SECOND MESSENGER.

Vivier harangues the Jacobins--the club Espouse the cause of Robespierre.

[Enter another MESSENGER.]

THIRD MESSENGER.

All's lost--the tyrant triumphs. Henriot leads The soldiers to his aid.--Already I hear The rattling cannon destin'd to surround This sacred hall.

TALLIEN.

Why, we will die like men then.

The representatives of France dare death, When duty steels their bosoms.

[Loud Applauses.]

TALLIEN [addressing the galleries.]

Citizens! France is insulted in her delegates-- The majesty of the Republic is insulted-- Tyrants are up in arms. An armed force Threats the Convention. The Convention swears To die, or save the country!

[Violent Applauses from the galleries.]

CITIZEN [from above.]

We too swear To die, or save the country. Follow me.

[All the men quit the galleries.]

[Enter another MESSENGER.]

FOURTH MESSENGER.

Henriot is taken!--

[Loud Applauses.]

Henriot is taken. Three of your brave soldiers Swore they would seize the rebel slave of tyrants, Or perish in the attempt. As he patroll'd The streets of Paris, stirring up the mob, They seized him.

[Applauses.]

BILLAUD VARENNES.

Let the names of these brave men Live to the future day.

[Enter BOURDON L'OISE, sword in hand.]

BOURDON L'OISE.

I have clear'd the Commune.

[Applauses.]

Through the throng I rush'd, Brandishing my good sword to drench its blade Deep in the tyrant's heart. The timid rebels Gave way. I met the soldiery--I spake Of the dictator's crimes--of patriots chain'd In dark deep dungeons by his lawless rage-- Of knaves secure beneath his fostering power.

I spake of Liberty. Their honest hearts Caught the warm flame. The general shout burst forth, "Live the Convention--Down with Robespierre!"

[Applauses. Shouts from without --Down with the tyrant!]

TALLIEN.

I hear, I hear the soul-inspiring sounds, France shall be saved! her generous sons attach'd To principles, not persons, spurn the idol They worshipp'd once. Yes, Robespierre shall fall As Capet fell! Oh! never let us deem That France shall crouch beneath a tyrant's throne, That the almighty people who have broke On their oppressors' heads the oppressive chain, Will court again their fetters! easier were it To hurl the cloud-capt mountain from its base, Than force the bonds of slavery upon men Determined to be free!

[Applauses.]

[Enter LEGENDRE, a Pistol in one hand, Keys in the other.]

LEGENDRE, [flinging down the Keys.]

So--let the mutinous Jacobins meet now In the open air.

[Loud Applauses.]

A factious, turbulent party, Lording it o'er the state since Danton died, And with him the Cordeliers.--A hireling band Of loud-tongued orators controll'd the club, And bade them bow the knee to Robespierre.

Vivier has 'scap'd me. Curse his coward heart-- This fate-fraught tube of Justice in my hand, I rush'd into the hall. He mark'd mine eye, That beam'd its patriot anger, and flash'd full With death-denouncing meaning. 'Mid the throng He mingled. I pursued--but staid my hand, Lest haply I might shed the innocent blood.

[Applauses.]

FRERON.

They took from me my ticket of admission-- Expell'd me from their sittings.--Now, forsooth, Humbled and trembling re-insert my name.

But Freron enters not the club again Till it be purged of guilt--till, purified Of tyrants and of traitors, honest men May breathe the air in safety.

[Shouts from without.]

BARRERE.

What means this uproar! if the tyrant band Should gain the people once again to rise-- We are as dead!

TALLIEN.

And wherefore fear we death?

Did Brutus fear it? or the Grecian friends Who buried in Hipparchus' breast the sword, And died triumphant? Caesar should fear death, Brutus must scorn the bugbear.

[Shouts from without: Live the Convention--Down with the tyrants!]

TALLIEN.

Hark! again The sounds of honest Freedom!

[Enter DEPUTIES from the SECTIONS.]

CITIZEN.

Citizens! representatives of France!

Hold on your steady course. The men of Paris Espouse your cause. The men of Paris swear They will defend the delegates of Freedom.

TALLIEN.

Hear ye this, colleagues? hear ye this, my brethren?

And does no thrill of joy pervade your b.r.e.a.s.t.s?

My bosom bounds to rapture. I have seen The sons of France shake off the tyrant yoke; I have, as much as lies in mine own arm, Hurl'd down the usurper.--Come death when it will, I have lived long enough.

[Shouts without.]

BARRERE.