Coleridge's Literary Remains

...collected and edited by Henry Nelson Coleridge, Esq. M. A.

to Joseph Henry Green, Esq., Member of the Royal College of Surgeons, the approved friend of Coleridge, these volumes are gratefully inscribed

[Table of Contents]

[Preface]

Mr. Coleridge by his will, dated in September, 1829, authorized his executor, if he should think it expedient, to publish any of the notes or writing made by him (Mr. C.) in his books, or any other of his manuscripts or writings, or any letters which should thereafter be collected from, or supplied by, his friends or correspondents. Agreeably to this authority, an arrangement was made, under the superintendence of Mr. Green, for the collection of Coleridge's literary remains; and at the same time the preparation for the press of such part of the materials as should consist of criticism and general literature, was entrusted to the care of the present Editor. The volumes now offered to the public are the first results of that arrangement. They must in any case stand in need of much indulgence from the ingenuous reader;- multa sunt condonanda in opere postumo; but a short statement of the difficulties attending the compilation may serve to explain some apparent anomalies, and to preclude some unnecessary censure.
The materials were fragmentary in the extreme ­ Sibylline leaves; ­ notes of the lecturer, memoranda of the investigator, out-pourings of the solitary and self-communing student. The fear of the press was not in them. Numerous as they were, too, they came to light, or were communicated, at different times, before and after the printing was commenced; and the dates, the occasions, and the references, in most instances remained to be discovered or conjectured. To give to such materials method and continuity, as far as might be, ­ to set them forth in the least disadvantageous manner which the circumstances would permit, ­ was a delicate and perplexing task; and the Editor is painfully sensible that he could bring few qualifications for the undertaking, but such as were involved in a many years' intercourse with the author himself, a patient study of his writings, a reverential admiration of his genius, and an affectionate desire to help in extending its beneficial influence.
The contents of these volumes are drawn from a portion only of the manuscripts entrusted to the Editor: the remainder of the collection, which, under favourable circumstances, he hopes may hereafter see the light, is at least of equal value with what is now presented to the reader as a sample. In perusing the following pages, the reader will, in a few instances, meet with disquisitions of a transcendental character, which, as a general rule, have been avoided: the truth is, that they were sometimes found so indissolubly intertwined with the more popular matter which preceded and followed, as to make separation impracticable. There are very many to whom no apology will be necessary in this respect; and the Editor only adverts to it for the purpose of obviating, as far as may be, the possible complaint of the more general reader. But there is another point to which, taught by past experience, he attaches more importance, and as to which, therefore, he ventures to put in a more express and particular caution. In many of the books and papers, which have been used in the compilation of these volumes, passages from other writers, noted down by Mr. Coleridge as in some way remarkable, were mixed up with his own comments on such passages, or with his reflections on other subjects, in a manner very embarrassing to the eye of a third person undertaking to select the original matter, after the lapse of several years. The Editor need not say that he has not knowingly admitted any thing that was not genuine without an express declaration, as in Vol. I. p. 1; and in another instance, Vol. II. p. 379, he has intimated his own suspicion: but, besides these, it is possible that some cases of mistake in this respect may have occurred. There may be one or two passages ­ they cannot well be more ­ printed in these volumes, which belong to other writers; and if such there be, the Editor can only plead in excuse, that the work has been prepared by him amidst many distractions, and hope that, in this instance at least, no ungenerous use will be made of such a circumstance to the disadvantage of the author, and that persons of greater reading or more retentive memories than the Editor, who may discover any such passages, will do him the favour to communicate the fact.
The Editor's motive in publishing the few poems and fragments included in these volumes, was to make a supplement to the collected edition of Coleridge's poetical works. In these fragments the reader will see the germs of several passages in the already published poems of the author, but which the Editor has not thought it necessary to notice more particularly. The Fall of Robespierre, a joint composition, has been so long in print in the French edition of Coleridge's poems, that, independently of such merit as it may possess, it seemed natural to adopt it upon the present occasion, and to declare the true state of the authorship.
To those who have been kind enough to communicate books and manuscripts for the purpose of the present publication, the Editor and, through him, Mr. Coleridge's executor return their grateful thanks. In most cases a specific acknowledgement has been made. But, above and independently of all others, it is to Mr. and Mrs. Gillman, and to Mr. Green himself, that the public are indebted for the preservation and use of the principal part of the contents of these volumes. The claims of those respected individuals on the gratitude of the friends and admirers of Coleridge and his works are already well known, and in due season those claims will receive additional confirmation.
With these remarks, sincerely conscious of his own inadequate execution of the task assigned to him, yet confident withal of the general worth of the contents of the following pages ­ the Editor commits the reliques of a great man to the indulgent consideration of the Public.
Lincoln's Inn, August 11, 1836.

L'Envoy.
He was one who with long and large arm still collected precious armfulls in whatever direction he pressed forward, yet still took up so much more than he could keep together, that those who followed him gleaned more from his continual droppings than he himself brought home; ­ nay, made stately corn-ricks therewith, while the reaper himself was still seen only with a strutting armful of newly-cut sheaves. But I should misinform you grossly if I left you to infer that his collections were a heap of incoherent miscellanea. No! the very contrary. Their variety, conjoined with the too great coherency, the too great both desire and power of referring them in systematic, nay, genetic subordination, was that which rendered his schemes gigantic and impracticable, as an author, and his conversation less instructive as a man.
Auditorem inopem ipsa copia fecit.
­ Too much was given, all so weighty and brilliant as to preclude a chance of its being all received, ­ so that it not seldom passed over the hearer's mind like a roar of many waters.

[Contents]

[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.