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 cæteri. 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.

While Conscience, 'mid the mob's applauding clamors,
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 !-"T is all their life.

BARRERE.

Yet much they talk-and plausible their speech.
Couthon's decree has given such powers, that-

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 apo 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!

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.

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.

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
Are the sections friendly? Of sorrow for a while.

BARRERE.

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?

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.
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-

BOURDON L'OISE.

[ADELAIDE retires.

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 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
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!"

Hear

ye

TALLIEN.

Even for a moment hold his fate suspended,
that outcry?-If the trembling members
I swear, by the holy poniard that stabb'd Cæsar,
This dagger probes his heart!

ACT II.

[Exeunt omnes.

SCENE.-The Convention.
ROBESPIERRE (mounts the Tribune).
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 pierced through 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.
Hate him as they fear him, of declamation, thunder'd in this hall,
The high-fraught sentence, and the lofty tone

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 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.

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 !

ROBESPIERRE.

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

ROBESPIERRE.

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.

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!

TALLIEN.

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.
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.

[Violent applauses.

BILLAUD VARENNES.

I demand