Zanoni — Edward Bulwer-Lytton
cerements, the spectres of Vergniaud and Condorcet. Frappons !” “ Frappons /” cried even Barrére, startled into energy by the new daring of his colleague,— “ frappons / il n’y a que les morts qui ne reviennent pas.” It was observable (and the fact may be found in one of the memoirs of the time) that, during that day and night (the 7th Thermidor), a stranger to all the previous events of that stormy time was seen in various parts of the city, —in the cafés, the clubs, the haunts of the various factions; that, to the astonishment and dismay of his hearers, he talkea aloud of the crimes of Robespierre, and predicted his coming fall; and, as he spoke, he stirred up the hearts of men, he loosed the bonds of their fear, — he inflamed them with unwonted rage and daring. But what surprised them most was, that no voice replied, no hand was lifted against him, no minion, even of the tyrant, cried, “ Arrest the traitor.” In that impunity men read, as in a book, that the populace had deserted the man of blood. Once only a fierce, brawny Jacobin sprang up from the table at which he sat, drinking deep, and, approaching the stranger, said, “I seize thee, in the name of the Republic.” “ Citizen Aristides,” answered the stranger, in a whisper, “ go to the lodgings of Robespierre, — he is from home; and in the left pocket of the vest which he cast off not an hour since thou wilt find a paper; when thou hast read that, return. I will await thee; and if thou wouldst then seize me, I will go without a struggle. Look round on those lowering brows; touch me now, and thou wilt be torn to pieces.” The Jacobin felt as if compelled to obey against his will. He went forth muttering; he returned, — the
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stranger was still there. “ Mille tonnerres,” he said to him, “I thank thee; the poltroon had my name in his list for the guillotine.” With that the Jacobin Aristides sprang upon the table and shouted, “ Death to the Tyrant! ”
p. 488
CHAPTER XI.
Le lendemain, 8 Thermidor, Robespierre se décida 4 prononcer son fameux discours.1— Tuiers, Hist. de la Révolution.
Tut morning rose, — the 8th of Thermidor (July 26). Robespierre has gone to the Convention. He has gone with his labored speech; he has gone with his phrases of philanthropy and virtue; he has gone to single out his prey. All his agents are prepared for his reception; the fierce St. Just has arrived from the armies to second his courage and inflame his wrath. His ominous apparition prepares the audience for the crisis. “ Citizens!” screeched the shrill voice of Robespierre “others have placed before you flattering pictures; I come to announce to you useful truths.
And they attribute to me, — to me alone! — whatever of harsh or evil is committed: it is Robespierre who wishes it; it is Robespierre who ordains it. Is there a new tax?—Jit is Robespierre who ruins you. They call me tyrant!— and why? Because I have acquired some influence ; but how? — in speaking truth; and who pretends that truth is to be without force in the mouths of the Representatives of the French people? Doubtless, truth has its power, its rage, its despotism, its accents, touching, terrible, which resound in the pure heart as in the guilty conscience; and which Falsehood
1 The next day, 8th Thermidor, Robespierre resolved to deliver his celebrated discourse,
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can no more imitate than Salmoneus could forge the _thunderbolts of Heaven. What am I whom they accuse? A slave of liberty, —a living martyr of the Republic; the victim as the enemy of crime! All ruffianism affronts me, and actions legitimate in others are crimes in me. It is enough to know me to be calumniated. It is in my very zeal that they discover my guilt. Take from me my conscience, and I should be the most miserable of men! ” He paused; and Couthon wiped his eyes, and St. Just murmured applause as with stern looks he gazed on the rebellious Mountain; and there was a dead, mournful, and chilling silence through the audience. The touching sentiment woke no echo, The orator cast his eyes around. Ho! he will soon arouse that apathy. He proceeds; he praises, he pities himself no more. He denounces, — he accuses. Overflooded with his venom, he vomits it forth on all. At home, abroad, finances, war, —on all! Shriller and sharper rose his voice, — “A conspiracy exists against the public liberty. It owes its strength to a criminal coalition in the very bosom of the Convention; it has accomplices in the bosom of the Committee of Public Safety. . . . What is the remedy to this evil? To punish the traitors; to purify this committee; to crush all factions by the weight of the National Authority; to raise upon their ruins the power of Liberty and Justice. Such are the principles of that Reform. Must I be ambitious to profess them?— then the principles are proscribed, and Tyranny reigns amongst us! For what can you object to a man who is in the right, and has at least this knowledge, — he knows how to die for his native land! I am made to combat crime, and not to govern it. The
p. 490
cerements, the spectres of Vergniaud and Condorcet. Frappons !” “ Frappons /” cried even Barrére, startled into energy by the new daring of his colleague,— “ frappons / il n’y a que les morts qui ne reviennent pas.” It was observable (and the fact may be found in one of the memoirs of the time) that, during that day and night (the 7th Thermidor), a stranger to all the previous events of that stormy time was seen in various parts of the city, —in the cafés, the clubs, the haunts of the various factions; that, to the astonishment and dismay of his hearers, he talkea aloud of the crimes of Robespierre, and predicted his coming fall; and, as he spoke, he stirred up the hearts of men, he loosed the bonds of their fear, — he inflamed them with unwonted rage and daring. But what surprised them most was, that no voice replied, no hand was lifted against him, no minion, even of the tyrant, cried, “ Arrest the traitor.” In that impunity men read, as in a book, that the populace had deserted the man of blood. Once only a fierce, brawny Jacobin sprang up from the table at which he sat, drinking deep, and, approaching the stranger, said, “I seize you, in the name of the Republic.” “ Citizen Aristides,” answered the stranger, in a whisper, “ go to the lodgings of Robespierre, — he is from home; and in the left pocket of the vest which he cast off not an hour since you will find a paper; when you have read that, return. I will await you; and if you would then seize me, I will go without a struggle. Look round on those lowering brows; touch me now, and you will be torn to pieces.” The Jacobin felt as if compelled to obey against his will. He went forth muttering; he returned, — the
p. 487
stranger was still there. “ Mille tonnerres,” he said to him, “I thank you; the poltroon had my name in his list for the guillotine.” With that the Jacobin Aristides sprang upon the table and shouted, “ Death to the Tyrant! ”
p. 488
CHAPTER XI.
Le lendemain, 8 Thermidor, Robespierre se décida 4 prononcer son fameux discours.1— Tuiers, Hist. de la Révolution.
Tut morning rose, — the 8th of Thermidor (July 26). Robespierre has gone to the Convention. He has gone with his labored speech; he has gone with his phrases of philanthropy and virtue; he has gone to single out his prey. All his agents are prepared for his reception; the fierce St. Just has arrived from the armies to second his courage and inflame his wrath. His ominous apparition prepares the audience for the crisis. “ Citizens!” screeched the shrill voice of Robespierre “others have placed before you flattering pictures; I come to announce to you useful truths.
And they attribute to me, — to me alone! — whatever of harsh or evil is committed: it is Robespierre who wishes it; it is Robespierre who ordains it. Is there a new tax?—Jit is Robespierre who ruins you. They call me tyrant!— and why? Because I have acquired some influence ; but how? — in speaking truth; and who pretends that truth is to be without force in the mouths of the Representatives of the French people? Doubtless, truth has its power, its rage, its despotism, its accents, touching, terrible, which resound in the pure heart as in the guilty conscience; and which Falsehood
1 The next day, 8th Thermidor, Robespierre resolved to deliver his celebrated discourse,
p. 489
can no more imitate than Salmoneus could forge the _thunderbolts of Heaven. What am I whom they accuse? A slave of liberty, —a living martyr of the Republic; the victim as the enemy of crime! All ruffianism affronts me, and actions legitimate in others are crimes in me. It is enough to know me to be calumniated. It is in my very zeal that they discover my guilt. Take from me my conscience, and I should be the most miserable of men! ” He paused; and Couthon wiped his eyes, and St. Just murmured applause as with stern looks he gazed on the rebellious Mountain; and there was a dead, mournful, and chilling silence through the audience. The touching sentiment woke no echo, The orator cast his eyes around. Ho! he will soon arouse that apathy. He proceeds; he praises, he pities himself no more. He denounces, — he accuses. Overflooded with his venom, he vomits it forth on all. At home, abroad, finances, war, —on all! Shriller and sharper rose his voice, — “A conspiracy exists against the public liberty. It owes its strength to a criminal coalition in the very bosom of the Convention; it has accomplices in the bosom of the Committee of Public Safety. . . . What is the remedy to this evil? To punish the traitors; to purify this committee; to crush all factions by the weight of the National Authority; to raise upon their ruins the power of Liberty and Justice. Such are the principles of that Reform. Must I be ambitious to profess them?— then the principles are proscribed, and Tyranny reigns amongst us! For what can you object to a man who is in the right, and has at least this knowledge, — he knows how to die for his native land! I am made to combat crime, and not to govern it. The
p. 490
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