.

Enter

ROBESPIERRE

and

BARRERE.

ROBESPIERRE.

There is no danger but in cowardice. ­ Barrere! we make the danger, when we fear it. We have such force without, as will suspend The cold and trembling treachery of these members.

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! ­ a moment's pause! ­ 'Tis all their life.

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 machine To bribe them to their duty. ­ English patriots! Are not the congregated clouds of war Black all around us? In our very vitals Works not the king-bred poison of rebellion? Say, what shall counteract the selfish plottings Of wretches, cold of heart, nor awed by fears Of him, whose power directs th' eternal justice? Terror? or secret-sapping gold? The first. Heavy, but transient as the ills that cause it; And to the virtuous patriot render'd light By 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. Myself 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 them Blush for the crime in blood!

BARRERE.

Nay ­ but I tell thee, Thou art too fond of slaughter ­ and the right (If right it be) workest by most foul means!

ROBESPIERRE.

Self-centering Fear! how well thou canst ape Mercy! Too fond of slaughter! ­ matchless hypocrite! Thought Barrere so, when Brissot, Danton died? Thought Barrere so, when through the streaming streets Of Paris red-eyed Massacre, o'er wearied, Reel'd heavily, intoxicate with blood? And when (O heavens!) in Lyons' death-red square Sick fancy groan'd o'er putrid hills of slain, Didst thou not fiercely laugh, and bless the day? Why, thou hast been the mouth-piece of all horrors, And, like a blood-hound, crouch'd for murder! Now Aloof thou standest from the tottering pillar, Or, like a frighted child behind its mother, Hidest thy pale face in the skirts of ­ Mercy!

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 blow, Reserves the whetted dagger for his own. Denounced twice ­ and twice I sav'd 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

.

Scene changes to the House of Adelaide. ADELAIDE enters, speaking to a Servant.

ADELAIDE.

Didst thou present the letter that I gave thee? Did Tallien answer, he would soon return?

SERVANT.

He is in the Tuilleries ­ with him, Legendre ­ In deep discourse they seem'd: as I approach'd He waved his hand, as bidding me retire: I did not interrupt him.

Returns the letter.

ADELAIDE.

Thou didst rightly.

Exit Servant.

O this new freedom! at how dear a price We've bought the seeming good! The peaceful virtues And every blandishment of private life, The father's cares, the mother's fond endearment, All sacrificed to liberty's wild riot. The winged 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 thoughts By the soft languishment of warbled airs, If haply melodies may lull the sense Of sorrow for a while.

Soft Music.

Enter

TALLIEN.

TALLIEN.

Music, my love? O breathe again that air! Soft nurse of pain, it soothes the weary soul Of care, sweet as the whisper'd breeze of evening That plays around the sick man's throbbing temples.

SONG.

Tell me, on what holy ground May domestic peace be found? Halcyon daughter of the skies, Far on fearful wing she flies, From the pomp of sceptred state, From the rebel's noisy hate. In a cottag'd vale she dwells, List'ning to the Sabbath bells! Still around her steps are seen Spotless honour's meeker mien, Love, the sire of pleasing fears, Sorrow smiling through her tears, And conscious of the past employ, Memory, 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 stream, That sighs away the soul in fond despairing, While 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 lowers On Tallien's darken'd brow. Thou dost me wrong ­ Thy soul distemper'd, can my heart be tranquil?

TALLlEN.

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 curses Groan on our midnight beds, and e'en our dreams Threaten the assassin hand of Robespierre. He 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 his Fast link'd in close indissoluble union. The pale Convention ­

TALLIEN.

Hate him as they fear him, Impatient of the chain, resolved 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: All ­ all is ours! e'en now the vital air Of Liberty, condens'd awhile, is bursting (Force irresistible!) from its compressure ­ To shatter the arch chemist in the explosion!

Enter

BILLAUD VARENNES

and

BOURDON L'OISE.

ADELAIDE

retires

.

BOURDON L'OISE.

Tallien! was this a time for amorous conference? Henriot, the tyrant's most devoted creature, Marshals the force of Paris: The fierce club, With Vivier at their head, in loud acclaim Have sworn to make the guillotine in blood Float on the scaffold. ­ But who comes here?

Enter

BARRERE

abruptly

.

BARRERE.

Say, are ye friends to freedom? I am hers! Let us, forgetful of all common feuds, Rally around her shrine! E'en now the tyrant Concerts a plan of instant massacre!

BlLLAUD VARENNES.

Away to the Convention! with that voice So oft the herald of glad victory, Rouse their fallen spirits, thunder in their ears The names of tyrant, plunderer, assassin! The violent workings of my soul within Anticipate the monster's blood!

Cry from the street of

­ No tyrant! Down with the tyrant!

TALLIEN.

Hear ye that outcry? ­ If the trembling members Even for a moment hold his fate suspended, I swear by the holy poniard, that stabbed Caesar, This dagger probes his heart!

Exeunt omnes.

ACT II.

Scene ­ The Convention.

ROBESPIERRE

mounts the Tribune.

ROBESPIERRE.

Once more befits it that the voice of truth, Fearless in innocence, though leaguer'd round By envy and her hateful brood of hell, Be heard amid this hall; once more befits The patriot, whose prophetic eye so oft Has pierc'd thro' faction's veil, to flash on crimes Of deadliest import. Mouldering in the grave Sleeps Capet's caitiff corse; my daring hand Levell'd to earth his blood-cemented throne, My voice declared his guilt, and stirr'd up France To call for vengeance. I too dug the grave Where sleep the Girondists, detested band! Long with the show of freedom they abused Her ardent sons. Long time the well-turn'd phrase, The high fraught sentence, and the lofty tone Of declamation thunder'd in this hall, Till reason, midst a labyrinth of words, Perplex'd, in silence seem'd to yield assent. I durst oppose. Soul of my honour'd friend, Spirit of Marat, upon thee I call ­ Thou know'st me faithful, know'st with what warm zeal I urged the cause of justice, stripp'd the mask From faction's deadly visage, and destroy'd Her traitor brood. Whose patriot arm hurl'd down Hebert and Rousin, and the villain friends Of Danton, foul apostate! those, who long Mask'd treason's form in liberty's fair garb, Long deluged France with blood, and durst defy Omnipotence! but I, it seems, am false! I am a traitor too! I ­ Robespierre! I ­ at whose name the dastard despot brood Look pale with fear, and call on saints to help them Who dares accuse me? who shall dare belie My spotless name? Speak, ye accomplice band, Of what am I accused? of what strange crime Is Maximilian Robespierre accused, That through this hall the buzz of discontent Should murmur? who shall speak?

BILLAUD VARENNES.

O patriot tongue, Belying the foul heart! Who was it urged Friendly to tyrants that accurst decree, Whose influence brooding o'er this hallow'd hall, Has chill'd each tongue to silence. Who destroy'd The freedom of debate, and carried through The fatal law, that doom'd the delegates, Unheard before their equals, to the bar Where cruelty sat throned, and murder reign'd With her Dumas coequal? Say ­ thou man Of mighty eloquence, whose law was that?

COUTHON.

That law was mine. I urged it ­ I proposed ­ The voice of France assembled in her sons Assented, though the tame and timid voice Of traitors murmur'd. I advised that law ­ I justify it. It was wise and good.

BARRERE.

Oh, wondrous wise, and most convenient too! I have long mark'd thee, Robespierre ­ and now Proclaim thee traitor ­ tyrant!

Loud applauses.

ROBESPIERRE.

It is well; ­ I am a traitor! oh, that I had fallen When Regnault lifted high the murderous knife; Regnault, the instrument, belike of those Who now themselves would fain assassinate, And legalize their murders. I stand here An isolated patriot ­ hemm'd around By faction's noisy pack; beset and bay'd By the foul hell-hounds who know no escape From justice' outstretch'd arm, but by the force That pierces through her breast.

Murmurs, and shouts of

­ Down with the tyrant!

ROBESPIERRE.

Nay, but I will be heard. There was a time When Robespierre began, the loud applauses Of honest patriots drown'd the honest sound. But times are changed, and villany prevails.

COLLOT D'HERBOIS.

No ­ villany shall fall. France could not brook A monarch's sway; ­ sounds the dictator's name More soothing to her ear?

BOURDON L'OISE.

Rattle her chains More musically now than when the hand Of Brissot forged her fetters; or the crew Of Hebert thunder'd out their blasphemies, And Danton talk'd of virtue?

ROBESPIERRE.

Oh, that Brissot Were here again to thunder in this hall, ­ That Hebert lived, and Danton's giant form Scowl'd once again defiance! so my soul Might cope with worthy foes. People of France, Hear me! Beneath the vengeance of the law Traitors have perish'd countless; more survive: The hydra-headed faction lifts anew Her daring front, and fruitful from her wounds, Cautious from past defects, contrives new wiles Against the sons of Freedom.

TALLIEN.

Freedom lives! Oppression falls ­ for France has felt her chains, Has burst them too. Who, traitor-like, stept forth Amid the hall of Jacobins to save Camille Desmoulins, and the venal wretch D'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, Awhile didst thou defend them, when the storm Lour'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 veil Seen thy foul projects. Yes, ambitious man, Self-will'd dictator o'er the realm of France, The vengeance thou hast plann'd for patriots, Falls on thy head. Look how thy brother's deeds Dishonour thine! He, the firm patriot; Thou, the foul parricide of Liberty!

ROBESPIERRE JUNIOR.

Barrere ­ attempt not meanly to divide Me 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 thus With me thou dar'st to tread the dangerous path Of virtue, than that nature twined her cords Of kindred round us.

BARRERE.

Yes, allied in guilt, Even as in blood ye are. Oh, thou worst wretch, Thou worse than Sylla! hast thou not proscrib'd, Yea, in most foul anticipation slaughter'd Each patriot representative of France?

BOURDON L'OISE.

Was not the younger Caesar too to reign O'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! Was it by merchant wiles I gain'd you back Toulon, when proudly on her captive towers Wav'd high the English flag? or fought I then With merchant wiles, when sword in hand I led Your troops to conquest? fought I merchant-like, Or barter'd I for victory, when death Strode o'er the reeking streets with giant stride, And shook his ebon plumes, and sternly smil'd Amid the bloody banquet? when appall'd The hireling sons of England spread the sail Of safety, fought I like a merchant then? Oh, patience! patience!

BOURDON L'OISE.

How this younger tyrant Mouths out defiance to us! even so He had led on the armies of the south, Till once again the plains of France were drench'd With her best blood.

COLLOT D'HERBOIS.

Till once again display'd Lyons' sad tragedy had call'd me forth The minister of wrath, whilst slaughter by Had bathed in human blood.

DUBOIS CRANCE.

No wonder, friend, That we are traitors ­ that our heads must fall Beneath the axe of death! when Caesar-like Reigns Robespierre, 'tis wisely done to doom The fall of Brutus. Tell me, bloody man, Hast thou not parcell'd out deluded France As it had been some province won in fight Between 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 ­ Not one poor blush of truth! most likely tale! That I, who ruin'd Brissot's towering hopes, I, who discover'd Hebert's impious wiles, And sharp'd for Danton's recreant neck the axe, Should now be traitor! had I been so minded, Think ye I had destroy'd the very men Whose plots resembled mine? bring forth your proofs Of this deep treason. Tell me in whose breast Found ye the fatal scroll? or tell me rather Who forged the shameless falsehood?

COLLOT D'HERBOIS.

Ask you proofs? Robespierre, what proofs were ask'd when Brissot died?

LEGENDRE.

What proofs adduced you when the Danton died? When at the imminent peril of my life I rose, and, fearless of thy frowning brow, Proclaim'd him guiltless?

ROBESPIERRE.

I remember well The fatal day. I do repent me much That I kill'd Caesar and spared Antony. But I have been too lenient. I have spared T he stream of blood, and now my own must flow To fill the current.

Loud Applauses.

Triumph not too soon, Justice may yet be victor.

Enter

ST. JUST,

and mounts the Tribune

.

ST. JUST.

I come from the committee ­ charged to speak Of matters of high import. I omit Their orders. Representatives of France, Boldly in his own person speaks St. Just What his own heart shall dictate.

TALLIEN.

Hear ye this, Insulted delegates of France? St. Just From your committee comes ­ comes charged to speak Of matters of high import ­ yet omits Their orders! Representatives of France, That bold man I denounce, who disobeys The nation's orders. ­ I denounce St. Just.

Loud Applauses.

ST. JUST.

Hear me!

Violent Murmurs.

ROBESPIERRE.

He shall be heard!

BURDON L'OISE.

Must we contaminate this sacred hall With the foul breath of treason?

COLLOT D'HERBOIS.

Drag him away! Hence 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 well That justice guide our actions. No light import Attends 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 changed, When St. Just thanks this hall for hearing him. Robespierre is call'd a tyrant. Men of France, Judge not too soon. By popular discontent Was Aristides driven into exile, Was Phocion murder'd! Ere ye dare pronounce 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 plan Of government. Legendre, the sworn friend Of Danton fall'n apostate. Dubois Crance, He who at Lyons spared the royalists ­ Collot d'Herbois ­

BOURDON L'OISE.

What ­ shall the traitor rear His head amid our tribune, and blaspheme Each patriot? shall the hireling slave of faction ­

ST. JUST.

I am of no one faction. I contend Against all factions.

TALLIEN.

I espouse the cause Of truth. Robespierre on yester morn pronounced Upon his own authority a report. To-day St. Just comes down. St. Just neglects What the committee orders, and harangues From his own will. O citizens of France, I weep for you ­ I weep for my poor country ­ I tremble for the cause of Liberty, When individuals shall assume the sway, And with more insolence than kingly pride Rule the Republic.

BILLAUD VARENNES.

Shudder, ye representatives of France, Shudder with horror. Henriot commands The marshall'd force of Paris. Henriot, Foul parricide ­ the sworn ally of Hebert Denounced by all ­ upheld by Robespierre. Who spared La Valette? who promoted him, Stain'd with the deep die of nobility? Who to an ex-peer gave the high command? Who screen'd from justice the rapacious thief? Who cast in chains the friends of Liberty? Robespierre, the self-styled patriot, Robespierre ­ Robespierre, allied with villain Daubignè ­ Robespierre, the foul arch tyrant, Robespierre.

BOURDON L'OISE.

He talks of virtue ­ of morality ­ Consistent patriot! he Daubignè's friend! Henriot's supporter virtuous! preach of virtue, Yet league with villains, for with Robespierre Villains alone ally. Thou art a tyrant! I style thee tyrant, Robespierre!

Loud Applauses.

ROBESPIERRE.

Take back the name. Ye citizens of France ­

Violent Clamour. Cries of-

-Down with the tyrant!

TALLlEN.

Oppression falls. The traitor stands appall'd ­ Guilt's iron fangs engrasp his shrinking soul ­ He hears assembled France denounce his crimes! He sees the mask torn from his secret sins ­ He trembles on the precipice of fate. Fall'n guilty tyrant! murder'd by thy rage, How many an innocent victim's blood has stain'd Fair freedom's altar! Sylla-like thy hand Mark'd down the virtues, that, thy foes removed, Perpetual Dictator thou might'st reign, And tyrannize o'er France, and call it freedom! Long time in timid guilt the traitor plann'd His fearful wiles ­ success embolden'd sin ­ And his stretch'd arm had grasp'd the diadem Ere now, but that the coward's heart recoil'd, Lest France awaked, should rouse her from her dream, And call aloud for vengeance. He, like Caesar, With rapid step urged on his bold career, Even to the summit of ambitious power, And deem'd the name of King alone was wanting. Was it for this we hurl'd proud Capet down? Is it for this we wage eternal war Against the tyrant horde of murderers, The crowned cockatrices whose foul venom Infects all Europe? was it then for this We swore to guard our liberty with life, That Robespierre should reign? the spirit of freedom Is not yet sunk so low. The glowing flame That animates each honest Frenchman's heartv Not yet extinguish'd. I invoke thy shade, Immortal Brutus! I too wear a dagger; And if the representatives of France Through fear or favour should delay the sword Of justice, Tallien emulates thy virtues; Tallien, like Brutus, lifts the avenging arm; Tallien shall save his country.

Violent Applauses.

BILLAUD VARENNES.

I demand The arrest of all the traitors. Memorable Will be this day for France.

ROBESPlERRE.

Yes! Memorable This day will be for France ­ for villains triumph.

LEBAS.

I will not share in this day's damning guilt. Condemn me too.

Great cry

­ Down with the tyrants!

The two Robespierres, Couthon, St. Just, and Lebas are led off.

ACT III.

Scene continues.

COLLOT D'HERBOIS.

Caesar is fallen! The baneful tree of Java, Whose death-distilling boughs dropt poisonous dew, Is rooted from its base. This worse than Cromwell, The austere, the self-denying Robespierre, Even in this hall, where once with terror mute We listen'd to the hypocrite's harangues, Has heard his doom.

BILLAUD VARENNES.

Yet must we not suppose The tyrant will fall tamely. His sworn hireling Henriot, the daring desperate Henriot Commands the force of Paris. I denounce him.

FRERON.

I denounce Fleuriot too, the mayor of Paris.

Enter

DUBOIS CRANCE.

DUBOIS CRANCE.

Robespierre is rescued. Henriot, at the head Of the arm'd force, has rescued the fierce tyrant.

COLLOT D'HERBOIS.

Ring the tocsin ­ call all the citizens To save their country ­ never yet has Paris Forsook the representatives of France.

TALLIEN.

It is the hour of danger. I propose This sitting be made permanent.

Loud Applauses

.

COLLOT D'HERBOIS.

The national Convention shall remain Firm at its post.

Enter a

MESSENGER.

MESSENGER.

Robespierre has reach'd the Commune. They espouse The tyrant's cause. St. Just is up in arms! St. Just ­ the young, ambitious, bold St. Just Harangues the mob. The sanguinary Couthon Thirsts for your blood.

Tocsin rings.

TALLIEN.

These tyrants are in arms against the law: Outlaw the rebels.

Enter

MERLIN OF DOUAY.

MERLIN.

Health to the representatives of France! I pass'd this moment through the armed force ­ They ask'd my name ­ and when they heard a delegate, Swore I was not the friend of France.

COLLOT D'HERBOIS.

The tyrants threaten us as when they turn'd The cannon's mouth on Brissot.

Enter another

MESSENGER.

SECOND MESSENGER.

Vivier harangues the Jacobins ­ the club Espouse the cause of Robespierre.

Enter another

MESSENGER.

THIRD MESSENGER.

All's lost ­ the tyrant triumphs. Henriot leads The soldiers to his aid. ­ Already I hear The rattling cannon destin'd to surround This sacred hall.

TALLIEN.

Why, we will die like men then. The representatives of France dare death, When duty steels their bosoms.

Loud Applauses

TALLIEN

addressing the galleries.

Citizens! France is insulted in her delegates ­ The majesty of the Republic is insulted ­ Tyrants are up in arms. An armed force Threats the Convention. The Convention swears To die, or save the country!

Violent Applauses from the galleries.

CITIZEN

from above

.

We too swear To die, or save the country. Follow me.

All the men quit the galleries.

Enter another

MESSENGER.

FOURTH MESSENGER.

Henriot is taken! ­

Loud Applauses.

Henriot is taken. Three of your brave soldiers Swore they would seize the rebel slave of tyrants, Or perish in the attempt. As he patroll'd The streets of Paris, stirring up the mob, They seized him.

Applauses

.

BILLAUD VARENNES.

Let the names of these brave men Live to the future day.

Enter

BOURDON L'OISE,

sword in hand

.

BOURDON L'OISE.

I have clear'd the Commune.

Applauses

.

Through the throng I rush'd, Brandishing my good sword to drench its blade Deep in the tyrant's heart. The timid rebels Gave way. I met the soldiery ­ I spake Of the dictator's crimes ­ of patriots chain'd In dark deep dungeons by his lawless rage ­ Of knaves secure beneath his fostering power. I spake of Liberty. Their honest hearts Caught the warm flame. The general shout burst forth, "Live the Convention ­ Down with Robespierre!"

Applauses

.

Shouts from without

­ Down with the tyrant!

TALLIEN.

I hear, I hear the soul-inspiring sounds, France shall be saved! her generous sons attach'd To principles, not persons, spurn the idol They worshipp'd once. Yes, Robespierre shall fall As Capet fell! Oh! never let us deem That France shall crouch beneath a tyrant's throne, That the almighty people who have broke On their oppressors' heads the oppressive chain, Will court again their fetters! easier were it To hurl the cloud-capt mountain from its base, Than force the bonds of slavery upon men Determined to be free!

Applauses

.

Enter

LEGENDRE,

a Pistol in one hand, Keys in the other.

LEGENDRE,

flinging down the Keys

.

So ­ let the mutinous Jacobins meet now In the open air.

Loud Applauses.

A factious, turbulent party, Lording it o'er the state since Danton died, And with him the Cordeliers. ­ A hireling band Of loud-tongued orators controll'd the club, And bade them bow the knee to Robespierre. Vivier has 'scap'd me. Curse his coward heart ­ This fate-fraught tube of Justice in my hand, I rush'd into the hall. He mark'd mine eye, That beam'd its patriot anger, and flash'd full With death-denouncing meaning. 'Mid the throng He mingled. I pursued ­ but staid my hand, Lest haply I might shed the innocent blood.

Applauses

.

FRERON.

They took from me my ticket of admission ­ Expell'd me from their sittings. ­ Now, forsooth, Humbled and trembling re-insert my name. But Freron enters not the club again Till it be purged of guilt ­ till, purified Of tyrants and of traitors, honest men May breathe the air in safety.

Shouts from without.

BARRERE.

What means this uproar! if the tyrant band Should gain the people once again to rise ­ We are as dead!

TALLIEN.

And wherefore fear we death? Did Brutus fear it? or the Grecian friends Who buried in Hipparchus' breast the sword, And died triumphant? Caesar should fear death, Brutus must scorn the bugbear.

Shouts from without

: Live the Convention ­ Down with the tyrants!

TALLIEN.

Hark! again The sounds of honest Freedom!

Enter

DEPUTIES

from the

SECTIONS.

CITIZEN.

Citizens! representatives of France! Hold on your steady course. The men of Paris Espouse your cause. The men of Paris swear They will defend the delegates of Freedom.

TALLIEN.

Hear ye this, colleagues? hear ye this, my brethren? And does no thrill of joy pervade your breasts? My bosom bounds to rapture. I have seen The sons of France shake off the tyrant yoke; I have, as much as lies in mine own arm, Hurl'd down the usurper. ­ Come death when it will, I have lived long enough.

Shouts without.

BARRERE.

Hark! how the noise increases! through the gloom Of the still evening ­ harbinger of death Rings the tocsin! the dreadful generale Thunders through Paris ­

Cry without

­ Down with the tyrant!

Enter

LECOINTRE.

LECOINTRE.

So may eternal justice blast the foes Of France! so perish all the tyrant brood, As Robespierre has perish'd! Citizens, Caesar is taken.

Loud and repeated Applauses.

I marvel not, that, with such fearless front, He braved our vengeance, and with angry eye Scowl'd round the hall defiance. He relied On Henriot's aid ­ the Commune's villain friendship, And Henriot's boughten succours. Ye have heard How Henriot rescued him ­ how with open arms The Commune welcomed in the rebel tyrant ­ How Fleuriot aided, and seditious Vivier Stirr'd up the Jacobins. All had been lost ­ The representatives of France had perish'd ­ Freedom had sunk beneath the tyrant arm Of this foul parricide, but that her spirit Inspired the men of Paris. Henriot call'd "To arms" in vain, whilst Bourdon's patriot voice Breathed eloquence, and o'er the Jacobins Legendre frown'd dismay. The tyrants fled ­ They reach'd the Hotel. We gather'd round ­ we call'd For vengeance! Long time, obstinate in despair, With knives they hack'd around them. Till foreboding The sentence of the law, the clamorous cry Of joyful thousands hailing their destruction, Each sought by suicide to escape the dread Of death. Lebas succeeded. From the window Leap'd the younger Robespierre; but his fractur'd limb Forbade to escape. The self-will'd dictator Plung'd often the keen knife in his dark breast, Yet impotent to die. He lives, all mangled By his own tremulous hand! All gash'd and gored, He lives to taste the bitterness of death. Even now they meet their doom. The bloody Couthon, The fierce St. Just, even now attend their tyrant To fall beneath the axe. I saw the torches Flash on their visages a dreadful light ­ I saw them whilst the black blood roll'd adown Each stern face, even then with dauntless eye Scowl round contemptuous, dying as they lived, Fearless of fate!

Loud and repeated Applauses.

BARRERE

mounts the Tribune.

For ever hallow'd be this glorious day, When Freedom, bursting her oppressive chain, Tramples on the oppressor. When the tyrant, Hurl'd from his blood-cemented throne by the arm Of the almighty people, meets the death He plann'd for thousands. Oh! my sickening heart Has sunk within me, when the various woes Of my brave country crowded o'er my brain In ghastly numbers ­ when assembled hordes, Dragg'd from their hovels by despotic power, Rush'd o'er her frontiers, plunder'd her fair hamlets, And sack'd her populous towns, and drench'd with blood The reeking fields of Flanders. ­ When within, Upon her vitals prey'd the rankling tooth Of treason; and oppression, giant form, Trampling on freedom, left the alternative Of slavery, or of death. Even from that day, When, on the guilty Capet, I pronounced The doom of injured France, has faction rear'd Her hated head amongst us. Roland preach'd Of mercy ­ the uxorious, dotard Roland, The woman-govern'd Roland durst aspire To govern France; and Petion talk'd of virtue, And Vergniaud's eloquence, like the honey'd tongue Of some soft Syren wooed us to destruction. We triumph'd over these. On the same scaffold Where the last Louis pour'd his guilty blood, Fell Brissot's head, the womb of darksome treasons, And Orleans, villain kinsman of the Capet, And Hebert's atheist crew, whose maddening hand Hurl'd down the altars of the living God, With all the infidel's intolerance. The last worst traitor triumph'd ­ triumph'd long, Secured by matchless villany. By turns Defending and deserting each accomplice As interest prompted. In the goodly soil Of Freedom, the foul tree of treason struck Its deep-fix'd roots, and dropt the dews of death On all who slumber'd in its specious shade. He wove the web of treachery. He caught The listening crowd by his wild eloquence, His cool ferocity that persuaded murder, Even whilst it spake of mercy! ­ never, never Shall this regenerated country wear The despot yoke. Though myriads round assail, And with worse fury urge this new crusade Than savages have known; though the leagued despots Depopulate all Europe, so to pour The accumulated mass upon our coasts, Sublime amid the storm shall France arise, And like the rock amid surrounding waves Repel the rushing ocean. ­ She shall wield The thunder-bolt of vengeance ­ she shall blast The despot's pride, and liberate the world!

Footnote 1

: The origin and authorship of

The Fall of Robespierre

will be best explained by the following extract from a letter from Mr. Southey to the Editor:

"This is the history of

The Fall of Robespierre

. It originated in sportive conversation at poor Lovell's, and we agreed each to produce an act by the next evening; ­ S. T. C. the first, I the second, and Lovell the third. S. T. C. brought part of his, I and Lovell the whole of ours; but L.'s was not in keeping, and therefore I undertook to supply the third also by the following day. By that time, S. T. C. had filled up his. A dedication to Mrs. Hannah More was concocted, and the notable performance was offered for sale to a bookseller in Bristol, who was too wise to buy it. Your Uncle took the MSS. with him to Cambridge, and there rewrote the first act at leisure, and published it. My portion I never saw from the time it was written till the whole was before the world. It was written with newspapers before me, as fast as newspaper could be put into blank verse. I have no desire to claim it now, or hereafter; but neither am I ashamed of it; and if you think proper to print the whole, so be it." ­

"

The Fall of Robespierre

, a tragedy, of which the first act was written by S. T. Coleridge." Mr. C.'s note in the

Conciones ad Populum

, 1795. (Ed.)

return to footnote mark

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