THE FALL OF ROBESPIERRE;

AN HISTORIC DRAMA.

DEDICATION.

TO H. MARTIN, ESQ.

OF JESUS COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE.

DEAR SIR, ACCEPT, as a small testimony of my grateful attachment, the follow ing Dramatic Poem, in which I have endeavoured to detail, in an in teresting 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 intri cacy 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 develop the characters of the chief actors on a vast stage of horrors.

Yours fraternally,

JESUS COLLEGE, September 22, 1774.

S. T. COLERIDGE

THE FALL OF ROBESPIERRE.

ACT 1.

SCENE I.-The Tuilleries.

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.) Tal. It was Barrere, Legendre! didst thou mark him? Abrupt he turn'd, yet linger'd as he went,

And towards us cast a look of doubtful meaning.

Leg. I mark'd him well. I met his eye's last glance,
It menaced not so proudly as of yore.

Methought he would have spoke-but that he dared not-
Such agitation darken'd on his brow.

Tal. "Twas all distrusting guilt that kept from bursting
Th' imprisoned secret struggling in the face:
E'en as the sudden breeze upstarting onwards
Hurries the thunder-cloud, that poised awhile
Hung in mid air, red with its mutinous burthen.
Leg. 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 prepared 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!

Tal. 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.
Leg. 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! murdered 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!

Tal. Yet his keen eye that flashes mighty meanings-
Leg. 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.)

Rob. 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 the 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 harlot's 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!

Cou. 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,
Compared 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.

Rob. Is not the commune ours? The stern tribunal ? Dumas? and Viviar? Fleuriot? and Louvet?

And Henriot? We'll denounce a hundred, nor

Shall they behold to-morrow's sun roll westward.

Rob. jun. Nay-I am sick of blood; my aching heart Reviews the long, long train of hideous herrors That still have gloom'd the rise of the republic. I should have died before Toulon, when war Became the patriot!

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!

Rob. jun. Beware! already do the sections murmur

"O the great glorious patriot, Robespierre

The tyrant guardian of the country's freedom!"

Cou. "Twere folly sure to work great deeds by halves; Much I suspect the darksome fickle heart

Rob. jun. If he-if all forsake thee-what remains?
Rob. 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 full pointless.

Cou. (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 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 )

Rob. 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.
Bar. "Twill be a pause of terror-

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

Rob.

Bar. The freedom of debate-
Rob.

That what?

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