Literary Remains | Page 7

help them Who dares accuse me? who
shall dare belie My spotless name? Speak, ye accomplice band, Of
what am I accused? of what strange crime Is Maximilian Robespierre
accused, That through this hall the buzz of discontent Should murmur?
who shall speak?
BILLAUD VARENNES. O patriot tongue, Belying the foul heart!
Who was it urged Friendly to tyrants that accurst decree, Whose
influence brooding o'er this hallow'd hall, Has chill'd each tongue to
silence. Who destroy'd The freedom of debate, and carried through The
fatal law, that doom'd the delegates, Unheard before their equals, to the
bar Where cruelty sat throned, and murder reign'd With her Dumas
coequal? Say--thou man Of mighty eloquence, whose law was that?
COUTHON. That law was mine. I urged it--I proposed-- The voice of
France assembled in her sons Assented, though the tame and timid
voice Of traitors murmur'd. I advised that law-- I justify it. It was wise

and good.
BARRERE. Oh, wondrous wise, and most convenient too! I have long
mark'd thee, Robespierre--and now Proclaim thee traitor--tyrant!
[Loud applauses.]
ROBESPIERRE. It is well;--I am a traitor! oh, that I had fallen When
Regnault lifted high the murderous knife; Regnault, the instrument,
belike of those Who now themselves would fain assassinate, And
legalize their murders. I stand here An isolated patriot--hemm'd around
By faction's noisy pack; beset and bay'd By the foul hell-hounds who
know no escape From justice' outstretch'd arm, but by the force That
pierces through her breast.
[Murmurs, and shouts of --Down with the tyrant!]
ROBESPIERRE. Nay, but I will be heard. There was a time When
Robespierre began, the loud applauses Of honest patriots drown'd the
honest sound. But times are changed, and villany prevails.
COLLOT D'HERBOIS. No--villany shall fall. France could not brook
A monarch's sway;--sounds the dictator's name More soothing to her
ear?
BOURDON L'OISE. Rattle her chains More musically now than when
the hand Of Brissot forged her fetters; or the crew Of Hebert thunder'd
out their blasphemies, And Danton talk'd of virtue?
ROBESPIERRE. Oh, that Brissot Were here again to thunder in this
hall,-- That Hebert lived, and Danton's giant form Scowl'd once again
defiance! so my soul Might cope with worthy foes. People of France,
Hear me! Beneath the vengeance of the law Traitors have perish'd
countless; more survive: The hydra-headed faction lifts anew Her
daring front, and fruitful from her wounds, Cautious from past defects,
contrives new wiles Against the sons of Freedom.
TALLIEN. Freedom lives! Oppression falls--for France has felt her
chains, Has burst them too. Who, traitor-like, stept forth Amid the hall
of Jacobins to save Camille Desmoulins, and the venal wretch
D'Eglantine?
ROBESPIERRE. I did--for I thought them honest. And Heaven
forefend that vengeance e'er should strike, Ere justice doom'd the blow.
BARRERE. Traitor, thou didst. Yes, the accomplice of their dark
designs, Awhile didst thou defend them, when the storm Lour'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!
ROBESPIERRE JUNIOR. Barrere--attempt not meanly to divide Me
from my brother. I partake his guilt, For I partake his virtue.
ROBESPIERRE. 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.
BARRERE. Yes, allied in guilt, Even as in blood ye are. Oh, thou
worst wretch, Thou worse than Sylla! hast thou not proscrib'd, Yea, in
most foul anticipation slaughter'd Each patriot representative of
France?
BOURDON L'OISE. Was not the younger Caesar too to reign O'er all
our valiant armies in the south, And still continue there his merchant
wiles?
ROBESPIERRE JUNIOR. 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!
BOURDON L'OISE. 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.
COLLOT D'HERBOIS.