ROBESPIERRE.
He shall be heard!
Must we contaminate this sacred hall With the foul breath of treason?
COLLOT D'HERBOIS. 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!
That justice guide our actions. No light import
What-not one blush of conscience on thy cheek-Attends this day. I move St-Just be heard.
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 ax, 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?
Inviolate be the sacred right of man, The freedom of debate.
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 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-
What shall the traitor rea His head amid our tribune-and blaspheme Each patriot? shall the hireling slave of faction-
I am of no faction. I contend Against all factions.
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.
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 Vallette? 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.
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 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, ye citizens of France- [Violent clamor. 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 mightst 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. The National Convention shall remain
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 favor, should delay the sword Of justice, Tallien emulates thy virtues; Tallien, like Brutus, lifts the avenging arm; Tallien shall save his country.
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!
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 With death-denouncing meaning. 'Mid the throng
[Violent applauses from the galleries. He mingled. I pursued-but staid my hand, Lest haply I might shed the innocent blood.
To die, or save the country. Follow me.
[All the men quit the galleries. They took from me my ticket of admission—
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!
Expell'd me from their sittings.-Now, forsooth, Humbled and trembling re-insert my name; But Fréron 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.
Hear ye this, Colleagues? hear ye this, my brethren. And does no thrill of joy pervade your breasts?
I hear, I hear the soul-inspiring sounds, France shall be saved! her generous sons, attached 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,
BARRERE (mounts the Tribune). For ever hallow'd be this glorious day,
Hurl'd down the usurper.-Come death when it will, When Freedom, bursting her oppressive chain, 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-
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 perish'd! 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 succors. 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 Ilotel. We gather'd round-we
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 ax. 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 drench'd with
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 thunderbolt of vengeance-she shall blast The despot's pride, and liberate the world! 221
PROSE IN RHYME: OR EPIGRAMS, MORALITIES, AND THINGS WITHOUT A NAME
Ἔρως ἄει λάληδρος ἔταιρος.
In many ways does the full heart reveal
The presence of the love it would conceal; But in far more th' estranged heart lets know
The absence of the love, which yet it fain would show.
ALL thoughts, all passions, all delights, Whatever stirs this mortal frame, All are but ministers of Love, And feed his sacred flame.
Oft in my waking dreams do I Live o'er again that happy hour, When midway on the mount I lay
Beside the ruin'd tower.
The moonshine, stealing o'er the scene, Had blended with the lights of eve; And she was there, my hope, my joy,
My own dear Genevieve!
She leant against the armed man, The statue of the armed knight; She stood and listen'd to my lay,
Amid the lingering light.
Few sorrows hath she of her own, My hope! my joy! my Genevieve! She loves me best, whene'er I sing The songs that make her grieve.
I play'd a soft and doleful air, I sang an old and moving story- An old rude song, that suited well That ruin wild and hoary.
She listen'd with a flitting blush, With downcast eyes and modest grace; For well she knew, I could not choose But gaze upon her face.
I told her of the Knight that wore Upon his shield a burning brand; And that for ten long years he wooed The Lady of the Land.
I told her how he pined: and ah! The deep, the low, the pleading tone With which I sang another's love, Interpreted my own.
fis piece may be found, as originally published, under anuther litle at page 28.
She listen'd with a flitting blush, With downcast eyes, and modest grace, And she forgave me, that I gazed Too fondly on her face.
But when I told the cruel scorn That crazed that bold and lovely Knight, And that he cross'd the mountain-woods, Nor rested day nor night;
That sometimes from the savage den, And sometimes from the darksome shade. And sometimes starting up at once
In green and sunny glade,
There came and look'd him in the face An angel beautiful and bright; And that he knew it was a Fiend, This miserable Knight!
And that, unknowing what he did, He leap'd amid a murderous band, And saved from outrage worse than death The Lady of the Land!
And how she wept, and clasp'd his knees; And how she tended him in vain- And ever strove to expiate
The scorn that crazed his brain. And that she nursed him in a cave; And how his madness went away, When on the yellow forest-leaves A dying man he lay.
His dying words-but when I reach'd That tenderest strain of all the ditty, My faltering voice and pausing harp Disturbed her soul with pity!
All impulses of soul and sense Had thrill'd my guiltless Genevieve; The music and the doleful tale, The rich and balmy eve;
And hopes, and fears that kindle hope An undistinguishable throng,
And gentle wishes long subdued, Subdued and cherish'd long!
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