Untitled

SCENE--The Thuilleries.

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 splendor 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 towards 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 thundercloud, 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 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!

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 shew 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-scorcht 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 an 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 cleans'd 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 caeteri. 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 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' awakened 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 rendered 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'erwearied 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 saved 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.