Aware that every minute was precious, and that the least delay might frustrate the great object he had in view, Marceau prepared to leave the trembling girl who still clung to him for support, yet feared to tell her that he must go. She read his thoughts, and, throwing herself before him, clasped his knees convulsively, crying wildly, "Oh, Marceau! do not leave me! for God's sake, do not leave me in this terrible place! What will become of me if they come to drag me hence, when thou art not here to defend me? Imagine thy Blanche, thy bride, on the scaffold, and thou far away, unable to hear her calling on thy name for help, unable to raise an arm in her defence! Oh, my God! what will become of me?" "Blanche, I am certain of saving thee: I will answer for it with my life. Ere to morrow evening I shall be here with thy pardon. They will not-dare not-condemn you before that time; and then we will think no more of dungeons and death, but of life and liberty, happiness and love."

The door opened, and the jailor entered to conduct Marceau from the prison. Gently disengaging himself from Blanche, who had thrown her arms round him, he imprinted one long kiss on her fair brow, and without trusting his voice to utter another word he tore himself away. In less than a quarter of an hour the General was on his road to Paris. His known wealth and high rank were sufficient to procure for him instant attention at every place on his route, and he easily obtained promises that horses should be ready for him the next day, in order that no obstacle might delay his return. At a very late hour his carriage entered the city, and proceeding up the "Rue St. Honoré," he stopped at the door of No. 366, and demanded to see the citizen Robespierre. "He is not yet returned from the Theatre de la Nation,' was the reply of the attendant. "Well, then, I will seek him there; if I am unsuccessful, I will return and wait for him here." "And your name, Sir?" "The citizen General Marceau." Cursing in his heart the volatility of his nation, which even at such a time had not lost its relish for amusements, Marceau bent his steps towards the theatre, and was fortunate enough to meet with the object of his search immediately as he ertered the corridor. On introducing himself by name, Robespierre extended his hand to the young General, and, with a smile, asked what he would demand of him. "An interview of a few minutes," said Marceau. "And when ?" "This instant," was the reply. Wrapping his large mantle around him, Robespierre made him a sign to follow, and rapidly led the way towards his own residence,

himself calm and indifferent, his companion anxious, restless, and agitated.

"This, then, was the man who held in his hands the fate of Blanche; the man of whom he had heard so much, and whose popularity appeared a problem. He had employed none of the means made use of by his predecessors to raise himself to his present distinction; he had neither the captivating eloquence of Mirabeau, nor the plausible sophistry of Barrère, nor the wild impetuosity of Danton, nor the loose eloquence of Hébert. In the midst of the universal disregard of language and dress which prevailed, he had preserved his pointed and studied expressions and elegance of costume. In fact, while the others had laboured to embody themselves with the mob, his constant endeavour had been to make them feel his superiority; and one saw at a glance that this singular man must be the idol or victim of the multitude. He was both.

Arrived at their destination, Robespierre led the way up a narrow staircase to a small room on the third floor. A bust of Rousseau, a table covered with books and papers, a secretaire, and a few chairs, formed the whole furniture of the apartment. Robespierre saw the surprise of the young General as he threw open the door, and said with a smile, “Behold the palace of César! What have you to ask of the dictator?" "The pardon of my wife, condemned by Carrier," replied Marceau, gravely. "Thy wife? Condemned by Carrier? The wife of Marceau-of a republican officer-of my brave Spartan soldier-condemned? Impossible !" "It is nevertheless true;" and Marceau proceeded to explain the facts with which the reader has been already made acquainted. During the recital, Robespierre was evidently uneasy, but spoke not a word until Marceau had finished. Then, in a voice stifled with rage, he muttered, "This is how I am always misunderstood, in every place where my eye is not there to see, and my hand to stop, this useless carnage. Much blood must necessarily yet be spilt; still, this indiscriminate slaughter, this-." "But, Robespierre, her pardon-my wife's pardon." Taking a sheet of paper, Robespierre prepared to write, but paused a moment to enquire her maiden name. "Why do you ask?" said Marceau evasively. "It is necessary to constitute her identity." In a low voice, but firmly and distinctly, Marceau replied, "Blanche de Beaulieu." The pen fell from the hand of Robespierre. "What!" he exclaimed, "the daughter of the Marquis de Beaulieu, the chief of the insurgents in La Vendée ?" "The same." "And how, then, became she thy

wife?" Marceau briefly explained. "Madman! young fool that thou art!" cried Robespierre furiously, "shouldest thou-." Marceau interrupted him: "I do not ask reproaches nor advice, Robespierre; I ask only her pardon. Will you grant it me?" "Marceau, will the tie of relationship, the influence of love, never induce you to betray the republic ?" "Never!" "If thou shouldest meet the Marquis de Beaulieu himself in battle, face to face ?" "I will fight him as I have done before." "And if he should fall into thy hands?" Marceau reflected an instant, and then replied, "I will bring him here, and yourself shall be his judge." "You swear this?" "On my honour." Robespierre again took up the pen. "Marceau," said he, "you have acquired, and deservedly, a high reputation; you have been fortunate enough to gain the goodwill of men. I have long and anxiously desired to know you." Perceiving the General's impatience, he wrote a few letters, then paused again. "Listen," he said, looking fixedly at Marceau; "grant me, in my turn, a hearing of five minutes. I give you a whole life for them; surely they are well paid." Marceau made a sign for him to proceed, and Robespierre continued." "I know I have been calumniated to you and by you, Marceau, and nevertheless you are one of the few men by whom I would wish to be known and understood; for what does the opinion of those whose judgment I scorn avail me? During the last three years three factions have, in their turn, agitated the destinies of France; the power of each was delegated to a single man, and each has accomplished the mission with which it was charged. The "Constituante," represented by Mirabeau, shook the throne; the "Legislative," headed by Danton, has overthrown it. The task of the present convention is immense; for it must not only finish the work of destruction, but remodel and rebuild the structure: and this glorious task it is my ambition to accomplish. If the Supreme Being but grants me time to perform it, my name will be above every name: I shall have done for my countrymen more than Lycurgus among the Greeks, Numa among the Romans, or Washington in America. If I fall before the time, having accomplished but half my work, I leave a stain upon my name which the other half would have effaced. The revolution will fall with me, and both be alike calumniated. This is what I desired to say to thee, Marceau; for I would wish, in all cases, by some few, at least, to have been understood, that all should not look on my memory with equal horror and detestation: and thou art one of them."

These, and such as these, were the arguments continually em

ployed by this extraordinary and dangerous man, to exonerate his actions in the eyes of himself and his followers: and herein lay the chief secret of his popularity. He had discrimination enough to discover, and tact to make use of, such professions as were calculated to deceive and propitiate his hearers; and he never lost an opportunity of so doing. His arguments were always full of specious phrases, though destitute of convincing reasons. But it was only in coolly reconsidering them that those whom he addressed felt this; and he rarely failed to propitiate them, for the time at least, in his favour.

As he finished speaking, Robespierre affixed his name to the paper, and (with a smile such as he well knew how and when to assume) held it towards the young General. Marceau took the precious document, and warmly pressed the hand which gave it. He would have poured forth the thanks which rose to his lips, ut tears choked his utterance, and he could not articulate a word. Robespierre was the first who broke silence. "You must be going," he said, "there is not a moment to lose. Adieu!" Marceau once more pressed his hand; then flew down the stairs, and rushed into the street. His carriage was awaiting him with fresh horses; and putting gold into the postillion's hand, he exhorted him to use all the expedition in his power, and flung himself back on the seat. What a terrible load seemed removed from his heart! What happiness awaited him! What a calm felicity would succeed the stormy troubles which had so lately surrounded him! His imagination pierced into the future, and he pictured to himself the moment when he would throw open the door of that dark cell, and cry, "Blanche, you are free! I have saved you! Come, my Blanche, and by your love repay me the debt of life!" From time to time, however, a vague misgiving crossed his mind, and a cold shudder crept over him. Then he urges the postilions to redouble their speed; promises them gold, rewards beyond their utmost expectations. The horses tear along, striking incessant sparks of fire from their hoofs; and yet to his excited imagination they scarcely advance. No delays await him. Changes of horses are ready at every stage. Every thing seems to partake of the agitation which torments him. In a few hours he has left far behind Versailles, Chartres, Le Mans, La Fleche. He approaches Angers, when, all on a sudden, he experiences a violent and terrible shock. His carriage is upset, with a tremendous crash. Wounded and bleeding, he springs up; severing the traces with his sword, he leaps on the back of one of the horses, and continues his rapid course with more

impetuosity than before.

Angers, Varades, Ancenis are passed, his horse covered with foam, stained with the blood which still trickled from his own wounds.

At length the city of Nantes was dimly seen in the distance. Nantes, which contained his life, his soul, his whole existence. He encourages the wearied animal, which seems to understand his frantic exclamations, so well did it perform its arduous task. He enters the town-he is at the gates of the prison-his horse sinks under him!-what matter?—he is arrived! 66 'Blanche, Blanche!" was the only word he could utter. "Two carts have this instant left the gates for the place of execution," replied the porter, "she is in the first." Marceau stood to hear no more. A terrible curse broke from his lips as, rushing wildly through the streets, he forced his way through the crowd, waving the paper over his head, and crying "Pardon, pardon!" He passed the hindermost cart. A well-known voice exhorted him to increase his speed. It was Tinguy who addressed him. In another minute he arrived in face of the scaffold. The executioner was holding aloft, by the long fair hair, the head of a beautiful girl! A fearful cry of rage and despair, in which all the strength of human passion seemed blended, rang through the ears of the astonished multitude. Marceau recognized the features of Blanche de Beaulieu !

E.

OBSERVATIONS

ON THE SPECIES OF ZANNICHELLIA.

BY AD. STEINHEIL.*

WHEN Micheli established his genus Zannichellia, he made known two species of it which were found in the environs of Florence, and gave of each an excellent figure for that time. Linnæus adopted the genus of Micheli, but united the two species which that author had distinguished, and admitted only one species, under the name of Z.

• Translated from the Annales des Sciences Naturelles, vol. 9, p. 87, by W. A. LEIGHTON, B.A. F.B.S.E. &c.