A BROKEN IDOL
Saint-Just is in the tribune. Collot d'Herbois occupies the
presidential chair, Collot who, at two in the morning, suspecting
Saint-Just's treachery, had openly charged him with it. War is in
the air, and every member is at his post.
Fouché looks round for Robespierre as he crosses to his seat. There
he is; in the semicircle before the bust of Brutus, at the foot of
the tribune which he seems to guard like a vigilant sentinel.
"He is dressed as he was at the Fête of the Supreme Being," whispers
Fouché ironically to his neighbour.
Yes, the Incorruptible has on his sky-blue coat, white-silk
embroidered waistcoat, and nankeen knee-breeches buttoned over white
stockings, nor has he omitted the powder and the curls. What a
strange figure, with his dapper daintiness, his old-fashioned attire,
in that seething furnace of fifteen hundred people, actors and
spectators, so closely packed, and, most of them with bared breasts,
suffocating in the awful heat which oppresses them! The
_sans-culottes_ up in the gallery have even taken off their
traditional red nightcaps, which they hang on the handles of their
sword-sticks like bloodstained trophies.
It is as they expected. Since five the hall has been taken
possession of by Robespierrists. All the worst scum of Paris has
gathered there; all the bloodhounds of the Revolution, all the
riff-raff who accompany the death-tumbrils to the scaffold to the
song of the _Carmagnole_; fish-wives and rowdies, recruited and hired
at twenty-four sous apiece to drown with their vociferations every
hostile attempt made against the idol of the Commune.
This brutish mob, reeking of sausages, pressed meat, gingerbread and
beer, eating and drinking, poison the atmosphere of the Hall.
Robespierre's arrival at twelve o'clock is hailed by repeated rounds
of loud applause, which he acknowledges with a gracious bow, proud
and smiling. Turning to Lebas who accompanies him, he remarks, "Did
I not tell you it would be a success?"
So certain is he of victory that before starting he had set the
Duplays quite at ease as to the issue of the struggle. "Believe me,"
he had said, "the greater part of the Convention are unbiassed."
But suddenly, at the commencement of the sitting, when Saint-Just
appears in the tribune, a counter movement makes itself felt in the
assembly. Robespierre realising the importance of at once preventing
any hostile demonstration, advances to the foot of the tribune,
determined to daunt his opponents by a bold front. Saint-Just at
once renews the accusation brought against the Committee by the
Incorruptible the day before, accentuating it without mentioning
names.
It is now that the anti-Robespierrist plot, admirably planned, begins
to work.
Tallien, one of the conspirators, breaks in upon Saint-Just violently.
"Enough of these vague accusations!" he cries. "The names! Let us
have the names!"
Saint-Just, encouraged by a look from Robespierre, simply shrugs his
shoulders, and continues. But his voice is immediately drowned in a
thundering clamour, and in spite of the vehement protestations of
Robespierre, he is unable to finish his speech. The
anti-Robespierrist cabal are playing their part well. They simply
roar.
Billaud-Varennes demands a hearing. He is already in the tribune,
greeted by sustained applause.
Robespierre, growing excited, protests and persists in speaking, but
his voice is drowned in cries of "Silence! Silence! Let
Billaud-Varennes speak!" Collot d'Herbois rings the president's
bell, and adds to the noise under the pretext of repressing it.
"Let Billaud-Varennes speak! Let Billaud-Varennes speak!"
But Robespierre continues to protest--
"Don't listen to that man! His words are but poisonous drivel!"
Immediately loud cries are heard--
"Order! Order! Robespierre is not in the tribune! Billaud-Varennes
is in the tribune! Silence! Silence!"
And Robespierre, with a shrug of contempt, returns to his place.
Silence being gradually restored, Billaud-Varennes begins to speak.
"I was at the Jacobins' yesterday; the room was crowded with men
posted there to insult the National representatives, and to
calumniate the Committee of Public Safety which devotes its days and
nights to kneading bread for you, to forging arms and raising armies
for you, to sending them forth to victory!"
A voice is heard in approval, and fresh applause breaks out; but the
gaze of the orator is fixed on that part of the assembly called the
Mountain. He seems to recognise some one, at whom he points with
lifted arm.
"I see yonder, on the Mountain, one of the wretches who insulted us
yesterday. There he stands!"
This is the signal for renewed uproar. Several members spring up and
turn round towards the person indicated.
"Yes, yes, behold him!" cries Billaud.
The agitation increases. Cries of "To the door with him! Turn him
out!" are heard. The man pleads innocence, and tries to weather the
storm, but seeing the majority against him escapes as best he can,
mixes with the crowd and disappears. Silence is with difficulty
restored among the infuriated members.
The orator continues, throwing violent and insidious phrases
broadcast among the assembly like lighted fire-brands. His thrusts
strike nearer home now; he accuses Robespierre openly to his face.
"You will shudder when I tell you that the soldiery is under the
unscrupulous control of that man who has the audacity to place at the
head of the section-men and artillery of the city the degraded
Hauriot, and that without consulting you at all, solely according to
his own will, for he listens to no other dictates. He has, he says,
deserted the Committees because they oppressed him. He lies!"
Robespierre rises, his lips quivering at the insult, and attempts to
reply from his place.
"Yes, you lie!" continues Billaud. "You left us because you did not
find among us either partisans, flatterers, or accomplices in your
infamous projects against Liberty. Your sole aim has been to sow
dissension, to disunite us that you might attack us singly and remain
in power at the head of drunkards and debauchees, like that secretary
who stole a hundred and fifty thousand livres, and whom you took
under your wing, you, the Incorruptible, you who make such boast of
your strict virtue and integrity!"
Laughter, mixed with some applause is heard, but Robespierre shrugs
his shoulders contemptuously at such vulgar abuse. Fouché, from his
bench, laughs loudly with the rest, and leaning towards his
neighbour, whispers--
"Clever tactics! ... Billaud is splendid!"
The speaker, in conclusion, appeals to the patriotism of the
assembly, and implores the members to watch over its safety. If they
do not take energetic measures against this madman, he says, the
Convention is lost, for he only speaks of purifying it that he may
send to the scaffold all those who stand in the way of his personal
ambition. It is, he insists, the preservation of the Convention
which is at stake, the safety of the Republic, the salvation of their
country.
"I demand," so runs his peroration, "that the Convention sit
permanently until it has baffled the plans of this new Catiline,
whose only aim is to cross the trench which still separates him from
supremacy by filling it with our heads!"
Thunders of applause greet Billaud-Varennes' words; shouts, cheers,
and waving of hands which continue long after he has left the tribune.
Robespierre now leaves his seat in great agitation, crying--
"It is all false, and I will prove it!"
But his words are again drowned in an uproar of voices, and cries of
"Silence! Silence!"
"I will give the traitor his answer!" exclaims Robespierre, trying to
make himself heard above the tumult which increases at every word he
utters, so that his voice is now completely lost. Some of the
members rush into the semicircle, forming a living rampart round the
tribune.
The din is dominated by a new voice from the presidential chair.
"Silence, let no man speak!" it thunders forth.
It is Thuriot, who has just replaced Collot d'Herbois in the chair.
"I demand a hearing!" vociferates the Incorruptible, "and I will be
heard!"
"You shall not!"
"I wish to speak!" cries a deputy, taking at the same time possession
of the tribune.
It is Vadier.
Thuriot rings the president's bell.
"Vadier has speech!"
"Yes, Vadier! Vadier!" members exclaim from all sides.
Robespierre continues to protest, disputing frantically with his
neighbours in his fury.
"It is infamous treachery! Infamous!"
Again they call out--
"Vadier! Silence! Vadier! Vadier!"
"_Citoyens!_" commences Vadier--
But the speaker is interrupted by Robespierre who furiously persists
in claiming a hearing.
"Compel him to be quiet!" cries some one.
Thuriot rings his bell, and orders Robespierre to let Vadier speak.
"Vadier is to speak! Silence!"
Robespierre once more resigns himself to his fate, and returns to his
place.
The tumult dies away in a low murmur, above which Vadier's
mellifluous voice is heard.
"_Citoyens!_" he begins, "not until the 22nd Prairial did I open my
eyes to the double-dealing of that man who wears so many masks, and
when he cannot save one of his creatures consigns him to the
scaffold!"
Laughter and applause run round the assembly. Thus encouraged,
Vadier continues--
"Only listen to him. He will tell you, with his usual modesty, that
he is the sole defender of Liberty, but so harassed, so discouraged,
so persecuted! ... And it is he who attacks every one himself!"
"Hear, hear!" shouts a voice. "Excellent! That's it, exactly!"
"He says," continues Vadier, "that he is prevented from speaking.
Yet, strange to say, no one ever speaks but he!"
This new sally is hailed with renewed roars of laughter, and on every
side members are convulsed with merriment. Robespierre writhes in
his seat, casting glances of hatred and contempt around him.
But Vadier is in the right mood, and goes on--
"This is his regular refrain: 'I am the best friend of the Republic,
and as So-and-so has looked askance at me, So-and-so conspires
against the Republic, since I and the Republic are one!'"
Again laughter and cheers. "Very good, Vadier! That's it, Vadier!"
By this time the orator's ironical and facetious allusions have
served their purpose well, covering Robespierre with ridicule, and
lowering him in the eyes of many who were still wavering, hardly
daring to join the opposition.
But Vadier, carried away by success, wanders presently from the main
point, and loses himself in a maze of petty details. He repeats
anecdotes going the rounds of taverns and wine-shops, speaks of
Robespierre's spies dogging the heels of the Committee, and quotes
his personal experience. The attention of the assembly begins to
flag. Robespierre feels this and, taking instant advantage of it,
tries to bring the Convention back to a sense of its dignity.
"What! can you give credence to such arrant nonsense?"
But Tallien has realised the danger, and rushing towards the tribune
cries--
"I demand a hearing! We are wandering from the main question!"
"Fear not! I shall return to it!" replies Robespierre, who has now
reached the semicircle, and tries to enter the tribune by another
stairway.
But several members standing on the steps push him back.
"No! we will have Tallien! Tallien!"
"After me!" cries Robespierre, still struggling.
"Tallien! Tallien has speech now!"
But Robespierre climbs up by the banister with the fury of a madman.
"Unjust, infamous judges! Will you then only listen to my enemies!"
The Incorruptible is answered by the one cry rising from a hundred
throats.
"Silence! Order! Order! Tallien! Tallien!"
Tallien is in the tribune.
"_Citoyens!_" he breaks out in a stentorian voice.
"Hold! Scoundrel!" shouts Robespierre, desperately.
"Have the madman arrested!" cries a voice in the crowd.
Robespierre still does his utmost to force a passage on the stairway.
"I will speak! I will be heard, wretches! I will speak!"
The uproar increases, aggravated by Robespierre's boisterous
pertinacity. The jingling of Thuriot's bell at last restores order,
though not without difficulty.
The opening words of Tallien's speech are already audible, amidst
enthusiastic cheers. Robespierre, held firmly by some of the
deputies, has ceased his struggles, and stands on the steps in an
indignant attitude, his features twitching convulsively, his eyes,
glaring in hatred, fixed on the new speaker who is preparing to hurl
at him another shower of insults.
"The masks are torn away!" cries Tallien.
"Bravo! Bravo!"
"It was the speech delivered yesterday in this very hall, and
repeated the same evening at the Jacobin Club, that brought us face
to face with this unmasked tyrant, this vaunted patriot, who at the
memorable epoch of the invasion of the Tuileries and the arrest of
the King, only emerged from his den three days after the fight..."
Sneers and hisses reach Robespierre, repeated up to the very steps of
the tribune, below which he stands.
"This honourable citizen, who poses before the Committee of Public
Safety as champion of the oppressed, goes home, and in the secrecy of
his own house draws up the death-lists which have stained the altar
of new-born Liberty with so much blood!"
Renewed cheers and cries of "Hear! hear!" rise from nearly every seat
in the hall.
"But his dark designs are unveiled!" continues Tallien. "We shall
crush the tyrant before he has succeeded in swelling the river of
blood with which France is already inundated. His long and
successful career of crime has made him forget his habitual prudence.
He has betrayed himself at the very moment of triumph, when nothing
is wanting to him but the name of king! ... I also was at the
Jacobins' yesterday, and I trembled for the Republic when I saw the
vast army that flocked to the standard of this new Cromwell. I
invoked the shade of Brutus, and if the Convention will not have
recourse to the sword of justice to crush this tyrant, I am armed
with a dagger that shall pierce his heart!"
Tallien makes a movement as if to rush on Robespierre dagger in hand;
but he is arrested by a burst of unanimous applause. A hundred
deputies have risen and are calling out: "Bravo, Tallien! Bravo!"
The orator, in an attitude of defiance, gazes steadily at
Robespierre, who, grasping convulsively at the railings of the
tribune, screams himself hoarse, challenging Tallien and the deputies
around, while they answer him with abuse, shaking their fists in his
face. It is a veritable Babel of cries, appeals, and insults. The
President, now upstanding, vainly tries to restore order with his
bell.
At last there is a lull, of which Robespierre attempts to take
advantage.
"Vile wretches!" he cries, "would you condemn me unheard?"
But he is answered by a telling home-thrust--
"It is your own Prairial law we are putting into force!"
And applause breaks out again louder than ever.
Robespierre, tired of struggling against the rough gang on the
stairway, descends to the centre of the semicircle, and addresses the
deputies of the Mountain.
"Give me a hearing! _citoyens_! I pray you give me speech!"
He was answered by an ominous cry--
"No! no! The arrest! To the votes for the arrest!"
To the votes! The arrest! Robespierre recoils in terror at the
fearful words. His looks travel to the deputies of the centre, those
of the Plain as they are called.
"It is to the Plain I address myself and not to these traitors!" he
exclaims.
But the Plain remains impassive.
Shouts are now heard from all sides, "The arrest! The arrest!"
Not a single voice mediates in his favour! Not one dares to defend
his cause! The crowd in the gallery have remained silent and unmoved
from the very outset of the stormy scene.
A cry of anguish rises to Robespierre's lips. "Villains! Wretches!"
he gasps.
But his voice is again drowned.
"You are the villain! To death with the tyrant! To death with him!
To the vote for his arrest! To the vote for his arrest!"
Robespierre, now completely exhausted, makes one supreme effort,
addressing himself to Thuriot, who is still vainly trying to restore
silence with his bell.
"President of assassins, for the last time I demand the right of
speech."
"No! No!" cry all the deputies.
"Then decree my murder...."
But his voice breaks, and the last word is lost in a hoarse cry.
"It is Danton's blood that chokes you!"
Robespierre, livid at the taunt, turns to the interrupter.
"Danton? It is he, then, you will avenge? Why did you not protect
him, cowards?"
Replies are hurled at him from every corner. Had he not gagged
Danton's defenders? Now they were going to avenge him! Now their
turn had come!
"Did you not hound him to his death, you curs?" shouts Robespierre,
with one last cry of rage.
But a pregnant remark falls on the assembly and hastens the end.
"It is hard work, indeed, to drag down a tyrant!"
There is no more hope for Robespierre.
This interruption recalls the Convention to the danger that threatens
them. The turmoil is re-doubled. Tallien, from the tribune, which
he has not yet quitted, demands of the president that the traitor's
arrest be put to the vote.
"To the vote! To the vote!" echoes through the Hall.
But suddenly an unexpected incident attracts general attention.
A deputy advances to the centre of the semi-circle: "I demand to
share my brother's fate, as I have striven to share his nobler deeds."
It is Augustin Robespierre, who had returned to Paris the day before,
and, acting on a generous impulse, thus offers the sacrifice of his
life, a sacrifice that is accepted out of hand.
"The arrest of the brothers Robespierre!"
"And mine!" calls out Lebas proudly, joining the two.
"And Saint-Just!" cries a voice.
"And Couthon!"
"To the vote! To the vote!"
The president has risen. He will put these arrests to the vote when
silence is restored.
"Silence for the voting! Silence!"
"Every one to his seat!"
The deputies take their respective places. Then in the deep and
awful silence which follows, under the strained gaze of the mob in
the gallery, the president speaks--
"_Citoyens_, I put to the vote, by standing and sitting, the arrest
of Maximilien Robespierre, of Augustin Robespierre, of Couthon, of
Saint-Just, and of Lebas. Let those who vote for these arrests stand
up."
A hundred deputies rise. They are those of the Mountain.
Seeing the men of the Plain remain motionless, a ray of hope cheers
Robespierre's despair.
Since the centre refuses to vote for his arrest, they must be,
surely, on his side.
"Oh, ye at least, righteous men of the Plain!" he pleads.
Those of the Plain start, draw themselves up, then silently and
spontaneously rise to a man! It is the death-blow! The whole
assembly are now standing. The arrests are unanimously voted.
Robespierre is lost. He totters, and nearly falls on a bench at the
foot of the tribune.
The president now officially announces the result of the voting
amidst deafening shouts of triumph. The ushers advance to arrest
Robespierre, but he rises, livid with rage, and thrusts them aside.
The President sees this.
"Robespierre refuses to obey! Ushers, call in the gendarmes!"
The whole assembly echo his words, and shout: "The gendarmes! Bring
in the gendarmes!"
The spectators in the gallery rise in their excitement and join in
the general clamour.
"_Vive la Liberté! Vive la Liberté!_"
Robespierre staggers under these crushing blows, and shrieks in his
despair--
"Liberty, indeed! She is no more! The triumph of those ruffians is
her death-knell!"
But the guards have entered. They surround the accused, and push
them towards the door. Robespierre walks with head erect, and folded
arms between two gendarmes. He does not even cast a glance on the
crowd who had hailed his entrance with loud cheers, and who now hiss
and hoot him. The public are descending and mix with the deputies.
The whole floor is crowded. The Convention-hall where a loud,
incessant buzzing is all that can be heard, resembles a gigantic
beehive, for no single voice is distinguishable in the tempestuous
clamour that follows that solemn act at last accomplished.
A cry rises above the universal hum: "Long live the Convention!" but
is instantaneously succeeded by another more mighty and prevailing
shout: "Long live the Republic!"
Meanwhile the accused have disappeared.