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?
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.
Oppression falls-for France has felt her chains,
Amid the hall of Jacobins to save
Camille Desmoulins, and the venal wretch D'Eglantine?
I did for I thought them honest. And Heaven forefend that vengeance ere should strike, Ere justice doom'd the blow.
Traitor, thou didst. Yes, the accomplice of their dark designs, Awhile didst thou defend them, when the storm Lower'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!
Barrere attempt not meanly to divide
Me from my brother. I partake his guilt,
For I partake his virtue.
Brother, by my soul, More dear I hold thee to my heart, that thus With me thou darest to tread the dangerous path Of virtue, than that nature twined her cords Of kindred round us.
Yes, allied in guilt, Even as in blood ye are. Oh, tliou worst wretch, Thou worse than Sylla! hast thou not proscribed, Yea, in most foul anticipation slaughter'd, Each patriot representative of France?
Was not the younger Cæsar too to reign
O'er all our valiant armies in the south,
And still continue there his merchant wiles?
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
Waved 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 før victory, when death
Strode o'er the reeking streets with giant stride,
And shook his ebon plumes, and sternly smiled
Amid the bloody banquet? when appall'd
The hireling sons of England spread the sail
No wonder, friend, That we are traitors-that our heads must fall Beneath the axe of death! When Cæsar-like
Reigns Robespierre, 't is 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 1 rule at Paris.
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
Must we contaminate this sacred hall With the foul breath of treason?
I may be heard, then! much the times are changed,
When St-Just thanks this hall for hearing him.
Whose plots resembled mine? Bring forth your proofs Robespierre is call'd a tyrant. Men of France,
Of this deep treason. Tell me in whose breast
Found ye the fatal scroll? or tell me rather
Who forged the shameless falsehood?
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 their dark intrigues disturb'd the plan
Of government. Legendre, the sworn friend
Of Danton, fall'n apostate. Dubois Crancé,
He who at Lyons spared the royalists-
Collot d'Herbois-
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 dye 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 Daubigné-
Robespierre, the foul arch-tyrant Robespierre.
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 Robespierre
Villains alone ally. Thou art a tyrant!
I style thee tyrant, Robespierre!
The arrest of all the traitors. Memorable
Will be this day for France.
This day will be for France--for villains triumph.
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.)
Cæsar 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,
[Loud applauses. Even in this hall, where once with terror mute
We listen'd to the hypocrite's harangues,
Has heard his doom.
Take back the name.
[Violent clamour. Cries of-Down with the Tyrant!
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 nightst 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 Cæsar,
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 crown'd 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 heart
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.
Health to the representatives of France!
[Violent applauses. I past 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.
The tyrants threaten us, as when they turn'd
The cannon's mouth on Brissot.
Vivier harangues the Jacobins-the club
Espouse the cause of Robespierre.
Enter another MESSENGER.
All's lost-the tyrant triumphs. Henriot leads
The soldiers to his aid.--Already I hear
The rattling cannon destined to surround
This sacred hall.
Why, we will die like men then;
The representatives of France dare death,
When duty steels their bosoms.
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!
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!
Enter LEGENDRE, a pistol in one hand, keys in the
LEGENDRE (flinging down the keys).
So-let the mutinous Jacobins meet now
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 'scaped 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
[Violent applauses from the galleries. With death-denouncing meaning. 'Mid the throng
CITIZEN (from above).
He mingled. I pursued-but staid my hand,
Lest haply I might shed the innocent blood.
We too swear
To die, or save the country. Follow me.
[All the men quit the galleries.
Enter another MESSENGER.
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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!
I hear, I hear the soul-inspiring sounds,
France shall be saved! her generous sons, attached
And wherefore fear we death?
Did Brutus fear it? or the Grecian friends
Who buried in Hipparchus' breast the sword,
And died triumphant? Cæsar should fear death,
Brutus must scorn the bugbear.
[Shouts from without. Live the Convention-Down
with the Tyrants!
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.
Hark! how the noise increases! through the gloom
Of the still evening-harbinger of death,
Rings the tocsin! the dreadful generale
Thunders through Paris-
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,
[Cry without-Down with the Tyrant! Dragg'd from their hovels by despotic power,
So may eternal justice blast the foes
Of France! so perish all the tyrant brood,
As Robespierre has perished! Citizens,
Cæsar 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
Leapt the younger Robespierre, but his fractured limb
Forbade to escape. The self-will'd dictator
Plunged 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.
Rush'd o'er her frontiers, plunder'd her fair hamlets,
And sack'd her populous towns, and drencli'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 triumphed—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!
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