Each thought, each action in himself converges;
And love and friendship on his coward heart 30
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 35
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 40
To scare or cheat the simple into slaves!
Yes — we must gain him over: by dark hints
We’ll shew enough to rouse his watchful fears,
Till the cold coward blaze a patriot.
O Danton! murder’d friend! assist my counsels — 45
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 — 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. [Exeunt. 55
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? 60
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, 65
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? 70
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! 75
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-scorcht wilderness 80
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 85
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. 90
Robespierre. Is not the Commune ours? The stern tribunal?
Dumas? and Vivier? Fleuriot? and Louvet?
And Henriot? We’ll denounce an hundred, nor
Shall they behold to-morrow’s sun roll westward.
Robespierre Junior. Nay — I am sick of blood; my aching heart 95
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, 100
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 — 105
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 cleans’d by wholesome massacre!
Robespierre Junior. Beware! already do the sections murmur — 110
‘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! 115
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, 120
Bidding the darts of calumny fall pointless.
[Exeunt caeteri. Manet COUTHON.
Couthon (solus). So we deceive ourselves! What goodly virtues
Bloom on the poisonous branches of ambition!
Still, Robespierre! thou’lt guard thy country’s freedom
To despotize in all the patriot’s pomp. 125
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’ awakened breast retains its horrors! 130
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. 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! — a moment’s pause?—’Tis all their 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 machine 145
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 150
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 rendered light 155
By the necessities that gave it birth:
The other fouls the fount of the repu
blic,
Making it flow polluted to all ages:
Inoculates the state with a slow venom,
That once imbibed, must be continued ever. 160
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 165
(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 170
Of Paris red-eyed Massacre o’erwearied
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? 175
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! 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 blow
Reserves the whetted dagger for his own. 185
Denounced 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
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 Thuilleries — with him Legendre —
In deep discourse they seem’d: as I approach’d
He waved his hand as bidding me retire: 195
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, 200
All 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 thoughts 205
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 sooths the weary soul 210
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, 215
Far on fearful wing she flies,
From the pomp of scepter’d state,
From the rebel’s noisy hate.
In a cottag’d vale she dwells
List’ning to the Sabbath bells! 220
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, 225
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, 230
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? 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 curses
Groan on our midnight beds, and e’en our dreams
Threaten the assassin hand of Robespierre. 240
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, 245
Impatient 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: 250
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? 255
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? 260
Enter BARRERE abruptly.
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 tyrant
Concerts a plan of instant massacre!
Billaud Varennes. Away to the Convention! with that voice 265
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! 270
[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. Once more befits it that the voice
of Truth,
Fearless in innocence, though leaguered round
By Envy and her hateful brood of hell,
Be heard amid this hall; once more befits
The patriot, whose prophetic eye so oft 5
Has pierced thro’ faction’s veil, to flash on crimes
Of deadliest import. Mouldering in the grave
Sleeps Capet’s caitiff corse; my daring hand
Levelled to earth h
is blood-cemented throne,
My voice declared his guilt, and stirred up France 10
To call for vengeance. I too dug the grave
Where sleep the Girondists, detested band!
Long with the shew of freedom they abused
Her ardent sons. Long time the well-turn’d phrase,
The high-fraught sentence and the lofty tone 15
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 honoured friend,
Spirit of Marat, upon thee I call — 20
Thou know’st me faithful, know’st with what warm zeal
I urg’d 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
Hébert and Rousin, and the villain friends 25
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! 30
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 accus’d? of what strange crime 35
Is Maximilian Robespierre accus’d,
That through this hall the buz of discontent
Should murmur? who shall speak?
Billaud Varennes. O patriot tongue
Belying the foul heart! Who was it urg’d
Friendly to tyrants that accurst decree, 40
Whose influence brooding o’er this hallowed hall,
Has chill’d each tongue to silence? Who destroyed
Complete Poetical Works of Robert Southey Page 201