ACT III

[_Tuesday, July 14th. The Interior Court of the Bastille. To the left are seen the bases of two enormous towers the tops of which are invisible. Between them are thick masses of wall, rising up like mountains of stone. Opposite is the gate and the draw-bridge leading to the Government Court. To the right, a one-story structure standing against the walls of the other towers. As the curtain rises, the Pensioner_ BÉQUART _and his companions are stationed in the Court, with three cannon._ VINTIMILLE, _commander of the Pensioners, is seated, bored and indifferent. Swiss Guards enter now and then from the draw-bridge with news of the revolt, which is now heard outside the other gate leading to the Government Court. The rattle of muskets, cries, and the beating of drums are heard without. Occasional smoke clouds rise above the walls._]

DE LAUNEY [_Governor of the Bastille, enters from the other court, nervous and agitated_]. Well, Monsieur de Vintimille, you see? They are attacking!

VINTIMILLE [_with a touch of irony and weariness_]. Well, Monsieur de Launey, let them attack. What is it to us? Unless they have wings, like the Messieurs Montgolfier, I defy them to make their way in.

THE PENSIONERS [_among themselves_]. Good God!

BÉQUART. Poor devils, they'll be ground to bits! Not one will be left living. Those damned Swiss keep firing on them. It's wrong to shoot down defenseless people like that! Especially when you are in a fort behind good solid walls.

A PENSIONER. Tell me, why are they attacking us?

BÉQUART. Can't tell what's come over them at all. Not like it used to be. Don't understand. They're all mad, this last month especially. Well, anyway, it's too bad to treat them like that. They're not bad. They're people like us.

PENSIONER. Well, it's the order. So much the worse. They had no business doing it.

BÉQUART. Of course. And it's fine to hear that music! I never thought I'd live to see another battle.

DE FLUE [_Commander of the Swiss Guards, entering from the other court_]. Monsieur le Gouverneur, will you please burn the houses in the neighborhood? They can shoot into the court from the roofs.

DE LAUNEY. No, I can't burn private property. I have no right.

DE FLUE. War without incendiarism is like eel without mustard. Very good of you to have these scruples! But when you make war, you must stop at nothing, or else never begin.

DE LAUNEY. What do you think, Monsieur de Vintimille?

VINTIMILLE [_with a shrug_]. It makes no difference to me. Do as you like. They'll never come in here. But if you care to profit by the occasion to clean out the quarter, together with those idiots who meet there, don't hesitate. Do as you like; it's a matter of no importance.

DE LAUNEY. Let us wait; there is no immediate hurry. We have plenty of men and ammunition; we are not yet reduced to extremes. Are we, old Béquart?

BÉQUART. We're safe till the Last Judgment, Monsieur le Gouverneur. I served under Monsieur de Chevert at Prague forty-seven years ago. The Marshal de Belle-Isle stationed us there. We were a handful in the enemy's country; we were short of everything, and even the city was against us. They could never have dislodged us. And here we have only a rabble of women and shopkeepers, with solid walls between us, and the troops of the Champ de Mars and Sèvres only a step away. We can smoke our pipes and sit with crossed legs.

DE FLUE. The moment you think you're quiet, these frogs of Parisians fly at your throat. Throw a few stones at them, and you'll see them jump back in their pond soon enough.

DE LAUNEY. Don't anger them too much.

DE FLUE. Give the rascals an inch and they'll take a mile. Hang the vagabond, or he will hang you.

BÉQUART. They're only poor devils, Monsieur de Flue. You mustn't be too hard on them. They really don't realize what they are doing.

DE FLUE. God, if they don't, I do! And that's enough.

DE LAUNEY. You are thinking only of the success of your battle, Monsieur de Flue. It's another matter for me: I must think of the consequences. The responsibility is on my shoulders. How do I know what will please or displease the Court. How do I know what it wishes me to do?

DE FLUE. Do you not know an enemy of the King when you see him? Are we not here by order of His Majesty? If we are attacked, is it not His Majesty who is attacked?

DE LAUNEY. No one can be quite sure; His Majesty is never quite sure himself. His enemies one day are his friends the next. I have either no orders at all, or else they are contradictory. Some tell me to resist to the end; others tell me not to fire. Provost Flesselles confided to me that he is with me and that he is deceiving the people. He tells the people he is with them and is betraying me. Whom is he betraying? How can I be assured I am not displeasing the Court while I serve it, and know that it is not laying the blame on me? If it wishes to do something, has it not a thousand ways of doing so? Why does not Monsieur de Breteuil, with his Champ de Mars troops, attack these insurrectionists from the rear?

DE FLUE. Wonderful! What a time they would have!

VINTIMILLE [_to_ DE LAUNEY]. My dear fellow, yours be the victory! You are always right. [_He goes to a corner and sits in the shadow_.]

BÉQUART [_who brings him a chair_]. Monseigneur, you are never quite your old sprightly self on days of battle.

VINTIMILLE. They weary me with their continual discussions. [_Pointing to_ DE LAUNEY.] He never knows what he wants; he must always consult every one, and get every one into embarrassing predicaments. What am I doing with such a vacillating person? They've given me a nasty task. There's no honor or pleasure to be derived from these squabbles. It's the business of the police to put down the people!

BÉQUART. It's not very pleasant to have to fire on the poor devils.

VINTIMILLE. You're becoming sentimental! Well, it's the fashion of the day, I suppose. Listen to the skunks out there! Disgusting. What do they want?

BÉQUART. Bread.

VINTIMILLE. Do they imagine the Bastille is a bakery? There they go again! They _are_ in earnest. They seem most anxious to live. I wonder what interest they have in life? Their only pleasures are sour wine and unwashed women!

BÉQUART. You know, Monseigneur, that no matter how little one has to live for, one always clings to life.

VINTIMILLE. Oh, really? Speak for yourself!

BÉQUART. Oh, but you have everything to be desired.

VINTIMILLE. Do you envy me? Nothing in it, my boy.

BÉQUART. Nothing in it?

VINTIMILLE. Does that surprise you? You couldn't understand. Nothing! It is just the July sun--it makes me pessimistic.

A Swiss GUARD [_entering from the other court--to_ DE LAUNEY]. Monseigneur, they are firing from the neighboring houses. Some of them are perched on the roofs.

DE FLUE. Well, knock them off. It's only child's play for marksmen like you. [_Outside,_ HOCHE _is heard singing the refrain of the song sung in the Second Act_]:

"Oh, come, thou God of Liberty, And fill our souls this day--"

Swiss GUARDS [_outside_]. Forward! To the Governor!

DE FLUE. What's the trouble?

Swiss GUARDS [_entering from the exterior court, driving in_ HOCHE, _with_ JULIE _ on his shoulders_.] Commander, we caught this--just as he was jumping over the outer wall.

HOCHE [_setting_ JULIE _on the ground_]. There you are! And here we are! I told you you would be the first to enter!

JULIE [_joining her hands ecstatically_]. The Bastille!

VINTIMILLE. I don't see the joke? [_They form a circle about the newcomers_.]

HOCHE [_quietly_]. Commander, we are envoys. [_The Soldiers laugh._]

DE LAUNEY. Strange envoys!

HOCHE. We have no choice. We've been signaling to you, but you refused to see us. We jumped over the wall; that was the only way to reach you.

JULIE [_going to the Swiss Guards_]. Here they are!

Swiss GUARDS. What do you want, little brat?

JULIE. Are you the prisoners?

Swiss GUARDS [_laughing_]. Prisoners? No, we guard the prisoners.

HOCHE. You are not so very much mistaken. They, too, are prisoners, and more to be pitied than the others. They have lost even the desire for liberty.

DE LAUNEY. Who is this child?

HOCHE. Our good genius. She begged me to take her with me. I carried her on my back.

VINTIMILLE. Are you out of your head to expose the child to such danger?

HOCHE. Why should she not share our risks? She is sure to die if we die. Don't pretend to pity her; your cannon have no such scruples.

VINTIMILLE [_with his accustomed coldness and irony_]. A soldier! A petty officer who has deserted! So this is the envoy they send us? Capital! Well, shoot him. That will end his mission.

DE LAUNEY. One moment. It might be well to find out what they want.

VINTIMILLE. They have nothing to ask for.

DE FLUE. You don't parley with insurrectionists.

DE LAUNEY. Well, let us see: it costs nothing.

VINTIMILLE. Ridiculous. If we allowed them to discuss matters we might seem to be accepting them as equals.

DE LAUNEY. What shameless aberration led you to accept this mission?

HOCHE. The idea of serving both my friends and you.

VINTIMILLE. Do you realize what you have done? Do you know what a traitor is?

HOCHE. Yes, Monseigneur. He who takes up arms against his people.

VINTIMILLE [_turns his back with a shrug_]. Fool!

HOCHE. I beg your pardon, I did not intend to insult you. On the contrary, I come as a friend. I was told I would be shot. Possibly I shall, but really I should be surprised. I have come to try to help you to arrange matters. But if I am shot, well, you know the proverbs "A fine death compensates for a whole life."

DE LAUNEY. What is your message?

HOCHE [_presenting a letter_]. From the Permanent Committee of the Hôtel de Ville. [DE LAUNEY _takes the letter, stands to one side, with two officers, reading it. The Pensioners hold_ JULIE _on their knees._]

BÉQUART. Why did you take it into your head to come, little one? Do you know some one here?

JULIE. I know a great many.

BÉQUART. Where?

JULIE. In the prison.

BÉQUART. You have nice acquaintances! Who? Relatives?

JULIE. No.

BÉQUART. What are their names?

JULIE. I don't know.

BÉQUART. You don't know? What do they look like?

JULIE. I couldn't say.

BÉQUART. Are you making fun of us?

JULIE. No, no, I know them very well: I've seen them. Only, I can't say--

BÉQUART. Tell us.

JULIE. Mamma lives in the Rue Saint-Antoine, near here. The carriages that go to the prison pass our house at night. I get up and see them--I see nearly all. But sometimes I miss them, and when I wake up, they've already passed.

BÉQUART. Why did you want to see them?

JULIE. Because they suffer.

BÉQUART. It's not very pleasant to see people who suffer. Why do you want to see them?

JULIE [_naively_]. Because it makes me sad.

A PENSIONER [_laughing_]. There's a reason for you!

BÉQUART. Shut up! You fool!

THE PENSIONER [_angry at first_]. Fool? [_He reflects a moment, scratching his head._] True, though!

JULIE [_who sits down and plays with a cannon_]. You're not going to fire on us, are you? [_They do not answer._] Tell me you won't. Please. I like you. You must like me.

BÉQUART [_hissing her_]. Good little thing!

DE LAUNEY [_shrugs his shoulders, after reading the letter_]. This is unheard-of! Messieurs, this strange message which has been delivered to me by some committee of tramps--this--this Permanent Committee, asks me to divide the guard of the Bastille between the rest of our own troops and the people! [_The Soldiers laugh, the officers rage._]

VINTIMILLE. Charming proposal!

HOCHE [_to_ DE LAUNEY]. Listen to me, Monseigneur. You can prevent the carnage. We hold nothing against you personally, but against this mass of stone, which has for centuries weighed heavy on the people of Paris. Blind power is no less shameful to those who impose it than for those against whom it is directed. It is disgusting to every one who reasons. You who are more intelligent than we, ought to feel that and suffer more than we. Help us, do not fight against us. Reason, for which we are fighting, is as much your own as ours. Give up this prison of your own accord; don't force us to capture it.

VINTIMILLE. There he is spouting about reason and conscience. These Rousseau monkeys. [_To_ DE FLUE.] My compliments! You made us a pretty present!

DE FLUE. What present?

VINTIMILLE. Your Jean-Jacques. You might at least have kept him in Switzerland.

DE FLUE. We would have been glad to dispense with him ourselves.

DE LAUNEY [_to_ HOCHE]. You are crazy. Did you ever hear of the stronger relinquishing their arms, from sheer good-heartedness, to the weaker?

HOCHE. You are not the stronger.

DE LAUNEY. Do you think these brave men, these twenty cannon, twenty chests of bullets, and thousands of rounds of ammunition, are nothing?

HOCHE. You may kill a few hundred men. But what will that avail you? They will return thousands strong.

DE LAUNEY. We shall be re-inforced.

HOCHE. You will not be re-inforced. You might have been, but you were not. A king cannot murder his people; it would be not only murder but suicide. I tell you, you will be overcome. You display your artillery; you are used to the old-fashioned warfare, but you do not know the way we fight. You do not know what a freed nation is. War is only a game for you, because your hearts are not in it. Since Malplaquet, no one has taken an interest in the _Patrie._ You were friends of the enemy you fought, and were glad of the success of the King of Prussia. Victory is not a necessity for you. But we have no choice: we must conquer. [_To the Pensioners_.] Comrades, I know you well, and I respect you; you are fine old fellows. But when you fought, you were merely obeying orders; you do not know what it means to fight for yourself. [_To_ BÉQUART.] You yourself, Father Béquart--we all love you and admire your bravery--when you were at Prague, shut up with the enemy, you only defended your skin. We are fighting for our souls, and the souls of our sons and all the rest who will come after us. Do you hear the crowd outside? They are only a small part of our forces. Millions, all mankind to come, fight in our ranks, and make up that formidable and invisible mass which wins battles.

DE FLUE. You make me tired. We'll sweep those invisible masses off the earth with a few cannon-shots.

HOCHE. Do not fire. If you do, you are lost. A people is not a regular army; you can't let it loose without dire consequences.

VINTIMILLE [_to himself, as he looks at_ HOCHE]. Strange men! How came our France to breed such creatures? They are Germans. Germans? No. I have known Prussians more French than this one. Who has wrought this change?

HOCHE. Remember, there is still chance for coming to an understanding; in a short while, that chance will be lost. The moment you draw blood, it will be too late.

DE FLUE. You had better give this advice to your friends.

HOCHE [_with a shrug, to_ JULIE]. Come, little pigeon, they refuse your olive branch. [_He takes_ JULIE _on his shoulder_.]

DE LAUNEY [_to_ HOCHE]. Nothing can conquer the Bastille. It may be surrendered, but never taken.

HOCHE. It will be surrendered.

DE LAUNEY. And who will surrender it?

HOCHE. Your evil conscience! [HOCHE _goes out with_ JULIE, _amid a general silence. No one thinks of stopping him._]

VINTIMILLE [_reflectively_]. Our evil conscience!

DE LAUNEY [_suddenly_]. Well! Why did we let him go?

DE FLUE. He is still in the court.

DE LAUNEY. Run after him and stop him!

BÉQUART. Monseigneur, it is impossible.

THE PENSIONERS [_grunting assent_]. He's an envoy.

DE LAUNEY. Impossible, you rascal! Envoy from whom?

BÉQUART [_gravely_]. The people.

DE FLUE [_to the Swiss Guards_]. Arrest him!

BÉQUART _and the_ PENSIONERS [_to the Swiss Guards_]. No, comrades, not that! Don't arrest him!

A Swiss GUARD [_trying to_ pass]. That was the command.

BÉQUART _and the_ PENSIONERS. Don't you dare go, or you'll have us to deal with!

VINTIMILLE [_watching them, aside_]. Ah, ha! [_Aloud._] Good! [_To_ DE LAUNEY.] Don't insist.

A Swiss GUARD [_entering from the exterior court, to_ DE LAUNEY]. Monseigneur, there is an immense crowd coming out of the Rue Saint-Antoine. They have taken the Invalides, and are dragging along twenty cannon.

DE FLUE. The devil! But we must decide now, or everything will be spoiled. Let us rout the band, or they will defeat us. [_Great clouds of smoke roll up above the outer walls._]

DE LAUNEY. What is that smoke?

A Swiss GUARD. They've fired the outlying buildings.

DE LAUNEY. Scoundrels! So they want a pitiless warfare? They shall have it.

DE FLUE. Shall we fire?

DE LAUNEY. Wait--

DE FLUE. For what, in the name of God?

DE LAUNEY [_with a questioning look at_ VINTIMILLE]. Monsieur de Vintimille.

VINTIMILLE [_rather scornfully_]. I told you what I thought. Do as you like. One word of advice: whatever you decide on, don't change it.

DE LAUNEY. You have a free hand, Monsieur de Flue. Give it to them! [DE LAUNEY, DE FLUE, _and the Swiss Guards go out into the other court._]

VINTIMILLE [_meditates with an ironical smile. A few steps from him, the Pensioners are guarding the cannon._] Our evil conscience! The corporal thinks he has a right to a conscience! He's richer than I. Conscience! It is neither good nor bad. It simply does not exist. Honor, yes. Honor? Under the late King, honor consisted in scheming for him to take one's wife or sister--provided they were presentable--for a mistress, or else in marrying the titled courtesan--honor! And now to have it barked at by this brothel-whelp. Let us not trouble honor. Really, I don't know why I am fighting here. Loyalty? Fidelity to the King? We are too used to clear thinking to be deceived by empty phrases. I have not believed in the King for many a long year. Well, then? [_He shrugs his shoulders._] Habit, manners, fashion? We know we are wrong, we do not believe in what we are doing, and yet we must go through it to the end and behave correctly, elegantly, in order to conceal the utter uselessness of our existence. [_Great confusion outside. The Swiss Guards suddenly rush back with_ DE FLUE _and_ DE LAUNEY _from the exterior court._]

THE SWISS GUARDS. They are coming!

VINTIMILLE. What! Who are coming? The people? Impossible!

DE FLUE [_without troubling to answer_]. Quick! Up with the draw-bridge! God Almighty!

DE LAUNEY. To the cannon! [_The Swiss Guards quickly raise the draw-bridge. The Pensioners roll the cannon into place opposite the gate. Immediately after, the Crowd is heard shouting and muttering like an angry sea, just outside._]

VINTIMILLE [_stupefied_]. Are they in! Really?

DE FLUE [_puffing_]. Just in time! The damned rascals! [_To_ VINTIMILLE.] Would you believe they could have torn down the outer draw-bridge? You know the perfumer's house next to the outer gate? I told you, we ought to have burned all those houses! There were three or four of them on the roof--carpenters, masons--well, they scaled that wall like monkeys and got to the roof of the guard-house. No one was watching the place. They got to the gate, broke the chains, and the bridge fell right into the midst of the crowd, knocking a dozen of them flat. You should have seen them scramble and shout! The nasty scoundrels! [_The confusion among soldiers and officers has up to the present concealed a group of Swiss Guards some distance away, who bring in a woman prisoner_.]

Swiss GUARDS [_with_ LA CONTAT _in their midst._] We've made a good capture.

VINTIMILLE [_bowing_]. Why, it's you, Contat? You come to the rendezvous, I see! A silver helmet over your blonde hair, musket in hand; why, you look like the goddess of Liberty herself. So you were curious to come and see for yourself? You will be safe here, and may look around without danger. [_He extends his hand to her, but she hesitates to take it._] You won't shake hands? We were good friends not very long ago. Are we not still? [_She decides to shake hands._] Well, what's the matter? You look at me with those great eyes of yours, and you don't say a word? Are you afraid?

LA CONTAT. I--I beg your pardon. I hardly know where I am, and I am not sure whether to consider you as a friend or an enemy.

VINTIMILLE. An enemy? But why? Really, were you fighting us?

LA CONTAT. You know, it's not in my character to be a spectator; I must always play important parts. [_She shows her musket, which a Pensioner takes from her at a sign from_ VINTIMILLE.]

VINTIMILLE. You were tired of playing comedy, and you decided to turn to drama. But do you realize, my dear, that your little escapade has put you in danger of spending a few months in Fort-l'Evêque?

LA CONTAT. I risked far more than that.

VINTIMILLE. But you were not in earnest, Contat? You one of these brawlers? [_He scrutinizes her from head to foot._] No rouge, no beauty-spots. Your hands black--face streaming with perspiration--your hair wet, sticking to your cheeks. You're breathing hard. Muddy to the knees! Covered with filth and powder! What's happened to you? Why, I know you well, and I am sure you never liked that filthy rabble any more than I.

LA CONTAT. No, I didn't.

VINTIMILLE. A love-affair, then? Is he in that crowd?

LA CONTAT. I thought it was that at first. But there is something else.

VINTIMILLE. What?

LA CONTAT. I do not know. I couldn't tell you exactly why I am fighting: but I felt it not long ago, I was ready to cut your throat.

VINTIMILLE [_laughing_]. You always liked to exaggerate.

LA CONTAT. I am not joking now.

VINTIMILLE. But, Contat, you are a woman of sense; you don't do things without a reason?

LA CONTAT. I have a reason, but I can't explain it now. A few moments ago it was so powerful, so clear to me. The feelings of those people thrill me, like the roll of thunder. Now that I am separated from them, I don't know, I don't know what--

VINTIMILLE. You were mad. Confess it.

LA CONTAT. No, no: I am sure they are right.

VINTIMILLE. Right to rebel against the King, kill people, and die for a nothing?

LA CONTAT. They are not dying for nothing.

VINTIMILLE. No, of course not: for Monsieur d'Orléans' écus!

LA CONTAT. My dear, you're the same as ever: you always minimize one's motives.

VINTIMILLE. Money is not a small motive to vagabonds who have none. Can you give me a better motive?

LA CONTAT. Liberty.

VINTIMILLE. What is that?

LA CONTAT. I don't like your ironical smile. When you look at me that way, I don't know what to say. Even if I did, I shouldn't say it. It would be useless: you could never understand. You may at least listen, and watch.

THE PEOPLE [_outside_]. We want the Bastille!

VINTIMILLE [_coldly_]. Yes, it's curious, very curious.

DE LAUNEY [_in consternation_]. What the devil is urging those idiots on?

THE PENSIONERS [_looking with mingled interest and sympathy through the loop-holes in the gate_]. Women --Priests!--Bourgeois!--Soldiers!--There, there's that little girl on Hulin's shoulders.--She's kicking her feet like a little devil!

DE FLUE [_talking to the Swiss Guards_], Good. They're caught in a trap now, between the walls. We can get at them from the towers.

DE LAUNEY. Clear the court! Smash them! [DE FLUE _and the Guards run into the Bastille through the gate leading to the towers._]

BÉQUART _and the_ PENSIONERS [_murmuring_]. It's going to be a butchery!--They're hardly armed. And those children--!

THE PEOPLE. We want the Bastille! [LA CONTAT _and_ VINTIMILLE _have not followed_ DE FLUE'S _and_ DE LAUNEY'S _conversation._ LA CONTAT'S _attention is wholly occupied with the People, as she listens to their shouting._]

LA CONTAT [_shouting to the people outside_]. Courage! I am the first to take it! [_The beat of drums is now heard._]

BÉQUART _and the_ PENSIONERS [_looking out_]. They want to parley again: they're waving handkerchiefs, signaling to us.

VINTIMILLE [_also looking out_]. The Attorney is leading them.

DE LAUNEY. Let's see what they want.

VINTIMILLE. Cease firing! [_The Pensioners throw down their muskets. The drums are heard heating near the moat._ VINTIMILLE _and some of the Pensioners go up to the right of the gate toward an opening in the wall from which they can overlook the assailants._ VINTIMILLE _addresses the people._] What do you want? [_At the same moment a volley is fired from the upper part of the towers._ VINTIMILLE _turns._] What the devil are they doing?

THE PENSIONERS _and_ DE LAUNEY [_astonished_]. The Swiss Guards are firing!--Stop them! Stop them! [_Some run to the tower gate and disappear._]

VINTIMILLE [_having descended again into the court_]. Too late! Pretty piece of work they've done! Listen to those cries! They aimed well. They think we fired from a secret hiding-place. [_The People howl with rage._ VINTIMILLE _turns and sees_ LA CONTAT, _who has come up behind him and looks at him with hatred in her eyes._] What's the trouble, Contat? [_She does not answer, but suddenly seizes_ VINTIMILLE'S _sword, snatches it from the scabbard, and attempts to stab him. The Pensioners seize her hands and hold her in spite of her heroic struggle to free herself._] So you wanted to kill me! [LA CONTAT _nods. She keeps her eyes fixed on him, and to the end of scene cannot utter a word, but trembles convulsively, panting like a beast._] You aren't sane. What's happened? I have done nothing to you. You know they acted contrary to orders. You yourself saw--Don't you recognize me, Contat? [_She nods_.] Do you really hate me? [_She nods as before_.] Speak to me? Won't you say a word? [_He attempts to touch her, but she pulls back, and struggles again with the soldiers, who hold her hands. She then falls back in a sort of epileptic fit, screaming and moaning. They carry her off. Her cries are still heard. Outside, the People are screaming_.]

DE LAUNEY [_in consternation_]. She's like a wild animal. You would not recognize her.

VINTIMILLE. She is not herself. Something strange and new is in her: the poison of that mob. It's too disgusting. I can't understand it. It's like a wind of bestiality blown from the monstrous part of humanity. [_The Swiss Guards descend from the towers with_ DE FLUE.]

DE LAUNEY [_very much excited, goes to meet_ DE FLUE]. What have you done? What have you done?

DE FLUE [_fuming_]. By God, I did what you told me to do! You ordered me to smash them, and I have smashed them. It seems you've changed your mind, and you want peace. What the devil do you want me to do?

DE LAUNEY. We're lost now.

DE FLUE. Lost? [_He shrugs his shoulders, and motions to his Guards to roll the cannon into position_.]

BÉQUART _and the_ PENSIONERS. What are you doing?

THE SWISS GUARDS. Three volleys and the court will be empty.

BÉQUART _and the_ PENSIONERS. You're not going to fire?

THE SWISS GUARDS. Why not?

BÉQUART. Into the mob? It would be nothing but massacre!

THE SWISS GUARDS. What's that to us?

BÉQUART. They are our relatives, Frenchmen like the rest of us. Put that cannon back, and don't dare fire.

THE SWISS GUARDS. Get out of our way. Let us pass! [_They knock_ BÉQUART _out of the way._]

THE PENSIONERS. Damned Germans! [_They cross bayonets_.]

THE SWISS GUARDS. Knock them down! These battered scarecrows! They can't frighten us!

BÉQUART. If you advance, I'll fire. [_He takes aim._ VINTIMILLE _and_ DE FLUE _stand between them._]

DE FLUE. Down with your weapons! Down, by God! [_He beats them with his cane._]

VINTIMILLE. Snarling dogs!

DE LAUNEY [_at his wits' end_]. They too are in revolt! They won't fight now! All is lost! [_He rushes toward the citadel and tries to enter._]

VINTIMILLE [_stopping him_]. Where are you going?

DE LAUNEY [_in desperation_]. To die! But they will die with us!

VINTIMILLE. What are you going to do?

DE LAUNEY. To the basements! Tons of powder! Set it off!

THE PENSIONERS. Don't do that!

DE LAUNEY. I will!

VINTIMILLE. And blow up a large part of Paris? What heroism! It's too ridiculous. You really couldn't do that unless you believed in something! Ridiculous to do it for no reason at all. You mustn't upset the table just because you lose.

DE LAUNEY. But what can I do?

THE PENSIONERS. Surrender.

DE LAUNEY. Never! The King confided the Bastille to me. I shall never surrender! [_He again tries to go, but the Pensioners seize him._]

THE PENSIONERS [_to_ VINTIMILLE]. Monseigneur, you command us!

VINTIMILLE [_coldly_]. Monsieur le Gouverneur is not well. Conduct him to his apartments, and take care of him.

DE LAUNEY [_struggling_]. Traitors! Cowards! [_They carry him off._]

VINTIMILLE [_aside_]. I was an idiot to get dragged into this! Nothing to do now. I must draw my next card with equanimity. [_Aloud._] Monsieur de Flue?

DE FLUE. What is it?

VINTIMILLE. Let us draw up our capitulation papers.

DE FLUE. Papers? No, thanks, I'll have nothing to do with them. [_He turns his back._ VINTIMILLE _writes, leaning against a cannon._]

A Swiss GUARD [_to_ DE FLUE]. They will massacre us.

DE FLUE [_phlegmatically_]. Possibly. [_He sits down on a drum and lights his pipe._]

THE SWISS GUARDS [_wiping their faces_]. Damned heat! Can't we have something to drink? [_A Guard gets a pitcher of water, which is passed around. The Guards are together at the left, with their officer; they are indifferent and bored. The Pensioners, opposite, stand about the cannon where_ VINTIMILLE _is writing. They watch with respect every movement he makes._ BÉQUART _holds the inkstand for him._ VINTIMILLE _reads in a low voice to_ BÉQUART _what he has written,_ BÉQUART _nodding approval. His comrades repeat the words among themselves, likewise nodding_.]

THE PENSIONERS [_with mingled irony and approval_]. The lamb has captured the wolf.

VINTIMILLE. I demand their promise that no one shall be harmed.

BÉQUART. It costs us nothing to ask.

VINTIMILLE [_smiling_]. It costs nothing to promise. [_He goes to_ DE FLUE.] Will you sign?

DE FLUE [_as he signs_]. Fine way to fight!--Well, it's not my affair.

VINTIMILLE. The difficulty is not in writing, but in making them read what we write. [_The Pensioners, approaching the gate, are greeted by musket-shots._]

THE PENSIONERS. They're desperate. They won't let any one come near.

BÉQUART. Give me the love-missive.

THE PENSIONERS. You'll get killed, Béquart.

BÉQUART. What do I care? I'm not capitulating in order to save myself.

THE SWISS GUARDS. Why, then?

THE PENSIONERS [_pointing to the People_]. To save them! [_Among themselves, scornfully._] They don't understand a thing! [BÉQUART _advances to the gate.--The Pensioners shout to him_.] How will you give it to them?

BÉQUART [_pointing to his pike_]. On the end of this spit.

VINTIMILLE [_turning toward the towers_]. Hoist the white flag!

THE PENSIONERS [_shouting_]. Up there, hey! The flag! [_The gate opens._ BÉQUART _goes up toward the opening in the wall, right of the draw-bridge._]

BÉQUART [_waving his arms and crying_]. Capitulation! [_He is received by a veritable tempest of shouts and musket-shots. He totters, and shouts out in fury as he shakes his fist at the crowd._] Pigs! It's for your sake! For you!

THE PENSIONERS [_crowding about the draw-bridge, and shouting outside_]. Don't fire! Don't fire! [_Outside the people are heard shouting,_ "_Don't fire!_" _then,_ "_Surrender!" This cry increases, and finally voices are heard in heated discussion. After a moment, there is silence._] Hoche and Hulin are making them put down their muskets. They understand. They are stopping. They are coming up to the moat.

BÉQUART [_leaning out far over the wall, with the letter at the end of his pike_]. Hurry! I haven't time to wait.

THE PENSIONERS [_still looking outside_]. Hulin's bringing a plank. He's throwing it across the moat. Some one's crossing--he's lost his balance! He's falling! No, he's safe now.

BÉQUART [_panting for breath_]. Hurry up! Hurry!

THE PENSIONERS. He's touching the pike. He has the paper.

BÉQUART [_standing upright_]. There! [_Looking at the People_.] Pigs! [_He raises his arms and shouts._] Long live the Nation! [_He falls back, struck by a bullet_.]

THE PENSIONERS. Pigs! They've killed him! [_Two of them go to_ BÉQUART'S _body, and bring it down to the center of the stage, laying it at_ VINTIMILLE'S _feet._]

VINTIMILLE [_looking at the body with a mixture of irony and sympathy_]. Honor? To what end?

THE PENSIONERS. Listen! [_Outside is heard the shout of the People accepting the conditions, and the Pensioners repeat:_] Accepted!

VINTIMILLE [_with indifference_]. Inform Monsieur le Gouverneur.

THE PENSIONERS. Monseigneur, he's gone crazy: he's broken all the furniture in his room. He cries like a baby.

VINTIMILLE [_with a shrug_]. Well, I shall take his place to the end. [_To himself, with a touch of ironic bitterness._] I never thought I should one day have the honor of giving up the royalty of France with these four-century-old walls into the hands of the lawyers. A beautiful duty! To think I should come to this! Well, nothing matters; everything passes, and everything ends. Death settles all accounts. Now we'll give them a little comedy--with the grand manner at the last. [_Aloud._] Fall in! Form in line! [_The garrison falls into rank; the Pensioners on the right, the Swiss Guards, left._ DE FLUE _is standing, while_ VINTIMILLE _rises, using his cane to support himself._] Butt-ends of your muskets in the air! Messieurs, I think I ought to inform you that in spite of the precautions I have taken, there will be some surprises when the enemy makes its entrance. You know they are not a disciplined army. But if they show any lack of military manners, that is no excuse for our behaving likewise. And you, Swiss Guards, in the name of the King, I thank, you for your obedience. You deserve more credit than the others. [_He turns his back on the Pensioners and smiles a little._] As to you, we understand each other. [_The Pensioners murmur approval._]

DE FLUE [_phlegmatically_]. War is war! [_A Pensioner whistles:_ "_Où peut-on être mieux qu'au sein de sa famille?_"]

VINTIMILLE [_turning toward him, and, with a disdainful gesture_]. You need not trouble to show your glee! It's indecent, my friend.

THE PENSIONER. Monseigneur, I couldn't help it.

VINTIMILLE. Why, you are positively proud to be beaten!

THE PENSIONER [_warmly_]. We are not beaten! They would never have taken the Bastille unless we had wished them to. [_His comrades murmur approval._]

VINTIMILLE. Do you mean to say that it is we who have taken the Bastile?--

PENSIONER. There is some truth in it.

VINTIMILLE. Well--! To your post! [_After a pause._] Open the gate. Lower the draw-bridge. [_Some of the men open the gate and slowly lower the draw-bridge. The People outside continue their shouting._] Here, then, comes the new King, ha! [_The draw-bridge is now down. A formidable clamor arises, as the human flood pours in through the opened gate. Men and women, armed with pikes, hatchets, and muskets, surge through. At their head is_ GONCHON, _who is pushed forward, flourishing his saber in the air._ HOCHE _and_ HULIN _make vain efforts to silence the mob. There are cries of death and victory._ VINTIMILLE _takes off his hat._] Messieurs, the rabble!

PENSIONERS [_suddenly swept away by their enthusiasm, wave their hats_]. Long live Liberty!

VINTIMILLE. Messieurs, messieurs, have you no sense of shame?

PENSIONERS [_with waxing enthusiasm_]. Long live Liberty! [_They throw away their muskets and rush into the arms of the People._]

VINTIMILLE [_with a shrug_]. Ah, human reason, how frail thou art! Farewell, Monsieur de Vintimille. [_He breaks his sword._ GONCHON, _at his wits' end, pushed forward by the howling mob--among whom is distinguished the_ OLD FRUIT-SELLER_--fall upon_ VINTIMILLE, DE FLUE, _and their soldiers, dragging them off the stage with shouts and curses._]

GONCHON. Rip them open!

THE OLD WOMAN. Dogs of aristocrats!

THE PEOPLE. Swiss pigs!--I know these fellows!--The old lame ones!--The enemy! Kill them! They fired on us! [HOCHE _and_ HULIN, _who try to stop the People, are brushed aside by them and thrown against a wall. In the midst of the hubbub,_ MARAT _is seen._] Long live Marat!

MARAT. My children, what are you doing?

THE WOMEN. Kill! Kill!

MARAT. Kill them? What do you want? Would you eat them? [_Some of the crowd laugh._]

HULIN. He knows how to handle them: amuse them!

HOCHE. Where is the little girl?

HULIN. The little girl? [HOCHE _runs out to look for_ JULIE.]

DESMOULINS [_jumping into their midst_]. Stop, comrades, you're killing prisoners!

THE PEOPLE [_stopping_]. The prisoners?

DESMOULINS. The prisoners of the Bastille. Look at their clothes. We have come to free them!

THE PEOPLE [_doubtfully_]. They're enemies!

HULIN. There are no more enemies.

JULIE [_on_ HOCHE'S _shoulders, carrying a branch, extends her arms to the People, and shouts_]. Be merciful to our friends, our friends the enemy.

THE PEOPLE [_laughing_]. Hear the little one!

HOCHE [_putting her down on a cannon, whence she dominates the crowd_]. Shout, child: "All brothers, all friends."

JULIE. Brothers! Brothers!

THE PEOPLE. We are all brothers! She's right!

THE PENSIONERS. Long live the People!

THE PEOPLE. Long live the ancient glory!

THE PENSIONERS [_to_ JULIE]. You've saved us, little one!

THE PEOPLE. She conquered you, too, comrades. The little mite took the Bastille.

MARAT. You are our good conscience!

THE PEOPLE. You are our little Liberty! [_They stretch out their arms. The women blow hisses to her_.]

HOCHE [_clapping_ HULIN _on the shoulder_]. Well, Hulin? You everlasting doubter, are you at last convinced?

HULIN [_wiping his eyes, but still a little obstinate_]. Yes, although--[_Laughter from_ HOCHE _and the People drown out the rest. He stops and laughs louder than the others. He looks about him, and catching sight of a statue of the King in a niche by the entrance to the court, he picks it up._] Down with you! Make way for Liberty! [_He throws the statue down, then runs to_ JULIE, _picks her up and puts her in the niche._] The Bastille fallen at last! I did it! We did it! We'll do a lot more, too! Let's clean the stables of Augias, rid the earth of its monsters, and strangle the lion of royalty. Our fists will lay low all despotism! Comrades, we shall forge the Republic! We've been held down too long, and now we're bursting our bonds! Roll on, oh, torrent of the Revolution!

THE OLD FRUIT-SELLER [_astride a cannon, with a red kerchief about her head_]. To the King! Here's my horse. I took him. I'll hitch him to my little cart and we'll go to Versailles to make a visit to big Louis! I've got a lot to say to him. Lord, for centuries I've lived in misery, I've been so patient! I'm choking; I must get rid of the feeling. I was a good old animal! I thought I had to suffer, in order to enjoy riches. Now at last I understand. I want to live, I want to live! I'm sorry I'm so old. God Almighty, I want to make up for lost time! Get up, old fellow, to the Court! [_The gun-carriage is pushed forward by the People, and the old woman, in her helmet and trappings, rides past in triumph._]

THE PEOPLE. On to the Court! On to Versailles! We've suffered too long! We want to be happy! We'll be happy!

DESMOULINS [_carrying a green branch_]. The forest of Liberty has sprung up from the stones. Green leaves wave in the wind. The old heart of Paris will flower once again. Spring has come!

THE PEOPLE [_bursting with joy and pride, all wave branches, and decorate themselves with green cockades, green ribbons, etc_]. Free! The Heavens are free! [_The sunset filters in through the draw-bridge opening, and bathes in purple the inner court of the Bastille and the People with their waving branches._]

HOCHE. Sun, you may sleep now, for we have not wasted our day.

LA CONTAT. Its dying rays paint the castle windows, the branches, the heads and little Liberty, a glowing red.

HULIN. Heaven announces the war.

MARAT. Unlike Him who entered seventeen hundred years ago in the midst of branches, this little child has not come to bring us peace.

DESMOULINS. There is blood on our hands.

ROBESPIERRE [_with suppressed fanaticism_]. It is our own!

THE PEOPLE [_excited_]. It's mine!--It's mine!--We offer it to you, Liberty!

DESMOULINS. To the devil with our lives! Great happiness must be bought.

HOCHE. And we are ready to pay.

ROBESPIERRE [_as before_]. We will pay.

THE PEOPLE [_enthusiastically_]. We will pay! [_The People dance and sing about the little figure of Liberty. Music._]

LA CONTAT. What joy to be one of you! To love and to suffer with you! Give me your hands! Let us dance, and all be brothers! Sing, for this is your festival, Oh, people of Paris!

MARAT. My dear people, you have suffered so long, you have struggled so long in silence. So many centuries had to elapse before this hour of joy! Liberty is yours. Guard well your conquest.

DESMOULINS [_to the People_]. And now, finish what you have begun. This Bastille has fallen, but there are others. On to the fight! We must fight against the enemies of truth! Against darkness! Mind will dominate brute force. The past is dead! Death itself is dead!

HULIN [_to_ JULIE]. Our Liberty, our light, our love! How small you are now! And how frail! Will you have the strength to resist the tempests that lie ahead? Grow, grow, little plant, straight up, and vigorous, and give happiness to the world with your fragrance of the fields!

HOCHE [_saber in hand, climbs to an eminence at the foot of the niche where Liberty stands_]. Be reassured, Liberty, you are safe with us. We hold you fast. Woe be unto him who molests you! You belong to us, and we belong to you. These spoils, these trophies, are yours. [_The women strew Liberty with flowers. The men then lower their pikes, banners, branches, and trophies in her presence_.] But all this is not yet enough: we will give you a deathless triumph. Daughter of the People of Paris, your eyes shall inspire every enslaved nation. We will carry across the universe the great banner of Equality. We will take your chariot into the midst of battles, with the aid of our sabers, our cannon, toward Love, toward the brotherhood of all mankind! Brothers, my brothers! We are all brothers! We are all free! Come, let us deliver the world! [_Swords, lances, branches, handkerchiefs, hats, and arms wave madly, amid the uproar of drums, trumpets, and shouting. The People dance about the figure of Liberty._]

DANTON

A Play in Three Acts [_Danton_ was produced in Paris in 1900.]

_To My Father_

CAST OF CHARACTERS:

ROBESPIERRE DANTON CAMILLE DESMOULINS VADIER BILLAUD-VARENNE SAINT-JUST HERMAN WESTERMANN HÉRAULT DE SÉCHELLES PHILIPPEAUX FABRE D'EGLANTINE FOUQUIER-TINVILLE LUCILE DESMOULINS ELÉONORE DUPLAY MADAME DUPLAY

The People, Jury, Gendarmes, etc.

SCENE: Paris, March and April, 1794.