Chamberss Edinburgh Journal, No. 426 | Page 7

was
drawn out. It must be considered a fine trait in the character of
Robespierre the younger, that he begged to be included in the same

decree of proscription with his brother. This wish was readily granted;
and St Just, Couthon (who had lost the use of his legs, and was always
carried about in an arm-chair), and Le Bas, were added to the number
of the proscribed. Rescued, however, from the gendarmes by an
insurrectionary force, headed by Henriot, Robespierre and his
colleagues were conducted in triumph to the Hôtel de Ville. Here,
during the night, earnest consultations were held; and the adherents of
Robespierre implored him in desperation, as the last chance of safety
for them all, to address a rousing proclamation to the sections. At
length, yielding unwillingly to these frantic appeals, he commenced
writing the required address; and it was while subscribing his name to
this seditious document, that the soldiers of the Convention burst in
upon him, and he was shot through the jaw by one of the gendarmes. At
the same moment, Le Bas shot himself through the heart. All were
made prisoners, and carried off--the dead body of Le Bas not excepted.
* * * * *
While residing for a short time in Paris in 1849, we were one day
conducted by a friend to a large house, with an air of faded grandeur, in
the eastern faubourgs, which had belonged to an aged republican,
recently deceased. He wished me to examine a literary curiosity, which
was to be seen among other relics of the great Revolution. The
curiosity in question was the proclamation, in the handwriting of
Robespierre, to which he was in the act of inscribing his signature,
when assaulted and made prisoner in the Hôtel de Ville. It was a small
piece of paper, contained in a glass-frame; and, at this distance of time,
could not fail to excite an interest in visitors. The few lines of writing,
commencing with the stirring words: '_Courage, mes compatriotes!_'
ended with only a part of the subscription. The letters, Robes, were all
that were appended, and were followed by a blur of the pen; while the
lower part of the paper shewed certain discolorations, as if made by
drops of blood. And so this was the last surviving token of the
notorious Robespierre! It is somewhat curious, that no historian seems
to be aware of its existence.
* * * * *

Stretched on a table in one of the anterooms of the Convention; his
head leaning against a chair; his fractured jaw supported by a
handkerchief passed round the top of his head; a glass with vinegar and
a sponge at his side to moisten his feverish lips; speechless and almost
motionless, yet conscious!--there lay Robespierre--the clerks, who, a
few days ago, had cringed before him, now amusing themselves by
pricking him with their penknives, and coarsely jesting over his fall.
Great crowds, likewise, flocked to see him while in this undignified
posture, and he was overwhelmed with the vilest expressions of hatred
and abuse. The mental agony which he must have experienced during
this humiliating exhibition, could scarcely fail to be increased on
hearing himself made the object of unsparing and boisterous
declamations from the adjoining tribune.
At three o'clock in the afternoon (July 28), the prisoners were placed
before the Revolutionary Tribunal, and at six, the whole were tied in
carts, the dead body of Le Bas included, and conducted to execution.
To this wretched band were added the whole family of the Duplays,
with the exception of the mother; she having been strangled the
previous night by female furies, who had broken into her house, and
hung her to the iron rods of her bedstead. They were guiltless of any
political crime; but their private connection with the principal object of
proscription was considered to be sufficient for their condemnation.
The circumstance of these individuals being involved in his fate, could
not fail to aggravate the bitterness of Robespierre's reflections. As the
dismal _cortège_ wended its way along the Rue St Honoré, he was
loaded with imprecations by women whose husbands he had destroyed,
and the shouts of children, whom he had deprived of parents, were the
last sounds heard by him on earth. Yet he betrayed not the slightest
emotion--perhaps he only pitied the ignorance of his persecutors. In the
midst of the feelings of a misunderstood and martyred man, his head
dropped into the basket!
These few facts and observations respecting the career of Robespierre,
enable us to form a tolerably correct estimate of his character. The man
was a bigot. A perfect Republic was his faith, his religion. To integrity,
perseverance, and extraordinary self-denial under temptation, he united

only a sanguine temperament and moderate abilities for the
working-out