Danton and other Ver^e A THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES FREDERIC THOMAS BLANCHARD ENDOWMENT FUND DANTON AND OTHER VERSE BY THE SAME AUTHOR Fcap. &V0, 5S. BALLADS AND OTHER VERSE LONGMANS, GREEN AND CO. LONDON, NEW YORK, AND BOMBAY DANTON AND OTHER VERSE BY A. H. BEESLY LONGMANS, GREEN AND CO. LONDON, NEW YORK, AND BOMBAY 189G Edinburgh : T. and A. Constable, Printers to Her Majesty PREFACE The following sketches of episodes in the French Revolution, which for convenience are labelled ' Danton,' have no pretensions to be a drama, such as the name might seem to advance, nor to historical precision. Words, e.g., are put into the speakers* mouths on other occasions than those on which they were actually used, and all the incidents are not vouched for, though all, or most, are based on actual or reputed facts. It will be observed that the events belong chiefly to the last six months of Danton's life, when he had retired from office ; when the Terror reigned ; but long after the September massacres. The portrait given is not, I think, in its main outlines unfaithful. But it w^ould be, if even earlier in his life he had, as was so long believed, devised and organised those hideous massacres. Pro- 764.310 VI PREFACE bably no student of French history believes that now. But did he try to stop them ? Did he disapprove of them ? The more the subject is investigated, the more certain it seems that he did ; that he was quite powerless to repress them by force, offhand ; that if he had gone, as a man of martyr-spirit like General Gordon might have gone^, with a walking-stick in his hand to the prisons, he would probably have lost his life there as he eventually did in the cause of mercy, instead of living to devise measures, without which far more horrible massacres must have ensued. He himself spoke of the ' bloody days mourned by all good citizens,' 'the terrible events no human power was in condition to control,' much as Roland did when he said ' the Executive was unable either to foresee or prevent them.' Had Roland's party been less jealous of him they would never have occurred. Those who are incredulous, remem- bering the stories out of which the contrary PREFACE Vll belief has been evolved, should take care that they also know how charges apparently most circumstantial, and if true most damnatory, have by patient investigation been proved one by one to be wholly false. When his enemies called him a Q-omwell, Danton (for as yet Mr. Carlyle was not) repu- diated the name ! But with much external dissimilarity he was in some essentials a French Cromwell. A regicide, like him, and for the same reasons; like him, a lover of law but only equal law, and of stern but only regular justice ; like him he was long execrated as a monster. Mr. Carlyle, with wonderful insight, though without facts since revealed by investi- gation, stripped off something of the ogre and disclosed something of the man. But no history of him has as yet, I believe, been written in England, and therefore, he probably still re- mains to most Englishmen a somewhat shadowy figure. In a life of him on which I am now VUl PREFACE engaged, though nothing alleged against him will be suppressed or evaded, hard facts will, I think, show that, among so many crotchet- mongers, factionists, and fanatics, he was con- spicuous for sagacity and the faculty of adapting means to ends ; that, despite a certain ostentation in speech (too frank to excite more than a smile even in a foreigner), he was not an egotist, but devoted to the Republic ; and, above all things, a man of action, — the one statesman of the French Revolution worthy of the name. PART I DANTONi 1. THK ' PLACE DE LA REVOLUTION,' 2. THE ' DAMES DE LA HALLE,' 3. ARCIS SUR AUBE, 4. THE ' COMITE DE SALUT,' 5. THE ' BUE ST. HONORE,' 6. THE ' COUR DU C03IMERCe/ 7. THE LUXEMBOURG, 8. THE CONVENTION, 9. THE TRIBUNAL, . 10. THE GUILLOTINE, PAGE J) 12 20 27 34 42 55 68 75 87 'So passes, like a gigantic mass of valour, ostentation, fury, affection, and wild revolutionary force and vianhood, this Danton to his unknown lu»nc.' CAKLVLE. THE ' PLACE DE LA REVOLUTION ' The ' Tncoteuses ' - silting round the Guillotine, sing. Sisters, hail ! again we meet Watchful, at our wonted seat Round our mistress, round our Queen, Round our Lady Guillotine. Sit ye round, and as ye sit Briskly with your needles knit. Briskly knit, and knitting sing Doom and death to Court and King. Planed and polished here 's a bed Meet for any lordling's head, That 's the pillow sound and deep On it every sleeper's sleep. DANTON Sisters, hark ! with roll of drum, Tr-r-rum, the tumbrils come. Drear and dismal sound is that To your sleek aristocx'at. Fast they come and fast they go, Fast the throng reels to and fro Every time the knife has shone ; We alone sit knitting on. Fast they come and fast they go, Knit we for each life a row, Clash of knife and needle's click Echoing our arithmetic. Tall and comely, who is he? Welcome, Monsieur le Marquis ! Pity such blue blood should spirt O'er the snow of such a shirt ! Next My Lady, what a neck For your diamonds to deck ! Thinks the headsman, as you sti'ip, 'Scarce it needs a scissors-snip.' THE 'place DE la REVOLUTION' Mademoiselle, with tears and cries ! Shame upon you, cockatrice ; Could you live with mate to match What a craven brood you 'd hatch ! Sister silenced, lo ! the heir, — Curl-pate, how his blue eyes stare ! So : — and now for cartage cram All the wolf-pack, cub and dam. Fast they come and fast they go, Let your knitting not be slow ; Rest not ; does your Lady rest ? Well may she be weariest. Priests ! and one slips loose and picks From his breast a crucifix ; Prithee, Sanson, spoil their sport. Cut the rogues' Orermis^ short. Croesus !— ay, and he would give Gold by millions, just to live : Gold as dust there, flung to sup All his life-blood's puddle up. DANTON Here's a prater, — thinks forsooth Death's He will outlive the truth, Takes our platform for his tub, Drown him, drums, with rubadub. Fast they come and fast they go. Fast the streaks of crimson flow ; Some have struggled, none have been Spared by Lady Guillotine. Ever up and up they troop, Ever down the proud heads stoop, Ever quivering sways the cord, Ever falls our Lady's sword. Threescore rows, and threescore lives. Famously our knitting thrives. Willing workers we have been, We and Lady Guillotine. Stay we now : the last head drops. No more stains the sawdust sops. One by one, our knitting done, P;irt we till to-morrow's sun. THE 'place DE la REVOLUTION 7 First Parisian. The old man faced death bravely^ never flinched Nor trembled, and what colour of the face The Luxembourg * had left him, faded not Until the axe fell. Second Parisian. Prithee, friend, speak low : The streets have ears and every house an eye ; Pity another and thou art thyself Suspect of being suspect — a mortal crime : He was a traitor. First Parisian. Staunch to stand for France In France's need, if that were traitorous. He was no vulgar-soul ed aristocrat Rotten beneath bright varnish, heeding not Though men starved in the streets and in the streets To 'scape starvation women sold themselves. So he and all his sty and stable kind Were littered soft and mangered sumptuously. I knew him, and I never knew a man Better or braver, moving unbesmirched 'Mid all the vermin of the Capital, De Rohans, Cugliostros, courtesans, Court plots and counter plots, and purulent 8 DANTON Iniquities of diamond necklaces,^ A second Baj-ard ; loyal to his King Until we slew him^ loyal to the State Thereafter, when the Stranger menaced France ; Not wasteful of his patrimony, true To olden modes and ancient-rooted faith. And self-constrained to natural nobleness By pride of immemorial ancestry. Were he a traitor, and the charges true Wherewith they trapped him, then Iscariot Were purer than the Christ. Second Parisian. Well, peace be with him, One in a thousand he, but such an one As by his very goodness shields the bad, Turning aside Heaven's lightning — think of those, TJie others of that thousand — peers of his — Who crushed men with perpetual tax and toil. Tormented them with thong and sword and fire. And called the foreigner against our France — Then ask my lieart for pity, what of heart I once had long ago was turned to stone. THE 'place DE la REVOLUTION' 9 First Parisian. My heart was once as pitiless as thine; The Bourbon, Orleans, Hanover, like clogs Each snarling at the other, were one mind In one thing, to destroy, ere she were strong, Our young Republic : fires of treason spread From south to north, and strangers trod our soil. Each man did what was right in his own eyes, And chaos reigned in Camp and Capital ; When suddenly a great voice rang through France Reverberant, and every heart in France That loved her leaped up at the sound of it. But terror fell on traitors : 'twas the voice Of Danton ; armies sprang up at his word ; The countryman forsook his pruning-hook, The citizen his counter — patriots first, Then soldiers — and their Generals durst not fail ; The rich defrayed war's cost, disgorging hoards Of ill-got gold ; the silent rule of few Emerged from welter of conflicting tongues, And he who overthrew the monarchy Nursed the republic in those mighty arms Until she stood forth strong and terrible. 10 DANTON And cowed were foes without and foes within: If now were need to strike would Danton spare ? Second Parisian. Danton ! all France loves Danton, but in France Aristocrats have no foe deadlier. That voice was like the toscin it acclaimed. Sounding the charge against the enemy,*' ' The leagued kings threaten us, and at their feet We fling as battle-gage this head, a King's.' First Parisian. Swords shine in war and Danton's words were swords, Sheathed now, when after battle should be peace. He who when treason blew with every wind Said every traitor must be made to ' fear,' Would now make cruel Billaud " stay his hand. He sits in the Convention and confronts Accusingly the Twelve Omnipotents ® With sombre words of warning such as these, 'The Revolution needs revenge no more. When justice reigns 'tis time revenge should cease.' THE 'PLACE DE LA REVOLUTION* 11 ' Better be guillotined than guillotine.' Last August, as he wandered by the Seine — Desmoulins with him — over the great flood The ensanguined sun was setting, ' See,' quoth he, ' The verv water now is turned to blood ; Too red, too deep the tide ' ; Then to Camille, ' Go, take thy pen and plead for clemency, And I will back thee.' At another time, ' Now Danton is asleep, but he shall wake.' No more he sleeps, and he who saved Duport,^ Nor ever gave a private foe to death. Has sworn that he will stay the guillotine. Second Parisian, If Danton is for mercy, so am I. \Exeunt. 12 THE 'DAMES DE LA HALLE' 10 Some Jishrvomen enter oji one side of a street near the market^ and a Jady on the other. Ursule. What rover have we hei-e abroad so late^ Befringed, befeathered, and befurbelowed, Who trespasses within our market bounds ? A friend of Madam Veto,^^ I '11 be sworn, And busy with some treason : could I flay That painted flesh from off" thee, bone for bone I were thy better, yet on back and head Thou flauntest a year's wage of such as L Oh, how, my beauty, these ten fingers itch To spoil thy pink-and-white ; but here come friends Who first shall see thee in thy fineiy Before they strip thee of it : See, Antoine, Jean, Jacques, Philippe, here's proper sport for you. \^Moves off. THE 'dames DE la HALLe' 13 Lady. Are you a woman ? [^Trj/hig to ddain her. Antoine. Here 's a man instead, No bad exchange, my you-ing ^^ cooing dove. What, pout, and peck me ! nay, then Lady. Help, helji, help ! For pity's sake Danton [IiasleningJ\ Hands off ! Antoine. Who says, ' Hands off' ? Danton. L Off into the kennel ! Citizeness, For such as thou the streets are dangerous. Name thy abode, and I will guard thee there. Antoine. A thousand curses on him, who is he. Shouldering us as though the street were his ? Pestilent meddler ! at him, all of you ; My foot is crushed to pulp. Jean. And my arm wrenched Well-nigh out of its socket. 14 DANTON Jacques. Silence, man, 'Tis Danton. Antoine. Danton ! Jacques. Ay. Antoine. The worse for him, My lady's gentleman ! Father Duchesne ^'^ Shall say his say to this. Danton, forsooth ! Lady. I cannot thank you. Sir, sufficiently ; Heaven sent you to my aid ; a score or so Of hearts and hands like yours, and Paris, saved. Would crouch no more, abject and cowardly, To hags and ruffians, followers of the fiend Who harks and hounds them on to murder us, Danton. My God ! I would I had the soul Of Charlotte ^^, slayer of his fellow-fiend, I, too, would of a monster rid the world. Danton. Marat was — was himself, and yet Marat Had one thing that the good young Ruler lacked, — He gave the poor his all, — and charity Covers, 'tis said, a multitude of sins. THE 'dames DE la HALLe' 15 Lady. Would you defend him. Sir ! Thank God, he 's dead. But Danton lives, and at Meot's Cafe,^^ In swinish surfeits grossly lavishes The price of the crown diamonds which he stole. Ay, twice stole, from his King and starving France. Danton. If that be true I would his bones may rot In his live body : but see, Citizeness, Here, if I err not, is the house. Adieu. My name .'' Georges Jacques But more I dare not tell. Lest I should lose what I have earned to-night. To-morrow, should it please thee, scrutinise The roll of the Convention, till thou see'st A name to those names linked ; the tale will run The better so, and thou, in telling it, Wilt, may be, call to mind this jingling saw, ' Measui'e thy words : blame not, as daubers paint : Nor wrong a sinner though thyself a saint.' [Exit. l6 DANTON As Danton returns the flshwomen come from a side street and surround him. Ursule. There, there he is who stole our popinjay Aud lamed Antoine. Thou friend of traitresses That halest off the men who win us food To pine away and die in Belgium, While we must starve at home, see these thin arms, These hungry faces lean for lack of bread ; The curse of wives and mothers cling to thee ! Louise. He is not thin, the gi'eedy cormorant ! Danton. Hear me. I am no fi-iend of traitresses. Death to them all ! but, now the law is strong, 'Tis ye that break it that are traitresses. And that for which ye blame me is my boast. Oh shame on you, false Frenchwomen, who grudge Your sons to France, the mother of us all. [T/u']/ crxj out angrily and threaten him. Nay, ye shall hear me though 1 deafen you. Not market-women, mad-women are ye. THE 'dames DE la HALLe' 17 Louise, (I like a man of lungs^ his big voice booms Like an alarm bell : we, perforce, must hear.) Danton. I, who have laboured for you night and day, Whoj when men prated of Three Orders, vowed I knew but one — The People ; I, who braved The Chfitelet,!"^ to shield the people's friend ; Who cheered the people in the Champ de Mars; Who in the people's service left my home. My babe, my angel wife, whom never more I saw save in her graveclothes ; I, who scarce Escaped the daggers of the people's foe, A hunted outlaw ; I, who scorned to leave The people, leaderless, to Brunswick's rage When Roland counselled flight, and would not budge. Come life or death, from Paris ; I, who first Denounced the crown as forfeit at Varennes ; WTio, that great tenth of August, led Marseilles'^ Against the Tuileries, and, afterward. Led France against the bandit foreigner ; Who forged you pikes from rusty iron-stuff And turned your tolling bells to roaring guns. Who bred for you the soldier-citizens B 18 DANTON That bled for you at Valmy and Jemappes ; A traitor am I ? O unhappy France Betrayed by thine own daughters, crueller Than Lear's of Britain were ! Ursule. No, Danton, no, Forgive us, we are true to France and thee. All. Long live our Danton, to befriend the weak ! Danton. Adieu, friends, heed not me ; be true to France. [Exit. Ursule. I am as sad as at a funeral, To 'liven us strike up our market-tune. Song Buy, buy, buy. Buy a little dish Of prime fine fish, Life in them yet. Shining and wet From river and sea, Cool from the pool, THE 'dames DE la HALLe' 19 Bright from the brook. Clean from the hook. New from the net, Fresh from the quay, Buy, buy, Buy a httle dish Of prime fine fish. Buy, buy, buy. Buy a little dish Of prime fine fish, Single them out Sweet for a meal, Mackerel, eel, Turbot or trout, Lobster or crab. Dory or dab. Half or a whole Salmon or sole. Buy, buy, Buy a little dish Of prime fine fish. 20 ARCIS SUR AUBE Evening First Townsman. The neighbours say that Danton is come home. Second Townsman. My sister saw him leave the diligence, And, look, 'tis here it stopped before the house. First Townsman. I would not grudge a crown for sight of him ; And, thanks to kind Dame Fortune, there's a chink Through which the light gleams. Second Townsman. Nay, how dar'st thou pry .'' Were he to find thee he would twist tliy head With those huge hands of his, that thou would'st look Backwards instead of forwards : he 's become ARCIS SUR AUBE Si Half beast, they say, and half aristocrat. Gross liver, glutton, gorged with thefts from France ; 'Tis said he stole the money set apart To feed our army, wasting it upon Fine clothes, rich dishes^ and the costliest wines. The which at times with devilish tiger-thirst He '11 mix with blood. Well, whisper what thou see'st. First Townsman. He lies, the giant, outstretched by the fire To catch its new-lit warmth, and Margaret — Thou knowest the old nurse — her wrinkled face Lit by the flickering firelight, watches him. Gazing as though she could not gaze her fill. And by his side his mother sits and strokes His hair and pats his cheek and lays her own Upon it, and their lips meet in a kiss, Why, man, I never saw a gentler look On human face, it 's all ashine with love Of homecoming and happy-heartedness, That man drink blood ! so let the whole pack swear. But, though they sware the lie by all the saints, I 'd not believe it ; other than of old 22 DANTON He is, but gentler, tenderer ; his eyes, That once you hardly saw, are open now And sadder, and his scarred and rugged face Is thinner and were gaunt to haggardness But for that smile upon it. Come away ; Arcis has bred no monster, 'tis the same Brave Danton of our boyhood, bold of speech And bold in act, but always lovable. Second Townsman. Bold ! overbold he was and to his cost. Hast thou forgotten how he fought the bull. Himself stiff-necked and strong and wild as one. Half out of rancour that a bull had tossed And torn him when a child, half out of youth's Foolhardiness, and how he chased the bull Bellowing terror from his father's field .-* That flattened, battered face of his still shows The tokens of the combat — ugliness By after fever so made uglier That women, did they ever hate brave men, Had loathed him as they love and worship him. First Townsman. Not 1, in faith, nor how at tree-felling ARCIS SUR AUBE 23 Marc's axe slipped, and the great gash in his thigh Was spouting blood, and thou and I ran off Wildly, for aid, and when we came again There Danton stood, his brawny shoulders bare. His shirt torn off and I'iven into shreds To bandage the wide wound, and Marc was saved. Danton was always kindly, ev'n as now, A good son to his mother, ev'n as now. An honest Frenchman and good patriot He is, I swear it by the Virgin, now. I would I had not spied on him, and yet I long to tell the neighbours. Come away, Danton is still our Danton, praised be God. \^Exeunt. Danton. Mother, the evening chill has left my bones. Come out into the garden for a while. The moon is up, and all the still bright stars Are wonderful in heaven, and I can hear The murmuring of osier-hidden Aube Who greets me as an unforgotten friend ; Oh, would I were the boy his playfellow. 24 DANTON Mme. RicoRDiN.i^ My well-beloved, thou art but a boy Still, still to me, though France's man of men ; For France, by all thy care and love of me, I pray the Virgin guard thee. Is there sign Of ebbing strife in Paris, is all well ? Is Robespierre thine enemy or friend ? A hundred doubtful rumours reach Arcis. Danton. Ay, mother, all goes well ; the Gir- ondins — But I am tired of Paris fume and fret, Cabals of Paris, Paris coteries, To-night a truce to Paris : oh, 'tis sweet, To have thee, mother, at my side again, With these dear arms encircling me, at home. THE SAME Moi'iiing Mme. Ricordin. Methinks thou lovest not these Girondins. Danton. I pity them. I do not love them. No, It ill beseems our generous Gironde ARCIS SUR AUBE 25 To call them by her name, their name should be Buzotins, Brissotins, or Rolandins,!^ Who love each other ev'n as cat and dog ; There's Barbaroux, whom their Arch-pythoness Calls for his pretty face Antinous, Barren of aught but froth and idle fire, — Sheet-lightning which will never harm a foe — Louvet, the shrill-voiced atomy, half-mad, And Vergniaud, whose honied tongue has power To move men only as they listen to it ; She-males, he-females, every one of them. Who will they know not what, still wavering Like leaves to every wind. I love them not, They love not me and put no trust in me ; I fain would save them if they trusted me. Enter a Messenger. Messenger. Good news ! I bring good news ! Danton. What is it, friend } Messenger. Justice is done ; the Girondins are dead. 26 DANTON Danton. Good news, thou knave ! and call'st thou that good news ? Messenger. The best, for they were factious. Danton. So are we, And we deserve to die as much as they. Away, thou art as hateful as thy news.^ Mother, I must to Paris ; no more rest Remains for me, I think, this side the grave. \^Exit. 27 THE 'COMITE DE SALUT ' 20 St. Just enters and throws doivn papers on the table. Robespierre. What are these littered leaves .'' Why thus distraught, St. Just, when most we need calm conference .'' These contra-ultra-revolutionists, ^^ — Desmoulins with his fencing-tricks of pen, And, Avith his felon counter-thrusts, Hebert, — Menace the Revolution, menace us. As yet they are like serpents half uncoiled Or not full-grown, and we can draw their fangs, But only with calm counsel. CouTHON,22 \y^ be calm. St. Just. Read this, and then preach calmness, Robespierre. Nay, let me read it, listen ye and judge This latest, newest, Old Cordelier.^^ 28 DANTON ' Of all the men alive on earth to-day, ^4 Parisians, surely, should be happiest. A tyrant slain, a cowed nobility, A hundred fetters broken at a blow, On all our frontiers all our enemies Thrust back, and every faction stilled at home; Yet here and there sound voices muttering Against our guardian Twelve, as if forsooth Their Argus eyes could be too vigilant, Or could not judge 'twixt guilt and innocence. Insensate voices ! mark as I recall A reign of terror in the days of old. And learn thereby to measure and appraise Your own good fortune and ingratitude. A Roman is the teller of the tale, Monotonous and like a funeral bell. Of crimes that cost less happy men their lives. Scaurus, thy verse anihigiious was — A Crime. SUanus lived too lavixhh/ — A Crime. Petreius dreamt of Claudius — A Crime. Pomponius gave to 07ie, who had been friend Of fallen Scjamis, bread and bed — A Crime. Amid lliinc invocations pass unnamed The Godhead of Caligula — A Crime. (For that crime 7nani/ men were lorn wilh rods, And some were sunken in the nether mine, THE 'COMITE DE SALUT' 29 Some satvn in twain, some throivti to the wild beasts.) To mourn a son like Fiifius Geminus, As mourned that Cofisul's mother, was — A Crime. Mourn ! nay, if death's doom fell on kith or kin, Men fain went radiantfaced or died themselves. If you were popular you were — Suspect. The mob's applause portended civil ivar. Did you seclude yourself, you were — Suspect. The secreter the more notorious. You were, because too opulent, — Suspect. Gold's power and wealth ivere menace to the Prince, Yoti were, because too indigent, — Suspect. As beggar 'twas that Sulla waxed so bold. Low spirits, careless garb, bespoke your grief Because the State was prosperous, — Suspect. Austere as Brutus ! ay, you censure so The Court's voluptuous luxury, — Suspect. Ye Poets, Orators, Philosophers, Would ye outshine the Emperor ? — Suspect. The less a General's capacity, The less, should lie I'ebel, his following. So all but mediocrity 's — Suspect. CouTHON [fl«V/f]. A word for Danton's friend Dumouriez. ^5 30 DANTON To hold or shrink from office was a crime, A7id if a man were incorruptible Robespierre. Hm ! CouTHON \aside\ A two-edged thrust, he plays with sacred names. His crime was the most heinous crime of all. They slew one for his name and lineage, CouTHON [(isidc^ (Orleans). ^6 And one because the Emjiress liked his grounds. And one because she did not like his face, And hosts men knew not ivherefore, were it not That they were patnots and pure of life. In brief it was the strangest prodigy To die among your friends or in your bed. O Paris, if such things were done in Paris, What would not Paris say, and dare, and do ? But, Paris, 'tis a tale I tell of Rome ; All this was done at Rome, I say, at Rome, A thousand years or more before to-day, So, Paris, hear my parable of Rome.' THE 'COMITE DE SALUt' 31 What now of calmness ? Let his venom spirt In this wise, and before the year is out We shall be torn in pieces by the mob. Robespierre. I know Camille, the man is as the boy. Vain as a woman, as a woman weak. The voice of stronger men's opinions And not his own, not championing a cause Because of knowledge or belief therein, But as most serviceable for display Of trope and rhetoric and epigram. Could he choose sides 'twould ever be the one With amplest vantage-ground for scoff and sneer And parallels from old historians. He would not sacrifice one showy quip To save a nation — he's the pen of this, But he who stirred the pen and spurred it on Is Danton. I have pity on Camille, As scorning him and as my schoolfellow, But Danton — if we let that strong yeast work. All France will be in ferment. Billaud-Varenne. He must die. CouTHON. Amen. 32 DANTON St. Just. Amen, if with him die Camille ; There is no rest for revolutionists Save in the tomb. But Danton Robespierre. He or we, 'Twill come to that, the Revolution's life Is of us, in us, bound up with our being, We must not out of private friendliness Be traitors to it nor let others be. St. Just. I knoAv no private friendship ; of the two love Desmoulins least : ' Saint Sacrement,' ^~ Yes, so it was, he said, I bore my head. He '11 bear his own, methinks, like St. Denis. Billaud-Varenne. He called me ' bilious,' ' rectilinear,' -^ I lonsr to see him sneeze into the sack. ^9 Robespierre. Must all the Revolution's leaders fall! Nay, let them fall, and let me fall with them When I betray my trust ; but first 'twere well To reckon with Hebert, for he will strike THE 'COMITE DE SALUT' 33 While Danton dreams, and half of Danton's strength Is fond men's faith, that he and he alone Can clip those cruel claws ; pleasant to-day Though this our warrant sound in Danton's ears, To-morrow he will know it as his knell. ^Exeunt. 34 THE 'RUE ST. HONORE' Danton and Camille Desmoulins walking together. Danton. The die is cast ; for us and Robespierre 'Tis death-grips now. I blame not thee, Camille ; Had I been thou I would have said the same ; To listen to that dreary drone of his, Interminably drawling through his teeth Sincerest-seeming insincerity And craftiest disparagement of all Who cannot stomach his predominance, Would stir the gorge of any honest man ; And yet thou wert too hasty with that thrust, * To burn is not to answer,' — instantly I saw his eyes green-glaring like a cat's; He hitherto had hovered 'tween two minds. And would have burned the writing, spared the man ; Henceforth he is our foe. — My poor Camille ! THE 'rue ST. HONORE' 35 A month since and that classic pen of thine Blazoned abroad as demigod the man Who saved Horatius keeper of the bridge,30 And now his saviour stabs him in the back ! A blind seer was that Old Cordelier, C. Desmoulins. He saw and praised, at first. I had not thought Four weeks would see him veer from south to north, I know him better now, he would not risk That righteous neck of his to save a world Much less a friend. Danton. That precious neck of his ! One must not make the faintest scratch on it For fear of making patriotism bleed. The man has preached so long the only ' right,' The only ' safe,' the only ' politic,' That he has come to think omniscience Is his and only his by right divine. Therefrom the next step is but logical, Omniscience should be omnipotent. I smell dictator in this democrat. This revolutionary paragon. Immaculate and incorruptible. 36 DANTON And what not else. Good milk gone sour, say I. C. Desmoulins. a sour look he would give thee, if he heard. Two deputies, of late, would speak with him, And she who waits on him, Cornelia, At first refused them entrance, ' the great man Was not at leisure, they must bide his time.' Entered at length they found him toileting. He stood and sleeked the powder from his face. Towelled himself, and spat, and rinsed his teeth. With sidelong glances, ever, at the glass. Like any coxcomb, deigning them no word And scarce a glance, and when they left the house After some curt and futile colloquy, Anon he followed, and, with chin in air. As one who saw not, passed them in the street. Danton. 'Twas so with me. I laid aside my pride And sought him, taking with me friend Paris,3i THE 'rue ST. HONORe' 37 And, bj' the days when we had fought to- gether. And all the dangers we had shared together, And most by her whom we had saved to- gether, — Enfranchised France — and almost on my knees I prayed him, I adjured him once again To save her, as my comrade, fx'om the men Who soiled her 'fore all Europe with their lies. ' Lies,' icily quoth he, ' whose lies, forsooth } My speeches mean you .'' call them what you please. Your Belgian mission may need christening, ^^ And I in turn will call it what I please.' This angered me, ' Aristocrats,' I said, ' Talk thus, and if tried patriots and true men Are so assailed, and on the innocent The Terror falls, as on our enemies, Then woe to Liberty ! ' ' And who,' said he. And flung me, as he spoke, a poisonous look, Who told you any man that 's innocent Has suffered .'' ' ' What, not one,' I said, ' not one ! Fabricius, what say'st thou ? ' and left him so. 38 DANTON C. Desmoulins, Had ye remained he would have preached to you For hours, with his own virtue as his text, And he emerges from his homilies On others like a good man from a bath, As if his own superior righteousness Shone out the cleaner-polished for the plunge. Prim as a boy, as man pragmatical, Too timorous for ambition's dizzy crags. And too ambitious for the lowlier vale, The zealot in him grows half lunatic With pampering his own imperiousness. He wraps himself in gloom, perceives a plot In every whisper, never owns a fault, Will brook no opposition, nor forgive A wound to his self-love, accuses men For slight cause or for no cause, thinks the world Has only eye for him, and is, in brief, So cross-grained, cankered, and cantankerous, So full of spleen and spite and stuffed conceit, That, wondering, we behold bestriding France A monster half emerged from manikin. Danton. Whose maw, mayhap, will swallow thee and me. THE 'rue ST. HONORE' 39 But I am sick to death of death and blood, The streets and stones of Paris reek of it. Billaud, St. Just, Couthon, and Robespierre Are brothers Cain, the murderous four of them, Who make the Revolution's name accurst. But I will stay the slaughter or will die. Better be guillotined than guillotine. C. Desmoulins. Couthon, St. Just — I know not which has face More beautiful or heart more merciless. Danton. Couthon ! He 's but an echo, ay or no, To every ay or no of Robespierre. He goes to bed if Robespierre is sick, When Robespierre is well gets up again, ^^ He '11 serve us for a weathercock to show Which way the shifting master-current blows. C. Desmoulins. Corpse-coloured Billaud's evil- twitching face I most mistrust of all, he hates us most. Danton. My secretary — 'he, Billaud- Varenne ' ! That was the crime he could not pardon me. 10 DANTON C. Desmoulins. My sin was that I bruited Dillon's jest "'^ About his turntail ardour in the war. And that for vengeance, not as patriot, I said he hunted Dillon to his doom. Danton. And now it is too late for words to heal Wounds made by words : so long as ran men's talk Of Robespierre and Danton, all went well. But when twas ' Danton, Robespiei-re,' straight- way 'Twas Robespierre's resolve to work me woe. [T/mj part. Camille Des-movlins goes a/my, himimivg to Jmnself. C. Desmoulins. Accusing rae, Accusing thee, Accusing us, Danton ! Jam proxumus Ucalcgon. Hebert aflare, THE 'rue ST. HONORe' 41 Certes the air is growing hot, And soon they will accuse Bouchotte ! ^^ Why not Bouchotte ? That raging, blazing patriot Bouchotte. 42 THE 'COUR DU COMMERCE' A room ivith a piano, al which Lucile Desmoulins sits, Sophie Danton by her. Lucile [siiiging\. ' Eyes that shone as sea-water Sunht on a summer day, Nor could lover's lips aver That his fondest memory knew Of their depth the constant hue, Was it blue engulfed in grey, Was it grey embathed in blue.' My poor Camille ! I called them foolishness Those rhymes of his, when first he whispered them Amid the gardens of the Luxembourg, * Nay, slander not thy loveliness, Lucile, Which made and is the song, I made it not,' He answered ; ah, I see his burning look And feel his kisses now, though months seem years THE 'COUR DU COMMERCE' 43 Since those first clays of foolish, happy love. — How cold the night grows ! — would they were at home ! [Siiig{7ig]. ' The night is dark, the night is cold. Pile the logs higher, Close round the climbing fire, Nor haste to venture out upon the wold And, wandering, go With dim eyes, desperate, through the blind- ing snow. Surely the night is dark and chill, Oh, rest till stars return, and all the storm is still.' Why come they not ? My life is one long fear Since — ay, 'tis hardly twenty months ago I watched with Gabrielle, as now with thee. ^'^ Sophie. Her fears that night were mine, and hers my love. Though then my own heartowned it not; to-day I 'm bold, for Danton's wife should knoAv no fear. LuciLE. Thou art of sterner stuff than Gabrielle. That night, that ninth of August, as she wept,^'^ 44 DANTON I laughed a weak girl's laugh hysterical, And as she chid me, ' Ah,' said I, ' the laugh Will end in tears, in tears.' The streets were thronsred By shouting crowds, but over all their din The tocsin sounded ; hastily Camille Ran in and snatched his arms ; I breathed my fears. Apart, to him, and he would stay, he said, — To soothe me — close by Danton ; like a rock Stood Danton, firm and strong, and I took heart : They passed into the night, and on my knees I wept before the window, Gabriel le Mingling her tears with mine, and still we heard The funeral-terror of the booming bell. At last came messengers — the people marched. They said, to storm the Tuileries, Marseilles ^^ With Paris echoing Danton's battle-cry, ' Strike, brothers, strike, for freedom and for France.' Anon a dreadful thunder shook the house, ' Cannon,' I cried, and forthwith Gabrielle Fell, swooning, as one dead, — and ere the Spring THE 'COUR DU COMMERCE' 45 She died,^^ but ev'n in dying breathed thy name With Danton's, and adjured thee to become A mother to his children : How to-night Teems with the phantoms of that other night, And after-horror of the hundred hours When every prison-threshold swam in blood. Sophie. Blood laid to Danton's charge, as though one man Could curb the furious many-headed beast ! LuciLE. Pray Heaven these memories be not ominous ; Hush ! 'tis his step. Enter Danton and Desmoulins, looking harassed and dejected. What is it .'' Speak, Camille. C. Desmoulins. Speak, Danton. Danton. Speak ! I might as well be dumb. My tongue has lost its virtue ; from the day Heron ^^ escaped us, saved by Robespierre, The Assembly coldly hearkens, does not heed. 46 DANTON Sophie. It is not so : the Assembly as of old Would listen to thee and would do thy will. But thou by silence and long absences Cheerest thy foes, dispiriting thy friends ; Speak, act, and conquer, it is not too late. Danton. I know not; all is dark; 'tis partly true Thy blame of me, but ev'n a Hercules Had wearied of my task and longed for rest. I shrank not while the common enemy Tore France in hateful concert with her king, But when no stranger stood within our gates, When war had tamed La Vendee, and Mar- seilles Toulon and Lyons were won back again. Then, France being free, I would myself be free. Till Robespierre — but only yesternight The same host asked us to his country-house, And afterwards I rode with Robespierre To Paris, and more like my friend of old He seemed, and so he seemed, Camille, to thee ; Were he at one with us, the Jacobins Would falter not, and all might yet be well. But since he left us, we have been on quest To this and that friend, hoping we might glean The meanin^^ of the moody muttcrings THE 'COUR DU COMMERCE' 47 And chilly looks and waggings of the head, Which since Herault's*^ arrest encompass us; We can learn nothing, but half-hearted friends Seem quarter-hearted now, and edge away As though to speak with us were dangerous, C. Desmoulins. 'Eat, di-ink to-night, to-morrow death ; ' be that Our motto — ^nay, perhaps we bode too much, Come, sing to us, Lucile, and exorcise The evil spirit of this brooding Saul With that soft voice of thine, and sing the song I love the best of all, that garden-song. That spring-song, love-song of the Luxembourg, Ah Heaven ! to live again those happy hours Amid the gardens of the Luxembourg ! Lucile [si?igi?ig]. Lisette, My sweet, Do you forget How many an eve with flying feet We stayed not, hurrying, till we met Beside the trailed espalier-screen In lengthening hours of later Spring, When oak-buds all were yellowing, And chestnut-fans were green ? 48 DANTON Do you remember or forget, Lisette, Lisette ? Lisette, My sweet. Do you forget The night-dews after days of heat^ The leaves with flickering lights afret, The aii-s that blew the leaves between, The stars that seemed to smile and bless A heaven of love and loveliness, And you its radiant queen ? Do you remember or forget, Lisette, Lisette ? Lisette, My sweet. Your eyes are wet. Your softening looks ray whispers meet My sighs an answering sigh beget For shining noons and nights serene. For hearts of youth and hours of love. For April grace of grass and grove, When clouds were all unseen. Ah, fool, to think you could forget, Lisette, Lisette ! THE 'COUR DU COMMERCE' 49 Enter a Messenger ivith a leiler to Camille Desmoulins from his father. C. Desmoulins. Oh, misery ! ' Thy mother is no more,*^ And half my hfe is lost to me with her.' Oh, mother, mother ! [To Lucile] Read the rest for me, I cannot see. Fabricius Paris [etitering hastily]. Fly, Danton ; fly, Camille ! The warrant for arresting you is signed, I come here at my peril ; haste, and fly. C. Desmoulins [aside]. While he yet spake, another messenger Came also unto Job. Danton. They would not dare. Sophie. Out, and arouse the people; raise the voice Which never yet in danger rose in vain. The people that thou madest will defend Their maker ; arm yourselves and us and them. D 50 DANTON Danton. More blood shed ? Never. If there must be more. Mine be it ; not a drop shall flow for me. LuciLE. Oh, fly, Camille ! and, Danton, fly with him. Waste not the precious hours. Danton. I will not fly, I do not fear the scaffold, no, nor death, I was not made for fear ; and think ye I Can carry France with me upon my shoes ? C. Desmoulins. I go if Danton goes, and stay with him. Danton. Life 's not worth cowardice. I tire of life. Fabricius, never man had truer friend Than we in thee, but hast thou certain proof ? Who told thees^.this > F. Paris. The clerk who saw them sign : Billaud signed first. C. Desmoulins. The happier villain he ! THE 'COUR DU COMMERCE' 51 F. Paius. And Robespierre, Danton. Judas ! C. Desmoulins. My schoolfellow ! LuciLE. And witness of our marriage ! *^ F, Paris. Even now The bearer of the warrant may be nigh. Danton. So this was why he purred to me so soft, Who not a week before had shown his claws. The tiger-cat, and I was tricked by him ! He might, I thought, cast in his lot with us And thrust away the reptiles throttling him If we could come to speech, but when I spoke. Enumerating all the ills of France, And could not stay my tears, ' The proud man weeps,' He said, and turned away contemptuously. He must have feared what desperate men might do. Or else he had not baited yesternight His trap so cunningly. 52 DANTON Ah, Robespierre, A little while and every tongue in France Shall curse thee for a tyrant, and the earth Whereon thy house stands shall be sown with salt, Or branded ' Infamous ' to passers by. But P ranee will say of Danton that he died As he had lived, a friend to all her friends. And her Republic's loyal citizen. The film is off my eyes, it shames me now To think I ever cringed to Robespierre, Let him and his lame spaniel do their worst, No fear of them shall rob me of my sleep. I will to bed. [To his wife.] Watch not too long, my sweet. They will not dare, I say, tliey will not dare. [Exit. F. Paris. For all my fears it heartens me to see Our careless, dauntless Danton of old days, If fortune helps the brave, as proverbs say, He yet may triumph. SopHiK. If 'tis possible, And thou mayst do so without jeopardy. Dear fncnd, to-morrow l)ring us happier news. [Exil F. Pahis. THE 'COUR DU COMMERCE' 53 C. Desmoulins. I, too, would sleep if sleep will visit me. There 's comfort in oblivion ; come, Lucile- LuciLE. Nay, love, I cannot sleep, we two will watch. [Exit C. Desmoulins. Sore need they have of sleep ; when morning comes I will persuade them, yet, to hide themselves. Sophie. And I, when morning comes, will counsel them. Re -manned by sleep and cheerier of heart. To show themselves, and to the rescue call All Paris ; Paris loves my Danton still. THE SAME Dat^break Lucile. See yonder faint pale streak; it is the dawn. My heart grows lighter with the blessed light ; Thank heaven the night is over; we may hope. Ah, surely we may hope the tale was false. 54 DANTON Or else, as Danton said, they have not dared. What's that? Sophie. What .^ LuciLE. Listen ; hearest thou that sound. The tramp of marching men ? — 'tis nearer now, — And now it 's at the threshold : quick, look forth. Sophie. Paris spake true, the bloodhounds, they are come. 55 THE LUXEMBOURG Evening Benoit the Concierge talking with Herault de Sechelles, Benoit. Thou still hast hope in Danton ? H. de S. I had hope, And so had he and so had all of us, When last December's Old Cordelier Rang Noel, Noel, Noel, in our ears. But Spring has nipped that wondrous winter- birth And Hope's a starveling now that April's here. Benoit. That ' Fourth ' of them ! all Paris went clean mad. As though it heard a message from the stars. And all a street's length pressed the eager crowd A-tiptoe, clutching at each half-dried sheet, A louis none too much for sight of it ; 56 DANTON And when the prisoners knew, ah, Heaven ! you saw A dancing light in men's dim eyes again, And happy rain of tears on women's cheeks, They thought their bolts and bars already cleft By that sharp-smiting Old Cordelier. H. DE S. Well earned they were, the price, the smiles, the tears. Nor erred men overmuch who deemed its words Celestial-sweet as heavenly messengers. Since first I looked on them before my eyes They shine for ever written as in fire. ' Have palience, brothers, ye shall yet be free, For not by travail, nor with pangs and sighs Grows Freedom slowly as a growing babe ; She has no infancy and no old age, Ye have but to desire her and your arms Embrace her beauty ripe for your delight ; Man's rights as man and laws as citizen, Fraternity, divine Equality, And Courtesy which, where the People rule, All men revere and none may violate, THE LUXEMBOURG 57 Attest her Goddess as she moves and reigns. She is no thing of tattered lawdriness, No marble image of eternal death, Her statue, were it forty cubits high, As David *^ purposed, still would be but stone ; The opera harlot^^ in her flaunting car Bare not her semblance ; base we were as beasts To bow the knee to such divinities ; Daughter of Heaven her names are Happiness, Right Reason, Equity, Equality ; And, my brother's, by those sacred names, And by our sacred bond of brotherhood. Fling wide your prison-doors and let go free Two hundred thousand citizens miscalled Suspect ; suspicion Freedom deems no crime, Nor hath she fetters save for criminals. ' Twill wound not the Republic, nay, it were Salvation to her ; all your enemies Ye think to slaughter by the gtdllotine, But, know ye not, for every man ye slay Ten others spring up fired with tenfold hate, A dreadful Cadmus-crop ? Are doting men, Weak women, lackwits, laggards, dangerous ? The only enemies within your gates Are bed-rid men or fainthearts, all the brave And strong have fled to foreign realms, or lie 58 DANTON In Lyons or La Vendee ; spare the rest, Too poor a herd for ruthless punishment. And add to your Committees yet this one Of Clemency, last, best, andfruitfullest, Since so ye conquer Europe, and in France Stablish the Revolution for all time.' Benoit. a knightly bugle-blast ! H. DE S. Danton inspired Desmoulins' lips, the tube through which it blew. Wherefore, till Danton falls, I still will hope. [The Court gales are opened, and Danton and C. Desmoulins are brought in. The prisoners throng round them, and Danton bows and laughs.^ Danton. I thought to have uncaged you, Gentlemen, But yesterday, and here I am, myself; Our turn may come to-morrow ; who can say? Herault, my friend ! H. DE S. What, Danton, art thou glad To join us ? THE LUXEMBOURG 59 Danton. Fools, who smart for being fools. Should never make wry faces. Laugh, and life Yields roses, though till death you 're only fool. [To TnoMAS Paine.] ^0 Good morrow, Citizen, a luckier lot Is thine than mine, for what I tried in vain To do for my land thou hast done for thine, Wherefore they send me to the guillotine. Ah well, I shall go blithely. [To Benoit.] I have heard Of all thy courtesy and kindliness To these poor prisoners, and I am glad To thank thee, though my thanks be proffered here. [They go inside. THE SAME Morning BENorr enters Danton 's cell Benoit. Thy sleep was sound. Danton. And dreamless ; death's own sleep Cannot be sweeter : tell me of Camille. 60 DANTON Benoit. He has not closed his eyes, which stream with tears. And now he M-atches at the window-bars Which front the gardens of the Luxembourg, Lucile, his lone wufe, wanders there, and each With sad eyes searches for the other's face, As seamen for a star amid the clouds, And seeing them I almost wept with them. Danton. He loves life more than I, though I too grieve At leaving wife and babe, but when a life Has dragged to dry-rot, better it should rot Under the earth than on it ; death 's for all, But oft-times there are other deaths than one — You may die daily, some old part of you Each day shed off, — the courage of your youth Gone first, then faith, then open-heartedness. Till he who once cast caution to the winds. Spake all his soul, indifferent to blame, Made friends, made foes, crossed swords, was reconciled, And nursed his pride of honour through it all. Who, had he died in youth, had lived enshrined In many men's affections, dismally To crafty dotage moulders, all intent THE LUXEMBOURG 6l On petty feats of dexterous finesse, Vainglorious moderation, slippered stealth, Fii'eside malevolence, and chuckled scraps Of scandal, and, in brief, a base old age. Benoit. Thou art too young to die — five years, short years They seem, and hardly had I heard thy name. Danton. Five years, yes, if one counts them by the clock That ticks off hours and minutes sluggishly. But in those five years we have pricked and spurred Time's laggard footsteps on five centuries. Five years ago we breathed as breathe the beasts. Ate, drank, as they do, yoked and chained as they, We were not men — our homes, our wives, our lives We held but at a master's will and pleasm-e ; He took his toll of them, we had his leavings ; To-day France stands immanacled, and we Who freed her, seal her freedom with our blood. 62 DANTON Benoit. When after bleak and stormy voyaging The quiet harbour-water seemed so near ! Danton. Ay, like a mariner is he who steers A revolution, — long and hard his course. And fierce from east and Avest and north and south And all points all at once the mad winds blow. Yet oft the worst storm of the open sea Has less of peril than the tranquil port Whereto he hastes with all his canvas set ; Its smile conceals a tiny tooth of rock. And headlong doAvai go captain, ship, and crew. Benoit. Some said thou wert ambitious, — self set first France second, — so not I ; my eyes in thee Read patriot, and a curse will fall on France If she should let the man, that made her, die. Danton. France, Danton ; Danton, France ; the two are one. One as the body's members with the body, One as the mind and brain incorporate. One as the body and the soul are one ; I tell thee, friend, I 'd give my life for France, THE LUXEMBOURG 63 Nor covet, so it served her, for the gift Her grateful sons' remembraTice : let my name Be blighted, what care I if France be free ? Ambitious ? ay, ambitious : is it a crime ? In this world and our complex web of life What acts are selfless wholly ? Toss a coin To the blind beggar, inwardly forthwith Your charity you pat upon the back And strut the street with flag of conscience high As any peacock's feathery oriflamme. Preach from the pulpit love is spiritual, But, if you be not some Sir Galahad, Your inmost soul will own your love half lust. Its first crop passion, love the aftermath ; Should men too nicely weigh and scrutinise With close dissection and anatomy Each motive for high action, they would end In sick self-torture and insanity : Enough if what we do is meet to do And honour sanctions, and if that 's ambition I was the most ambitious man in France Five years ago, and would be so again Were I once free : my work is left half done. The Commune's fire is spent, the Mountain cowers CJ^ DANTON Before the Right ; the wolves, who hunt me down, Each on the other, ere my corpse is cold, Will turn and rend themselves, and make of France A slave again ; I drag down Robespierre. Benoit. They call me, I must go : my prisoner Thou wilt not be for long if France is just. THE SAME Camille Desmoulins' Cell. He hears a voice in the next cell, and goes to an aperture in the wainscot. C. Desmoulins. Who speaks.^ I am a fellow- prisoner. Methinks I know that voice. F. d'Eglantine.'" Fabre d'Eglantine. C. Desmoulins. And I, Desmoulins ; whisper, I can hear. F. d'Eglantine. It is a ray of sunshine in the cell To be so near a friend : liow cam'sl Ihou here } THE LUXEMBOURG 6 D C, Desmoulins. As thou ; the same assassins signed my doom. F, d' Eglantine. And Danton ? C. Desmoulins. Danton witli me, overnight, They also captured. F. d'Eglantine. That means death for all. C. Desmoulins. Ay, and I thank my murderers for this. At least for this, that I shall die with him, My noble Danton ! F. d'Eglantine. Did he not resist ? C. Desmoulins. No : there has been of late some spell on him. He might have balked the spite of Robespierre Had he deserted me ; that would he not, Danton being Danton and no recreant, But neither would he break with Robespierre, Or call his friends to arm, and so, — and so The lion 's in the toils : a sorry fate To die at thirty-three ! the happiness E 66 DANTON And freedom of our fellow-citizens Was all we sought, and as our recompense, — O barbarous ingratitude of man ! — Comes Sanson's axe.''^ Man's doom is it or God's ? Blood calls for blood, 'tis said, and Brissot's"*^ death Weighs down my spirit : I stood by like Saul Consenting, nay, I cast the fatal stone. I think there is a God, and He is just. F. d'Eglantine. We need not yet despair, we must be heard Ere sentenced, and when Danton lifts his voice They cannot stifle it, they would not dare. C. Desmoulins. So Danton said before they captured him, And yet they dared. F. d'Eglantine. They have no evidence. C. Desmoulins. And need none : when had Murder need of it.'' F. d'Eglantine. Hush, I hear voices. THE LUXEMBOURG 67 Benoit [enterhig]. Officers have come To take thee to the Conciergerie.^'^ C. Desmoulins. Thence to the guillotine ! Lucile, Lucile, My life, my love, my heaven on earth, adieu. Oh, tell her that my thoughts were all of her. And that her lock of hair is at my heart. [He, with Danton, is taken to the Conciergerie. Danton [as they etiter]. Twelve months ago I reared with mine own hand This revolutionary judgment-court, May God and man forgive me for the sin. And yet 'twas no exterminating scourge I thought to fashion for my fellow-men. But rather a strong rampart to ward off A second red September ; all is now A welter — not a leader left in France ! Ah, better the poor fisher's lot than his Who meddles with the government of men. 68 THE CONVENTION Legendre ^^ [from the Tnbune\. Four of our fellow-members, Citizens, Have been arrested overnight, Danton Was one, who else I know not : I demand That they have audience here, and at this bar, That we adjudge their guilt or innocence. I am not of the schools, nor skilled in speech. So can but blurt out bluntly my belief That Danton is as innocent as I. RossELiN [aside]. Well spoken, butcher. Lecointre [asidc\ Here comes RobespieiTc, He 's moved, his colour wavers, and he goes, Without his wonted proem of self-praise, Straight to the point. RonEspiERRK. The question, Citizens, Is this. Shall certain men prevail o'er France, THE CONVENTION 69 Or France o'er them ; Danton, himself, pro- posed, What now Legendre proposes, for Bazire : ^^ And will you now grant what you scouted then, Pandering to ambitious hypocrites ? [Loud applause. RossELiN [aside]. Our Incorruptible grows elo- quent. Lecointre [aside]. Legendre turns pale. RossELiN [aside]. Danton a hypocrite ! Robespierre. Wlio cares for fine set speeches, eulogies Of self and friends, or boasts of what was done At this or that time ? What we need is, this — The unvarnished record of their public life. Legendre denies he knows what we all know. That one of those imprisoned is Lacroix, ^^ His bosom friend, the dissolute Lacroix ; The reason 's plain enough — for very shame He durst not ask your favour for Lacroix, But Danton's name he thinks is privileged ; 70 DANTON I tell him we will have no privilege, No idols : [^Loud applause. Shall an idol, rotten, rank, Be shattered, or in falling shatter us And, with us, France ? This day must settle it. We will not have two measures or two weights : Why favour Danton more than Petion, ^^ Brissot, Chabot,^^ Fabre d'Eglantine, Herault? Shall we be first to violate the law First framed within these walls, and now en- forced, — Equality for all, — or shall I make Danton my shield and buckler, lest his lot To day be mine to-morrow ? Friends of his Have deluged me with importunities And tearful obtestation of old times. I answer, ' Perish friendship, perish life, If conscience summons me and duty calls ' : I hold my life for France, my law is hers. Death has no terrors if I die for her. RossELiN [axklc]. I thought his speech would not for long forgo That sing-song jargon of self-righteousness, To hear him one would think in jeopardy THE CONVENTION 71 His neck not Danton's, ay, and that it was A crown of honour to betray a friend. Remorseless hypocrite ! thou well may'st need That draught of water^ lest these clotted lies Should choke thee. Lecointre [a.9«We]. Hark, he has not finished yet. Robespierre. We must act nobly, conquering all fear. The guilty, only, quake, as well they may, On whom erelong must fall the afterstroke : But there ai*e spirits of another sort In this Assembly, of heroic strain^ Which know no danger and will dare to guard The guardians and the saviours of the State. And few are all your enemies ; ourselves, — This same Convention that they plot against — If ye stand firm, will front them fearlessly. RossELiN [aside]. He flatters and he frightens in a breatli. Hints safety 's surest on the winning side Though only peerless paladins can win ; 72 DANTON Never was treason tricked in braver plumes Nor murder made look so magnanimous. Lecointre [aside]. St. Just is at the Tribune. RossELiN [aside]. With the face Of death's Archangel ; he believes the lies Forged by his evil genius, Robespierre, Yet half, because old rancours smart, believes. Lecointre [aside]. He reads his chai-ges from a manuscript Phlegmatically, one hand motionless, And one see-sawing, pulpit-fashion ; look ! RossELiN [aside]. I scarce can hear him, ' Old conspiracies,' ' Last royal faction,' ' Tyranny's last hope,' ' Treasons of Mirabeau, of Orleans, Of Brissot, Vergniaud, and Potion,' ' Dumouriez' treason,' ' Orleans ' again. Each name recurrent like a circus-horse Out one side in the other. In God's name What 's this to Danton ? Ha ! I hear him now, Rage lends fresh vigour to his weak, lean voice. St. Just. Who was the patron of Fabre d'Eglan- tine .'' THE CONVENTION 73 Who said the Nation's representatives Would win through Eui'ope credit and renown Were Orleans elect ? '^^ Who saved Duport ? Who cowered in August at Arcis sur Aube ? ^^ Who hastened, when he saw rebellion ripe, To reap the fruit which patriots had sown ? Who parleyed in the Temple with the Queen ? ^^ Who hoped to make a King of young Capet ? Who craved for concert with the Girondins ? Who boasted of his hatred of Marat ? Who wrote to Wimpfen,^^ championed Wester- mann, ^^ And clamoured for the head of Henriot ? ^^ Thou, Danton, art the man. Conspirator, Thou always hast conspired with all our foes, At first with Mirabeau, then Orleans, Dumouriez, next, and Brissot ; last, Hebert : Traitor, and friend of every land but France, As testifies the Embassy of Spain : *^2 False Citizen, whose plots and stratagems Are known to Europe, known to all the world : False friend, who did'st revile but yesterday Desmoulins, thy weak victim, tool, and dupe • Bad man, who said'st public opinion Was but a strumpet, honour foolishness, Futurity of after-fame a farce : 74 DANTON Defrauder, depredator, debauchee, Whose luxury the public purse supplied. Whose dinners cost a hundred cro^vns a head. Whose guests, at each carouse, were English- men "^^ Or infamous St. Amaranthe *^^ and Lacroix ; For these and many other heinous crimes Before the Revolutionary Court We send thee, if thou can'st, to clear thyself, If sentenced to abide thy well-earned doom. RossELiN [«*/(/e]. St. Just's report is carried. Act the First Scene First of Robespierre's dictatorship ! We must attend the Court to see its close ; Meet me betimes, all Paris will be there. 75 THE TRIBUNAL RossELiN. Thou brokest tryst. Lecointre. I feared our whispered words In the Convention had been overheard, And I was dogged by spies ; — 'twas Pasquier's house They watched, and I am safe ; but I have heard By rumour only how the trial speeds ! And thou ? RossELiN. Each hour I heard and witnessed all ; The Court is thronged, we must not linger here, Come, I will tell the story as we go. Lecointre. What of the jury, are they honest men.'' RossELiN. Packed slaves, whom Fouquier Tin- vilie ^^ secretly 76 DANTON Empannelled in defiance of the law And not by lot, — one deaf, one imbecile, And all like Herman's *'*' helper, Fleuriot/^ Creatures of Robespierre. Lecointre. Cold comfort, that ! RossELiN. I saw the prisoners escorted in. Fifteen, all told ; and each in turn being asked His age, abode, and name ; thus Danton made Disdainful answer to his questioner, ' My name is Georges Jacques Danton, my abode Will soon be nothingness, but I shall live In History's Pantheon.' Westermann Said, ' Strip me, let the people see my wounds. Seven all in front, and one stab in the back, Your work, to-day.' ' Jesus, the Sansculotte, Was my age,' said Camille, ' a fatal age This "thirty three," to patriots.' Man by man As in a theatre, courting applause Each in his part, and each as though he had That hall for stage antl France for audience, They answered ; and, as in a theatre, THE TRIBUNAL 77 The less precedes the greater, Herman first Arraigned Fabre d'Eglantine, Phihppeaiix ^^ next; Then, at the name of Danton, all the Court Thrilled as a tree's leaves at a sudden gust, And in the stir I saw how Clerk Paris Ran and embraced him, and — -accursed sight — How through the open casement glared the eyes Of Vadier ^^ and Voulland and Amar Gloating upon their victim ; but his eyes Looked sternly back at them, till one by one They slunk away as though they were accused And he accuser, and to every charge, — Embezzlement, venality, and theft, Liberticide, and selfish cowardice. Conspiracies with this man and with that. With Mirabeau, the Court, and Orleans, The Girondins, Dumouriez, Hebert, And every foreign enemy of France, — He flung back answer, now of irony. And now of bitter scorn, ' The vile poltroons I Let them appear and I will cover them With ignominy : what care I for you And for 3'^our sentence ? I am sick of life And dread not death, but set us face to face, 78 DANTON I '11 tear each foul accuser's mask away And plunge the three of them — the shallow knaves Who fawn on and will ruin Robespierre, — Back to their native nothingness again. / hidden on the tenth of August, / ! Where are the heroes who unearthed me then And shamed me by their matchless gallantry ? / bought by bribes ! I tell you men like me In revolutions have a price by gold Not measurable, and upon their brows Bear the sign-manual of Liberty. From head to foot I shudder at this scroll Of hon-ors, every line of it a lie ! They lie who say I am conspirator. They lie who say I sought to sap the strength Of your Committees ; yours! nay rather, mine, For I begat them : does a father slay His offspring, think ye ? To conciliate Is strength, not weakness, after the first throes Of Revolution, and Revenge should cease When Justice is no more in jeopardy : And when I saw more rampant day by day Passion and jealousy and private hates 1 stood aloof, or sought to reconcile THE TRIBUNAL 79 All men to reason for the general good. Nay, when mine own familiar friend invoked The State's reversal of a private wrong, I thwarted him and bade him bear his loss As borne for Liberty, nor strive to make A revolution's uniformity As fixed as figures geometrical. Great crimes, great criminals abounded still, For them the young Republic could not wield A sword too sharp, nor had I thought to blunt Its edge, but I desired to see her move To ever more majestic destiny. No more impetuous and uncircumspect, But proudly, incorruptibly austere, Sei'enely and indomitably strong, And with a large compassion, and with hands Intolerant of fratricidal strife, Heal widening wounds, rein Avisely rearing France, And make her an ensample to the world. Wherefore because I would be no man's man Nor league myself with any coterie. But fought for France, France always, only France, I am without a friend, and am become This day a prey unto mine enemies.' so DANTON At this the President with peevish voice Bade him ' be cahn/ Desmoulins thereupon Made mocking comment to the bystanders^ ' If preachers only preached the things they do, Preacher's were few.' But Danton heeded not ; still challenging His chief accuser to stand forth in Court, And, ' Ah, St. Just,' lie ci'ied, ' though silent now. Thou shalt not long be so, the people's e)'es Will open soon, and thou with all thy crew Shalt by the people's hands be torn piecemeal.' Each word be spake was passed from mouth to mouth Outside, and loud and louder swelled his voice Till listeners heard it ev'n across the Seine, Whereat, and at the murmurs in the Court, Herman caught up his bell to silence him. But Danton cried, ' A man's voice championing His life and honour well may drown thy bell.' And then each accusation, one by one. Through every item of it great or small, Truth twisted to untruth or naked lie, He mauled and mangled so victoriously. With such large mastery of where and when, And such a wealth of reason-winning words, THE TRIBUNAL 81 That all the people in the court and street Grew angrier and like to rescue him. On every side I heard them murmuring ' They knew the man to be no anchorite, No sentence-weighing smooth diplomatist. No formalist, no reckoner of pence. No faultless Pharisee or sinless saint. Yet knew him hardy, open-hearted, prone To take another's fault upon himself. Fond lover of his wife and child and home, Armer of France and Brunswick's "'^ vanquisher. Who in his country's darkest hour took heart. Made traitors cower and bade the desperate dare. And, if France feared one man's predominance, They knew a man more dangerous than he.' The judges heard and trembled as they heard, And Herman, at a break in Danton's voice Prayed him to rest awhile, — the hypocrite ! — And afterward wore out the weary hours Sifting the lesser acts of lesser men. And on the morrow, at the same demand ' Produce your witnesses,' when Herman said ' The whole Convention were his witnesses. He would not, had not power to summon them, F 82 DANTON And one, though knowing him, he might not name/ Scoffs, murmurs, scornful laughter, answered him. Redoubled as Desmoulins' voice was heard, 'The council sought for witness and found none For many bare false witness ;' and again, * Methodical, as woodman with his axe. The Assembly fells its trees by strict routine, 'Tis our turn now;' but neither taunts nor prayers Moved Herman, and with questions fi'ivolous Again he wore the weary hours away. [ They enter the Couti. To-day will show what counsel night has brought. Lecointhe. Danton must win, how pale and tremulous The judges look, and he how bold and gay. [All Ihc prisoners rise. Danton. I sj)eak for all my fellow-prisoners : And first we call upon you to compel THE TRIBUNAL 83 The presence of your witnesses in Court, And next, that the Convention be apprised That we ourselves have proof of plots astir To force on France one man's dictatorship. [FouQuiER TiNviLLE hesilciles. An Officer summons him out of court and he Jinds Vadieu and Voulland. VouLLAND [showing a doctmient^. We have the villains fast, read this and know Thy difficulties vanished. Vadier. It has edge To gut this swelling turbot clean enough. FouQuiER TiNviLLE [reading in Court the Con- vention's decree]. 'Whereas a foul con- spiracy and plot '^^ Has been discovered in the Luxembourg, Whence Dillon, by Lucile Desmoulins lured. Designed to break forth, free the prisoners, And slay our two Committees, 'tis hereby Decreed by the Convention, each accused Who renders not due honour to the Court Shall forfeit further right of self defence.' '&• Danton. Be witness evei-y man within this hall 84 DANTON We neither make resistance nor insult Our judges : be it soon or late the truth Will come to light ; but O unhappy France, I see unnumbered woes in store for thee ; Dictatorship has cast aside its mask And stands forth visible — see where its tools. Yon murderous cowards, dog us to the grave. [Powling to Amar and Voulland 7vho slink away. C. Desmoulins. Fiends, devils, will my blood not satisfy Your thirst, that you must slay my wife with me ? People. Shame ! Tyranny ! i'roduce the wit- nesses ! Herman. I close this sitting. [T'o the officers^. Haste, and clear the Court. RossELiN. The jurors fear the people. Lecointfie. Ay, but fear To-morrow will be lost again in hate. THE TRIBUNAL THE SAME Next morning Jurors. We claim by right of yesterday's decree To close the trial, we have heard enough. Danton. Ended ! the trial has not yet begun. Ye have heard nothing ; would ye sentence us Without a hearing, without witnesses ? C. Desmoulins [clinging to the hencJ{\. Help, help, good people ! they would butcher us. I will not go. Your force may tear me hence. Naught else. Help, help, all friends of liberty ! [He is dragged away. RossELiN. Horrible ! Lecointre. Is the verdict past all hope .^ RossELiN. I hear strange rumours, Herman has, 'tis said, A letter to some foreign enemy Written by Danton. Lecointre. Forged by Danton's foes ! The jurors will not on his unproved word Accept it. S6 DANTON RossELiN. Vadier and Voulland have gone To overawe the waverers — three or four Who dread the people's wrath : but here they come, Trinchai-d, the foreman, with an evil smile Foreboding ' Guilty ' ere he utters it. Herman. Convey to each and all of the con- demned. The verdict and our sentence — instant death. [T/te Court is cleared. RossELiN. With Danton's life the Revolution dies; He boi'e it up as Atlas bore the world Upon liis shoulders, none can pi'op it now. Lecointre. Nay, but the Revolution is not dead. He forged it as a God his thunderbolt Instinct with his own elemental fire. And in the trail of its amazing flight The clouds of all the centuries, aflame. Rekindle on and on the blaze thereof, A light to lighten France and all the world. 87 THE GUILLOTINE The wives of Danton and Desmoitlins in a house in the Cour du Commerce. Fabricius Paris comes in. LuciLE. At last ! F. Paris. What ye commanded I have done. LuciLE. Oh, tell us all, spare nothing, let my tears Not hinder thee ; I cannot choose but weep, But I am strong to listen, every word That fell in death from my beloved's lips And every act of his I would enshrine In bitter-sweet remembrance. Sophie. I who live For vengeance, I, too, pray thee tell us all. F. Paris. I waited by the Conciergerie, One of a mighty crowd : therefrom anon 88 DANTON Rolled forth two tumbrils^ and in one of them Stood all our dear ones, chained, and I could see, Camille's head leaning upon Danton's breast. At sight of Danton, from the surging throng Rose shouts for the Republic, and I heard Two ruffian voices near me taunting him In hideous mockery of Holy Writ, ' Thou saviour of another save thyself. Or thou must die. My Lady's Gentleman, Long live our great Republic, thou must die.' I saw the scornful smile on Danton's face Darken into a frown. ' Brute beasts,' he said, ' Belching out mockery of dying men, Ye howl for the Republic — in one hour It will be headless.' Angrily the guard Spurred on the hoi-ses : I kept pace with them, And as we neared the house of Robespierre I saw closed doors and every window barred. And sudden silence froze the ribald mob As though it saw a spectre, but Camille, His hoarse voice heard of all men in the hush, Cried, * Not for long, assassin, not for long Shalt thou outlive us.' THE GUILLOTINE 89 Soon we reached the Square Which bears in bitter memory of Lambese '^^ The Revolution's name ; a heaving sea Of heads it seemed^ and, stormy as the sea. The maddening music of the Marseillaise Half drowned the bx'ute mob's jeers and blasphemies ; Camille shrank shuddering at the sound of it, Then strove to wrest the fetters from his hands, Struggling and writhing, with his breast lialf bare And raiment rent, crying out terribly, ' People, or fools befooled by murderers. Your servants, 'tis your servants that they slay. Who summoned you to arms in Eighty-nine ? Who gave you for your watchword, "Liberty," For badge, the leaves of green ? Here stands the man, Camille Desmoulins, I who speak, am he. Pity for othei's is my only crime.' He thought to move the crowd, which flung back jeers. And I heard Danton say, ' Be calm, my friend. Heed not this scum ;' and theni, in low, sweet tones, ' Our task is ended, let us take our rest.' 90 DANTON Hard by the ' Cafe of the Regency ' Stood painter David, with a devilish jest Upon his lips, and in his gloating eyes, Unsatisfied, a devilish lust of blood. Outlining swiftly what shall one day be His victims' semblance for the curious eyes Of after ages ; ' Lackey ! ' Danton said. And at that name of scorn he shrank abashed, And knew himself by every son of France In eveiy generation yet unborn Acclaimed as artist but accursed as man. The sun, by this, was burnishing the west. And Freedom's statue reddened in its fire As though 'twere stained with blood, or blushed for shame ; From every terrace of the Tuileries Rose odorous breath of lilacs blossoming. And in the glorious light the guillotine Stood frowningly affronting the sweet heaven. Whereon Herault climbed first, his radiant face Unblanched, nor showing any sign of fear. Nay, smiling answer as a white hand waved From some far balcony a last adieu. Him striving to kiss Danton as he passed The headsman thrust with violence away ; 'Thou fool,' said Danton, 'hinder if thou canst THE GUILLOTINE 91 Our heads from meeting yonder in the sack.' Next came Lacroix and after him Camille, Who murmured bitterly^ ' To such an end Comes Freedom's first apostle/ so he died. The last word on his lips thy name, Lucile. Alone stood Danton, after every friend Had heard his words of comfoi't (they the more In grief for him that he must see them die). Like some sole column in an earthquake-shock All motionless, till Sanson summoned him ; Then standing at full stature, instantly He strode up to the scaffold, seen of all, The dying Titan, in the dying sun Which shone in all its splendour on his face. And at the shout that rose he smiled and sighed, Wliispering softly, ' O my wife, my love. Must I no more behold thee ? ' then, aloud, ' No weakness, Danton,' and with lion's roar Which pealed in all men's ears in all the Square, He thundered to the executioner, ' Show them this head of mine, 'tis worth the pains, Such heads the people see not every day.' Sophie. My hei-o ! 92 DANTON LuciLE. All our love and gratitude, best of friends, I cannot utter now, 1 have no strength ; ah, would I had no life I Officer [enterhig]. Lucile Desmoulins, this for thine arrest We bear as warrant, thou must come with us. Lucile. Oh, thanks, thanks, thanks, oh, wel- come, gentlemen. The holy angels could not bring from heaven Tidings of greater joy ; a few short hours And I shall see him, see Camille again ! My God, I thank thee; Thou hast heard my prayer. PART II 1 . ANDRES RIDE, 2. HAY-TIME, . 3. TIT FOR TAT, 4. BULL POINT, 5. A WILTSHIRE SCENE, 6. FOBTEM POSCE ANIMUM, PAGE 95 98 102 105 109 113 Two of the above are reprinted from Longman's Magazine by the Editor's permission. 95 ANDRE'S RIDE When Andre rode to Pont-du-lac With all his raiders at his back, Mon Dieu, the tumult in the town ! Scarce clanged the great portcullis down Ere in the sunshine gleamed his spears And up marched all his musketeers^ And far and fast in haste's array Sped men to fight and priests to pray ! In every street a barricade Of aught that came to hand was made. From every house a man was told, Nor quittance given to young or old ; Should youth be spared, or age be slack. When Andre rode to Pont-du-lac ? When Andre rode to Pont-du-lac With all his ravening reiver-pack, The mid lake was a frozen road Unbending to the cannon's load, No warmth the sun had as it shone. The kine were stalled, the birds were gone. 96 Andre's ride Like wild things seemed the shapes of fur With which was every street astir, And over all the huddling crowd The thick breath hung a solid cloud. Roof, road, and river — all were white. Men moved benumbed by day, — by night The boldest durst not bivouac. When Andre rode to Pont-du-lac. When Andre rode to Pont-du-lac We scai'ce could stem his swift attack ; A halt, a cheer, a bugle-call, — Like wild cats they were up the wall ; But still as each man won the town We tossed him from the ramparts down. And when at last the stormers quailed And back th' assailants shrank assailed, Like wounded wasps, that still could sting, Or tigers, that had missed their spring. They would not fly, but turned at bay. And fought out all the dying day. Sweet saints ! it was a crimson track That Andre left by Pont-du-lac. When Andre rode to Pont-du-lac, Said he, ' A troop of girls could sack Andre's ride 97 This huckster town that hugs its hoard But fears to face a warrior's sword.' It makes my blood warm now to know How soon Sir Cockerel ceased to crow. And how 'twas my sure dagger point In Andre's harness found a joint. For I who now am old was young. And strong the thews were, now unstrung, And deadly though our danger then, I would those days were back again ; Ay, would to God the days were back When Andre rode to Pont-du-lac. 98 HAY-TIME Hey, lads ; ho, lads ; Why are you so slow, lads ? Darkly the shadows creep over the day. The oxen all bellow. The sunset 's all yellow. Rain is a-coming to ruin the hay. You mischievous lasses, That scatter the grasses, Let the lads bustle, have done with your play ; You pitchers and rakers. You merry haymakers. Load up the wagon and home with the hay ! Nay, Joe ; stay, Joe ; Never slip away, Joe ; Must you be tied like a sow by the leg ? While you are a-driiiking The sun '11 be sinking, Work must be done before tapping Liie keg. HAY-TIME 99 You mischievous lasses, That scatter the grasses. Let the lads bustle, have done with your play ; You tossers and takers, You merry haymakers, Clear the Four-Acres, and home with the hay ! Soa, ' Dobbin ' ; woa ' Dobbin ' ; 'Tisn't time to go, Dobbin, Wait till the wagon 's heaped higher than now, At home, in a minute You '11 have your nose in it, Grudging a morsel to Grizzle, the cow. You mischievous lasses. That scatter the grasses. Let the lads bustle, have done with your play ; You pitchers and rakers. You merry haymakers. Load up the wagon and home with the hay ' Fie, Molly ; why, Molly, Clamour so, and cry, Molly, ' Pudding a-spoiling and pies getting cold ' ? You ninny to grumble When thunderstorms rumble ; There 's the first drop as you dawdle and scold. 100 HAY-TIME You mischievous lasses^ That scatter the grasses, Let the lads bustle, have done with your play ; You tossers and takers. You merry haymakers. Clear the Four-Acres, and home with the hay ! Rough, Johnny ? Stuff, Johnny ! Never mind a cuff, Johnny, She '11 come a-coaxing you soon by the barn. You catch her and kiss her, There '11 none of us miss her, Dick '11 be singing or Jock at his yarn. You mischievous lasses. That scatter the grasses, Let the lads bustle, have done with your play ; You pitchers and rakers. You merry haymakers. Load up the wagon and home with the hay ! Oh, Gaffer; go, Gaffer; Don't worry so. Gaffer ; Off to the Missis, you hinder us here. Just hurry and tell her To fetcli from the cellar Prime of the cider and best of the beer. HAY-TIME 101 You mischievous lasses, That scatter the grasses, Let the lads bustle, have done with your play ; You tossers and takers. You meriy haymakers, Clear the Four-Acres and home with the hay ! Quick, lads ; thick, lads. Pile it on the rick, lads. Neatly and nattily comb it away. And show me to beat it When we can complete it, Neater or sweeter or wholesomer hay. You mettlesome lasses. That clatter of glasses Calls you to supper, go make yourselves gay ; You shakers and rakers. You jolly haymakers, Lustily strike up the song of the hay ! 102 TIT FOR TAT Chaffinch and Linnet and Sparrow, You that have chosen my field for your nests Over its jungle of foxtail and yarrow. Hear what I promise my guests. Safe shall you be from all furry Quadrupeds hungrily i-oaming for prey. Safe from the urchins who harry or hurry Hens getting ready to lay. All the day long at your leisure Lying-in beds shall you fashion at ease. Mosses and thatches I yield to your pleasure. Buds you may pluck from my trees. Flower of my garden and fruitage — Worm that is luscious and succulent slug — Seeds never grudged though 1 watch their up- rootage — Nestage in box-bushes snug — TIT I- OR TAT lO:^ Crumbs set apart from my table Largesses warranted never to fail — Wealtli of the kitchen and warmth of the stable — Water in saucer and pail — Thickets at will for your quarters — Meadowland-forage and granary-spilth — Grace of my sons and the smile of my daughters — Tithe unabridged of my tilth — All of such bounty I proffer, Board, bed, and lodging, and all of it free, If with reciprocal trust to my offer Dear little birds you agree. First, though the eyes of a stranger Come not a-nigh you to vex and affright, My daily visit you'll deem not a danger. Chirruping only delight When, with a gentle removal Pushing the branches asunder, I peep Into your soft little beds at the oval Shells where your embryos sleep. 104 TIT FOR TAT Ay^ or when feathered they hnger Now but a day after nurture of weekg^ Should I essay to allure with a finger Gaping of wide yellow beaks. Next, — and a strict stipulation This you shall keep on the faith of a bird, — Morning and evening in joint jubilation All of your songs shall be heard. Morning and evening in chorus Ringing in rapture around and above, Singing to earth and the heaven that is o'er us, Love in requital of love. 105 BULL POINT Free, free at last from bleak duresse, And Winter's weary listlessness ! The meadows decked in merrier dress Away their sables fling, To-day the world 's all wonderment, And bird-thi*oats half with rapture rent Acclaim the first, fresh, innocent. Surprise and smile of Spring. But not to-day the fields for me Whose buds still shiver on the tree. This basking rock that cleaves the sea Stores more of April's sun. Here all a noontide hour I lie. Content to scan the cloudless sky Or watch the shining ships go by And count them one by one. One constant course the steersmen take Alternate in the leader's wake, Dumb glides the barque, its followers break Through louder lanes of foam, 106 BULL POINT And, as their labouring engines pant, Off skims the startled cormorant. And gulls with ivory wings aslant Inlay the heaven's blue dome. O laggard barque ! O slugabed ! For all your bellying canvas spread. No longer in the line you led You boast the pride of place. Fast, faster, as you drift forlorn. With iron nostrils snorting scorn. In turn is every rival borne Far past you in the race. Now all are gone ; a hush px-ofound Ensues as of enchanted ground. Save only one continuous sound Which no man's tongue may tell. Which none but twain can weave for us In measures multitudinous. To music of Elysium thus, — The Sea and the Sea-shell. The quivering brine 's a silken sheet A-glitter as with August heat, The sands its winking wavelets meet Like polished silver glow. BULL POINT 107 And sunken in pellucid green Of cool clear pools the rocks between Are lengths of lazy seaweed seen Soft-swaying to and fro. Beneath me, huge and bare the ledge That rakes the air with ragged edge. Then plunges, like a giant's wedge From glory into gloom : Above, in haunts of winter rain, Which ivy drapes or lichens stain. With shyly smiling buds again The sea-pink stars the combe. glorious headland of the west, Of all her headlands lordliest. Illimitable from thy crest The broadening Channel seems. The Bull's horns fiercely toss the spray. The Death-rock frowns beyond the bay. And mistier Hartland far away Conceals a coast of dreams. 1 gaze and gaze — the swallows sweep Close by me, close the conies creep. They take my trance for death or sleep. So carelessly they roam ; 108 BULL POINT Fain would I linger on, but lo ! The sun dips, chill the sea-airs blow, 'Tis time to rise and saunter slow By inland paths for home. 109 A WILTSHIRE SCENE Old Friend^ while twenty years and more Have, fleeting, left our temples hoar. How many a morning holiday, When all adust the township lay. Our feet have trod the airier way To Rockley Wood. In Rockley Wood a pasture lies, Lawn, opening only to the skies, So close its columned warders cling ; A fearless song the finches sing To careless squirrels listening, In Rockley Wood. But climb the Down and lo ! displayed The hoarded glory of the glade, Those miser pines such store untold Of budding buttercups enfold. Of buttercups that glow like gold In Rockley Wood. 110 A WILTSHIRE SCENE There when October suns exph*e, The fading foliage turns to fire, As, rivalling the dying rays. Light thrills to light, blaze answers blaze. With hues that blind you as you gaze On Rockley Wood. Light thrills to light and dies away, But out the conies frisk for play. Or sit, upreared, in voiceless talk Till alien sounds the conclave balk. And back they scurry to the chalk Of Rockley Wood. Too brief, poor things, your happiness, Too soon the eager foe will press To make those glancing scuts their mark ; O day of death and terror ! Hark, The sudden gun, the short, sharp bark In Rockley Wood. But hence, ill-omened thought of death ! 'Tis life to breathe the Down's rich breath. And all an idle morning lie On couch of silk-soft euphrasy, Or milkwort mirroring the sky Of Rockley Wood. A WILTSHIRE SCENE 111 The Down— that ere the Summer 's cone Will yet another livery don, Blue scabious, bluer harebell, blent With myriad tress of tasselled bent And rockrose, all the parched ascent From Rockley Wood. The Down — while yet you dream— a-thrill. As yonder racers round the hill : Bright beauties slim and debonair. They snufF the breeze, they tread on air Mad for a long, strong gallop there By Rockley Wood. And as their lissome pastei-ns pass Up starts the plover from the grass. The hare 's afoot, the hawk 's astir. And pairing partridges defer Their converse sweet and downwards whir To Rockley Wood. Shall we with them, or lingering stay Till vesper shadows darken day And shepherds rise and plodding slow With bustling Prince and Keeper go To fold the full-fed flock below. Nigh Rockley Wood ? 112 A WILTSHIRE SCENE Yon cottage-fires for them anew Raise not to heaven those spires of blue, This hut 's their home, that camp of straw Will shield the sheep though sharp and x-aw The winds of evening westward draw To Rockley Wood. They go, and dumb grows Down and Dell, And hushed the day-long-tinkling bell. The moon is up, clear-scarped and white, The chalk-track glistens in her light, 'Neath moon and star we bid good night To Rockley Wood. li; FORTEM POSCE ANIMUM MORTIS TERRORS CARENTEM As down Time's deepening current we descend. And nigher know its end, Though slow the moments, faster speed the years. And, deafer though our ears. They hear beyond the verge of life's last tract The I'oaring cataract Louder and ever louder, and our gaze Can pierce the distant haze To one point where the vessels we have known And cherished as our own, Though trim to view and staunch as heretofore, Vanish and are no more. That wonder of the waters, glorious. What lights its lamps for us ! And answering what gay music from its deck We dreamed not aught could wreck Our pilot so securely moving on. When suddenly 'tis gone ! H 114 FORTEM POSCE ANIMUM Then in a moment all the world seems changed. Alien, aloof, estranged ; The comfort and the splendour of the sun Fast fade, and one by one The clouds loom dull and leaden, and the breeze Is choked amid the trees ; If in their branches any note is heard 'Tis but the mocking-bird, And in the thick mute mist we lose all heart To steer by any chart. So close the unknown ocean and so poor Our vision once so sure. * For all men 'tis appointed once to die,' The sentence seemed to lie On others, not on us, till this man died, Now shattered is our pride. And nowhere know we safety, as our bark Drifts down into the dark. ' Nay, if to-morrow comes imperious Death,' The rebel in us saith, ' To eat and drink were better while we may, The children of a day Should eke the daylight out with song and feasts. Nor heed the fabling priest's Assurance of some after counterpoise To earth's relinquished joys ; MORTIS TERRORE CARENTEM 11.5 For life and death are blind lots drawn by chance. The bars of circumstance A cage, wherein with self-inflicted pain We bruise ourselves in vain ; Better be first to clutch the richest bone The keeper's hand has thrown, Or on our fellow-captives better still To work our wild-beast will : Though virtue spangle the romancer's page Vice is our heritage. And powers unseen with irony malign To each his share assign ; 'I'he headlong venture on a hope forlorn Of vanity is born. The reddest murder stains not midnight-time With more essential crime Than hate, inert, 'neath interposing ice Of saving cowardice : The wisest he who revels out his span With cup and courtesan, By prudence, only, fettered, not by awe Of superstition's law : Truth is not, faith is folly, love is lust, Man's doom is " dust to dust " ; Better to pluck life's roses, while remains Warm blood within our veins.' Il6 FORTEM POSCE ANIMUM Hush, voice ignoble ! worse were lawless sense Than chill indifference : What though the ancient mystery of Will And Fate elude us still. And they that on their voyage farthest go Know best that least they know ? What though, like any fool foredoomed to err, The sage philosopher Be impotent to mete the more or less Of sin and sinlessness. Of shame and laurelled glory, or, 'mid all Temptation great and small, To track each antecedent of the blood Which stirs to bad or good Coward or hero, crafty Belial, Or sweet Sir Percival ? Na}"^, what though, with a vision past our il reams, Some vaster knowledge deems The best man only better than the worst, The last behind the first A handbreadth only, smiling where we frown And spurning those we ci'own ? Shall man, — because a God's is not his ken To judge his fellow-men, Omniscient, comprehending germ and Avholc, — Shall man dethrone his soul ? MORTIS TERRORE CARENTEM 11? Enough for us the common wisdom tauglit By humbler homelier thought. To love, to labour, to be just and true In all we think and do. To make, if meet, the present's pain at last Redeem a bankrupt past, And, for the future, if beyond our scope Be faith, to welcome hope. He who abhors the gauds ambition yields On blood-red battlefields. But at his country's call or Right's alarms Alert will stand to arms ; Who braving, rather than his own soul's blame, The lions and the flame Bows not to Baal, nor would worship did Nebuchadnezzar bid ; (And, if the crowd be tyrant, with a proud Disdain defies the crowd ;) Who robs not Naboth, nor at lucre's lure Unpitying grinds the poor, But clothes the naked, and the hungry feeds. And binds the wound that bleeds. Loving his kind, nor torturing the weak Creature that cannot speak ; This man — who doth to others what he would To him that others should. 118 FORTEM POSCE ANIMUM And worships more than any King or Queen A conscience clear and clean — Whether a hero's be his shining lot Or peasant's in his cot. Has known the athlete's joy whose weakness long Self-conquest has made strong. And learnt life's purpose better than by rules Of all the creeds and schools. Wherefore, when out of darkness beckoneth Inexorable Death, Even Avith the roaring torrent in his ears, His soul shall know no fears, Nor overmuch be sad, though at the end Bereft of every friend. But bold for any future, and still fast Its briiiht flag at the mast. Will meet the call, and dauntless though alone Embark on the Unknown. NOTES 1 Born at Arcis sur Aube, 1759. 'Avocat' at Paris, 1780. Worked hard, and prospered in liis profession. Well read in history and classical, Italian, and English literature. Married Mdlle. Charpentier, 1787, dowered with 20,000 livres. She died while he was in Belgium, and he had her body exhumed that he might see her again. Married Mdlle. G6Iy, 1793. (The character I have assigned to her is imaginary.) A poli- tician of mark in 1790, in 1791 he was a power in Paris, and in 1792 the greatest statesman and orator in France. Was an ardent patriot, unswayed by personal prejudice, defending, though he disliked, Marat, and trying to come to terms with the Girondins. Had a tolerant, easy temper and domestic tastes. Readers of his speeches admire their strong common- sense more even than their eloquence. Guillotined, 1794. For the matter of many of these notes I am indebted to Mr. Morse Stephens' Orators of the French Revolution. "They are merely meant to spare some readers some trouble. 2 These ' market-women or knitting-women had been treated as heroines ever since their march to Versailles in October 1789.' Some would sit round the guillotine, knitting, during the executions. 3 i.e. prayer. ' Sanson ' was the name of the executioner. 4 The palace used as a prison during the Revolution. 5 For the story of the purchase of a diamond necklace by the Cardinal de Rohan as a love-gift to Marie Antoinette, and the concomitant intrigues, in which the notorious impostor Cagliostro was mixed up, see Carlyle's Essays on the Diamond Necklace, and Cagliostro. 119 120 NOTES •J ' Le tocsin qu'on va sonner n'est point un signal d'alarme, c'est la charge sur les ennemis dela patric' — Danton's Speech, September 2, 1792. 7 Billaud-Varenne, the most sanguinary of the Terrorists. He repented at last of having compassed Danton's death. 8 See Note 20. 9 Member of the Assembly, politically opposed to Danton, but whose life Danton saved by preventing him being brought to Paris in spite of the Commune's orders, 1" The Paris market-women, who 'went about the streets insulting respectably dressed people, and hounding on the sansculottes to deeds of atrocity.' 11 Nickname of Marie Antoinette in allusion to Louis XVI. 's power of vetoing the national enactments. 12 To 'thou,' 'thee,' was a mark of a good republican. Robespierre was partial to the aristocratic ' you,' just as he continued to use hair-powder when it was tabooed. 13 The name of Hubert's journal, and his own nickname. " Charlotte Corday, who murdered Marat. 15 A fashionable and expensive restaurant said to have been frequented by Danton. 16 A Court so called from its sittings being held in the Grand Chdtelet, one of the two Paris forts of that name. 17 Men from Marseilles had come to Paris in June and July, and were foremost in the attack on the Tuilcries, August loth, 1792. 18 Danton's mother, who married M. Ricordin after her first husband's death, lived at Arcis sur Aube, where Danton was born. 18 Buzot, Rrissot, Roland, Rarbaroux, Vergniaud, Louvet, were leading Girondins. The meeting-place of the younger Girondins was Madame Roland's salon. 20 Originally a Committee for considering such questions as did not fall to other Committees. After various changes, the NOTES 121 members of what is known as the Grand Committee of Public Safety consisted of Twelve. 21 The ' Contras ' may be described as those who thought the time for mercy and moderation was come, the ' Ultras ' those who thought their Utopias could only be reached by more bloodshed. -2 Robespierre's ' secondc ame.' Member of the Convention and the Comity de Salut. Paralysed. He and St. Just sided with Robespierre against Danton. -3 Name of the journal founded by C. Desmoulins in 1793, he being one of the original members of the'Cordelicr Club. 2-* 'Of all the men.' Only the italicised lines arc from the Old Cordelier, — paraphrased. 25 The republican General at Valmy and Jemappes who finally deserted. 26 Guillotined November 1793. 27 C. Desmoulins had written : — On voit qu'il regarde sa tcte comme la pierre angulaire de la R^publique, et qu'il la porte sur ses dpaules avec respect et comme un Saint Sacrement. 28 Ce bilieux patriotc. Le patriote rectiligne. 29 A cant phrase for being guillotined. 30 C. Desmoulins had extolled Robespierre parce qu'il a donn6 la main k son 6mule de patriotisme notre Horatius Cocl6s — i.e. Danton. 31 Took the name of Fabricius. Registrar of the Revolu- tionary Tribunal. Friend of Danton. 32 Danton was accused of malversation during his mission to Belgium. 33 ' Robespierre tomba malade le 15 f^vTier, resta chez lui jusq'au 13 mars. Tout le temps sa seconde ame Couthon se dit malade aussi, s'absenta ; il disparut le 15, reparut le 13 ' (Michelet). 3^ Served under Dumouriez. Friend of Desmoulins. Billaud was Commissioner from Paris in his army. 122 NOTES 35 Minister of War. Suspected of complicity with the Hifbertists and threatened with arrest, March 1794. 36 Gabrielle Charpentier, Danton's first wife. 37 The night on which the attack on the Tuileries was organised in 1792. 38 See note 17. 39 The charges brought by the Girondins against Danton, in his absence, of being the organiser of the September massacres are said to have caused her death. ^o A police agent in Robespierre's confidence. Arrested on the proposal of the Dantonist, Bourdon of the Oise ; and re- leased through Robespierre's intervention. ^1 Herault de Sdchelles. A Dantonist. President of the Convention and Member of the Comit6 de Salut. *2 The news of her death arrived ' k I'heure ou Ton ddlib^rait aux Tuileries sur I'arrestation de Camille.' (Clarctie.) ^ Robespierre's signature was ' Maximilien-Marie-Isidore Robespierre, ddputfi a I'Assemblce nationale, rue Saintonge, paroisse Saint-Louis en 1' He ' (sic). ** Painter and Terrorist. Member of Convention. ^5 Candcille of the Opera — 'a woman fair to look upon when well rouged ' (Carlyle), chosen to impersonate the Goddess of Reason. 4« Author of T/tc Rig/ifs of Man. Took part in the American War of Independence and the French Revolution. Member of Convention. Released after imprisonment and died in New York. ^7 Actor and Dramatist. Friend and Secretary of Danton. Accused of fraudulently altering a decree. *8 The executioner during the Terror. *" A journalist and Girondin leader. Wiicn the Girondins were condemned, Dcsmoulins is said to have rushed out of the court exclaiming, ' It is my " lirissot ddvoilii" that has done it.' NOTES 123 •'"' The prison where people were taken immediately before execution. 51 Founded the Cordelier Club. Danton's supporter, and spared at his fall because, it is said, he was illiterate. '•'^ Member of Convention. Denounced as a Moderatist by Hubert. Accused of malversation. S3 President of Convention. Joint Commissioner with Danton in Belgium. Accused of theft, etc. ^ Mayor of Paris, 1791-92. Member and first President of Convention Sided with the Girondins. 25 An ex-priest. Violent Jacobin. Accused of malversation. 56 The Duke of Orldans took the name ' Egalit6 ' ; and was elected Member of the Convention, September 1792. 57 An idle calumny. 58 Idle stories to that effect were circulated about Danton, 5'J General of the Girondin party after their proscription. ''0 Commanded at the attack on the Tuileries. Served with Dumouriez and in La Vendfe. "1 Commander of the National Guard. Carried out the cottp d'itat of June 2, 1793. 62 ' Das lettres de I'ambassadeur d'Espagne disent qu'on te soup9onnait k Paris d'avoir eu des confi^rences au Temple avec la Reine. L'etranger est toujours trcs-instruit sur les crimes commis en sa faveur.' — St. Just's Report. «3 Danton read and wrote English, had visited England, and had English friends in Paris. ''■1 She kept a gambling-house. Was not a friend of Danton. "s The Public Accuser. 66 President of the Revolutionary Tribunal. 67 Fouquier Tinville's deputy. Supporter of Robespierre. 124 NOTES ^ A Commissioner, and in favour of moderation in La Vendi^e. Friend of Desmoulins and Danton. 69 Members of the Committee of General Security. Vadier reported to Robespierre the supposed plot of the prisons. See Note 71. 70 The Duke of Brunswick's proclamation and march on Paris precipitated the September massacres. 71 Pretended to have been concocted by Lucile Desmoulins and Dillon for the release of the Dantonists. 72 The Prince de Lambesc commanded the Royal AUemand regiment, and ordered the charge on the people in the Tuileries Gardens, July 13, 1789. Printed by T. and A. Constadlb, Printers to Her Majesty at tlie Edinburgh University Press BALLADS AND OTHER VERSE By a. H. BEESLY ' Has caught the glad inspiration of the heyday of the century. . . ._ "Sir C. Mings," a rousing lyric worthy of a place . . . beside the swinging rhythms of Drayton, RIacaulay, and Tennyson.' — Academy. ' Some fine swinging ballads, some little lyrics in which fine sentiment is finely crystallised, and some really delightful out-of-door poems.' — C/ironiclc. 'Indeed welcome. His ballads have a rare fire. . . . There is also a deeper note of fine melodious utterance in such poems as "An Agnostic's Apology," "A Woman's Last Word," " Zwei Herzen und Ein Schlag," . . . and an indication of real tragic power in "A Tradition of .'" — St. James's Gazette. ' Nothing conventional in these pages. . . . The ballads which begin and the songs which end the volume have a deliglitful swing and go, and deserve to be widely known ; they stir the sympathetic soul as with a trumpet.' — Globe. ' Would there were more of this kind in the book-world to read and linger over.' — Liberal. C (( Amphibious" is a capital song." — Literary World. ' Many other charming descriptions of scenery, English and foreign . . . should win him grateful readers in these gloomy times.' — National Observer. 'There is a charm in such a poem as "lona"; something that haunts one. . . . "Amphibious," "A Whaling Song," "The Ploughboy's Song" lilt themselves.' — Speaker. ' Has a glowing sympathy with action that raises him towards the very head of the rank of minor poets.' — Spectator. ' Has caught the heroic ballad spirit and the hearty, homely ring of country song.' — Sketch. ' It is difficult to say which of the three that have the first places in the volume, " Sir C. Mings," "The Brave Dumas," ''Lieutenant M'Munn," is the best. . . . Another stirring poem of the ballad kind is " The Regiment's Return." Of the more reflective sort of poem we have some fine specimens. "Wordsworth's Sister," " Tempora Mutantur," and "lona" may be mentioned.' — IVestminster Gazette. ' Mr. Beesly is at his best in these breezy ballads ; they are full of life and vigour and motion.' — Bradford Illustrated Weekly Telegraph. ' His ballads have fire and go, and his IjtIcs are simple and suggestive.' — Freetnan s Journal. ' A very fine poem is " Before and After a Reading of the Hecuba." ' — Glasgo^v Herald. ' The book is worth reading and keeping.' — Manchester Guardian. ' A whiff of moral ozone in "Ad Populum Phaleras." . . . Uncommon power in the two sad poems, "Stone-broke" and "A Tradition of ."' — Shejjicld Independent. ' Scholarly poetry in the best sense.' — Scotsman. ' Mr. Beesly has the true musical ear : some of his lyrics sing themselves with the melodious certitude of the skylark.' — Literary World, Boston, Massachusetts. UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY Los Angeles This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. JAM 1 1 t9P3 JA;] ^966 n L9-100in-9.'52(A3105)444 THE LIBRARY UNIVERSITY OF CAMFORNIA LOo A AC J\A I S!/I"f«^'«fG M\ f^fG/OA/fll 'SJ^RVMCIL/TY ^^0 380 29] \A~