Lower’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!
Barrere—attempt not meanly to divide
Me from my brother. I partake his guilt,
For I partake his virtue.
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.
Yes, allied in guilt,
Even as in blood ye are. O, thou worst wretch,
Thou worse than Sylla! hast thou not proscrib’d,
Yea, in most foul anticipation slaughter’d
Each patriot representative of France?
Was not the younger Caesar too to reign
O’er all our valiant armies in the south,
And still continue there his merchant wiles?
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!
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.
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.
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.
Matchless knave!
What—not one blush of conscience on thy cheek—
Not one poor blush of truth! most likely tale!
That I who ruined Brissot’s towering hopes,
I who discover’d Hébert’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 destroyed 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 forg’d the shameless falsehood?
Ask you proofs?
Robespierre, what proofs were ask’d when Brissot died?
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?
I remember well
The fatal day. I do repent me much
That I kill’d Caesar and spar’d Antony.
But I have been too lenient. I have spared
The stream of blood, and now my own must flow
To fill the current. Loud applauses.
Triumph not too soon,
Justice may yet be victor.
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.
Hear ye this,
Insulted delegates of France? St. Just
From your Committee comes—comes charg’d 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.
Hear me! Violent murmurs.
He shall be heard!
Must we contaminate this sacred hall
With the foul breath of treason?
Drag him away!
Hence with him to the bar.
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!
Heed we well
That justice guide our actions. No light import
Attends this day. I move St. Just be heard.
Inviolate be the sacred right of man.
The freedom of debate. Violent applauses.
I may be heard then! much the times are chang’d,
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 Crancé,
He who at Lyons spared the royalists—
Collot d’Herbois—
What—shall the traitor rear
His head amid our tribune—and blaspheme
Each patriot? shall the hireling slave of faction—
I am of no one faction. I contend
Against all factions.
I espouse the cause
Of truth. Robespierre on yester morn pronounced
Upon his own authority a report.
Today 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 Hébert,
Denounced by all—upheld by Robespierre.
Who spar’d La Valette? 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-stil’d 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 stile thee tyrant, Robespierre! Loud applauses.
Take back the name. Ye citizens of France—Violent clamour. Cries
