The Fall of Robespierre quotes

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!

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.

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 show 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.

Beware! already do the sections murmur— “O the great glorious patriot, Robespierre— The tyrant guardian of the country’s freedom!”

’Twere folly sure to work great deeds by halves!

Much I suspect the darksome fickle heart Of cold Barrere!

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—bloodstain’d tyrant! Yet what is Conscience?

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.

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.

Nay—but I tell thee, Thou art too fond of slaughter—and the right (If right it be) workest by most foul means!

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!)

Why, thou hast been the mouthpiece 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!

O prodigality of eloquent anger!

Why now I see thou’rt weak—thy case is desperate! The cool ferocious Robespierre turn’d scolder!

O prodigality of eloquent anger! Why now I see thou’rt weak—thy case is desperate!

The cool ferocious Robespierre turn’d scolder!

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.

O prodigality of eloquent anger! Why now I see thou’rt weak—thy case is desperate! The cool ferocious Robespierre turn’d scolder!

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.

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, All sacrificed to liberty’s wild riot.

The wingèd 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 Of sorrow for a while. Soft music.

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, All sacrificed to liberty’s wild riot.

Barrere—attempt not meanly to divide Me from my brother.

I partake his guilt, For I partake his virtue.

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.

Yes, Robespierre shall fall As Capet fell! Oh! never let us deem That France shall crouch beneath a tyrant’s throne, That the almighty people who have broke On their oppressors’ heads the oppressive chain, Will court again their fetters! easier were it

To hurl the cloud-capt mountain from its base, Than force the bonds of slavery upon men Determined to be free!

Applauses.