Samuel Coleridge - The Complete Works of Samuel Taylor Coleridge

Black all around us? In our very vitals

Works not the king-bred poison of rebellion?

Say, what shall counteract the selfish plottings 150

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 155

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. 160

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 165

(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 170

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? 175

Why, thou hast been the mouth-piece of all horrors,

And, like a bloodhound, 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! 180

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. 185

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. 190

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 Thuilleries — with him Legendre —

In deep discourse they seem’d: as I approach’d

He waved his hand as bidding me retire: 195

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, 200

All sacrificed to liberty’s wild riot.

The wingéd 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 205

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 sooths the weary soul 210

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, 215

Far on fearful wing she flies,

From the pomp of scepter’d state,

From the rebel’s noisy hate.

In a cottag’d vale she dwells

List’ning to the Sabbath bells! 220

Still around her steps are seen,

Spotless honor’s meeker mien,

Love, the sire of pleasing fears,

Sorrow smiling through her tears,

And conscious of the past employ, 225

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, 230

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? 235

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. 240

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, 245

Impatient of the chain, resolv’d 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: 250

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? 255

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? 260

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 265

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! 270

[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.

Table of Contents

SCENE — The Convention.

Robespierre mounts the Tribune. Once more befits it that the voice

of Truth,

Fearless in innocence, though leaguered round

By Envy and her hateful brood of hell,

Be heard amid this hall; once more befits

The patriot, whose prophetic eye so oft 5

Has pierced thro’ faction’s veil, to flash on crimes

Of deadliest import. Mouldering in the grave

Sleeps Capet’s caitiff corse; my daring hand

Levelled to earth his blood-cemented throne,

My voice declared his guilt, and stirred up France 10

To call for vengeance. I too dug the grave

Where sleep the Girondists, detested band!

Long with the shew of freedom they abused

Her ardent sons. Long time the well-turn’d phrase,

The high-fraught sentence and the lofty tone 15