The evil destiny surprised my brother
Too suddenly: he could not think on them.

OCTAVIO.

Speak not of vengeance! Speak not of maltreatment!
The Emperor is appeased; the heavy fault
Hath heavily been expiated-nothing
Descended from the father to the daughter,
Except his glory and his services.

The Empress honors your adversity,
Takes part in your afflictions, opens to you
Her motherly arms! Therefore no farther fears;
Yield yourself up in hope and confidence
To the Imperial Grace!

COUNTESS (with her eye raised to heaven)
To the grace and mercy of a greater Master
Do I yield up myself. Where shall the body
Of the Duke have its place of final rest?
In the Chartreuse, which he himself did found
At Gitschin, rest the Countess Wallenstein;
And by her side, to whom he was indebted
For his first fortunes, gratefully he wish'd
He might sometime repose in death! O let him
Be buried there. And likewise, for my husband's
Remains, I ask the like grace. The Emperor
Is now proprietor of all our Castles.

This sure may well be granted us-one sepulchre
Beside the sepulchres of our forefathers!

[He reads the address, and delivers the letter to OCTAVIO with a look of reproach, and with an emphasis on the word.

To the Prince Piccolomini.

[OCTAVIO, with his whole frame expressive of sud-
den anguish, raises his eyes to heaven.
(The Curtain drops.)

The Fall of Robespierre;

AN HISTORIC DRAMA.

DEDICATION.

TO H. MARTIN, ESQ.

OF JESUS COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE.

DEAR SIR,

THE FALL OF ROBESPIERRE.

ACT I.

SCENE, The Tuilleries.

BARRERE.

ACCEPT, as a small testimony of my grateful attach-
ment, the following Dramatic Poem, in which I have
endeavored to detail, in an interesting form, the fall
of a man, whose great bad actions have cast a dis-
astrous lustre on his name. In the execution of the
work, as intricacy of plot could not have been at-
tempted without a gross violation of recent facts, it
has been my sole aim to imitate the impassioned and And rising awful 'mid impending ruins;
highly figurative language of the French Orators, In splendor gloomy, as the midnight meteor,
That fearless thwarts the elemental war.
and to develop the characters of the chief actors on when last in secret conference we met,
a vast stage of horrors.

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,

Yours fraternally,

S. T. COLERIDGE.

JESUS COLLEGE, September 22, 1794.

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.

Methought he would have spoke-but that he dared The state is not yet purified: and though

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!

streets

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
Of Paris red-eyed Massacre o'er-wearied
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!

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 render'd 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.

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.

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,
All sacrificed to Liberty's wild riot.
The winged 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
By the soft languishment of warbled airs,
If haply melodies may lull the sense
Are the sections friendly? Of sorrow for a while.

BARRERE.

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?

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.
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.

BOURDON L'OISE.

[ADELAIDE retires

Tallien! was this a time for amorous conference?
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?
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
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?

[Cry from the street of "No Tyrant! Down with
the Tyrant!"

Hear

ye

TALLIEN.

Even for a moment hold his fate suspended,
that outcry?-If the trembling members
I swear, by the holy poniard that stabb'd Cæsar,
This dagger probes his heart!

ACT II.

[Exeunt omnes.

SCENE.-The Convention.
ROBESPIERRE (mounts the Tribune).
Once more befits it that the voice of Truth,
Fearless in innocence, though leaguer'd round
By Envy and her hateful brood of hell,
Be heard amid this hall; once more befits
The patriot, whose prophetic eye so oft
Has pierced through faction's veil, to flash on crimes
Of deadliest import. Mouldering in the grave
Sleeps Capet's caitiff corse; my daring hand
Levell'd to earth his blood-cemented throne,

My voice declared his guilt, and stirr'd up France
To call for vengeance. I too dug the grave
Where sleep the Girondists, detested band!
Long with the show of freedom they abused
Her ardent sons. Long time the well-turn'd phrase,
The high-fraught sentence, and the lofty tone

Hate him as they fear him, of declamation, thunder'd in this hall,