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 THE 
 
 FOURTEENTH OF JULY 
 
 AND 
 
 DANTON 
 
 TWO PLAYS OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 
 
 BY 
 
 ROMAIN HOLLAND 
 
 AUTHORIZED TRANSLATION 
 WITH A PREPACK 
 
 BT 
 BARRETT H. CLARK
 
 COPTRIOHT, 1918, 
 BT 
 
 HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY 
 
 TMI aum* * lOBtN co. mt 
 
 RAHWAT. N. J.
 
 College 
 Library 
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 SMI 
 
 ROMAIN HOLLAND AND THE PEOPLE'S THEATER . 8 
 
 THE FOURTEENTH OF JULY 18 
 
 (Le 14 Juillet) 
 
 DANTON jgg 
 
 (Danton)
 
 ROMAIN HOLLAND AND THE PEOPLE'S 
 THEATER 
 
 IT is perhaps a little surprising to learn that the 
 author of Jean-Christophe has written at least sixteen 
 full-length plays. Most of these, it is true, antedate 
 the publication of the first parts of his epoch-making 
 novel, but since nothing that comes from the brain 
 of Remain Holland can fail to possess significance and 
 interest, a brief inquiry into his dramatic writings and 
 theories on the drama will reveal an aspect of the man 
 which has hitherto strangely enough scarcely been 
 touched upon. His plays for a people's theater, and 
 his book of projects, are as integral a part of his 
 development as Jean-Christophe itself. 
 
 The life of M. Rolland seems to have been a per- 
 petual struggle between conflicting mental forces: for 
 years he read philosophy, and suffered agonies before 
 he at last found himself spiritually; until the com- 
 pletion of Jean-Christophe he was a prey to doubts 
 regarding the utility of art and the end of life. He 
 applied in turn to the great master-minds of the 
 world Empedocles, Spinoza, Michelangelo, Shake- 
 speare, Beethoven, Tolstoy seeking for a satisfactory 
 philosophy of life. Small wonder, therefore, that his 
 work should bear the imprint of the masters who have 
 at one time or another been his guides and inspiration. 
 
 His two years' sojourn in Rome, from 1890 to 1892, 
 
 8
 
 4 ROMAIN HOLLAND 
 
 awakened a passionate interest in the Italian Renais- 
 sance, which he immediately translated into plays. It 
 is likely that Orsino, Les Baglioni, and Le Siege de 
 Mantoue, plays of the Renaissance, were inspired by 
 Shakespeare, for whose historical dramas M. Rolland 
 professes a decided partiality. The plays are not pub- 
 lished, but if we can judge from the fact that Mounet- 
 Sully wished to produce Orsino, they must have shown 
 some of the power of the later plays. At Rome he 
 was associated with the aged revolutionist Malwida 
 von Meysenbug, whom he had met at Versailles some 
 time before, and doubtless the story of her eventful 
 life had its part in shaping his ideals. Four other 
 plays three of them on classical subjects belong to 
 this period: Niobe, Caligula, Empedocle, and Jeanne 
 de Piennes. It is probable that these also belonged to 
 the writer's period of apprenticeship. At the end of 
 M. Rolland's stay in Rome he went to the Wagner" 
 Festival at Bayreuth, in company with Malwida. 
 
 Even at this time he was already dreaming of a 
 new theater in France, and his theoretical writings of 
 later times bear unmistakable proof of the impression 
 made upon him by the Bayreuth theater and Wagner's 
 epoch-making ideas on art and the people. 
 
 After his marriage in 1892 Romain Rolland returned 
 to Italy, where he gathered material for his thesis, 
 which he presented and successfully upheld at the 
 Sorbonne in 1895. His subject was The Origins of 
 the Modern Lyric Theater. History of the Opera in 
 Europe Before Lully and Scarlatti,. This he published 
 in book form in 1895. But in addition to his uni-
 
 AND THE PEOPLE'S THEATER 5 
 
 versity studies and his lectures, he found time to ex- 
 periment with the dramatic form, and in 1896 he pub- 
 lished his Saint Louis. As this was later included in 
 a volume called Tragedies of Faith Les Tragedies de 
 la Foi together with two other plays, he evidently 
 conceived it as one of a series of works based upon 
 a single underlying idea. 
 
 Saint Louis depicts, in the author's own words, " re- 
 ligious exaltation." In Saint Louis and the two other 
 plays which accompany it Aert and Le Triomphe de 
 la Raison " One can observe the presence of the main 
 currents and passions of the French youth of to-day." 
 All three show " the ardor of sacrifice, but a sacrifice 
 which is courageous, militant : a double reaction against 
 cowardice of thought and cowardice of action, against 
 skepticism and against the relinquishment of the great 
 destiny of the nation." But in spite of this " pro- 
 gram," M. Holland is an artist far too austere to write 
 thesis-plays; he has often spoken in contempt of them. 
 Nor did he in the least appeal to the great public; 
 for his plays have as yet not proved acceptable to 
 them. Saint Louis is a beautiful poem, not a tragedy 
 after all, but a triumph, for no hero may see the fruits 
 of his labor, and if a temporary failure seems for a 
 moment to cloud the sky, it is only temporary. This 
 is the message of Saint Louis. The good monarch who, 
 " dying at the foot of the mountain, sees Jerusalem 
 only through the eyes of his army," is a figure of 
 hope. Aert takes us from the time of the Crusades 
 to " an imaginary Holland of the seventeenth century." 
 Aert, the son of a murdered patriot, is imprisoned by
 
 6 ROMAIN ROLLAND 
 
 his father's assassin ; he makes a vain effort to rally 
 the forces of the opposition, and at last, free from all 
 that is vile in life, he throws himself from the window. 
 Le Triomphe de la Raison belongs, so far as the subject 
 is concerned, to the Revolutionary plays. As an after- 
 piece to Le 14 Juillet, Danton, and Les Loups, it shows 
 the Revolution " devouring itself " to translate lit- 
 erally the author's own comment. So far as it depicts 
 the excesses into which faith can lead men, it is a 
 tragedy, but there is an implication of progress in the 
 characters whose fate is bound up with that of the 
 Revolution, even those who fell prey to the blood-lust 
 of the Girondist massacres. 
 
 The Theatre de la Revolution includes the three 
 Revolutionary plays I have just mentioned. They 
 were written not as experiments for some vague stage 
 dreamed by the author, but for theatrical production 
 before the people, the masses of France. That they 
 were not wholly successful matters little ; Romain Rol- 
 land might well refer us to the " moral " of Saint Louis : 
 he has opened a new field and laid before his coun- 
 trymen perhaps the world an ideal which may well 
 require half a century to bear fruit. The idea of 
 writing a series of plays on the French Revolution was 
 suggested to M. Holland by a decree of the Committee 
 of Public Safety, dated March 10, 1794 : 
 
 1. That the Theatre-Fransais shall henceforward be 
 solely dedicated to productions given by and for the peo- 
 ple at stated intervals each month: 
 
 2. That the building shall bear the following inscription 
 on its facade: PEOPLE'S THEATER, and that the various
 
 AND THE PEOPLE'S THEATER 7 
 
 troupes of actors already established in the Paris theaters 
 shall be requisitioned in turn to act in these popular pro- 
 ductions, which are to take place three times in every 
 decade. 
 
 A few weeks later there appeared another decree, 
 inviting the poets " to celebrate the principal events 
 of the French Revolution, to compose Republican 
 plays, and picture for posterity the great epochs of 
 the regeneration of the French, and give to history 
 that solid character which is fitting for the annals of 
 a great people who have fought victoriously for their 
 liberty, in spite of the opposition of all the tyrants of 
 Europe." 
 
 " All these projects for Republican art," says M. 
 Rolland, " fell, on the 9th of Thermidor, together with 
 the chiefs of the Republic." 
 
 When, early in 1903, Remain Rolland and a few 
 associates began writing for the Revue d'Art Drama- 
 tique a series of articles on the people's theater, they 
 were merely " following the tradition interrupted by 
 the events of the Revolution; and it was but natural 
 that one of them was led to select the Revolution itself 
 as the natural subject for popular productions. The 
 three plays were to have been part of a dramatic cycle 
 on the Revolution a sort of epic comprising ten plays. 
 Le 14 Juillet was the first page, and Danton, the 
 center, the decisive crisis, wherein the reason of the 
 chiefs of the Revolution seemed to waver, and their 
 common faith be sacrificed to personal hatred. In Les 
 Loups, where the Revolution is depicted on the field 
 of battle, and in Le Triomphe de la Raison, where
 
 8 ROMAIN HOLLAND 
 
 it goes out into the provinces in pursuit of the 
 Girondin prescripts, it devours itself." Thus M. 
 Holland. 
 
 The remaining plays are three in number, and in- 
 ferior in dramatic and literary quality to the six just 
 discussed. The first of these is an anti-war propa- 
 ganda piece, Le Temps viendra, published in 1903, and 
 inspired by the Boer war. La Montespan, a French 
 historical drama, followed in 1904, and Les Trois 
 Amoureuses, also based upon history, in 1906. 
 
 In order to grasp the full significance of M. Hol- 
 land's plays it will be necessary to consider his inter- 
 esting book, Le Theatre du Peuple. Ever since the 
 early eighties M. Holland had been a staunch admirer 
 and in some ways a disciple of Tolstoy. The young 
 Frenchman, however, expressed his doubts to the Rus- 
 sian, and in 1887 Tolstoy wrote a long letter which 
 was, according to one of M. Holland's biographers, a 
 sort of preliminary sketch for What Is Art? And 
 when that astounding book appeared, with its icono- 
 clastic attacks on M. Holland's idols, he was at first 
 prone to disagree, but Le Theatre du Peuple is ample 
 proof that " literature for the people " had sunk deep 
 into the Frenchman's heart. The theater, in common 
 with most modern art, is a whitened sepulcher, rotten 
 to the core, affected, aristocratic, anti-democratic. 
 The evil is not only in the plays, but in acting and 
 the physical arrangement of the playhouse itself. New 
 plays must be written for the masses, plays which they 
 can understand, plays which bring them together as 
 a class and in which they can participate. M. Holland
 
 AND THE PEOPLE'S THEATER <J 
 
 briefly considers the dramatic masterpieces of the 
 world, from Sophocles to the comedies of the boulevard, 
 and finds them, with rare exceptions, unsuited to the 
 people. Even Shakespeare and Schiller are lifeless: 
 they belong to past epochs, and express ideas foreign 
 to the French workingmen of the twentieth century. 
 The playhouses, too, are built for a society divided into 
 classes; these must be altered to suit the workingmen. 
 Says M. Holland in the preface to the first edition: 
 " Of late there has been an attempt to found a People's 
 Theater in Paris. Already personal and political in- 
 terests have begun to make themselves evident. But 
 we must unflinchingly destroy the parasites who seek 
 a living at the expense of our theater. The People's 
 Theater is not a fashionable toy; it is no game for 
 dilettanti. It is the imperious expression of a new 
 society, its voice and thought; it is, as a result of 
 circumstances, the war-machine against an ageing and 
 fossilized society. Let there be no misunderstanding: 
 we must not merely open up new old theaters, bour- 
 geois theaters endeavoring to appear new merely by 
 calling themselves people's theaters. We must found 
 a theater by and for the people, a new art for a new 
 world." 
 
 Having tested the plays of the past and found them 
 wanting, M. Holland set himself the task of supplying 
 plays for his projected people's theater. As we have 
 seen, he went to the Revolution, and wrote plays which 
 would appeal to the masses. But these plays must also 
 be acted by the people, and M. Holland proceeded to 
 make the people a character, a great composite crowd,
 
 10 ROMAIN HOLLAND 
 
 participating as The People. In Le 14 Juillet, The 
 People are the protagonist, and the taking of the 
 Bastille afforded him ample opportunity for utilizing 
 them. In Danton they are rather implied until the 
 last act, while in Les Loups and Le Triomphe de la 
 Raison they hover in the background and determine 
 the course of events: they are always near at hand, 
 although they do not appear on the stage. M. Hol- 
 land must of course be a confirmed enemy to our star- 
 system, and there is, even in the hero-play of Danton, 
 a fairly even distribution of parts. The effect is at 
 first somewhat disconcerting, and the plays seem a 
 trifle discursive and rambling, but this is doubtless 
 due to the fact that we are accustomed to the Sardou 
 method of handling historical themes. There is no 
 conventional plot, and the love-interest, as developed 
 in such a play as Patrie, is conspicuously absent. In 
 its stead there is greater breadth of touch, a solider 
 framework, a broader canvas; and the artist, we in- 
 stinctively feel, is better able to depict a great move- 
 ment like the Revolution than if he were confined to 
 raveling and unraveling a plot. Possibly M. Holland's 
 ignorance of or disdain for the tricks of the dramatist's 
 trade has lessened the purely dramatic tension of oc- 
 casional scenes, but, on the other hand, he has drawn 
 characters Hoche, Desmoulins, Danton, Robespierre, 
 among others which Sardou and the rest could 
 scarcely have conceived. The lovable weakness of 
 Desmoulins, the dynamic and superhuman power of 
 Danton, have never been so vividly set forth as in these 
 plays, and the Revolution, so often exposed as a series
 
 AND THE PEOPLE'S THEATER 11 
 
 of more or less exciting events, stands forth as the 
 most human of all stories. 
 
 While it is true that M. Holland recognizes the 
 motive power of the people in the first two plays of 
 his Revolutionary cycle, and while they direct and 
 influence practically every event, he is not blind to the 
 excesses into which they fell, and the last two plays, 
 Les Loups and Le Triomphe de la Raison, to some 
 extent show the degeneration of the people. Les Loups 
 is perhaps, from the purely theatrical viewpoint, the 
 best play M. Holland ever wrote ; it treats of the moral 
 decay of the Revolutionists, and the situation developed 
 is as gripping as any of Henry Bernstein's famous 
 second acts. A former nobleman is suspected of treach- 
 ery by his fellow officers, and a pretext readily found 
 to kill him. At the last moment one of his comrades 
 discovers that he is innocent; however, in order to 
 conceal the treachery of a successful Revolutionary 
 general, he is sacrificed. Le Triomphe de la Raison 
 is similar in theme. . 
 
 No attempt at dramatic reform, no theory, no ideal 
 whatever its eventual worth ought to obscure the 
 fact that all of M. Holland's plays are unsuccessful 
 from the viewpoint of production. Good reading they 
 undoubtedly make; literature they assuredly are, but 
 they have not pleased audiences for consecutive days, 
 weeks, and months. This does not of necessity damn 
 them, but it should cause us to ask whether or not 
 they belong to that class of hybrids, the closet-drama. 
 M. Holland's first mistake was in writing plays for a 
 hypothetical and practically nonexistent public. The
 
 12 ROMAIN HOLLAND 
 
 first edition of Le Theatre du Peuple concludes with 
 these words: "Do you want a people's art? Then 
 begin by having a people ! " France is in many ways 
 an aristocratic country with an aristocratic art; it 
 is but natural, therefore, that all reform should be 
 slower than in younger countries ; and M. Holland in 
 his impatience attempted the impossible. In trying to 
 avoid what was conventional in the French drama, he 
 restricted himself to a more or less formless medium, 
 and the people who saw his plays missed what they 
 were accustomed to see : a well-defined story. 
 
 What success would have attended his innovations 
 in another country it is hard to say ; what success will 
 attend him if he perseveres, seems easier to predict. 
 The past five years have witnessed a profound change 
 in French thought and art, and perhaps Romain Hol- 
 land will once more find his faith justified in a new 
 France where the people shall have a theater of their 
 own. Meantime, his ideas have spread to other lands 
 and there borne the fruit he had hoped would flourish in 
 his own beloved France. 
 
 BARRETT H. CLARK.
 
 THE FOURTEENTH OF JULY 
 
 (LE 14 JUILLET) 
 A Play in Three Acts 
 
 Pour qu'une nation soit libre, 
 il suffit qu'elle le veuille. 
 
 LA FAYITIE. 
 nth July. 1789, 
 
 [Le 14 Juillet was produced in Paris in 1902.] 
 13
 
 Dedicated to the People of Paris 
 
 15
 
 AUTHOR'S NOTE 
 
 THE author has sought moral truth in this play 
 rather than anecdotic exactitude. He has seen fit to 
 take greater liberty with the action, which is developed 
 in the poetry of popular legend, than in Danton. In 
 that play, he applied himself to the development of 
 the psychology of certain characters, for the whole 
 drama is concentrated in the souls of three or four 
 great men. It is otherwise with the present work: 
 individuals disappear in the great ocean of the people. 
 If you wish to represent a tempest, you must not 
 describe each wave, but a whole angry sea: an exact 
 rendering of details is much less important than the 
 passionate sweeping truth of the whole. There is some- 
 thing false and insulting to the intelligence in the dis- 
 proportionate place given nowadays to historic anec- 
 dotes, tiny incidents, and the dust shaken out of the 
 pages of history, all of which is emphasized at the 
 expense of the human side. It is my ideal to resuscitate 
 the forces of the past, reveal once more the springs of 
 action, and not to offer a cold and denatured miniature 
 to the curious who care more for externals than for the 
 soul of the hero. I have endeavored to make live again 
 the heroism and the faith of the nation in the throes 
 of the Revolution during the Republican epoch, in 
 order that we, a nation of greater maturity and more 
 than ever conscious of the great destiny that awaits 
 
 17
 
 18 AUTHOR'S NOTE 
 
 us, may continue and finish the work interrupted in 
 1794. If we are strong enough to realize this, we are 
 strong enough to do our best toward the accomplish- 
 ment of our task. The end of art is not dreams, but 
 life. Action should spring from the spectacle of action. 
 
 Jyne, 1901.
 
 CAST OF CHARACTERS: 
 
 LA CONTAT 
 
 LUCILE DUPLESSIS 
 
 MARIE BOUJU, THE FRUIT-DEALER 
 
 FIRST WOMAN OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 SECOND WOMAN OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 FIRST WOMAN 
 
 SECOND WOMAN 
 
 THIRD WOMAN 
 
 A YOUNG GIRL 
 
 LITTLE JULIE 
 
 HOCHE 
 
 HULIN 
 
 MARAT 
 
 CAMILLE DESMOULINS 
 
 VlNTIMILLE 
 
 DE LAUNEY 
 
 THE MAN 
 
 GONCHON 
 
 DE FLUE 
 
 BE QUART 
 
 ROBESPIERRE 
 
 A MANIAC 
 
 A PORTER 
 
 A NOTARY 
 
 A FRENCH GUARD 
 
 A STUDENT 
 
 A VAGABOND 
 
 A SHOPKEEPER 
 
 FIRST NEWS-CRIER 
 
 SECOND NEWS-CRIER 
 
 AN ABBE 
 
 FIRST BOURGEOIS 
 
 SECOND BOURGEOIS 
 
 THIRD BOURGEOIS 
 
 FOURTH BOURGEOIS 
 
 The People: French Guards, Swiss Guards, Pensioners, 
 Carpenters, Workingmen, Children, etc. 
 
 SCENE: Paris from the 12th to the 14th July, 1789- 
 
 Act I. At the Palais-Royal, Sunday morn- 
 ing, 12th July. 
 
 Act II. The Faubourg Saint-Antoine, Mon- 
 day night and Tuesday morning, 
 13th-14th July. 
 
 Act III. The Bastille, Tuesday the 14th July, 
 from four to seven P.M. 
 
 19
 
 ACT I 
 
 [The Garden of the Palais-Royal, seen from the Cafe 
 de Foy. It is Sunday the 12th of July, 1789. 
 At the back is the " Cirque "; at the right, a foun- 
 tain, playing. Between the " Cirque " and the 
 promenades running round the Palais-Royal is a 
 row of trees. The shopkeepers stand before their 
 shops, which are hung with patriotic emblems: 
 " At the Sign of the Great Necker," " At the Sign 
 of the National Assembly," etc. Women, with 
 breasts, shoulders, and arms bare, and wearing 
 immense bouquets, walk about among the crowd 
 displaying their charms. Newsdealers cry out the 
 news; gambling-house keepers appear here and 
 there in dressing-gowns, escorted by men armed 
 with clubs; swindlers brazenly slip between groups 
 of people with their folding tabourets, stop for an 
 instant, display a trick, bring out sacks of silver, 
 then quickly disappear into the surging mass. The 
 crowds are nervously shifting about, sitting at the 
 cafes, jumping up and around, and ready to start 
 at the least disturbance. The crowds gradually 
 increase up to the end of the act, until there is so 
 little room left that the more venturesome climb 
 into the trees. People of all classes are present: 
 starving vagabonds, workingmen, bourgeois, aris- 
 tocrats, soldiers, priests, women, and children,
 
 22 THE FOURTEENTH OF JULY 
 
 some of whom play about between the legs of the 
 others.] 
 
 NEWS-CRIERS. Great plot discovered ! Famine, fam- 
 ine is at hand ! The murderers have come ! 
 
 THE CROWD [calling to the news-criers]. Here! 
 Sst! 
 
 A MAN OF THE PEOPLE [anxiously, to a bourgeois, 
 who is reading]. Well? 
 
 THE BOURGEOIS. My good fellow, they are com- 
 ing! They're coming! The Germans, the Swiss 
 Guards! Paris is surrounded! They'll be here any 
 minute ! 
 
 THE MAN OF THE PEOPLE. The King won't let 
 them. 
 
 A VAGABOND. The King? He's with them at the 
 camp of Sablons, surrounded by Germans. 
 
 THE MAN OF THE PEOPLE. The King is a French- 
 man. 
 
 THE BOURGEOIS. The King, yes, but not the Queen. 
 The Austrian woman hates us. Her brigand Marshal 
 de Broglie has sworn to raze Paris to the ground. We 
 are caught between the cannon of the Bastille and the 
 troops of the Champ de Mars. 
 
 A STUDENT. They won't make a move. Monsieur 
 Necker is at Versailles ; he will take care of us. 
 
 THE BOURGEOIS. Yes, so long as he remains Min- 
 ister, we must not lose our faith in him. 
 
 THE VAGABOND. But who says he still is? They've 
 dismissed him. 
 
 ALL [protesting]. No, no, he's still Minister.
 
 THE FOURTEENTH OF JULY 23 
 
 The newspaper says he will remain Minister. Good! 
 If Monsieur Necker weren't there, everything would 
 be lost. 
 
 WOMEN [promenading about]. No business today! 
 They are all quite mad. They think of nothing but 
 Versailles. The little fellow who was with me just now 
 spoke of nothing but Necker. Say, is it true that that 
 damned Austrian threw our deputies into prison? 
 
 THE SWINDLERS [mysteriously shaking their bags of 
 silver under the noses of the passers-by]. Fine Sunday 
 morning ! Ten o'clock and the garden is full ! What 
 will it be soon ? Fine show and a small crop ! They're 
 here to get the latest news. Oh, if you only know how 
 to go about it ! 
 
 GONCHON [to the shopkeepers]. Now, you fellows, 
 stir yourselves, stir yourselves! Business isn't every- 
 thing. Of course, business must be carried on, but 
 we must be good patriots, too. Keep your eyes open. 
 I warn you, things are beginning to happen ! 
 
 A SHOPKEEPER. Do you know something, Monsieur 
 Gonchon ? 
 
 GONCHON. Careful. Grain is coming. Every one 
 at his post. When the moment comes, give it to those 
 idiots, and howl all together 
 
 A SHOPKEEPER. Long live the Nation ! 
 
 GONCHON [hitting him]. Shut up, you fool. 
 " Long live the Due d'Orleans ! " Then, if you like, 
 both. 
 
 CAMILLE DESMOULINS [who has just come from a 
 gambling-den excited, laughing and stammering]. 
 Plucked! They've cleaned me! I knew it: I said to
 
 24 THE FOURTEENTH OF JULY 
 
 myself, " Camille, you're going to get plucked." Now 
 you're satisfied! It's done. Well, I don't have it to 
 do over again. I always foresee the stupid things I 
 am going to do. Thank God, I don't lack a single 
 anyway, I've killed two hours. What news from Ver- 
 sailles? Oh, the rascal! They are thick as thieves 
 at a fair. The gambling-dens advertise, " You come 
 in to pass the time." You've got to occupy your 
 hands and the rest! That is why cards and women 
 were invented. They can relieve you of useless money. 
 Now my pockets weigh nothing at all! Who wants 
 to see a brand-new purse ? Oh, there's not a piece left. 
 
 WOMEN [mocking Tiirn] . " They stir you up, up, 
 up, they'll stir you up." 
 
 CAMILLE DESMOULINS. You bats of Venus, you're 
 very proud, indeed, to have swindled a poor devil like 
 me ! But, Good God, he's not angry with you. " I'd 
 lose it again if I had it to lose." 
 
 AN OLD BOUKGEOIS. The gambler's purse has no 
 strings. 
 
 GONCHON. Young man, I see you are in trouble. 
 To oblige you, I will lend you three e"cus on that chain. 
 
 DESMOULINS. Generous Gonchon, do you want to 
 strip me naked like St. John? Leave that to the la- 
 dies: they will do very well without your assistance. 
 
 GONCHON. You little guttersnipe, do you know 
 whom you are addressing? 
 
 DESMOULINS. Gonchon merely Gonchon ! You are 
 a jeweler, usurer, vendor of lemonade, and keeper of 
 a brothel. You are everything: Gonchon, king of the 
 gambling-den keepers.
 
 THE FOURTEENTH OF JULY 25 
 
 GONCHON. What do you mean by your " gambling- 
 dens " ? I have merely founded clubs where, under the 
 pretext of enjoying themselves by honest and natural 
 means, men may gather and discuss methods of reform- 
 ing the State. They are assemblies of free citizens, 
 patriots 
 
 DESMOULINS. Where does the Patrie come in^ 
 
 GONCHON. The Society of the Men of Nature 
 
 DESMOULINS. Women of Nature! 
 
 GONCHON. A very bad joke. If you haven't 
 enough shame to respect a respectable man, you might 
 at least respect the sign beneath the egis of which 
 stands my house. 
 
 DESMOULINS [without looking]. What sign? "The 
 Forty Thieves "? 
 
 GONCHON [furiously] . "The Great Necker"! 
 
 DESMOULINS. That is rather hard on him, Gonchon. 
 [He looks at the sign.] What is on the other side? 
 
 GONCHON. Nothing. 
 
 DESMOULINS. I see another picture. 
 
 GONCHON. The Due d'Orleans two sides of the 
 same head. 
 
 DESMOULINS. The front and the back! [The by- 
 standers laugh. GONCHON, with his associates, ad- 
 vances upon DESMOULINS.] Very well! I advise you 
 not to drive me to crush you with my Pretorian Guard ! 
 Do you want a certificate of citizenship? Oh, Janus 
 Gonchon, I make you a present of it. You give bread 
 to every sneak in Paris, and take it from the honest 
 people, so that they have only one desire: to go and 
 fight. Audax et edax. Long live the Revolution!
 
 26 THE FOURTEENTH OF JULY 
 
 GONCHON. I forgive you, because it wouldn't do to 
 duel with the enemy at our gates, but I'll meet you soon 
 before the men of Versailles. 
 
 DESMOULINS. Are they really coming? 
 
 GONCHON. Ah, you turn pale? Yes, the struggle 
 is at hand. The mercenaries from Lorraine and Flan- 
 ders are in the Plain of Grenelle, the artillery at Saint- 
 Denis; the German cavalry at the Ecole militaire. 
 The Marshal, with all his aides-de-camp, is giving or- 
 ders for war at Versailles. They are going to attack 
 tonight. 
 
 A WOMAN. Good God, what will becomes of us ? 
 
 A BOURGEOIS. The bandits! They treat us like 
 enemies ! 
 
 A WORKINGMAN [to GONCHON]. How do you know 
 that? The road to Versailles is cut off. They've sta- 
 tioned cannon at the Pont de Sevres. No one can pass. 
 
 GONCHON. Suspicious, eh? I'll make the first man 
 who doubts my patriotism swallow my fist. Don't you 
 know Gonchon? 
 
 THE WOEKINGMAN. We don't suspect you. Don't 
 get excited. We've too much to do to get into a 
 quarrel with you. We only asked you where you got 
 your information? 
 
 GONCHON. You haven't the right to ask me. I 
 know what I know. I have a way of knowing. 
 
 ANOTHER WORKINGMAN [to the First], Let him 
 alone ; he's all right. 
 
 A BOURGEOIS. Lord, what shall we do? 
 
 A STUDENT. To the gates! Everybody to the 
 gates ! Don't let them in !
 
 THE FOURTEENTH OF JULY 27 
 
 A BOUEGEOIS. As if they could stop them! Poor 
 people like ourselves, without arms ! What do they 
 know of war! Can they keep out the best troops of 
 the kingdom? 
 
 ANOTHEE. They're in already! And there's the 
 Bastille ; it's like a cancer incurable ! 
 
 A WOEKINGMAN. The vile monster ! Who will free 
 us? 
 
 A STUDENT. They've already made a company of 
 Swiss Guards retreat today. 
 
 ANOTHEE. Their cannon are in the Faubourg 
 Saint-Antoine. 
 
 A WOEKINGMAN. Can't do a thing while we have 
 this bit in our mouths. We've got to take it out first. 
 
 A BOURGEOIS. How? 
 
 A WOEKINGMAN. I don't know how, but it's got to 
 be done. 
 
 ALL [seriously and incredulously]. Take the Bas- 
 tille? [They turn to one another.] 
 
 NEWS-CEIEES [in the distance]. Latest news! Des- 
 perate struggle! 
 
 A MAN [shabby and pale, with the air of a maniac]. 
 We haven't anything to fear from the soldiers. They 
 won't attack. 
 
 A STUDENT. What ! 
 
 THE MANIAC. They won't attack. They've got a 
 simpler plan: they'll just blockade us. They'll starve 
 us out. 
 
 A WOEKINGMAN. Well, if they do it for very long, 
 we'll take the road. We've lost a whole day waiting 
 for bread at the bakeries.
 
 28 THE FOURTEENTH OF JULY, 
 
 A WOMAN. You can't get grain. 
 
 THE MANIAC. It won't arrive tomorrow. 
 
 A BOURGEOIS. But what are they doing with it? 
 
 THE MANIAC. I know: they've thrown it into the 
 quarries of Senlis and Chantilly to let it rot, and keep 
 us from eating it. 
 
 THE BOURGEOIS [incredulously]. Nonsense! 
 
 THE MANIAC. It's true! 
 
 A WOMAN. It is true. In Champagne the cavalry 
 ruined the wheat crop in order to starve us. 
 
 THE MANIAC. Worse than that! They poison the 
 bread they give us: it burns your throat and your 
 insides. Twenty people died of it in my part of the 
 city. The order came from Versailles. They want to 
 kill us like rats. 
 
 DESMOULINS. Absurd. No king wants to murder 
 his people. Only a Nero would do that, and our king 
 is not a Nero. 
 
 THE MANIAC [mysteriously']. I know what the 
 matter is : there are too many people, and they've given 
 orders to depopulate the country. 
 
 DESMOULJNS. You're sick, my friend, you need at- 
 tention. 
 
 A WOKKINGMAN. There's truth in what he says, 
 though. The Queen would be glad to see us all 
 dead. 
 
 DESMOULINS. Why so? 
 
 THE WOBKINGMAN. She's an Austrian. The Aus- 
 trians have always been enemies of France. She mar- 
 ried our king in order to injure us. We can't help 
 being nervous so long as she is here.
 
 THE FOURTEENTH OF JULY 29 
 
 THE OTHERS. He's right. Out of France with the 
 Austrian ! 
 
 LA CONTAT [in the midst of the Crowd], Why? 
 
 THE CROWD. What? What do you mean? 
 
 LA CONTAT [showing herself]. Yes, why? Are you 
 mad to say such things about the most charming of 
 women ? 
 
 THE CROWD. Who dares say anything good of the 
 Austrian here? Good Lord, why, it's an insult to us! 
 
 DESMOULINS [to LA CONTAT]. Don't say another 
 word. You'd better get out and not answer them. 
 
 LA CONTAT. I am in no hurry. 
 
 DESMOULINS. They're gathering strength from all 
 sides. 
 
 LA CONTAT. So much the better ! 
 
 A VAGABOND. What did you say, aristocrat? 
 What did you say? 
 
 LA CONTAT [brushing him aside]. Don't sniff at 
 me. I said, Long live the Queen! 
 
 THE CROWD [exasperated]. By God! 
 
 A CLERK. There's a girl who needs a good thrash- 
 ing. 
 
 LA CONTAT. There's a face that needn't wait for 
 one! [She slaps him.] 
 
 THE CLERK. Help! [Some laugh, others shout.] 
 
 THE CROWD [gathering round]. Come and see! 
 What's the matter? An aristocrat assaulting a pa- 
 triot ! Into the river ! 
 
 DESMOULINS. Citizens, it's only a joke. 
 
 THE CROWD [furiously]. To the river! 
 
 HULIN [bullying the Crowd]. Here! [He stands
 
 80 THE FOURTEENTH OF JULY 
 
 before LA CONTAT.] You know me, comrades, I am 
 Hulin. You saw me at work the other day : I smashed 
 in the gate of the Abbey to save our friends the French 
 Guards, who were imprisoned. I'll smash in the head 
 of the first man who comes a step nearer. Respect the 
 women, I tell you! If you want to fight, there's no 
 lack of enemies. Go and find them. 
 
 THE CROWD. He's right. Bravo ! No, he isn't ! 
 She insulted us ! She's got to apologize ! On her 
 knees, the aristocrat! Make her cry Down with the 
 Queen ! 
 
 LA CONTAT. I won't cry anything. [To DES- 
 MOULINS.] Help me to get up here. [She stands on 
 a table.] If you bully me any more I'll cry Down 
 with Necker! [Cries from the Crowd.] I'm not afraid 
 of you. Do you think you can frighten me because 
 you're a mob, and your hundred mouths are yapping 
 at me? I have only one, but I can make myself heard. 
 I'm used to talking to the people. I face you every 
 night: I am Mademoiselle Contat. 
 
 THE CROWD. Contat of the Theatre-Fra^ais ! 
 The Theatre-Franyais ! Oh, let's see her! Silence! 
 
 LA CONTAT. So you don't like the Queen? Do you 
 want her sent away? Would you like to exile every 
 pretty woman from France? You have only to say 
 the word : we'll pack up and go. See what will happen 
 without us. You really make me laugh, calling me an 
 aristocrat! I'm the daughter of a herring-dealer, who 
 kept shop just under the Chatelet. I work like the rest 
 of you. I am for Necker just as you are. I'm for 
 the Assembly, but I don't like to be bullied, and I
 
 THE FOURTEENTH OF JULY. 31 
 
 really think if you took it into your heads to try to 
 make me cry Long live Comedy, I would cry Down 
 with Moliere! You may think whatever you like: 
 there's no law against stupidity, but then there's 
 no law against those who still have a little common 
 sense. I like the Queen, and I am not afraid to 
 say so. 
 
 A STUDENT. Of course: they both have the Comte 
 d'Artois for a lover! 
 
 Two WORKINGMEN. What a lie ! She can cer- 
 tainly talk ! 
 
 DESMOULINS. Citizens, we cannot ask a queen to 
 speak against royalty. Here is the true queen! The 
 others are make-believe royalty, whose only function 
 is to bear dauphins. Once the little one is born, they 
 have nothing else to do. They live at our expense, 
 and they are costly luxuries. It would be best to send 
 this Austrian fowl back to her coop, from which she 
 was brought at great cost as if we lacked women in 
 France to bear children! But the queens of the the- 
 ater! Ah, they are intended to give happiness to the 
 people. Every hour of their life is devoted to our 
 service. Every bit of them is devoted to our pleasure ; 
 they belong to us, they are our national property. 
 By Venus of the Beautiful Cheeks, let us defend her, 
 and all shout: Long live the Queen, the true Queen, 
 La Contat! [Laughter and applause.] 
 
 THE CROWD. Long live Queen Contat ! 
 
 LA CONTAT. Thank you. [To DESMOULINS.] 
 Give me your arm ; you're nicer than the others. 
 Have you feasted your eyes enough? Very well, then
 
 32 THE FOURTEENTH OF JULY 
 
 let me by. If you want to see me again, you know the 
 way to the Theater. What is your name? 
 
 DESMOULINS. Camille Desmoulins. How imprudent 
 of you! I told you weren't you afraid? 
 
 LA CONTAT. Of what? 
 
 DESMOULINS. They nearly killed you. 
 
 LA CONTAT. The idea ! They shout, of course, but 
 they never do anything. 
 
 DESMOULINS. You are blind. They are right who 
 say that to despise danger is merely to be unaware of 
 it. 
 
 THE CROWD. The little lady has warmth in her 
 eyes ! Elsewhere, too ! 
 
 A WORKINGMAN. That's all very well, Mademoi- 
 selle, but it's not the thing to set yourself against the 
 poor like us, and side with the people who are exploit- 
 ing us ! 
 
 THE MANIAC. Lord, she's a monopolist ! 
 
 LA CONTAT. What ! A monopolist ! 
 
 THE MANIAC. Look at your wig. 
 
 LA CONTAT. Well? 
 
 THE MANIAC. All that powder! There's enough 
 flour on the necks of the idle rich to feed the poor of 
 Paris ! 
 
 THE WORKINGMAN [to LA CONTAT]. Never mind 
 him ; he's crazy. If you have a good heart, Mademoi- 
 selle and I can see in your eyes tha.t you have how 
 can you defend the cut-throats who want to destroy us ? 
 
 LA CONTAT. Destroy you, my friend? Who told 
 you that? 
 
 A STUDENT. Don't you know? Here's the latest
 
 THE FOURTEENTH OF JULY SS 
 
 letter from the Austrian's man, the Jesuit Marshal, 
 the old assassin, the ass decorated with amulets, 
 relics, and medals: de Broglie! Do you know what 
 he says? 
 
 CROWD. Read ! Read ! 
 
 THE STUDENT. They have conspired. They want 
 to break up our States-General, take away our deputies 
 and throw them into prison, expel our Necker, sell Lor- 
 raine to the Emperor for money to pay their soldiers, 
 bombard Paris and kill the inhabitants. The plot is 
 scheduled for tonight. 
 
 GONCHON. Did you hear that? Isn't that enough, 
 or do you want still more to stir you up? Good God, 
 are we to let them stick us like pigs? God Almighty, 
 to arms ! To arms ! Luckily, we have a protector ; 
 he's watching over us : Long live Orleans ! 
 
 GONCHON'S FOLLOWERS. Long live Orleans! 
 
 THE CROWD. To arms! Let's march against 
 them ! 
 
 MARAT [rising from the Crowd, and standing on a 
 chair. He is a small man, and appears nervous and 
 deeply agitated. He stands tip-toe, and then speaks 
 with all his power] . Stop ! You poor wretches, where 
 are you going? Don't you see that the cut-throats 
 are only waiting for an insurrection in Paris to swoop 
 down upon the city? Don't listen to such perfidious 
 advice. That is only a ruse to destroy you. Yes, you, 
 you who excite the people, you who pretend to be a 
 patriot, who says you are not an agent of despotism, 
 whose business it is to provoke the good citizens and 
 deliver them into the hands of the hordes of Versailles?
 
 34 THE FOURTEENTH OF JULY 
 
 Who are you? Where do you come from? Who will 
 guarantee you? 7 don't know you. 
 
 GONCHON. Well, I don't know you. 
 
 MARAT. If you don't know me, you are a scoundrel. 
 I am known wherever there is virtue and poverty. I 
 spend my nights taking care of the sick, and my days 
 taking care of the people. My name is Marat. 
 
 GONCHON. I don't know you. 
 
 MARAT. If you don't, you will before long, traitor ! 
 Oh, credulous people, absurd people, open your eyes. 
 Do you realize where you are? What, do you gather 
 here to prepare your struggle for liberty? Look, 
 look about you! This is the gathering-place of all 
 the exploiters, all the idle classes, swindlers, thieves, 
 prostitutes, disguised spies, the instruments of the aris- 
 tocracy! [Howls, protestations, and the like, from 
 one part of the Crowd, which cries: " Down with him! " 
 and bare their fists.] 
 
 DESMOULINS. Bravo, Marat! Struck the nail on 
 the head! 
 
 LA CONTAT. Who is that dirty little fellow with 
 such beautiful eyes ? 
 
 DESMOULINS. A doctor-journalist. 
 
 ANOTHER PART OF THE CROWD. Go on ! [They ap- 
 plaud.] 
 
 MARAT. I care nothing for. the howling of these 
 traitors, these accomplices of famine and servitude ! 
 They rob you of what money you have left ; they drain 
 your strength with their women, and your good sense 
 with liquor ! Fools ! And you put yourselves in their 
 clutches, and blurt out your secrets to them! You
 
 THE FOURTEENTH OF JULY 35 
 
 give yourselves into the hands of the enemy. Behind 
 each pillar, at the corner of each cafe, beside you, at 
 your table, a spy listens to you, watches you, takes 
 down what you say, and prepares your destruction* 
 You who want to be free, leave this sink of vice! Be- 
 fore entering the supreme struggle, begin by counting 
 your forces. Where are your weapons? You have 
 none. Forge your pikes, I tell you, make your 
 muskets! Where are your friends? You have none. 
 Your own neighbor betrays you. Perhaps the man 
 you shake hands with, is delivering you into the hands 
 of the enemy. And you yourselves, are you sure of 
 yourselves? You are at war with corruption, and you 
 are corrupted. [Howls from the Crowd.] You pro- 
 test? If the aristocracy offered you gold and food, 
 do you dare swear that you would not become aristo- 
 crats yourselves? You cannot silence me with your 
 protestations. You will hear the truth. You are too 
 accustomed to flatterers who court your favor and be- 
 tray you. You are vain, proud, frivolous: you have 
 neither strength, character, nor virtue. You waste 
 your strength in talk. You are effeminate, vacillating, 
 will-less ; you tremble at the sight of a musket 
 
 CROWD. That'll do ! Enough ! 
 
 MARAT. You shout " Enough " ! I, too, and even 
 louder: Enough of vice, enough of stupidity, enough of 
 cowardice! Band yourselves together, strike from 
 your midst all who are false to the cause, purify your 
 minds, and gird your loins. Oh, my fellow-citizens, I 
 tell you these truths a little harshly, perhaps, but it is 
 because I love you!
 
 36 THE FOURTEENTH OF JULY 
 
 LA CONTAT. See! He's crying! 
 
 MAE AT. They give you opium, but I pour burning 
 liquor on your bleeding wounds, and I will continue to 
 do so until you realize your rights and your duties, 
 until you are free, until you are happy. Yes, in spite 
 of your frivolousness, you will be happy, you will be 
 happy, or I shall cease to exist ! [He ends, his cheeks 
 streaming with tears, his voice broken with sobs.] 
 
 LA CONTAT. His cheeks are running with tears! 
 How funny he is ! 
 
 THE CROWD [half laughing, the other half applaud- 
 ing]. There's a real friend of the people! Long live 
 Marat! [They surround him, put him on their shoul- 
 ders and, in spite of his struggles, carry him about.] 
 
 HULIN [catching sight of a little girl who is looking 
 at MARAT, her eyes full of tears]. What's the trouble, 
 little one? You're crying, too ? [The Little Girl keeps 
 her eyes fixed on MARAT, whose bearers have now al- 
 lowed him to alight. She runs to him.] 
 
 LITTLE JULIE [to MARAT, her hands clasped]. 
 Don't cry! Don't cry! 
 
 MARAT [looking at her]. What is it, little one? 
 
 JULIE. Don't be unhappy, please ! We'll be better, 
 I promise, we won't be cowards any more. We won't 
 lie; we'll be good, I swear! [The Crowd laughs. 
 HULIN motions those near him to be silent, and not 
 interrupt the Little Girl. MARAT, who is seated, as- 
 sumes a different expression as he listens to her. His 
 face brightens, and he looks tenderly at the child, and 
 takes her hands in his.] 
 
 MARAT. Why do you cry?
 
 THE FOURTEENTH OF JULY 87 
 
 JULIE. Because you cry. 
 
 MARAT. Do you know me? 
 
 JULIE. When I was sick, you took care of me. 
 
 MARAT [draws her tenderly toward him, and looks 
 into her eyes, smoothing her hair back from her face.} 
 Yes, your name is Julie. Your mother is a washer- 
 woman. You had measles last winter. You were 
 afraid. You cried as you lay in your little bed, be- 
 cause you didn't want to die. [She turns her head 
 away. He takes the child's head and presses it to his 
 breast as he smiles.} Don't be ashamed. So, you un- 
 derstood me, eh? You are with me? Do you know 
 what I should like? 
 
 JULIE. Yes, and I want it, too [The rest of her 
 sentence is lost, as she hesitates.} 
 
 MARAT. What ? 
 
 JULIE [raising her head and speaking with an air of 
 conviction that causes the bystanders to smile}. Lib- 
 erty. 
 
 MARAT. What would you do with it? 
 
 JULIE. Give it. 
 
 MARAT. To whom? 
 
 JULIE. To the poor people who are in prison. 
 
 MARAT. Where ? 
 
 JULIE. There in the big prison. They're alone all 
 the time, and people forget them. [The attitude of the 
 Crowd changes. It has become serious; some frown 
 and do not look at their neighbors. They stare 
 at the ground, and appear to be speaking to them- 
 selves.} 
 
 MARAT. How do you know that, little one?
 
 38 THE FOURTEENTH OF JULY 
 
 JULIE. I know I've been told. I often think about 
 them, at night. 
 
 MARAT [smoothing her hair]. But you must sleep 
 at night. 
 
 JULIE [after a few moments' pause, takes MARAT'S 
 hand, and says with passion]. We will free them, 
 won't we? 
 
 MARAT. But how? 
 
 JULIE. Go there all together. 
 
 THE CROWD [laughing'}. Ha! It's so easy! [The 
 Little Girl raises her eyes, and sees the circle of curious 
 onlookers staring at her. She is frightened and 
 hides her head in her arm, which rests on HULIN'S 
 table.] 
 
 LA CONTAT. Isn't she dear! 
 
 MARAT [looking at her]. Holy virtue of childhood, 
 pure spark of goodness, what a comfort you are! 
 How dark would the world be without children's eyes ! 
 [He goes gravely toward the child, takes her hand, 
 which hangs limp, and kisses her.] 
 
 A WOMAN OF THE PEOPLE [arriving on the scene]. 
 Julie! Are you here! What are you doing with all 
 these people? 
 
 DESMOULINS. She was addressing the crowd. 
 [Laughter.] 
 
 THE MOTHER. And she so frightened! What's 
 got into her? [She goes to JULIE, but the moment she 
 touches her, the little one runs away without a word, 
 in childish rage.] 
 
 THE CROWD [laughing and applauding]. Run 
 away, little one ! [Loud laughter is heard at the other
 
 THE FOURTEENTH OF JULY S9 
 
 end of the Garden.] Come here! Come along! 
 What is it? They are ducking a countess! 
 
 LA CONTAT. Ducking a countess? 
 
 THE CROWD. She insulted the people! They're 
 ducking her in the fountain ! 
 
 LA CONTAT [on DESMOULINS' arm, laughing]. Let's 
 run ! How amusing ! 
 
 DESMOULINS. The most amusing performance in 
 Europe ! 
 
 LA CONTAT. Insolent! What about the Comedie? 
 {They go out laughing. The Crowd surges out. 
 MARAT and HULIN are down-stage alone; MARAT 
 stands, while HULIN sits at a cafe table. The back of 
 the stage is crowded; some are standing on chairs, 
 watching to see what is happening in the Garden. 
 People walk about under the galleries beyond MARAT 
 and HULIN.] 
 
 MARAT [pointing toward the Crowd]. Actors! 
 They are not seeking liberty ; they prefer plays ! To- 
 day, when their very lives are in danger, they think of 
 nothing but performing for each other. I want noth- 
 ing to do with such people! Their insurrections are 
 nothing but absurd antics. I don't want to see any 
 more of them. Oh, to live shut up in a cave, hear 
 nothing of the noise outside, to be free from the vileness 
 of the world! [He sits down, his head between his 
 hands.] 
 
 HULIN [tranquilly smoking, with a look of irony, 
 says to MARAT]. Come, Monsieur Marat, you mustn't 
 be discouraged. It's not worth it. They are only big 
 children playing. You know them as well as I do:
 
 40 THE FOURTEENTH OF JULY 
 
 they don't mean anything by that. Why take it so 
 tragically? 
 
 MARAT [raising his head, says with determination]. 
 Who are you? 
 
 HULIN. I come from your country Neuchatel in 
 Switzerland. Don't you remember me? I know you 
 very well. I saw you when you were a child at 
 Boudry. 
 
 MARAT. So you are Hulin, Augustin Hulin? 
 
 HULIN. Right ! 
 
 MARAT. What are you doing here? You were a 
 clock-maker in Geneva. 
 
 HULIN. I led a quiet life there. But I was count- 
 ing without my brother, who began to speculate. He 
 became imbroiled in some underhanded scheme, signed 
 certain papers . Naturally, he took it into his head 
 to die, and left his wife and a child of three for me 
 to take care of. I sold my shop to pay his debts, and 
 came to Paris, where I was taken into the service of 
 the Marquis de Vintimille. 
 
 MARAT. Then I'm not surprised at your cowardly 
 words. You are a servant. 
 
 HULIN. What if I am? 
 
 MARAT. Are you not ashamed to serve another 
 man? 
 
 HULIN. I see no shame in it. Each of us serves, 
 in one way or another. Are you not a doctor, Mon- 
 sieur Marat? You spend your days examining peo- 
 ple's wounds, and dressing them as well as you can. 
 You go to bed very late, and you get up at night when 
 your patients call you. Are you not then a servant?
 
 THE FOURTEENTH OF JULY 41 
 
 MARAT. I serve no master: I serve humanity. But 
 you are the valet of a corrupt man, a miserable aris- 
 tocrat. 
 
 HULIN. I don't serve him because he is corrupt. 
 You don't ask of jour patients whether they are good 
 or bad; they are men, poor devils like you and me. 
 When they need help, you must give it and not stop 
 to consider. Like many another, my master is cor- 
 rupted by wealth. He cannot help himself: he needs 
 a score of people to serve him. Now, I have three 
 times as much strength as I need, and I don't know 
 what use to make of it. Occasionally, I feel I would 
 like to break something just to ease my feelings. If 
 that idiot needs my power, I am willing to sell it to 
 him. We are then quits. I do him good, and myself, 
 too. 
 
 MARAT. You also sell him your free soul, your con- 
 science. 
 
 HULIN. Who says anything about that? I defy 
 any one to take that from me. 
 
 MARAT. And yet you submit. You don't tell all 
 you think. 
 
 HULIN. What need I say? I know what I think. 
 I's all very well for those who don't know to cry it 
 aloud from the house-tops ! I don't think for others ; 
 I think for myself. 
 
 MARAT. Nothing that is in you belongs to you. 
 You do not belong to yourself; you are a part of 
 every one. You owe your strength to others, your 
 will-power, your intelligence no matter how little you 
 possess.
 
 42 THE FOURTEENTH OF JULY 
 
 HULIN. Will-power and intelligence are not cur- 
 rency that one may give. Work done for others is 
 work ill done. I have made myself free. Let the 
 others do likewise! 
 
 MARAT. There, in those words, I recognize my odi- 
 ous compatriots ! Simply because Nature has given 
 them six feet of body and the muscles of an animal, 
 they think they have a right to despise those who are 
 weak and ill. And when after they have reaped their 
 harvests and worked in their fields, they sit down satis- 
 fied before their own doors, smoking a vile pipe the 
 nasty smoke of which calms their tiny consciences, they 
 think they have done their duty, and tell their less 
 fortunate brothers who ask for help to " go and do 
 likewise." 
 
 HULIN [quietly]. How well you know me! You 
 have described me perfectly. [He smiles to himself.] 
 
 HOCHE [who comes in. He wears the uniform of a 
 corporal of the French Guards. He carries some 
 clothes over his arm. To MARAT] . Don't believe him, 
 citizen. He libels himself. He never refuses the out- 
 stretched hand of misfortune. Only last week, he took 
 command of us and freed the French Guards who were 
 imprisoned in the Abbey by the aristocrats. 
 
 HULIN [without turning his head, extends his hand 
 over his shoulder]. Ah, it's you, Hoche? Who has 
 asked for your advice? You're talking nonsense! I 
 was telling you not long ago that sometimes I feel I 
 have too much strength, and then I knock in a door, 
 or demolish a wall. And, of course, when I see a 
 drowning man, I offer him a helping hand. I don't
 
 THE FOURTEENTH OF JULY 48 
 
 reason about those things. But I don't lie in wait 
 for people who are going to drown, nor do I throw 
 them into the water like these people who start revo- 
 lutions just in order to fish them out afterward. 
 
 MARAT. You are ashamed of the good you do. I 
 hate these people who brag of their vices. [He turns 
 his back.} What are you carrying there? 
 
 HOCHE. Some waistcoats that I embroidered; I'm 
 trying to sell them. 
 
 MARAT. Pretty work for a soldier! Do you mend 
 clothes ? 
 
 HOCHE. It's as good a trade as tearing them. 
 
 MARAT. Don't you blush to steal women's business? 
 So that is what you are doing? You think of your 
 business, you hoard your gold, when Paris is about to 
 swim in blood! 
 
 HOCHE [quietly, and with a touch of distfain]. Oh, 
 we have time enough. Everything in due time. 
 
 MARAT. Your heart is cold, your pulse is slow. 
 You are no patriot. [To HULIN.] And as for you, 
 you are worse than if you really did what you brag 
 about ! You had a decent healthy character, which 
 you are wilfully perverting. Oh, Liberty, these are 
 your defenders. Indifferent to the dangers that beset 
 you, they will do nothing to combat them ! I at least 
 will not abandon you, I alone. I shall watch over the 
 people. I will save them in spite of themselves. [He 
 goes out.~\ 
 
 HULIN [watching him go, and laughing]. Our gay 
 associate! He sees everything through pink specta- 
 cles. He's a doctor from my country. One feels im a
 
 44 THE FOURTEENTH OF JULY 
 
 mediately that he is used to commanding people. He 
 hasn't enough to do in his own business, he must needs 
 treat all humanity. 
 
 HOCHE [following MAKAT with his eyes, and with a 
 mixture of pity and interest]. An honest man. The 
 woes of humanity weigh heavy on his shoulders; they 
 unhinge his reason and his judgment. He is sick with 
 virtue. 
 
 HULIN. Where did you know him? 
 
 HOCHE. I've read his books. 
 
 HULIN. You must have time to waste. Where did 
 you get hold of them? 
 
 HOCHE. I bought them with the money I received 
 from these waistcoats for which he reproached me. 
 
 HUIIN [looking at him]. Let me see. What's the 
 matter? Have you been fighting again? 
 
 HOCHE. Yes. 
 
 HULIN. Barbarian ! Where did you get that ? 
 
 HOCHE. In the Place Louis XV. I was walking 
 past. The arrogance of those Germans, camping here 
 in our own Paris, got on my nerves. I could not help 
 laughing at them. They fell upon me in a body, but 
 the people there got me away from them. I made a 
 mess of one or two, however. 
 
 HULIN. Indeed! That will cost you dear. 
 
 HOCHE. Bah! Do me a favor, Hulin. Read this 
 letter for me. 
 
 HULIN. To whom is it addressed? 
 
 HOCHE. To the King. 
 
 HULIN. Are you writing to the King? 
 
 HOCHE. Why shouldn't I? He is a son of Adam,
 
 THE FOURTEENTH OF JULY 45 
 
 like me. If I can give him some good advice, why 
 shouldn't I? And why shouldn't he follow it? 
 
 HULIN [jokingly']. And what have you to say to 
 the King? 
 
 HOCHE. I tell him to send his troops away from 
 Paris, and to come himself to the city and start the 
 revolution. [HULIN laughs uproariously. HOCHE 
 smiles.'] Your reasons are excellent. Thank you for 
 your advice, hut that is not what I want. 
 
 HULIN. What, then? 
 
 HOCHE [embarrassed]. The the style, you see. 
 And the spelling I'm not quite sure. 
 
 HULIN. Do you imagine he is going to read it? 
 
 HOCHE. That makes no difference. 
 
 HULIN. I'll see to it, then. 
 
 HOCHE. How fortunate you are to have an educa- 
 tion! Work as I will now, I can never make up for 
 lost time. 
 
 HULIN. Are you really so simple as to think this 
 letter will be read? 
 
 HOCHE [good-humoredly] . To tell the truth, I 
 don't think it will. And yet it would be very easy for 
 all those fellows who run the government of Europe, 
 to apply just a little common sense, ordinary every- 
 day sense! So much the worse for them! If they 
 don't, it will be done without them! 
 
 HULIN. Instead of trying to reform the world, 
 you'd do much better to get yourself out of the fix 
 you're in now. You are going to be reported per- 
 haps you have been already. Do you know what will 
 be waiting for you when you return to the barracks?
 
 46 THE FOURTEENTH OF JULY 
 
 HOCHE. Yes, but do you know what is waiting for 
 the barracks when I return to them? 
 
 HULIN. What? 
 
 HOCHE. You'll see. 
 
 HULIN. Now what are you plotting? Don't get 
 excited. Don't you think there's enough disorder as 
 it is? 
 
 HOCHE. When order is injustice, disorder is the 
 beginning of justice. 
 
 HULIN. Justice! Justice consists in not demand- 
 ing of things what they cannot give. You can't make 
 over the world; you must accept it as it is. Why 
 demand the impossible? 
 
 HOCHE. Poor Hulin, do you know everything that 
 is impossible? 
 
 HULIN. What do you mean? Let the people do 
 merely what they can do, and you will see whether or 
 not the world can be made over ! 
 
 HULIN [his hand on HOCHE'S shoulder]. Ah, you 
 are ambitious. You dream of dominating the people ! 
 
 HOCHE. You ignorant colossus ! Fine ambition, 
 that! Do you think I have the spirit of a corporal? 
 [He looks at his uniform.] 
 
 HULIN. Disgusted, eh? What's the matter with 
 you? You seem very happy today. Are they going 
 to make you a sergeant? 
 
 HOCHE [shrugging his shoulders]. Happiness is 
 in the air. 
 
 HULIN. You're not hard to please. There is 
 famine. Imminent massacre. Your people are about 
 t6 be destroyed. And you, what are you going to do?
 
 THE FOURTEENTH OF JULY 47 
 
 You will have to march against those you love, or else 
 be killed with your friends. 
 
 HOCHE [smiling]. Very well, then. 
 
 HULIN. You think it very well? The thunderbolt 
 is above you; everything is ready to crumble. . . . 
 Roll, thunder ! Truth, burn the night ! 
 
 HULIN. I am not afraid of the storm. Everything 
 I have told you, comrade, doesn't make me any more 
 afraid. I am not afraid for my own skin. But I 
 don't see even the first rain-drop. If your eyes are 
 better than mine, show me! And wherever there is a 
 good blow needed, be assured I shall be ready. Lead 
 me, show me the road ; what must I do? 
 
 HOCHE. There is no settled plan. Watch and 
 see what happens. When the storm comes, hold fast 
 and run with it. Meantime, let us proceed as usual 
 and sell our waistcoats. [The Crowd again inundates 
 the stage. Cries and laughter are heard. An Urchin 
 of four or five is carried on the shoulders of a huge 
 Porter. LA CONTAT, DESMOULINS, and the rest follow 
 them, laughing.] 
 
 THE URCHIN [screaming]. Down with the aristos, 
 the aristocracks, the aristaustrians ! 
 
 HULIN. Now what are they playing at? Ah, their 
 favorite amusement: abusing the aristocrats. 
 
 THE PORTER. Attention, Voice of the People! 
 What shall we condemn them to? Hey, there, Mon- 
 sieur, don't you hear me, Leonidas? What'll we do to 
 Artois ? 
 
 THE URCHIN. The pillory! 
 
 THE PORTER. And Polignac?
 
 48 THE FOURTEENTH OF JULY 
 
 THE URCHIN. A 
 
 THE PORTER. And Conde? 
 
 THE URCHIN. The gallows! 
 
 THE PORTER. And the Queen? 
 
 THE URCHIN. To the ! [The Crowd bursts 
 into loud laughter, cheering the Urchin, who cries 
 aloud, inflated by his success. The Porter continues 
 on his way with the boy.] 
 
 LA CONTAT. The dear child! He makes me die 
 laughing. 
 
 DESMOULINS. Let's follow them. Bravo, terror of 
 the aristos ! Messieurs, young Leonidas has forgotten 
 one of our friends, Monsieur de Vintimille, Marquis de 
 Castelnau. 
 
 HULIN [to HOCHE]. Listen, he's speaking of my 
 master. 
 
 DESMOULINS. We surely owe him something. The 
 Marshal has just appointed him guard over the Bas- 
 tille, with M. de Launey, and he has promised that 
 within two days, we shall go and ask pardon of him, 
 barefooted and with ropes round our necks. I propose 
 that one of us make a present of his rope to that friend 
 of the people. 
 
 THE CROWD. Burn him ! He lives near ! Burn 
 his house his furniture his wife his children! 
 
 VINTIMILLE [appearing in the midst of the Crowd, 
 cold and ironic]. Messieurs 
 
 LA CONTAT. God save us ! 
 
 HULIN. Hoche! [He takes hold of HOCHE'S arm.] 
 
 HOCHE. What's the matter? 
 
 HULIN. It's he !
 
 THE FOURTEENTH OF JULY 49 
 
 HOCHE. Who ? 
 
 HULIN. Vintimille. 
 
 VINTIMILLE. Messieurs, M. de Vintimille's up- 
 holsterer asks permission to speak. 
 
 THE CROWD. Hear the upholsterer ! 
 
 VINTIMILLE. Messieurs, you are quite right in wish- 
 ing to burn that blackguard aristocrat, who makes 
 game of you, despises you, and who goes about saying 
 that dogs ought to be whipped when they show their 
 teeth. Burn, Messieurs, by all means burn, but I warn 
 you, take care that the flame of your just fury does 
 not scorch you, and demolish what is yours along with 
 what is his. Let me ask you first of all, Messieurs, 
 whether it is right to ruin M. de Vintimille and those 
 who ruin him his creditors, that is? At least 
 allow me to beg you to spare the furniture, which 
 belongs to me, and for which the scoundrel has not paid 
 a sou. 
 
 CROWD. Take back your furniture! 
 
 VINTIMILLE. I am encouraged, Messieurs, by the 
 success of my request, to make another, this time on 
 behalf of the architect of the house. He has been no 
 more successful than I in extracting ecus from the 
 pocket of M. de Vintimille; and he asks you to con- 
 sider what harm you would do him in destroying his 
 only security? 
 
 CROWD. Save the house! 
 
 VINTIMILLE. And as for his wife, Messieurs why 
 burn what belongs to you? His wife is of the people. 
 The Court, the city, the clergy, the middle-classes, 
 have often appreciated her splendid qualities. She
 
 50 THE FOURTEENTH OF JULY 
 
 possesses a liberal mind, and she recognizes no privi- 
 leges: the three orders are equal in her eyes. In her 
 person she realizes the perfect union of the nation. 
 Let us do honor to so rare a virtue. Messieurs, let 
 us show mercy for Madame. 
 
 DESMOULINS. Mercy for Notre Dame ! 
 
 THE CROWD [laughing] . Yes, yes, mercy for Ma- 
 dame! 
 
 VINTIMILLE. Really, Messieurs, I am taking advan- 
 tage 
 
 THE CROWD. No, no ! 
 
 VINTIMILLE. Finally, Messieurs, if you burned M. 
 de Vintimille's children, would you not tremble to vie 
 with our tragediennes? 
 
 THE CROWD [laughing] . Long live the children! 
 Ha, ha! 
 
 VINTIMILLE [m a changed tone]. As for him, burn 
 him, Messieurs, burn him, burn him. And, let me tell 
 you, if you don't burn him, he will burn you! [He 
 steps down from the chair, and disappears into the 
 Crowd, who laugh and shout, and applaud him.] 
 
 LA CONTAT [going quickly to VINTIMILLE]. Run 
 quickly! They might recognize you! 
 
 VINTIMILLE. Hello, Contat, were you there? What 
 are you doing in such vile company? 
 
 LA CONTAT. Don't make fun of the dogs until you 
 are well out of the village. 
 
 VINTIMILLE. Oh, not every barking dog bites. 
 Come! 
 
 LA CONTAT. Later. 
 
 VINTIMILLE. I shall meet you at the Bastille.
 
 THE FOURTEENTH OF JULY 51 
 
 LA CONTAT. Very well: at the Bastille. [VINTI- 
 MILLE goes out.] 
 
 HOCHE. The rascal! What effrontery! 
 
 HULIN. A mixture of courage and nasty vileness. 
 
 HOCHE. Often to be observed in our " betters." 
 
 HULIN. This one made his fortune by marrying one 
 of the late king's mistresses ; and the same man wins 
 honor at Crefeld and Rosbach. 
 
 AN OLD WOMAN SHOPKEEPER. What do you mean 
 with your talk all the time of burning and hanging and 
 stirring things up? What'll it bring you? I know 
 well enough you'll not do a blessed thing about it. 
 Then why talk so much? Will it make your soup 
 taste better if you cook a few aristocrats? They'll run 
 off with all their money and we'll be more miserable 
 than ever. You see, you've got to take things as they 
 come, and not believe those liars that tell you you can 
 change things by shouting. D'ye know what I think? 
 We're wasting our time here. Nothing's going to 
 happen, nothing can happen. You're threatened with 
 famine, war the whole Apocalypse. I tell you, it's 
 all invented by the newspapers that haven't anything 
 else to print, and by spies who want to stir things up. 
 There's just a misunderstanding with the king, but 
 it'll be all right if we go about our business. We have 
 a good king : he's promised to keep our good M. Necker, 
 who's going to give us a Constitution. Why don't you 
 believe it? Isn't that good common sense? Why isn't 
 it, eh? I believe what they say, and I was just as 
 foolish as you: I wasted four hours here. I'm going 
 now and sell my turnips.
 
 52 THE FOURTEENTH OF JULY 
 
 THE CROWD [approvingly]. She's right. You're 
 all right, mother. Let's go home. 
 
 HULIN. What have you to say to that? 
 
 HOCHE [with a smile]. She reminds me of my old 
 aunt. She talked about patience the moment she set 
 to beating me. 
 
 HULIN. I think she talked good common sense. 
 
 HOCHE. I ask nothing better than to be able to 
 believe her; and I find it so natural that reason should 
 prevail in her mind that if I listened to my own counsel, 
 I should even allow my enemies to make reason tri- 
 umph ; but, you see, experience has too often disabused 
 me. All I have to do is to open my eyes ; I see Gonchon 
 and his band closing shop. They do nothing without 
 a motive, mind you, and I am very much afraid that 
 this sudden quiet is only the lull before the storm. At 
 base, no one believes that this calm is natural; they 
 all stayed, even the old lady. They try to delude 
 themselves, but they can't. They have all caught the 
 fever. Listen to the voice of that crowd ! They don't 
 shout, but hear the murmurs ! Like the rustling of 
 leaves. The breeze before the rain. [He seizes 
 HULIN'S hand.] See! Look! Hulin here, here 
 [A great confused murmur comes from the Crowd at 
 the back of the Garden, and then bursts forth like a 
 clap of thunder.] 
 
 A MAN [out of breath, his hat gone, his clothing in 
 disorder, runs in, and cries out in terror.] Necker is 
 exiled ! 
 
 THE CROWD [excitedly, hurrying to the Man]. 
 What ! What ! Necker ! It's a lie !
 
 THE FOURTEENTH OF JULY 53 
 
 THE MAN [shouting] . Necker is banished! He's 
 gone, gone! 
 
 THE CROWD [howling]. Kill him! He's a spy from 
 Versailles ! Kill him ! 
 
 THE MAN [terror-stricken, as he attempts to free 
 himself.] What are you doing? You don't under- 
 stand! I say that Necker 
 
 THE CROWD. To the fountain! The informer! 
 Drown him! 
 
 THE MAN [howling]. Me? 
 
 HOCHE. Let's save him, Hulin ! 
 
 HULIN. You'd have to strike down twenty to save 
 one. [They try in vain to break through the Crowd, 
 which bears off the unfortunate Man. ROBESPIERRE 
 then rises from the Crowd and stands on a table. He 
 makes a gesture indicating that he wants silence.] 
 
 HOCHE. Who is that thin little fellow who's trying 
 to talk? 
 
 DESMOULINS. That is Robespierre, Deputy from 
 Arras. 
 
 HOCHE. Shout, Hulin, and make them keep still ! 
 
 HULIN. Listen! Listen to Citizen Robespierre! 
 [At -first ROBESPIERRE trembles. He is not heard amid 
 the confusion. Some cry, " Louder! "] 
 
 DESMOULINS. Speak, Robespierre. 
 
 HULIN. Don't be afraid. [ROBESPIERRE looks at 
 him with a timid and disdainful smile. ] 
 
 DESMOULINS. He's not used to speaking. 
 
 HOCHE. Silence, comrades! 
 
 ROBESPIERRE [composing himself]. Citizens, I am 
 Deputy to the Third Estate. I have come from Ver-
 
 54 THE FOURTEENTH OF JULY 
 
 sallies. That man spoke the truth: Necker has been 
 exiled. The power is now in the hands of the nation's 
 enemies. De Broglie, Breteuil, Foulon: Carnage, 
 Rapine, and Famine, are now the ministers. This 
 means war. I have cast my lot with you. 
 
 THE CROWD [terrified]. We're lost! 
 
 DESMOULINS. What shall we do? 
 
 ROBESPIERRE. Let us know how to die. 
 
 HOCHE [with a shrug] . Lawyer ! 
 
 HUUN. Speak to them, Citizen Deputy. 
 
 ROBESPIERRE. What is the use of talk? Let each 
 one consult his own conscience. 
 
 HOCHE. They are mad with terror. If they're not 
 made to do something, they are lost. [ROBESPIERRE 
 takes manuscripts and printers' proofs from his 
 pocket.] 
 
 HULIN. What's he going to read ? Don't read ! 
 One really human word is worth a thousand from those 
 papers ! 
 
 ROBESPIERRE [opens out his papers, and reads in a 
 quiet, but cutting tone] . " Declaration of Rights." 
 
 HOCHE. Listen ! 
 
 ROBESPIERRE. " Declaration of Rights, proposed 
 to the National Assembly, yesterday, Saturday July 
 11: The National Assembly proclaims abroad to the 
 Universe and under the eye of the Supreme Being, the 
 following rights of man and citizen: 
 
 Nature has made men free and equal " [A thun- 
 der of applause, which drowns out the rest of the sen- 
 tence.] 
 
 '* Every man is born with inalienable and indefeasible
 
 THE FOURTEENTH OF JULY 55 
 
 rights : liberty of thought, the care of his honor and 
 his life, the complete freedom of his person, the pursuit 
 of happiness, and resistance to oppression." [The 
 applause is redoubled.] 
 
 HOCHE [drawing his saber] . Resistance to oppres- 
 sion! [Others follow his example, and in a moment 
 the Crowd bristle with arms.] 
 
 ROBESPIERRE. " Oppression exists against the social 
 order, when even a single member of it is oppressed. 
 There exists oppression against each and every member 
 of the social order, when the whole is oppressed." 
 
 GONCHON. Are they going on with this? They 
 must be got out of the way. If the army comes, they 
 ought to go somewhere else and get killed ! [He speaks 
 to his associates.] 
 
 ROBESPIERRE. " The Nation is sovereign." [A 
 shout is heard. The Crowd are terrified and listen in 
 fear and trembling.] 
 
 HOCHE. Hulin! The storm at last! 
 
 A VOICE [terrified]. They're coming! They're 
 coming! The cavalry! 
 
 ONE OF GONCHON'S MEN [in a strident voice]. Run 
 for your lives! [Great confusion and shouting.] 
 
 HULIN [leaping upon the man who just shouted, and 
 striking him on the head]. Good God! [To ROBES- 
 PIERRE.] Continue! [ROBESPIERRE tries to go on, but 
 his voice fails him. HOCHE jumps up on the table 
 beside ROBESPIERRE, and reads with enthusiasm, which 
 stirs the Crowd.] 
 
 HOCHE. " The Nation is sovereign, and the govern- 
 ment is its work. When the government violates the
 
 56 THE FOURTEENTH OF JULY 
 
 rights of the nation, insurrection in that nation becomes 
 the most sacred of duties. Those who make war upon 
 a people in order to arrest the progress of its liberty, 
 ought to be attacked by all, not as ordinary enemies, 
 but as rebel slaves who have lifted a hand against the 
 Sovereign of the World, which is Mankind." [Amid 
 the wild acclamations, DESMOULINS, hair waving in the 
 wind and eyes aflame, jumps up on the table from 
 which HOCHE has just stepped down.~\ 
 
 DESMOULINS. Liberty, liberty! It is now flying 
 just above our heads. It bears me along with its 
 sacred whirlwind. On to victory ! Let us march with 
 the wind of her wings ! The day of bondage has passed 
 passed. Stand up, and let us send back the thunder- 
 bolt against the scoundrels who have the army! 
 Against the King! [The Crowd shouts: " Against the 
 King! "] Look at me, spies ! You are hidden here, 
 I know. It is I, Camille Desmoulins, who incite Paris 
 to revolt! I fear nothing: no matter what happens, 
 they will never catch me alive. [He displays a pistol 
 which he has taken from his pocket.] The only catas- 
 trophe I fear is to see France enslaved ! But we shan't 
 see that ! It will be free with us, or die with us. Yes, 
 like Virginius we will stab her with our own hands, 
 rather than allow her to be violated by tyrants. 
 Brothers, we will be free! We are already free! 
 Against the Bastilles of stone we will offer our breasts, 
 the unconquerable fortresses of Liberty ! Look ! The 
 very heavens open, the gods are on our side. The sun 
 tears open the clouds. See, the leaves on the trees 
 tremble for joy! Oh, leaves that quiver with the life-
 
 THE FOURTEENTH OF JULY 57 
 
 blood of a people that is now awaking to life, be our 
 rallying emblem, our pledge of victory; you are the 
 color of hope, of the sea, of young and free Nature! 
 [He breaks off a small branch from a chestnut tree.} 
 In hoc signo vinces. Liberty ! Liberty ! 
 
 THE PEOPLE. Liberty! [They crowd about DES- 
 MOTJLINS, embracing and kissing him.} 
 
 LA CONTAT [putting leaves in her hair} . Oh, young 
 Liberty! Bloom in my hair and flourish in my heart! 
 [She throws handfuls of leaves to the people.} 
 Friends, deck yourselves with the cockades of summer ! 
 [The Crowd strip the trees of their leaves.} 
 
 THE OLD WOMAN SHOPKEEPER. Against the King! 
 He was right! You must go to the King! On to 
 Versailles, my children! 
 
 HULIN [pointing to the OLD WOMAN and LA 
 CONTAT] . Now they are more excited than the rest ! 
 
 HOCHE. You'll have a hard time stopping them ! 
 
 THE PEOPLE. To the Champ de Mars ! Before the 
 people of Versailles ! We'll show them ! Scoun- 
 drels! They thought they could down the people of 
 Paris ! 
 
 THE OLD WOMAN. I'll have their hides! I'll show 
 those nasty Germans who's master? 
 
 DESMOULINS. They have banished our Necker. 
 Now we banish them! We want Necker to remain 
 We will show the world what we want. 
 
 THE PEOPLE. Let's parade in honor of Necker! 
 Here's his portrait, in Curtius' shop, among the wax 
 figures. Let's carry it in triumph ! The shop's 
 closed ! Break it in 1
 
 58 THE FOURTEENTH OF JULY 
 
 GONCHON [to his followers]. Let's take advantage 
 of the occasion ! 
 
 A FOLLOWER OF GONCHON. Monsieur Gonchon! 
 They're stealing everything! 
 
 GONCHON. Never mind ! You do the same ! 
 
 THE SHOPKEEPER. But they're coming into my 
 shop! 
 
 GONCHON. Can't keep them out. [He enters the 
 shop and shouts with the rest of the Crowd. Those out- 
 side run here and there. In a moment, swords, sticks, 
 pistols, and hatchets are seen flourishing in the air.] 
 
 THE PEOPLE. Easy, now ! No disorder, comrades ! 
 Hey, there, run away to school, lad! This is no 
 child's play ! This must be serious ! We must inspire 
 the tyrants with the sacred terror of the nation. [A 
 bust of Necker is carried out of the shop, hugged close 
 to the breast of the athletic Porter. The Crowd gather 
 around him.] Off with your hats! Here is our de- 
 fender, our father! Cover him with crepe! The 
 Patrie is in mourning! [GONCHON and his followers 
 come forth from the shop with the bust of the Due 
 d'Orleans. They assume the same attitudes of solemn 
 dignity as the others. The People pay no attention to 
 them.] 
 
 HULIN. What's that? 
 
 HOCHE. Our friend Gonchon's patron, the Citizen 
 d'Orle"ans. 
 
 HULIN. I'm going to break in his head, and those 
 of his bearers. 
 
 HOCHE [smiling]. No, no, let them be. Let them 
 compromise themselves.
 
 THE FOURTEENTH OF JULY 59 
 
 HULIN. Don't you know him? 
 
 HOCHE. An Orleans? He who knows one, knows 
 them all. He's a vicious vermin, who has caught hold 
 of the robes of Liberty, and tries to harm her. He 
 needs a slap, and he will get it. Let him alone. 
 
 HULIN. But what if he take away our liberty? 
 
 HOCHE. That misshapen brat? He'd better take 
 care that she doesn't take away his head ! [GONCHON 
 and his followers cover d'Orleans' head with crepe. A 
 procession then forms, in absurdly solemn order. Si- 
 lence. All at once, the OLD WOMAN SHOPKEEPER 
 comes in beating a drum. A formidable shout 
 arises.] 
 
 THE PEOPLE. Forward! [The procession starts. 
 First comes the drummer, followed by Necker's bust, 
 which the Porter carries on his head. He is sur- 
 rounded by men armed with sticks and hatchets 
 young men, elegantly attired in silks, wearing jewels 
 and watches, and armed with cudgels and swords; 
 French Guards with drawn sabers; women, first among 
 whom is LA CONTAT, clinging to DESMOULINS' arm. 
 Then comes GONCHON, who carries Orleans' bust, fol- 
 lowed by the shopkeepers of the Palais-Royal. Then 
 the rest of the Crowd. A great sUence, broken now 
 and then by the low hum of the vast crowd. In the 
 distance, shouting is heard; it grows nearer and nearer, 
 and finally passes through the whole line like a tremor 
 of passion. Then silence for a moment.] 
 
 HOCHE [to HULIN, pointing at the People]. Well, 
 Hulin, are you convinced now? 
 
 HULIN. Absurd. That disorderly mob! Attack
 
 60 
 
 an army? They're all going to be massacred. There's 
 no sense to it. [He follows the procession.] 
 
 HOCHE. Where are you going? 
 
 HULIN. With them, of course. 
 
 HOCHE. Old comrade, your instinct is better than 
 your head. 
 
 HULIN. You see that, do you? Do you know where 
 those blind people are going? 
 
 HOCHE. Don't bother about understanding. They 
 know: they see for you. 
 
 HULIN. Who? 
 
 HOCHE. The blind. [The lugubrious roll of the 
 drums is heard in the distance. The People march out 
 slowly. Silence.]
 
 ACT H 
 
 [Monday night, July 13-14. It is two or three o'clock 
 in the morning. 
 
 The scene is a street in Paris, in the Faubourg 
 Saint- Antoine. At the back, towering above the 
 house-tops, stands the great bulk of the Bastille, 
 the turrets of which, engulfed in the black night, 
 soar up into the sky, and seem to strain higher 
 and higher as dawn approaches. To the right, 
 at the corner of a street, is LTJCILE'S house. A 
 convolvulus twines itself about the balcony sup- 
 port, and clambers along the wall. The street is 
 lighted by candles, placed on the window-sills. 
 Sounds from blacksmith shops hammers pound- 
 ing on forges, are heard, and from time to time 
 the tocsin of a church, or occasionally a far-off 
 musket-shot. Workingmen are constructing a 
 barricade of wood and stone at the street corner, 
 under LUCILE'S window.] 
 
 A MASON. Only a few more stones now. 
 
 A WOKKINGMAN [with his bed on his back]. Here, 
 use this. It's my bed. 
 
 THE MASON. Are you sleeping here? 
 
 THE WOEKINGMAN. I will before long, with a bullet 
 in me. 
 
 THE MASON. You have a sense of humor. 
 
 61
 
 6 THE FOURTEENTH OF JULY 
 
 THE WOEKINGMAN. If the brigands pass here, 
 we won't need anything. Our beds are made else- 
 where. 
 
 A CAEPENTEE. Help me stretch this cord. 
 
 AN APPEENTICE. What for? 
 
 THE CAEPENTEE. To trip the horses. 
 
 A PEINTEE. Hey, Camuset? 
 
 ANOTHEE. Yes ? 
 
 THE PEINTEE. Listen. 
 
 THE OTHEE. What? 
 
 THE PEINTEE. Don't you hear? 
 
 THE OTHEE. I hear anvils. They're making pikes 
 in all the blacksmith shops. 
 
 THE PEINTEE. No, not that. There [He 
 points to the ground.} 
 
 THE OTHEE. There? 
 
 THE PEINTEE. Yes, under the ground. [He lies 
 down, with his ear to the ground.] 
 
 THE OTHEE. You're dreaming! 
 
 THE WOEKINGMAN [lying down]. Sounds like 
 mining. 
 
 THE OTHEE. Good Lord, they're going to blow us 
 up! 
 
 THE CAEPENTEE [incredulously'}. Nonsense! 
 
 THE WOEKINGMAN [still on the ground}. They've 
 hidden millions of pounds of powder there. 
 
 THE OTHEE WOEKINGMAN. That's why we can't 
 find any. 
 
 THE CAEPENTEE. Do you think an army can go 
 about underground like rats ? 
 
 THE WOEKINGMAN [still on the ground}. They've
 
 THE FOURTEENTH OF JULY 63 
 
 got underground passages leading from the Bastille to 
 Vincennes. 
 
 THE CARPENTER. Fairy tales! 
 
 THE OTHER WORKINGMAN [rising], I'll have a look 
 in the cellar, anyway. Are you coming with me, 
 Camuset? [They both go into a house. ] 
 
 THE CARPENTER [laughing] . In the cellar? Ha, 
 ha ! They're looking for a pretext to wet their whis- 
 tles ! Now, let's finish our work. 
 
 THE MASON [looking behind him as he works]. 
 Good God ! 
 
 THE CARPENTER. What's wrong? 
 
 THE MASON [looking toward the Bastille]. That 
 that ! Every time I look at that thing, it weighs down 
 on my back that Bastille! It catches in my throat. 
 
 THE CARPENTER. One looks under ground, and the 
 other in the air. Don't look around; go on with your 
 work. 
 
 THE MASON. Makes no difference: I feel it. Like 
 as if some one was standing behind me, with his fist 
 raised ready to hit me. Good God ! 
 
 THE VOICE OF A BOURGEOIS. He is right: we are 
 watched by cannon. What good is all this going to 
 do us? In a flash it could knock that all down like 
 a house of cards. 
 
 CARPENTER. Oh, no. 
 
 THE MASON [pointing toward the Bastille]. You 
 damned monster! When are we going to get rid of 
 you! 
 
 THE CARPENTER. Soon. 
 
 OTHERS. You think so? How?
 
 64 THE FOURTEENTH OF JULY 
 
 THE CARPENTER. I don't know, but it's so. Cour- 
 age, now! It's a long lane that has no turning. 
 [They set to work again.] 
 
 THE APPRENTICE. Meantime, we can't see a thing. 
 
 THE CARPENTER [shouting toward the houses], 
 Hey, up there! You women, look to your candles! 
 We've got to see tonight! 
 
 A WOMAN [at a window, re-lighting candles]. How 
 is everything getting along? 
 
 THE CARPENTER. Well, more than one will leave 
 his carcass here before they get past. 
 
 THE WOMAN. Are they coming soon? 
 
 THE CARPENTER. They say Grenelle is running 
 with blood. You can hear shots from the Vaugirard 
 section. 
 
 THE OLD BOURGEOIS. They are waiting for day- 
 light before entering. 
 
 THE MASON. What time is it? 
 
 THE WOMAN. Three. Listen, the cocks are crow- 
 ing. 
 
 THE MASON [wiping his brow with his sleeve]. Got 
 to hurry ! Lord, how hot it is ! 
 
 THE CARPENTER. So much the better. 
 
 THE OLD BOURGEOIS. I can't do another stroke. 
 
 THE CARPENTER. Rest a little, Monsieur. Nobody 
 need work any more than he can. 
 
 THE OLD BOURGEOIS [bringing a paving-block]. I 
 want to put this in place, though. 
 
 THE CARPENTER. Take it easier. If you can't 
 gallop, trot. 
 
 THE WOMAN. Have you got your muskets yet?
 
 THE FOURTEENTH OF JULY 65 
 
 THE CARPENTER. They keep putting us off at the 
 Hfitel de Ville. A few hundred bourgeois there take 
 everything. 
 
 THE MASON. Never mind. We have knives, and 
 sticks and stones. Anything is good to kill with. 
 
 THE WOMAN. I've got a lot of tiles, broken bottles, 
 and glass here in my room. Everything's near the 
 window dishes, furniture, everything. If they pass 
 this way, I'll smash them ! 
 
 ANOTHER WOMAN [a* her window]. My kettle's 
 
 been on the fire since dinner. The water's hot enough 
 
 to boil paving-stones. Let them come ! I'll boil them ! 
 
 A VAGABOND [with a gun, speaking to a Bourgeois]. 
 
 Give me some money. 
 
 THE BOURGEOIS. No begging here. 
 THE VAGABOND. I'm not asking for bread, though 
 I am starving. But I have a musket, and not a sou 
 to buy powder with. Give me some money. 
 
 ANOTHER VAGABOND [a little drunk]. I've got 
 money, much as you like! [He pulls a handful of 
 money from his pocket.] 
 
 FIRST VAGABOND. Where did you get that? 
 SECOND VAGABOND. I took it from the Lazarists 
 when they pillaged the convent. 
 
 FIRST VAGABOND [seizing the other by the throat]. 
 Do you want to dishonor the people, you pig? 
 
 SECOND VAGABOND [trying to break away] . What's 
 matter? Are you crazy? 
 
 FIRST VAGABOND [shaking him]. Empty your 
 pockets ! 
 
 SECOND VAGABOND. But I
 
 66 THE FOURTEENTH OF JULY 
 
 FIRST VAGABOND [emptying his pockets]. Empty 
 your pockets, you thief! 
 
 SECOND VAGABOND. Haven't we the right to rob 
 the aristos any more, eh? 
 
 THE OTHERS. Hang him ! Hang him ! Hang him 
 on the sign-board! A flogging is enough! Ask par- 
 don of the people! Good! Now, get out! [The 
 Vagabond runs away.] 
 
 FIRST VAGABOND [setting to work]. He ought to 
 have been hanged for an example. There will be 
 others like him. To be exposed to such nastiness 
 keep company with thieves! It's nasty. 
 
 CAMILLE DESMOULINS [entering, in his usual absent- 
 minded idle way]. A spanking will be enough for you. 
 [They all laugh and set to work again.] 
 
 THE PEOPLE. Well, let's finish this. 
 
 DESMOULINS [looking at the house and the workers]. 
 My Lucile is there. I've just been to see her. The 
 house was empty. They told me the family went out 
 to dinner with relatives in the Faubourg Saint- Antoine. 
 They've been blockaded ! Well, I should think so ! A 
 splendid fortification! Scarp and counter-scarp, 
 everything perfect. They are besieging the house. 
 But, my friends, we have to demolish the Bastille, and 
 not construct another like it. I don't know what your 
 enemies will think, but it is in any case dangerous to 
 your friends: I've just gotten my feet tangled up in 
 your strings, and I almost stayed where I was. This 
 cask won't stand. You must put back the paving-blocks. 
 
 THE CARPENTER. Do you work as well as you talk? 
 
 DESMOULINS [gaily, as he takes up a block], I can
 
 THE FOURTEENTH OF JULY 67 
 
 work, too. [From the top of the barricade, where he 
 now stands, he can touch the window of the house. A 
 light is seen moving inside. DESMOULINS looks at it.] 
 She is there ! 
 
 THE OLD BOURGEOIS. Provost Flesselles is a 
 traitor. He pretends to be one of us, but he's in com- 
 munication with Versailles. 
 
 THE MASON. He's the one who organized the Bour- 
 geois Militia; it pretends to defend us, but it tries to 
 tie our hands. They're all Judases, ready to sell us. 
 
 THE CARPENTER. That only teaches us not to de- 
 pend on any one but ourselves. But I've known that 
 for a long while. [During the above, CAMILLE lightly 
 taps the window, and calls " Lucile! " The light dis- 
 appears, and the window opens. LUCILE'S pretty face, 
 with her lovely teeth and winning smile, appear at the 
 window. Each puts his fingers to his mouth, a warn- 
 ing to be careful. They converse by means of lovers' 
 signs. Each time the workers raise their heads from 
 the barricade and look in her direction, Lucile quickly 
 shuts the window. But two workingmen catch sight of 
 
 her.] 
 
 A WORKINGMAN [pointing to DESMOULINS]. What's 
 
 he doing anyway? 
 
 SECOND WORKINGMAN. The little fellow's in love. 
 Don't bother him ! 
 
 FIRST WORKINGMAN. He'll fight all the better for 
 it. The rooster will defend his hen. [They continue 
 working, from time to time glancing up good-naturedly 
 at the lovers. But they always observe caution, m 
 order not to interrupt them.]
 
 68 THE FOURTEENTH OF JULY 
 
 LUCILE [in an undertone]. What are you doing 
 there? 
 
 DESMOULINS. It's a fort to defend you. [They 
 look at each other and smile.] 
 
 LUCILE. I can't stay any longer. My people are 
 here. 
 
 DESMOULINS. Just one moment! 
 
 LUCILE. Later. When every one has gone. [Lu- 
 CILE listens.] They're calling me. Wait. [She blows 
 a kiss at him and disappears.] 
 
 THE MASON [looking at the barricade]. There, 
 that's done and well done, I may say. 
 
 THE CARPENTER [slapping DESMOULINS on the 
 shoulder]. Don't work too hard: you'll come down 
 with pleurisy. 
 
 DESMOULINS. Each one has his work, comrade. 
 After all, this barricade here is the result of my 
 talk. 
 
 THE MASON. What are you talking about? 
 
 THE CARPENTER. Do you work with your voice? 
 
 DESMOULINS. Was neither of you at the Palais- 
 Royal yesterday? , 
 
 THE CROWD. The Palais-Royal? Listen to that! 
 Are you the little fellow who called us to arms, and 
 gave us our cockades? Are you Monsieur Desmou- 
 lins? Wonderful speech! How well you spoke! I 
 cried! Fine little fellow! Monsieur Desmoulins, let 
 me shake hands with you! Long live Monsieur Des- 
 moulins ! Long live our little Camille ! 
 
 GONCHON [enters, in the uniform of a Captain of the 
 Bourgeois Militia, followed by his patrol.] What the
 
 THE FOURTEENTH OF JULY 69 
 
 devil are you doing there? What's all this talking! 
 You're disturbing the peace! Make way, there! Go 
 back home ! 
 
 THE PEOPLE. There's that damned Bourgeois 
 Guard again! Down with them! Disturb the peace? 
 That's good ! We're defending Paris ! 
 
 GONCHON. That's not your affair. 
 
 THE PEOPLE [indignantly]. Not our affair? 
 
 GONCHON [zcith vehemence]. That's not your af- 
 fair. That's our business, and ours alone. We are 
 the Permanent Committee on defense. Damn you, get 
 out of here ! 
 
 DESMOULINS [coming close to him]. Why, it's 
 
 Gonchon ! 
 
 GONCHON [stumbling] . Ten thousand devils ! For 
 God's sake, what sons of dogs have put up that thing, 
 torn up the street, and stopped traffic! Knock that 
 down, do you hear ! 
 
 THE PEOPLE [furiously]. Knock down our barri- 
 cade? Try it! 
 
 THE CAEPENTEE. Listen to me, Captain, and at- 
 tend to what I say. We'll agree to go away and not 
 question the Committee's orders, even though they're 
 given by fools. There must be discipline in war-time ; 
 we're willing to submit, but if you touch one stone of 
 our fortification, we'll smash the faces of you and the 
 rest of your monkeys. 
 
 THE PEOPLE. Tear down our barricade? 
 GONCHON. Who said anything about tearing it 
 down? Are we masons? We have something better to 
 do. Make way now !
 
 70 THE FOURTEENTH OF JULY 
 
 THE MASON [in a menacing tone]. We'll go, but 
 you understand? 
 
 GONCHON [with aplomb]. I said no one would 
 touch it. No back-talk, now! [The workers dis- 
 perse. DESMOULINS lags behind.] Didn't you hear, 
 you? 
 
 DESMOULINS. Don't you allow any privileges to 
 your friends, Gonchon? 
 
 GONCHON. Oh, it's you, you damned spouter! Ar- 
 rest that fellow! 
 
 ROBESPIEREE [entering]. Sacrilege! Who dares 
 lift a hand against the founder of Liberty? 
 
 DESMOULINS. Ah, Robespierre ! Thanks. 
 
 GONCHON [releasing DESMOULINS aside]. A Dep- 
 uty! The devil! [Aloud.] Very well. You see, it is 
 my duty to keep order, and I will keep it in spite of 
 everything. 
 
 ROBESPIERRE. Come with me, Camille. Our friends 
 are meeting in this house tonight. [He points to the 
 house down-stage, left.] 
 
 DESMOULINS [aside]. I can see Lucile's window 
 from here! [They go to the house, at the door of 
 which, in an obscure entrance, a man is on guard. He 
 is in his shirt sleeves, has bare legs, and carries a 
 musket.] 
 
 THE MAN. Who are you? 
 
 ROBESPIEREE. Robespierre. 
 
 THE MAN. I don't know you. 
 
 ROBESPIERRE. Deputy from Arras. 
 
 THE MAN. Show your card. 
 
 DESMOULINS. Desmoulins.
 
 71 
 
 THE MAN. The little fellow with the cockade? 
 Pass, comrade. 
 
 DESMOUUNS [pointing to ROBESPIERRE]. He is 
 with me. 
 
 THE MAN. Pass, you, too, citizen Robert Pierre. 
 DESMOULINS [fatuously]. Admire the power of elo- 
 quence, my friend ! [ROBESPIERRE looks at him with a 
 bitter smile, sighs, and follows him without a word.] 
 
 GONCHON [going to THE MAN]. What's going on 
 here? 
 
 THE MAN. Make way ! 
 
 GONCHON. What's that, you rascal? What are 
 you doing here? 
 
 THE MAN [emphatically}. I am watching over the 
 nation over the thoughts of the nation. 
 
 GONCHON. What are you talking about? Have 
 you any papers? Who stationed you here? 
 THE MAN. I. 
 GONCHON. Go home! 
 
 THE MAN. I am home. My home is the street. I 
 have no home. You go home yourself. Get off my 
 side-walk ! [He makes a step toward GONCHON with a 
 threat.] 
 
 GONCHON. Ah! No quarreling, now. I refuse to 
 waste my time squabbling with a drunkard. Now, I 
 shall continue on my rounds. These cursed vaga- 
 bonds ! And these barricades they spring up out of 
 the ground, like mushrooms; and the streets are full 
 of these fellows ! They think of nothing but fighting ! 
 If they were let alone, there would be no king tomor- 
 row ! [He goes out with his men.]
 
 72 THE FOURTEENTH OF JULY 
 
 THE MAN. Look at those nasty scoundrels, those 
 blue toads, those idiotic fools! Just because they're 
 titled, they think they can make laws for free men ! 
 Bourgeois! The moment four of them gather to- 
 gether, they form committees and spoil good paper 
 with their rules and regulations ! " Show your pa- 
 pers ! " As if we had to have their permission, their 
 signatures, and the rest of it, to defend ourselves when 
 we're attacked! Let every one protect himself! It's 
 shameful to think a man has to let some one else defend 
 him ! They tried to make us give up our muskets, and 
 throw us into prison. Can't do that! And those 
 other fools, who think they're being betrayed, and at 
 the first injunction, throw up a barricade out of re- 
 spect for the constituted authorities and the moneyed 
 classes! They're used to serving, and I suppose they 
 can't get over their old habits in a day. Luckily, 
 there are other wandering dogs like me, who haven't 
 any home, and respect nothing. Well, I'll stay here 
 and keep guard. By God, they won't take our Paris ! 
 Never mind if I haven't a thing to my name, it belongs 
 to us all, and we're going to hold on to it. Yesterday, 
 I didn't have any idea of all this. What was this city 
 to me, where I hadn't a blessed hole to crawl into when 
 it rained, or a place to get a crust of bread? What 
 did I care about it? What did I care about any one's 
 happiness or sorrow? But now everything's changed. 
 I've got a part to play ; I feel that everything belongs 
 just a little to me: their houses, their money, and their 
 thoughts---! must watch over them; they are working 
 for me. Everybody is equal, equal and free. God, I
 
 THE FOURTEENTH OF JULY 73 
 
 always felt that, but I couldn't say it. Free! I'm 
 a vagabond, I'm hungry, but I don't care: I'm free. 
 Free! It makes my chest swell, it does! I'm a 
 king. I could walk over the world. [He becomes 
 excited as he talks, striding back and forth.] 
 It's like as if I was drunk; my head's turned 
 though I haven't drunk a drop. What is it? It's 
 glory ! 
 
 HULEST [coming from the house]. I was stifling in 
 there. I must get out. 
 
 THE MAN. Eh, Hulin, what are they doing? 
 
 HULIN. Talking, talking. The damned gossips. 
 They're never at a loss for something to say. Des- 
 moulins is making jokes and spouting Latin. Robes- 
 pierre, with his long face, declares he'll sacrifice him- 
 self. They're calling everything into question: laws, 
 the social contract, reason, the origin of the world. 
 One is making war on God, and the other on Nature. 
 As to real war plans, how to protect themselves against 
 danger, not a word! Their counsel is like that in 
 Paris : when it rains, why let it rain ! Devil take these 
 phrasemakers ! 
 
 THE MAN. Don't blame them. It's a fine thing to 
 be able to speak. I tell you, there are words he uses 
 that catch you way-down inside. They make the 
 shivers run up your spine. They make you cry, they'd 
 make you even kill your father; and they make you 
 feel as strong as the whole world; make you feel 
 like the good God Himself. Each man has his own 
 work to do. They do the thinking for us ; we've got to 
 do our part for them.
 
 74 THE FOURTEENTH OF JULY 
 
 HULIN. What do you want to do? Look. [He 
 indicates the Bastille.] 
 
 THE MAN. Lights on the left tower. They're 
 not sleeping any more than we, up there. They're 
 fixing up their cannon. 
 
 HULIN. What do you intend to do with them? 
 You can't resist them. 
 
 THE MAN. That remains to be seen. 
 
 HULIN. What do you mean? 
 
 THE MAN. I mean, that remains to be seen. Two 
 small make one great. 
 
 HULIN. You are an optimist. 
 
 THE MAN. It's my character. 
 
 HULIN. It doesn't seem to have agreed with you, 
 however. 
 
 THE MAN [good-naturedly] . But I am naturally 
 an optimist. Luck and I are not close relatives. As 
 long as I can remember, I never got anything I wanted. 
 [Laughing.] Good Lord, I've had bad luck enough 
 in my life! Everything isn't pleasure; life is a mix- 
 ture. But I don't care: I'm always hoping, and some- 
 times I'm wrong. This time, Hulin, something good's 
 come to me. The wind has shifted, and luck is with us. 
 
 HULIN [chaffingty] . Luck? You'd better ask it to 
 warm you up a bit first. 
 
 THE MAN [looking at his naked feet]. I'd rather 
 wear these shoes than the King's. I'd go this way to 
 Vienna or Berlin, if necessary, to teach those kings a, 
 lesson. 
 
 HULIN. Haven't you enough to do here? 
 
 THE MAN. That won't last forever, When we're
 
 THE FOURTEENTH OF JULY 75 
 
 through here, and have cleaned up Paris and France, 
 why not go the lot of us, arm-in-arm, soldiers, bour- 
 geois, Tom, Dick, and Harry, and clean up Europe? 
 We aren't selfish: we don't want all the fun for our- 
 selves. You know, every time I learn something new, 
 I want to tell it to others. Ever since these things 
 began to stir in me Liberty, and all this damned fine 
 stuff I feel I've just got to tell it to everybody, and 
 spout it everywhere. God, if the others are like me, 
 we'll do great things. I can already see the ground 
 trembling under our feet, and Europe boiling like wine 
 in a vat. People are falling on our necks. It's like 
 little brooks rushing down to meet the river. We're 
 a great river, washing everything clean. 
 
 HULIN. Say, are you sick? 
 
 THE MAN. I? I'm as well as a cabbage. 
 
 HULIN. And yet you dream? 
 
 THE MAN. All the time. It's good, too. If you 
 dream enough, you end by getting something of what 
 you're dreaming about. Hey, Hulin, what do you say? 
 Won't it be a fine march? Aren't you coming with us? 
 
 HULIN. As soon as you've taken Vienna and Berlin, 
 I'll keep watch over them. 
 
 THE MAN. Don't joke. Who knows? 
 
 HULIN. Anything can happen 
 
 THE MAN. Anything you wish for happens. 
 
 HULIN. Meantime I'd like to know what's going to 
 happen right now. 
 
 THE MAN. That's hard to tell. How are we going 
 about it? We'll see. Sufficient unto the hour is the 
 work thereof.
 
 76 THE FOURTEENTH OF JULY 
 
 HULIN. These French devils are all alike. They 
 think of what may happen in a hundred years, and not 
 of the next day. 
 
 THE MAN. Perhaps. But then others will think 
 of us in a hundred years. 
 
 HULIN. Much good that does you ! 
 
 THE MAN. My bones thrill already! What 
 troubles me is that in history they won't know my 
 name. 
 
 HULIN. You're vain ! 
 
 THE MAN. Well, I love glory. 
 
 HULIN. It's a fine thing, of course. The only 
 trouble is that you can't enjoy it until you're dead. 
 A good pipe is better. [VINTIMILLE enters right. ,] 
 
 VINTIMILLE. The streets are empty. Two vaga- 
 bonds talking about glory. A little mound of broken 
 furniture, put there by a lot of epileptics. So this is 
 the great revolution! A patrol of guards is enough 
 to put the rabble in its place. What are they waiting 
 for at Versailles? 
 
 THE MAN [getting up quickly and going to VINTI- 
 MILLE]. What's he want? 
 
 VINTIMILLE [ironically, as he glances at THE MAN]. 
 Is this a new uniform of the Archers? Get out of 
 here, old man! 
 
 THE MAN. Who are you? Where are you going 
 at this hour? 
 
 VINTIMILLE [handing him a paper]. Can you read? 
 
 THE MAN. Papers? Of course, I can read. [To 
 HULIN.] You read them. What is it? 
 
 HULIN [after having read]. A pass. It's all right.
 
 THE FOURTEENTH OF JULY 77 
 
 Signed by the Committee of the Hotel de Ville. Coun- 
 tersigned by the Captain of the Bourgeois Militia, 
 Gonchon. 
 
 THE MAN. Good joke! Anybody can buy those. 
 [He gruiriblmgly allows VINTIMILLE to pass.] 
 
 VINTIMILLE. Of course ! Everything can be bought. 
 [As he turns to go, he throws a coin at THE MAN.] 
 
 THE MAN [on the alert]. What! What's that? 
 
 VINTIMILLE [without turning]. You see. Take it 
 and keep your mouth shut. 
 
 THE MAN [running to VINTIMILLE and blocking his 
 way}. So you're an aristocrat? You're trying to 
 bribe me? 
 
 HULIN [interposing]. Don't, comrade, don't. I 
 know him very well. [He goes to VINTIMILLE.] 
 
 VINTIMILLE [casually]. Why, it's 
 
 HULIN. Hulin. 
 
 VINTIMILLE. Of course. [A moment's silence. 
 They look at each other.] 
 
 HULIN [to THE MAN]. Let him pass. 
 
 THE MAN [furiously shouting]. He wanted to 
 bribe me he wanted to buy my conscience ! 
 
 VINTIMILLE. Your conscience? What should I do 
 with it? The idea! I pay for favors done me. 
 Quick ! Take it. 
 
 THE MAN. I'm not doing favors! I'm doing my 
 duty. 
 
 VINTIMILLE. Then it's to pay you for doing your 
 duty. What do I care? 
 
 THE MAN. You don't pay people for doing their 
 duty. I am freel
 
 78 THE FOURTEENTH OF JULY 
 
 VINTIMILLE. Your duty and your liberty won't feed 
 you. I refuse to argue. Hurry up, now; money is 
 always good, no matter how one gets it. Don't stand 
 there like that; you know you want it. I know you'll 
 end by taking it. I suppose you want more, eh? How 
 much do you want, free man? 
 
 THE MAN [who has several times been on the point 
 of taking the money, jumps upon VINTIMILLE. HULIN 
 pulls him cwt)ay\ . Let me go, Hulin ! Let me go ! 
 
 HULIN. Stop it! 
 
 THE MAN. I've got to kill him ! 
 
 VINTIMILLE. What's this ! 
 
 THE MAN [held back by HULIN, says to VINTI- 
 MILLE]. Get out! Why did you come here, anyway? 
 I was happy, I didn't realize how poor I was. I was 
 free, master of everything. You remind me that I'm 
 hungry, that I haven't a thing, that I don't belong to 
 myself, that a filthy scoundrel can be my master by 
 means of a little money that makes a slave of me be- 
 cause I need it. You've spoiled all my happiness. 
 Get out ! 
 
 VINTIMILLE. What a to-do for so little! Who 
 gives a damn about your scruples? I'm not asking 
 anything of you. Take it ! 
 
 THE MAN. I'd rather starve. You give it to me, 
 Hulin. [VINTIMILLE gives the money to HULIN, who 
 drops his hand. The money falls to the ground, and 
 THE MAN picks it wp.] 
 
 HULIN. Where are you going? 
 
 THE MAN. Get drunk and forget. 
 
 VINTIMILLE. Forget what?
 
 THE FOURTEENTH OF JULY 79 
 
 THE MAN. That I'm not free. Dirty scoundrel! 
 [He goes out.} 
 
 VINTIMILLE. The pest! There's nothing quite so 
 bad as a rascal like that who develops his self-respect, 
 and is without means to preserve it. Good evening, 
 my boy, and thank you. 
 
 HULIN. Thank you. I didn't mention your name, 
 because you'd never have escaped alive. It would have 
 been disloyal of me, and I am an honest man. Any- 
 way, I dislike violence, and I don't believe in revolu- 
 tion. But I am not one of you, and I don't care to 
 bring harm to my comrades. What are you doing 
 here ? 
 
 VINTIMILLE. You are inquisitive! 
 HULIN. I beg your pardon, but you are playing 
 with death. Do you realize how people hate you? 
 
 VINTIMILLE. I have just been to see my mistress. 
 Shall I change my habits for the sake of two or three 
 madmen ? 
 
 HULIN. There are more than you imagine. 
 VINTIMILLE. So much the better. The more nu- 
 merous and insolent they are, the better, say I. 
 HULIN. Better for whom? 
 
 VINTIMILLE. For us. Our age is rotten with senti- 
 mentality. You don't dare do a thing. One dare 
 not give an order for fear of offending this damned 
 liberty of the populace and shedding a few drops of 
 blood. This effeminacy is the cause of all the dis- 
 orders of the kingdom. The only cure for so much 
 evil is more evil. A good uprising is what we need. 
 That will be a splendid reason and pretext for putting
 
 80 THE FOURTEENTH OF JULY 
 
 them in their place. We are ready. We can do it 
 in a day, and we won't be troubled again for a good 
 fifty years with these insane ravings of philosophers 
 and cheap lawyers. 
 
 HULIN. So then, a revolution would do that for 
 you? You don't object to the people having a grand 
 butchery? A few crimes, eh? 
 
 VINTIMILLE. Why not? Something that will cre- 
 ate quite a disturbance. 
 
 HULIN. What if they began with you? 
 
 VINTIMILLE. The idea! 
 
 HULIN. Do you know what I'd like to do this in- 
 stant? 
 
 VINTIMILLE. No. 
 
 HUUN. Don't provoke me ! 
 
 VINTIMILLE. But you wouldn't do anything, my 
 friend. You are an honest man! 
 
 HULIN. What do you know about that? I said I 
 was ; I was boasting. 
 
 VINTIMILLE. No, no, but you are now. Even if 
 you had said nothing, I could have seen it in your face. 
 
 HULIN. Is that a reason why I shouldn't inform on 
 you if I like. 
 
 VINTIMILLE. Certainly. You must pay for your 
 honesty by sacrifice. What would you think of your- 
 self, Hulin, if you betrayed me? Would you not lose 
 forever that invaluable possession: your self-esteem? 
 It's not so easy as you think to go against your con- 
 science. As you say, you are an honest man. 
 Good-by. [He goesJ\ 
 
 HULIN. He's making game of me. He knows me.
 
 THE FOURTEENTH OF JULY 81 
 
 It's true, those villains will always have the better 
 of us honest people, because they're used to giving or- 
 ders, and we are not. Then why remain honest, if 
 it's all a fraud? Because we can't do otherwise. Well, 
 it's better so. I couldn't breathe if I were as morally 
 rotten and nasty as they are ! I know they'll get the 
 better of us. The day is at hand. But it would have 
 been wonderful to win. They're going to crush us ! 
 [He shrugs his shoulders.] And after? [In the 
 distance is heard the joyous voice of HOCHE, answered 
 by the acclamations of the Crowd. Windows are 
 thrown wide open, and people lean out to see. DES- 
 MOULINS, ROBESPIERRE, and their friends come forth 
 from the cafe where they have been meeting.] 
 
 HOCHE [enters laughing, and shows his comrades 
 the fortifications]. Look at this. What Vauban 
 built it, eh ? Fine fellows ! I could kiss you all ! 
 What work they must have put into it! And why? 
 Against whom? Your friends? The enemy will never 
 come. Don't worry. 
 
 THE PEOPLE. Long live the French Guards! 
 [MARAT runs to HOCHE, and bars his way with out- 
 stretched arms.] 
 
 MARAT. Stop, soldier! Not another step. [The 
 Crowd, astonished, press around them to see.] 
 
 DESMOULINS. What's the matter with him ? Has he 
 lost his head? 
 
 HULIN. Yes, long ago! 
 
 MARAT. Surrender your saber ! Every one give up 
 his arms ! 
 
 DESMOULINS. He'll cut himself.
 
 82 THE FOURTEENTH OF JULY 
 
 THE FRENCH GUARDS. What's that! Give up my 
 saber? I'll give it to you in the belly! 
 
 THE PEOPLE. Kill him ! 
 
 HOCHE. Silence! Let me explain. I know him. 
 Let me go, friend! 
 
 MARAT [standing on the tips of his toes to take 
 HOCHE by the collar] . Give up your saber ! 
 
 HOCHE [quietly freeing himself ', and talcing hold of 
 MARAT, who squirms] . What are you going to do with 
 it, son? 
 
 MARAT. Keep you from thrusting it into the heart 
 of Liberty. 
 
 HOCHE. Do you suspect those who have come to 
 shed their blood for the people? 
 
 MARAT. Who guarantees your loyalty? Why 
 should we have confidence in unknown soldiers? 
 
 THE FRENCH GUARDS. Break his head, Hoche! 
 [ HOCHE quiets them with a gesture, looks smilingly at 
 MARAT, and releases him] He is right. Why have 
 confidence in us? He has never seen us at work. 
 [MARAT, with not a word to say, suddenly assumes an 
 attitude of silent impassiveness] Good Lord, it is 
 hard to let yourself be accused when you're risking 
 death for those birds ! 
 
 HOCHE. Why, he doesn't know us. That makes no 
 difference. [Good-naturedly] But you're mistaken. 
 Marat, you have done well to take such precautions 
 for the people. [To the People] We'll understand 
 each other in a moment. A glance will prove that we 
 are all good fellows, and believe in one another. But 
 he is wise and has given us a lesson in prudence:
 
 THE FOURTEENTH OF JULY 83 
 
 this is war-time, and you have the right to 
 demand an account from every one. No one can be 
 excepted. 
 
 THE PEOPLE. We know you, Hoche, you're a 
 friend ! 
 
 HOCHE. Be careful with your friends. [Smiling]. 
 That doesn't refer to me. Your uncertain position 
 does not make many friends for you, and what few 
 you have, are not dangerous. But when you become 
 powerful, you will see them flock to you; then you 
 must keep your eyes open. 
 
 THE FRENCH GUAEDS. That's good advice. Be 
 prudent, that's right ! Trust no one ! 
 
 HOCHE [laughing]. When two eyes please me, I 
 ask .nothing more. But I'm a fool, and that's my 
 affair. You have to save the world. Don't imitate 
 me. We are only a few hundred French Guards. Our 
 officers, who know our sympathies for the people, tried 
 to send us to Saint-Denis, away from you. But we 
 left our barracks and now we offer our sabers to you. 
 In order to reassure Marat, divide yourselves into 
 groups of ten or twenty; then each group takes its 
 place in a people's battalion. Then you will be our 
 masters, and we can lead you and train you. Will 
 you come with me, Marat? We can each learn some- 
 thing from the other. You'll see that there are still 
 brave men ; and perhaps you will teach me to hunt 
 down traitors though I think your labor will be lost. 
 [MARAT, whose eyes have been glued on HOCHE, goes 
 to him and offers his hand.] 
 
 MARAT. I was mistaken.
 
 84 THE FOURTEENTH OF JULY 
 
 HOCHE [takes his hand and smiles']. How tiresome 
 it must be to suspect people! I'd rather die. 
 
 MAEAT [sighing]. So would I. But as you said 
 just now, it is not for us, but for the nation. 
 
 HOCHE. Continue to keep a sharp watch over the 
 people. I don't envy you: my task is much easier. 
 
 MAEAT [looking at HOCHE]. Oh, Nature, if the 
 eyes and voice of this man lie, there is no honesty! 
 Soldier, I have offended you before every one. And 
 before every one, I ask your pardon. 
 
 HOCHE. But you didn't offend me. No one knows 
 better than I what a military chief is, and what dan- 
 gers beset the cause of Liberty. Military discipline 
 makes every man a slave; men cannot like it: we abhor 
 it as much as you do. We have ourselves just broken 
 the blind power that was in our hands. Open your arms 
 to us, make room for us at your tables, give us back 
 our lost liberty, our cramped consciences, our right to 
 be men like you, your equals and your brothers. Sol- 
 diers, become again part of the People. And you, 
 People, all of you, become the Army; defend your- 
 selves, defend us, and defend our souls, which are being 
 attacked. Give us your hands, embrace us, let us be 
 but one heart. You are all of you our friends. All 
 of us for all of us! 
 
 THE PEOPLE and the SOLDIEES [in an ecstasy of 
 fraternal enthusiasm, laughing, crying, embracing one 
 another] . Yes, for you, for you ! Our brothers the 
 people ! Our soldier brothers ! For all who suffer ! 
 For the oppressed! For all mankind! [The enthusi- 
 asm waxes into a pandemonium, and is increased with
 
 THE FOURTEENTH OF JULY 85 
 
 cries and cheers from the windows of the neighboring 
 houses.] 
 
 HULIN. Hurrah! Hoche! At last, some one who 
 dispels the sadness ! 
 
 HOCHE [amiably, to the people who acclaim him from 
 the windows]. What are you doing there at home? 
 Why shut yourselves in on a beautiful July night like 
 this? Man is sad when he is alone. It is the fetid 
 air of the cellar that breeds suspicion and doubt. 
 Come forth from your houses; you've been shut up 
 too long. You must live now in the open streets. 
 Come out and watch the sun rise. The enslaved city 
 now breathes freely; the cool winds from the prairies 
 are blowing over the houses and the streets that are 
 blocked by our armies ; they bring us the salute from 
 the friendly countryside. The grain is ripe, come and 
 reap it. 
 
 LA CONTAT. What a splendid fellow ! He breathes 
 joy and happiness. [She goes toward HOCHE.] 
 
 HOCHE. Ah, there you are, you flower-girl of Lib- 
 erty! Madame Royalist, who stripped the trees of 
 the Palais-Royal and threw cockades to the people. 
 I knew you would come. Do you at last believe in our 
 cause? 
 
 LA CONTAT. I believe in anything you say. With 
 a face like yours [she points to his face] I could 
 always be converted. [The People laugh.] 
 
 HOCHE [laughing]. I'm not surprised. I always 
 knew I had an apostolic temperament. Well, take 
 your place, then. We won't refuse any one. Take 
 a pike : a girl like you ought to defend herself.
 
 86 THE FOURTEENTH OF JULY 
 
 LA CONTAT. Oh, oil, don't enroll me so quickly! 
 I look on, I applaud, and I find the piece interesting, 
 but I'm not playing this evening. 
 
 HOCHE. So you think it's merely interesting? 
 You think it is play? Look at this poor devil, his 
 bones sticking out of his blouse, and this woman nurs- 
 ing her child. Is it amusing to see them starve? You 
 think it a good comedy to see these people, with- 
 out bread, without a future, thinking only of humanity, 
 and of eternal justice? Don't you think it's at least 
 as serious as a Corneille tragedy? 
 
 LA CONTAT. That, too, is only a play. 
 
 HOCHE. Nothing is play. Everything is serious. 
 Cinna and Nicomede exist, just as I do. 
 
 LA CONTAT. You are strange ! Actors and authors 
 construct make-believe things, which you accept as 
 gospel ! 
 
 HOCHE. You're mistaken, it isn't make-believe for 
 you: you don't know yourself. 
 
 LA CONTAT. You make me laugh! Do you know 
 me? 
 
 HOCHE. I've seen you on the stage. 
 
 LA CONTAT. And do you imagine I -feel what I act? 
 
 HOCHE. You can't deny it: your instinct makes 
 you feel. A power is never an illusion ; it carries you 
 along. I know better than you what it does to you. 
 
 LA CONTAT. What? 
 
 HOCHE. What is strong goes with what is strong. 
 You will be one of us. 
 
 LA CONTAT. I don't think so. 
 
 HOCHE. What difference? There are only two
 
 THE FOURTEENTH OF JULY 87 
 
 parties in the world: the healthy and the sick. What 
 is healthy goes with life. Life is with us. Come! 
 
 LA CONTAT. With you willingly. 
 
 HOCHE. So you won't decide ! Very well, we'll see 
 later on, if we have time to think. 
 
 LA CONTAT. There is always time for love. 
 
 HOCHE. You've been made to think that too often. 
 Do you think our revolution is going to be merely some 
 gallant little story? Ah, you little women! During 
 the fifty years you have been governing France, and had 
 everything brought you, done for you, did it never 
 enter your heads that there might be something more 
 important than your dainty selves? Play is over and 
 done with, Madame. This is a serious game, in which 
 the stake is the world itself. Make way for the men! 
 If you dare, follow us to battle, help us, share our 
 faith, but, by God, don't dare try to shake it. You 
 count for very little beside it. I'm not angry, Contat ! 
 I have no time for a flirtation, and as for my heart, 
 it already belongs to some one else. 
 
 LA CONTAT. To whom? 
 
 HOCHE. To Liberty. 
 
 LA CONTAT. I'd like to know what she looks like. 
 
 HOCHE. She is a little like you, I imagine. Very 
 healthy, well-built, blonde, passionate, audacious, but 
 rouged like yourself, with beauty-spots ironic, too; 
 but she does, instead of making fun of those who do ; 
 and instead of making double-meaning phrases, she 
 breathes words of devotion and fraternity. I am her 
 lover. When you are like her, I will love you. That 
 is all I have to say.
 
 88 THE FOURTEENTH OF JULY 
 
 LA CONTAT. I like her, and I will have you. Now, 
 to battle ! [She snatches a musket from one of the 
 People, and declaims with great warmth, a fete lines 
 from " Cinna ": 
 
 " Thou need'st fear no success which shames thy name ! 
 For good and evil both are for thy glory, 
 And though the plot's reveal'd and thou dost die, 
 Thy honor's still intact. Think but of Brutus 
 And valiant Cassius, are their names obscured? 
 Did these two heroes perish with their plots? 
 Are they not honored with the greatest Romans? 
 
 Go, follow them, where honor bids you tread! " 
 
 She rushes into the arms of the People, who wildly ap- 
 plaud her.] 
 
 HOCHE. Splendid! Let Corneille be our guide! 
 Wave the torch of heroism before our eyes ! 
 
 HULIN. Where are you going? 
 
 HOCHE. Where are we going? [He raises his eyes, 
 and looks at the house of little JULIE who, partly 
 dressed, leans out the window, excited and joyous.] 
 Ask that little woman. I want her to give the answer 
 which is in all our hearts. You innocent little one, 
 be our voice, and tell us where we are going? 
 
 JULIE [leaning far out of the window, but kept from 
 falling by her mother, shouting at the top of her 
 voice]. To the Bastille! 
 
 THE PEOPLE. To the Bastille ! [The Crowd is at 
 the highest pitch of excitement. They gather into 
 little groups workingmen, bourgeois, students, and 
 women.] The Bastille! The Bastille! Break the 
 yoke ! At last ! Down with that stupid mass ! Monu-
 
 THE FOURTEENTH OF JULY 89 
 
 raent of our defeat and degradation! The tomb of 
 those who dare speak the truth! Voltaire's prison! 
 Mirabeau's prison! The prison of Liberty! Let's 
 breathe! Monster, you will fall! We'll pull down 
 every stone of you ! Down with the murderer ! Cow- 
 ard! Cut-throat! [They shake their fists at the Bas- 
 tille, and shout until they are hoarse. HULIN, ROBES- 
 PIERRE, and MARAT wildly wave their arms, and try to 
 make themselves heard above the clamor. It is seen 
 that they disapprove of what the People are doing, but 
 their voices are drowned out.] 
 
 HULIN [at last making himself heard]. You're mad, 
 mad, I tell you! We'll only break ourselves against 
 that mountain ! 
 
 MARAT [his arms crossed] . I really marvel at you ! 
 Giving yourselves all this trouble to free a handful of 
 aristocrats! Don't you know that there are only a 
 few rich men in there? It's a luxurious prison, made 
 especially for them. Let them mind their own affairs. 
 That doesn't concern you. 
 
 HOCHE. Every sort of injustice concerns us. Our 
 Revolution is not a family matter. If we are not rich 
 enough to have relations in the Bastille, we can at 
 least adopt the rich people who are as unfortunate as 
 we. Every man who suffers unjustly is a brother. 
 
 MARAT. You are right. 
 
 THE PEOPLE. We want the Bastille! 
 
 HULIN. But, you fools, how are you going to take 
 it ? We have no weapons, and they have ! 
 
 HOCHE. Of course. Let us take the weapons, then. 
 [Confusion at the back of the stage.]
 
 90 THE FOURTEENTH OF JULY 
 
 A WOKKINGMAN [running in-]. I've just come from 
 the Left Bank. They're all on the move : in the Place 
 Maubert, La Basoche, La Montagne Sainte-Genevieve. 
 They're marching against the Invalides to seize the 
 weapons there thousands of muskets ! The French 
 Guards, monks, women, students, a whole army. The 
 King's Attorney and the Cure de Saint-Etienne-du- 
 Mont are marching at their head. 
 
 HOCHE. You were asking for weapons, Hulin. 
 There they are. 
 
 HULIN. You can't take the Bastille with a few 
 hundred old arquebuses, or even a few good cannon 
 from the Invalides. You might as well try to split a 
 rock open with a knife. 
 
 HOCHE. No, the Bastille can't be taken with 
 cannon, but it will be taken. 
 
 HULIN. How ? 
 
 HOCHE. The Bastille must fall, and fall it will. 
 The gods are with us. 
 
 HULIN [with a shrug]. What gods? 
 
 HOCHE. Justice, Reason. Bastille, you will fall ! 
 
 THE PEOPLE. You will fall! 
 
 HULIN. I'd rather see a few real allies. I don't 
 believe in it. Never mind, it shall never be said that 
 any one got ahead of me. I'll even be the first to 
 march against it. Perhaps you know better than I 
 what must be done, but I'll do it. So, you want to 
 attack the Bastille, you fools? Forward! 
 
 HOCHE. By God, you can do anything simply by 
 saying it's possible! [GONCHON returns "with his 
 patrol.]
 
 THE FOURTEENTH OF JULY 91 
 
 GONCHON. Still here ! The damned vermin ! Chase 
 them from one place and they go to another. So this 
 is how you obey me? Didn't I command you to go 
 home? [Taking a man by the collar.] You heard 
 me ! I know you, you were here before ! You rascal, 
 I've had enough of you, and I'm going to arrest you. 
 I'll arrest you all. It's our business to maintain order. 
 Every citizen abroad at night without a passport is 
 open to suspicion. 
 
 HOCHE [laughing]. The beast wants to cheat the 
 people ! 
 
 MARAT. Who is this traitor who pretends to speak 
 for the People? By what right does his odious voice 
 give orders to the Nation? I know that big fellow, 
 with a face like Silenus, puffy from long indulgence, 
 and sweating from debauchery. Does this monopolist 
 believe he has a monopoly over our Revolution? Can 
 he lord it over us as he does over his Palais-Royal 
 orgies? Get out, or I will arrest you in the name of 
 the Sovereign People! 
 
 GONCHON [stammering]. I I am the representa- 
 tive of power. I have been appointed by the Central 
 Committee. 
 
 THE PEOPLE. We are the power ! We appoint the 
 Central Committee ! You obey us ! 
 
 MARAT [with an air of ferocity which is at bottom 
 nothing more than a sinister buffoonery, assumed to 
 terrify GONCHON]. We must be careful with these 
 traitors, who associate with the people only in order 
 to betray them. Hoche has well said that if we are 
 not on the lookout, we shall be overpowered. I think
 
 92 THE FOURTEENTH OF JULY 
 
 that in order to distinguish those who are the valets 
 of the aristocrats from the others, we ought to cut 
 off their ears, or rather their thumbs. It is a 
 prudent and indispensable measure. [The People 
 laugh.] 
 
 GONCHON [tremblingly, to HOCHE]. Soldier, it is 
 your business to support the law 
 
 HOCHE. That's your business. They won't hurt 
 you. Go ahead, we shall follow. 
 
 GONCHON. Follow me? Where? 
 
 HOCHE. To the Bastille. 
 
 GONCHON. What ! 
 
 HOCHE. Of course. We are going to take the Bas- 
 tille. Are you not defending the people, you Bour- 
 geois Militia? Then take you places in the front 
 ranks. Fall in, and don't stop to argue. You don't 
 seemed pleased with the prospect? [Speaking into 
 GONCHON'S ear.] I know your tricks, old man; you 
 are in communication with the Due d'Orleans. Now, 
 not a word, and march straight ahead. I am keeping 
 my eye on you, and I have only to say the word to 
 Marat. It's not day yet, and you might light the way 
 for us, hanging from one of those lamp-posts ! 
 
 GONCHON. Let me go home ! 
 
 HOCHE. Choose : be hanged or take the Bastille. 
 
 GONCHON [quickly]. Take the Bastille! [The 
 People laugh.] 
 
 HOCHE. Brave man ! And now, the people will not 
 allow the Montagne Sainte-Genevieve to outwit us. 
 Let Saint-Antoine not remain idle while Saint-Jacques 
 does her share! Ring your bells, beat your drums,
 
 THE FOURTEENTH OF JULY 93 
 
 and call out the citizens. [To the Electors and Depu- 
 ties.] You, citizens, guard the Hotel de Ville, and 
 see that no treachery is done. Take charge of the 
 bourgeois ! Now, we'll gag the beast. [Points to the 
 Bastille. Little JULIE has meanwhile come from the 
 house with her mother, and stands in the doorway. 
 She then stands on a post to see better, and looks at 
 HOCHE in silent and passionate admiration. HOCHE 
 looks at her and smiles.] Well, little one, do you want 
 to come, too? Consumed with envy, aren't you? 
 [She holds out her trembling arms to him, nodding, but 
 says nothing.] Then come! [He takes her on his 
 shoulder.] 
 
 THE MOTHEE. You're mad! Put her down! 
 You're not going to take her into the fight ? 
 
 HOCHE. She is sending us into the fight! She is 
 our standard-bearer! 
 
 THE MOTHER. Don't take her from me ! 
 
 HOCHE. You come, too, mother! No one should 
 stay at home today. The snail must come forth from 
 its shell. The whole city is freed from prison today. 
 We leave nothing behind. This isn't an army at war, 
 it is an invasion. 
 
 THE MOTHEE. Indeed, it is. If we must die, it's 
 better to die all together. 
 
 HOCHE. Die? Nonsense. You don't die when you 
 expect death! [The sky begins to brighten behind the 
 houses and the solid mass of the Bastille.] At last! 
 Day is breaking. The new day, the dawn of Liberty! 
 
 JULIE [who, seated on HOCHE'S shoulders, has been 
 all smiles, excited and quiet, and with a finger to her
 
 94 THE FOURTEENTH OF JULY 
 
 lips, begins singing one of the national songs of tht 
 day]: 
 
 " Oh, come, Thou god of Liberty 
 And fill our souls this day " 
 
 HOCHE [laughing]. Do you hear the little spar- 
 row? [The People laugh.] Come, then, with light 
 hearts. Let us march ahead of the sun! [He takes 
 up JULIE'S song, and begins marching. All the People 
 join in the song. A little -flute carries the air. Shouts 
 and enthusiastic cheering resound; bells ring. GON- 
 CHON and his trembling Militia are urged on by the 
 jeering crowd, among which LA CONTAT and HULIN 
 are distinguished. Men and women come forth from 
 the houses and join the throng. A tempest of joy. As 
 the People file off, DESMOULINS, following them a way, 
 returns, quickly mounts the barricade, goes to LUCILE'S 
 window, and looks in. During the rest of the act, the 
 noise of the crowd is heard in the distance. A few 
 people continue to come from the houses, but they pay 
 no attention to the lovers.] 
 
 CAMILLE [in an undertone] . Lucile! [The window 
 softly opens, and LUCILE appears, then puts her arm 
 about CAMILLE'S neck.] 
 
 LUCILE. Camille! [They kiss.] 
 
 CAMILLE. You were there ! 
 
 LUCILE. Sh! They're sleeping in the next room. 
 I was hidden in there. I stayed all the while. I 
 heard and saw everything. 
 
 CAMILLE. Didn't you go to bed at all? 
 
 LUCILE. How could I sleep with all that noise? 
 Oh, Camille, how they cheered you !
 
 THE FOURTEENTH OF JULY 95 
 
 CAMILLE [pleased]. Did you hear them? 
 
 LUCILE. The windows shook with it. I smiled to 
 myself in my corner. I wanted to shout, too. I 
 couldn't, so I just stood up on a chair guess what I 
 did? 
 
 CAMILLE. How can I guess? 
 
 LUCILB. Guess if you love me. If you didn't 
 feel anything, then you don't love me. What did I 
 send you? 
 
 CAMILLE. Kisses. 
 
 LUCILE. You do love me! Yes, I (did. Whole 
 basketfuls. Some of them went to those who were 
 cheering you. How they cheered ! How famous you've 
 become, my Camille, in one day! Last week, your 
 Lucile was the only person who knew you, who realized 
 how great you were. But today, a whole people 
 
 CAMILLE. Listen! [They hear the joyful cries of 
 the People.] 
 
 LUCILE. That's all your work. 
 
 CAMILLE. I can't believe it myself. 
 
 LUCILE. Just by what you said ! How idid you clo 
 it? They told me every one was mad with excitement. 
 I wish I had been there ! 
 
 CAMILLE. I really don't know what I said. I felt 
 as if I were lifted up into the air. I heard my own 
 voice and saw my gestures exactly as if they belonged 
 to some one else. Every one cried and I cried with 
 the rest. Then after I finished, they carried me on 
 their shoulders. I never saw anything like it. 
 
 LUCILE. My great man, my Patru, my Demos- 
 thenes ! And you were able to speak before that great
 
 96 THE FOURTEENTH OF JULY 
 
 crowd? Weren't you at all nervous? Didn't you for- 
 get what you were going to say? You didn't do as 
 you sometimes do ? 
 
 CAMILLE. What ? 
 
 LUCILE. You know like like a bottle that's too 
 full and the water can't come out ? [She laughs.] 
 
 CAMILLE. That's unkind of you! And you show 
 your little teeth like a cat. 
 
 LUCILE [laughing]. No, no, you know I love you; 
 I love you just as you are. Don't be angry. I see 
 your faults, I even look for them, but I love them. I 
 love your stammering, and I even imitate you. [They 
 laugh.] 
 
 CAMILLE. Just see what one day has done to these 
 people ! What can't we expect of them now ! Oh, my 
 Lucile, what wonderful things we shall do together! 
 Now it's started, the thunderbolt is launched; what joy 
 to see it strike here and there, and lay low the ty- 
 rants prejudice, injustice, laws ! At last, we are 
 going to smash these maggots, who with their idiotic 
 grins, set themselves up against everything, prevent our 
 thinking, breathing, our very existence ! We are going 
 to clean house, and burn the old rags. No more mas- 
 ters, no more shackles ! How amusing it all is ! 
 
 LUCILE. We will rule Paris now? 
 
 CAMILLE. We will : Reason will. 
 
 LUCILE. Hear their shouting. It makes me afraid, 
 
 CAMILLE. That is the result of my words. 
 
 LUCILE. Do you think they'll always listen to you? 
 
 CAMILLE. They listened to me before they knew me ; 
 what power I must have now that they adore me!
 
 THE FOURTEENTH OF JULY 97 
 
 They are good people, and when they are at last rid of 
 all the evils that are bearing down on them, everything 
 will be easy and joyous. Oh, Lucile, I am too happy! 
 It's all come so suddenly. No, I'm not too happy; 
 that is impossible. But I feel a little intoxicated, after 
 being so miserable. 
 
 LUCILE. Poor Camille! Were you so very un- 
 happy? 
 
 CAMILLE. Yes, I have had a hard time, and for so 
 long six years. Without money* without friends, 
 without even hope. I was disowned by my own people, 
 I had to engage in the lowest professions, and turn 
 my hand to anything to earn a few sous and often 
 not getting them after all. More than once I went to 
 bed without supper. But I don't want to tell you 
 that. Later on It was wrong of me. 
 
 LUCILE. Is it possible? Heavens, why didn't you 
 come to ? 
 
 CAMILLE. You would, I know, have divided your 
 bread with me! That wasn't the worst, Lucile. I 
 could do without supper, but to doubt myself, to see 
 no future before me ! And then, the sight of you, with 
 your dear yellow curls and brown eyes, in the window 
 opposite mine. How I followed you, at a distance, 
 through the Luxembourg Gardens, admiring your 
 grace, your movements! Ah, my dear little Lucile, 
 you often made me forget my misery, and sometimes 
 made it seem heavier. You were so far from me! 
 How could I hope that some day ? But that some 
 day is here now! It can't escape me! I have you. 
 I kiss your hands ! For they have brought me all the
 
 98 THE FOURTEENTH OF JULY 
 
 happiness in the world! The world that is freed 
 through me! How happy I am! [They kiss, and for 
 a moment say nothing.] 
 
 CAMILLE. You're crying? 
 
 LUCILE [smiling]. So are you. [The lights in the 
 windows are extinguished.] The lights are out; see 
 the dawn! [The Crowd is heard outside.] 
 
 CAMILLE [after a moment's pause]. Do you remem- 
 ber that old English story we read together? About 
 the two children in Verona who were in love in that 
 town? 
 
 LUCILE [nodding]. Why do you ask? 
 
 CAMILLE. I don't know. Who knows what the fu- 
 ture holds in store for us? 
 
 LUCILE [putting her hand over his mouth]. Ca- 
 mille ! 
 
 CAMILLE. Poor Lucile, do you think you would be 
 strong enough, if ill-fortune ? 
 
 LUCILE. Who knows ? I might if it were necessary. 
 But I'm afraid for you; you will suffer terribly. 
 
 CAMILLE [nervously]. You say that as if you 
 really thought it might happen? 
 
 LUCILE [smiling] . You are weaker than I, my hero. 
 
 CAMILLE [smiling]. Perhaps. I need love. I can't 
 live alone. 
 
 LUCILE. I'll never leave you. 
 
 CAMILLE. Never ! No matter what happens, let us 
 have everything in common, and let nothing separate 
 us, nothing keep us [A moment of silence. LUCILE 
 is motionless, her head resting on his shoulder.] Are 
 you asleep?
 
 99 
 
 LUCILE [raising her head]. No. [With a sigh.] 
 God spare us those trials! 
 
 CAMILLE [with a skeptical smile]. God? 
 
 LUCILE [her cheek against the window, and one arm 
 about CAMILLE'S neck]. Don't you believe in God? 
 
 CAMILLE. Not yet. 
 
 LUCILE. What do you mean? 
 
 CAMILLE. We are creating Him now. Tomorrow, 
 if I can believe in what my heart tells me, there will be 
 a God: Man. [LuciLE closes her eyes and sleeps. 
 CAMILLE says quietly.] Lucile! She's asleep. 
 
 ROBESPIERRE [coming across the street and catching 
 sight of CAMILLE]. You're still here? 
 
 CAMILLE. Sh ! 
 
 ROBESPIERRE. You forget your duty. [CAMILLE 
 points to LUCILE. ROBESPIERRE lowers his voics and 
 looks at LUCILE.] Poor child! [He stands still a mo- 
 ment, looking at the pair. The sound of nearby 
 drums awakens LUCILE. She catches sight of ROBES- 
 PIERRE and quickly jumps up.] 
 
 LUCILE. Oh ! 
 
 CAMILLE. What's the matter, Lucile? He is our 
 friend Maximilien. 
 
 ROBESPIERRE [bows to LUCILE]. Didn't you recog- 
 nize me? 
 
 LUCILE [still trembling]. You frightened me! 
 
 ROBESPIERRE. I beg your pardon. 
 
 CAMILLE. You're trembling. 
 
 LUCILE. I'm cold. Good-by, Camille. I'm so 
 tired. I must go to sleep. [CAMILLE smiles at her and 
 blows a kiss. ROBESPIERRE bows. She disappears,
 
 100 THE FOURTEENTH OF JULY 
 
 after bowing to the men. The dawn has come, and the 
 sky behind the Bastille is richly colored. In the midst 
 of the far-off shouting are heard the first stray fusil- 
 lades.] 
 
 ROBESPIEREE [turning toward the noise]. Come, 
 now. No more love today. [He goes out.] 
 
 CAMILLE [descending from the barricade]. No 
 more love? What then? Is it not love that now 
 arouses this city, swelling every breast, and sacrificing 
 the vast harvest of humanity? Oh, my love, you are 
 not narrow and selfish, you bind me to these men with 
 stronger bonds. You are everything, you embrace the 
 whole world. It is not Lucile alone I love, but the 
 universe. Through your dear eyes, I love all who love, 
 who suffer, who are happy, who live, and who die. I 
 love! I feel the sacred flame within me! It colors 
 the eastern sky above the Bastille. The last shadows 
 are gone, and this will go, too, this nightmare-shadow ! 
 [The Bastille, monstrous and black, stands forth 
 against the bright red sky. The voice of the cannon 
 suddenly rends the silence, and reverberates above the 
 confusion of the people in the distance, the fusillade, 
 the bells, and the roll of the drums. CAMILLE smiles, 
 and faces the Bastille, putting his finger to his nose.] 
 The wolf howls, ha! Growl, show your teeth! You 
 are doomed ! Since the King likes hunting, let us hunt 
 the King!
 
 ACT III 
 
 [Tuesday, July 14th. The Interior Court of the Bas- 
 tille. 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 mountain* 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 cur- 
 tain rises, the Pensioner BEQUART and his com- 
 panions are stationed in the Court, with three 
 cannon. VINTIMILLE, commander of the Pen- 
 sioners, 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, Mon- 
 sieur 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. 
 
 101
 
 102 THE FOURTEENTH OF JULY 
 
 THE PENSIONERS [among themselves]. Good God! 
 
 BEQUART. 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? 
 
 BEQUART. 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. 
 
 BEQUART. 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 FOURTEENTH OF JULY 103 
 
 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 Bequart? 
 
 BEQUART. We're safe till the Last Judgment, Mon- 
 sieur le Gouverneur. I served under Monsieur de 
 Chevert at Prague forty-seven years ago. The Mar- 
 shal de Belle-Isle stationed us there. We were a hand- 
 ful in the enemy's country; we were short of every- 
 thing, 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 be- 
 tween us, and the troops of the Champ de Mars and 
 Sevres 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. 
 
 BEQUART. 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
 
 104, THE FOURTEENTH OF JULY 
 
 for me: I must think of the consequences. The re- 
 sponsibility 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 Maj- 
 esty 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 betray- 
 ing? 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 Mon- 
 sieur 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 LAUNEv]. My dear fellow, yours 
 be the victory! You are always right. [He goes to 
 a corner and sits in the shadow.] 
 
 BEQUART [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
 
 THE FOURTEENTH OF JULY 105 
 
 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 ! 
 
 BEQUART. 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 ? 
 
 BEQUART. 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 in- 
 terest they have in life? Their only pleasures are sour 
 wine and unwashed women! 
 
 BEQUART. You know, Monseigneur, that no matter 
 how little one has to live for, one always clings to life. 
 
 VINTIMILLE. Oh, really? Speak for yourself! 
 
 BEQUART. Oh, but you have everything to be de- 
 sired. 
 
 VINTIMILLE. Do you envy me? Nothing in it, my 
 boy. 
 
 BEQUART. 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
 
 106 THE FOURTEENTH OF JULY 
 
 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 vn the Sec- 
 ond Act] : 
 
 " Oh, come, thou God of Liberty, 
 And fill our souls this day " 
 
 Swiss GUARDS [outside]. Forward! To the Gov- 
 ernor ! 
 
 DE FLUE. What's the trouble? 
 
 Swiss GUAEDS [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 Bas- 
 tille! 
 
 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!
 
 THE FOURTEENTH OF JULY 107 
 
 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.
 
 108 THE FOURTEENTH OF JULY 
 
 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 ar- 
 range matters. But if I am shot, well, you know the 
 proverb: "A fine death compensates for a whole life." 
 
 DE LAUNEY. What is your message? 
 
 HOCHE [presenting a letter]. From the Permanent 
 Committee of the Hotel de Ville. [DE LAUNEY 
 takes the letter, stands to one side, with two officers, 
 reading it. The Pensioners hold JULIE on their 
 knees.] 
 
 BEQUART. Why did you take it into your head to 
 come, little one? Do you know some one here? 
 
 JULIE. I know a great many. 
 
 BEQUART. Where? 
 
 JULIE. In the prison. 
 
 BEQUART. You have nice acquaintances! Who? 
 Relatives ? 
 
 JULIE. No. 
 
 BEQUART. What are their names? 
 
 JULIE. I don't know. 
 
 BEQUART. You don't know? What do they look 
 like? 
 
 JULIE. I couldn't say. 
 
 BEQUART. Are you making fun of us?
 
 THE FOURTEENTH OF JULY 109 
 
 JULIE. No, no, I know them very well: I've seen 
 them. Only, I can't say 
 
 BEQUART. 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. 
 
 BEQUART. Why did you want to see them? 
 
 JULIE. Because they suffer. 
 
 BEQUART. 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! 
 
 BEQUART. Shut up ! You fool ! 
 
 THE PENSIONER [angry at first]. Fool? [He re- 
 flects 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. 
 
 BEQUART [kissing 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 com- 
 mittee 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 !
 
 110 THE FOURTEENTH OF JULY 
 
 HOCHE [to DE LAUNEY]. Listen to me, Monsei- 
 gneur. You can prevent the carnage. We hold noth- 
 ing 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.
 
 THE FOURTEENTH OF JULY 111 
 
 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 Mal- 
 plaquet, 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 obey- 
 ing orders ; you do not know what it means to fight for 
 yourself. [To BEQUART.] You yourself, Father Be- 
 quart 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].
 
 11 THE FOURTEENTH OF JULY 
 
 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 ! 
 
 BEQUART. Monseigneur, it is impossible. 
 
 THE PENSIONERS [grunting assent]. He's an en- 
 voy. 
 
 DE LAUNEY. Impossible, you rascal ! Envoy from 
 whom? 
 
 BEQUART [gravely]. The people,
 
 THE FOURTEENTH OF JULY 113 
 
 DE FLUE [to the Swiss Guards]. Arrest him! 
 
 BEO.UART 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. 
 
 BEQUART 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 build- 
 ings. 
 
 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: what- 
 ever you decide on, don't change it.
 
 114 
 
 DE LAUNEY. You have a free hand, Monsieur de 
 Flue. Give it to them! [Ds 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 can- 
 non.] Our evil conscience! The corporal thinks he 
 has a right to a conscience ! He's richer than I. Con- 
 science! 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 use- 
 lessness 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 peo- 
 ple? Impossible! 
 
 DE FLUE [without troubling to answer]. Quick! 
 Up with the draw-bridge ! God Almighty ! 
 
 DE LAUNEY. To the cannon! [The Swiss Guard*
 
 THE FOURTEENTH OF JULY 115 
 
 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 car- 
 penters, masons well, they scaled that wall like mon- 
 keys 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 scoun- 
 drels ! [The confusion among soldiers and officers hag 
 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 curi- 
 ous to come and see for yourself? You will be safe 
 here, and may look around without danger. [He ex- 
 tends 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
 
 116 THE FOURTEENTH OF JULY 
 
 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-1'Eveque? 
 
 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.
 
 THE FOURTEENTH OF JULY 117 
 
 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 ex- 
 aggerate. 
 
 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'Or- 
 leans' ecus! 
 
 LA CONTAT. My dear, you're the same as ever : you 
 always minimize one's motives. 
 
 VINTIMILLE. Money is not a small motive to vaga- 
 bonds 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:
 
 118 THE FOURTEENTH OF JULY 
 
 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]. Wom- 
 en ! Priests ! Bourgeois ! Soldiers ! There, there's 
 that little girl on Holm'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.] 
 
 BEQUART 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] . Cour- 
 age} I am the first to take it! [The beat of drum* 
 is now heard.] 
 
 BEQUART and the PENSIONERS [looking out]. They 
 want to parley again: they're waving handkerchiefs, 
 signaling to us.
 
 THE FOURTEENTH OF JULY 119 
 
 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 beating 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 noth- 
 ing to you. You know they acted contrary to orders.
 
 120 
 
 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 human- 
 ity. [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.] 
 
 BEQUABT and the PENSIONEES. What are you 
 doing? 
 
 THE Swiss GUARDS. Three volleys and the court 
 will be empty.
 
 THE FOURTEENTH OF JULY 121 
 
 BEQUART and the PENSIONERS. You're not going to 
 fire? 
 
 THE Swiss GUARDS. Why not? 
 
 BEQUART. Into the mob? It would be nothing but 
 massacre! 
 
 THE Swiss GUARDS. What's that to us ? 
 
 BEQUART. 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 BEQUART 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 ! 
 
 BEQUART. 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 re- 
 volt ! 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!
 
 122 THE FOURTEENTH OF JULY 
 
 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 Bas- 
 tille 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 [phlegmatic ally]. Possibly. [He sits 
 down on a drum and lights his pipe.] 
 , THE Swiss GUARDS [wiping their faces]. Damned
 
 THE FOURTEENTH OF JULY 123 
 
 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 lie makes. 
 BEQUART holds the inkstand for him. VINTIMILLE 
 reads in a low voice to BEQUART what he has written, 
 BEQUART 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. 
 
 BEQUART. 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. 
 
 BEQUART. Give me the love-missive. 
 
 THE PENSIONERS. You'll get killed, Bequart. 
 
 BEQUART. 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
 
 124 THE FOURTEENTH OF JULY 
 
 understand a thing! [BEQUART advances to the gate. 
 The Pensioners shout to him.] How will you give 
 it to them? 
 
 BEQUART [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. BEQUART goes up toward the 
 opening in the wall, right of the draw-bridge.] 
 
 BEQUART [waving his arms and crying]. Capitula- 
 tion ! [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 ! [Out- 
 side 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. 
 
 BEQUART [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 fall- 
 ing! No, he's safe now. 
 
 BEQUAHT [panting for breath] . Hurry up ! Hurry !
 
 THE FOURTEENTH OF JULY 125 
 
 THE PENSIONERS. He's touching the pike. He has 
 the paper. 
 
 BEQUART [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 BEQ.U ART'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 every- 
 thing 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,
 
 126 THE FOURTEENTH OF JULY 
 
 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 pre- 
 cautions 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 under- 
 stand each other. [The Pensioners murmur ap- 
 proval.] 
 
 DE FLUE [phlegmatically]. War is war! [A Pen- 
 sioner whistles: " Ou peut-on etre mieux qu'au sein de 
 a famille? "] 
 
 VINTIMILLE [turning toward him, and, with a dis- 
 dainful 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 ap- 
 proval.] 
 
 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
 
 THE FOURTEENTH OF JULY 127 
 
 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 GON- 
 CHON, who is pushed forward, flourishing his saber in 
 the air. HOCHE and HULIN make vain efforts to si- 
 lence the mob. There are cries of death and victory. 
 VINTIMILLE takes off his hat.] Messieurs, the rabble ! 
 
 PENSIONERS [suddenly swept away by their enthusi- 
 asm, 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 VINTI- 
 MILLE, 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
 
 128 THE FOURTEENTH OF JULY 
 
 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 FOURTEENTH OF JULY 129 
 
 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 kisses to her.} 
 
 HOCHE [clapping HULIN on the shoulder]. Well, 
 Hulin? You everlasting doubter, are you at last con- 
 vinced? 
 
 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 Re- 
 public ! We've been held down too long, and now we're 
 bursting our bonds ! Roll on, oh, torrent of the Revo- 
 lution ! 
 
 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
 
 ISO THE FOURTEENTH OF JULY 
 
 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 for- 
 est 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 win- 
 dows, 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.
 
 THE FOURTEENTH OF JULY 131 
 
 ROBESPIEEEE [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. 
 
 ROBESPIEEEE [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 ! 
 
 MAEAT. My dear people, you have suffered so long, 
 you have struggled so long in silence. So many cen- 
 turies 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 !
 
 132 THE FOURTEENTH OF JULY 
 
 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. Daugh- 
 ter 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 
 
 HKRAULT DE SKCHELLES 
 
 PHILIPPEAUX 
 
 FABRE D'EOLANTINE 
 
 FoUQUlER-TlNVILLE 
 
 LUCILE DESMOULINS 
 ELEONORE DUPLAY 
 MADAME DUPLAY 
 
 The People, Jury, Gendarmes, etc. 
 
 SCENE: Paris, March and April, 1794. 
 
 Act I. Desmoulins' home. 
 
 Act II. Robespierre's room. 
 
 Act III. The Revolutionary Tribunal. 
 
 [M. Holland has suggested lines and " business " for The Peo- 
 ple in footnotes throughout Act III, but as these are not an 
 integral part of the play and are intended rather as an aid to 
 the producer, I have not deemed it necessary to incorporate more 
 than half a dozen lines into the text. THE TBANSLATOB.] 
 
 136
 
 ACT I 
 
 [The home of CAMILLE DESMOULINS. A middle-class 
 sitting-room, furnished in every style, and pre- 
 senting a fantastic appearance. The walls are 
 hung with licentious engravings of the 18th cen- 
 tury. Over the fire-place is the bust of an 
 ancient philosopher. On the table is a small 
 model of the Bastille. A cradle stands in the 
 corner. A window is open. Outside may be seen 
 the gray sky and the rain. CAMILLE and LUCILE, 
 who holds her child in her arms, look out the win- 
 dow. PHILIPPEAUX strides back and forth, glanc- 
 ing out of the window occasionally. HERAULT DE 
 SECHELLES, seated in an arm-chair by the fire, 
 looks at his friends. The joyous shouting of the 
 crowd is heard outside.] 
 
 LUCILE [leaning out]. There they are ! There they 
 are ! They're passing at the end of the street ! 
 
 CAMILLE [shouting]. Good luck to you, Pere 
 Duchesne ! Don't forget your pipe ! 
 
 HERAULT [softly]. Camille, my friend, don't show 
 yourself. 
 
 CAMILLE. Come and see our old friends, Herault ! 
 Ronsin, the general of the clubs; and Vincent, who 
 wanted your head, Philippeaux ; and Hebert, the bully, 
 who had supper every evening at my expense; and the 
 
 137
 
 138 DANTON 
 
 Prussian Cloots, the fair Anacharsis ! The last trip 
 of the young Anacharsis ! Mankind is in a fine fix 
 now : deprived of its orator ! The guillotine is busy 
 today. 
 
 LUCILE [to the baby]. Look, Horace, look at those 
 naughty men! And Commander Hanriot, galloping 
 with his saber! Do you see, darling? 
 
 PHILIPPEAUX. He's too zealous. He ought to be 
 riding on the cart himself. 
 
 CAMILLE. It's like a great festival; the people are 
 gay. [Outside a clarinet is heard playing a grotesque 
 air. The People laugh.] What's that? 
 
 LUCILE. The little hunchback with the cart, play- 
 ing his clarinet. 
 
 CAMILLE. Pleasant idea ! [They all laugh.] Why 
 don't you look, Herault? Aren't you interested? 
 You seem sad? What are you thinking about? [The 
 uproar becomes fainter.] 
 
 HERAULT. I was thinking, Camille, that Anacharsis 
 is thirty-eight, and Hebert thirty-five your age, 
 Philippeaux; and Vincent twenty-seven, six years 
 younger than I and you, Desmoulins. 
 
 CAMILLE. True. [He suddenly becomes serious, 
 leaving the window and coming to the center of the 
 room. He stands still an instant, his chin in his hand.] 
 
 LUCILE [still at the window]. How it rains! Too 
 bad! 
 
 CAMILLE [put out]. Come away from the window, 
 Lucile. You'll catch cold. 
 
 LUCILE [closing the window, comes into the room 
 with the baby, singing to herself:]
 
 DANTON 139 
 
 "Come quick, little shepherdess, gather your sheep: 
 
 The rain is beginning to fall, 
 
 And bring them back safe to the sheepfold again; 
 Come quick, or you'll lose them all ! " 
 
 CAMILLE. Lucile, Lucile, how can you sing that 
 song! I never hear it without thinking that the poet 
 who wrote it is now languishing in prison. 
 
 LUCILE. Fabre? That's so. Our poor Eglantine. 
 They shut him up in the Luxembourg, sick as he was ! 
 Oh, well, he'll come out. 
 
 HERAULT. Pur troppo! 
 
 LUCILE. Now what does that mean? Something 
 naughty, I know. 
 
 PHILIPPEAUX. Something sad, and only too true. 
 
 LUCILE. Hush, you gloomy men! Fabre will be 
 released, I tell you. Are we not here to help 
 him? 
 
 HEBAULT. Danton himself could do nothing to save 
 him. 
 
 LUCILE. Danton, perhaps. But when Camille takes 
 his pen in hand, and writes all he thinks, you'll see the 
 jail gates open of their own accord! 
 
 HEKAULT. For whom? 
 
 LUCILE. For the tyrants ! 
 
 HERAULT. Imprudent shepherdess, you had better 
 keep an eye on your sheep ! " Bring them back safe 
 to the sheepfold again ! " Remember your song. [A 
 servant enters and takes the baby from LUCILE; then 
 carries him out. LUCILE whispers to her, leaves the 
 room, and returns a moment later. During the entire 
 scene she walks about, busied with various domestic
 
 140 D ANTON 
 
 duties, and only occasionally catches the drift of the 
 following conversation.] 
 
 CAMILLE. Lucile is right: we must make the effort. 
 It is our business to direct the Revolution which we 
 have started. This voice of mine has not yet lost its 
 power over the crowd. It has sent fanatics to the 
 guillotine. We were never so strong as today; let 
 us follow up our success : the Luxembourg is no more 
 difficult to take than the Bastille. We laid low nine 
 centuries of monarchy, and we can easily deal with a 
 handful of vagabonds, who derive their power from us, 
 and who use it in order to run the Convention and 
 France in their own way. 
 
 PHILIPPEAUX [walking about agitatedly]. The ras- 
 cals ! If they only confined themselves to murder ! 
 But no, they had to implicate Fabre in the Compagnie 
 des Indes business; invented that impossible yarn: 
 Jews and German bankers bribing our friend in order 
 to corrupt the Assembly ! They know they are lying, 
 but they cannot satisfy their consciences until they 
 vilify their enemy before they kill him. 
 
 HERAULT. Our enemies are virtuous: and that is 
 some consolation: to have our throats cut in the name 
 of principles. 
 
 CAMILLE. France hates hypocrisy. Let us beat 
 the pedants and thrash Basile! 
 
 PHILIPPEAUX. I have done my duty : let each do his. 
 I dragged to light the brigands of the Western Army, 
 the military staff of Saumur. I have a firm hold on 
 their necks, and only the loss of my own head will 
 force me to release it. I have no illusions: I know
 
 DANTON 141 
 
 what it will cost to attack General Rossignol and his 
 band. The Committee is now lying in wait, but only 
 in order to catch me. I wonder what infamy they are 
 going to saddle me with? I'm all in a fever only to 
 think of it. Let them chop my head if they will, but 
 they must not touch my honor! 
 
 HERAULT. I'm not so worried as you, Philippeaux. 
 I already know what pretext they have to suppress 
 me. I am so unfortunate as to think that while we may 
 be the enemy of the governments of all Europe, we 
 need not therefore despise every one who does not 
 happen to be French. I had friends abroad, and I 
 did not think it was necessary to break with them, in 
 order to give in to the folly of Billaud-Varenne and 
 others of his ilk. They entered my house, forced the 
 drawers of my desks, stole some letters of a purely 
 friendly nature. But that was enough, and of course 
 I am now a conspirator for the restoration of the 
 King, and receive money from Pitt. 
 
 CAMILLE. Are you sure of what you say? 
 
 HERAULT. Quite sure, Camille. My head is not 
 worth a sou. 
 
 CAMILLE. But you must hide. 
 
 HERAULT. There is no hiding-place in the world 
 for a Republican. Kings hound them, and the Re- 
 public sends them to the guillotine. 
 
 CAMILLE. You lack courage. We are the most 
 popular men of the Republic. 
 
 HERAULT. Lafayette was popular, too, and Potion, 
 and Roland. Capet himself was popular. He who was 
 a week ago the people's idol is now dead. Who can
 
 142 DANTON 
 
 flatter himself that he is beloved of those brutes? At 
 moments, you think you see in their troubled eyes 
 some faint reflection of your own thoughts. Whose 
 conscience, at least one day in a lifetime, is not in 
 harmony with the conscience of the masses? But that 
 harmony cannot long exist, and it is folly to try to 
 keep it. The brain of the people is a surging sea, 
 alive with monsters and nightmares. 
 
 CAMILLE. What big words! We puff out our 
 cheeks to say things to the people, and we say them 
 solemnly, in order that Europe may believe in some 
 mysterious power of which we are the instruments. 
 But I know the people ; they have worked for me. The 
 ass in the fable says : " I cannot carry two saddles," 
 but he never for an instant doubts that he can carry 
 any at all. We had trouble enough to make the people 
 start their Revolution; they only did it in spite of 
 themselves. We were the engineers, the agents of that 
 sublime movement ; without us, it would not have moved 
 an inch. They did not demand a Republic ; I led them 
 to it. I persuaded them that they wanted to be free, 
 in order that they might cherish their Liberty as their 
 own achievement. That is the only way to handle 
 weak people. Convince them that they want some- 
 thing they never thought of, and they invariably want 
 it. 
 
 HEBAULT. Take care, Camille ; you are a child, and 
 you are playing with fire. You believe the people have 
 followed you because you were aiming at the same 
 goal. They have passed you by. Don't try to stop 
 them. You can't take a bone from a hungry dog.
 
 DANTON 143 
 
 CAMILLE. You have only to throw them another. 
 Tell me, don't you read my Vieux Cordelier? Does 
 not its voice resound throughout the Republic? 
 
 LUCILE. Do you know how popular the last number 
 was? He's had letters from every one and what 
 weeping, and kisses, and declarations of love! If I 
 were jealous ! They implore him to continue, and 
 save the country. 
 
 HEEAULT. How many of these friends would help 
 him if he were attacked? 
 
 CAMILLE. I need no one's help. My writing-desk 
 is enough! This David's sling [pointing to his pen] 
 has just overthrown the proud guillotine, the prince 
 of blackguards. I've broken the pipe of Pere Du- 
 chesne, the famous pipe that like the trumpet of 
 Jericho, after it had thrice been smoked around a 
 reputation, made it fall of its own accord. From this 
 pen went forth the stroke that struck the cowardly 
 Goliath in the head. I made his own people hoot him. 
 Did you notice the pipe-bowls about Pere Duchesne's 
 cart just now? That was my idea. It has proved 
 a prodigious success. Why do you look at me? 
 
 HEEAULT. An idea! 
 
 CAMILLE. What is it? 
 
 HEEAULT. Do you sometimes think of death? 
 
 CAMILLE. Death? No, I don't like to. It's nasty. 
 
 HEEAULT. Did you never think how awful it would 
 be? 
 
 LUCILE. How horrible ! Fine things to talk about ! 
 
 HEEAULT. You are a good, dear, lovable child, 
 and yet you are cruel like a child.
 
 144 D ANTON 
 
 CAMILLE [excitedly]. You really think me cruel? 
 
 LUCILE. See, he's crying this moment! 
 
 CAMILLE [deeply stirred]. True, he suffered. 
 When I think of his agony, his terror, waiting for the 
 end It must have been atrocious ! No matter how 
 vile he was, he suffered like an honest man perhaps 
 even more. Poor Hebert ! 
 
 LUCILE [her arms about CAMILLE'S neck]. My poor 
 Bouli-Boula, you're not going to feel so sorry for a 
 villain who wanted to send you to the guillotine? 
 
 CAMILLE [angrily]. Yes. Now, why are you at- 
 tacking me this way? Si quis atra dente me petiverit, 
 inultus ut flebo puer! 
 
 LUCILE [to HERAULT]. And you dare say my 
 Camille is cruel ! 
 
 HERAULT. I do, of course. Dear fellow! He is 
 perhaps the cruellest of us all. 
 
 CAMILLE. Don't say that, Herault; I may end by 
 believing you. 
 
 LUCILE [to HERAULT, shaking her finger at him]. 
 Say it's not true : you are the cruellest. 
 
 HERAULT. Well, no, it is not true: you are the 
 cruellest. 
 
 LUCILE. Very well. I don't mind that. 
 
 CAMILLE. What you say troubles me, Herault. It 
 is true, I have done great evil, but I am not bad by 
 nature. I have constituted myself the prosecuting at- 
 torney for the lamp-post. I have no idea what damna- 
 ble impish instinct urges me on. It was due to me 
 that the Girondins are now rotting in the fields. My 
 Brissot devoiU led to the decapitating of thirty young,
 
 DANTON 145 
 
 lovable, generous men. They clung to life, as I do; 
 they were made in order to enjoy life, and be happy. 
 They, too, had their dear Luciles. Oh, Lucile, let us 
 go away, far from this butchery that is so terrible to 
 others, and perhaps to ourselves ! What if we you 
 our little Horace ? Oh, why can't I be a stranger 
 once more to all men? Where can I hide myself from 
 the sight of the world, with my wife and child and my 
 books! Ubi campi Guisiaque! 
 
 PHILIPPEAUX. You're in the cyclone, and you can- 
 not escape. 
 
 HEBAULT. Don't force him to remain in a struggle 
 which he was not intended for. 
 
 PHILIPPEAUX. But as he himself just said, we must 
 do our duty. 
 
 HERAULT [pointing to CAMILLE, who kisses LUCILE]. 
 Look at him: does not Camille's duty seem to be the 
 pursuit of happiness? 
 
 CAMILLE. True, I have a wonderful vocation for 
 happiness. Some people are made for suffering, but 
 suffering disgusts me: I want none of it. 
 
 LUCILE. Did I spoil your vocation? 
 
 CAMILLE. My Vesta, my little one! You are very 
 much to blame ! You have made me too happy ! 
 
 LUCILE. Coward ! He pities himself. 
 
 CAMILLE. You see, I have lost all strength, all my 
 faith. 
 
 LUCILE. How? 
 
 CAMILLE. I used to believe in the immortality of the 
 soul. When I saw the misery of the world, I said to 
 myself that life would be too absurd if virtue were not
 
 146 D ANTON 
 
 rewarded elsewhere. But now I am happy, so sub- 
 limely happy that I truly believe I have received my 
 reward on earth. So you see, I have lost my proof 
 of immortality. 
 
 HERAULT. Never try to find it again. 
 
 CAMILLE. How simple it is to be happy! There 
 are so few who know how to be ! 
 
 HERAULT. The simpler a thing is, the oftener it 
 eludes us. It is said that men wish to be happy. A 
 great mistake ! They wish to be unhappy ; they insist 
 on it. Pharaohs and Sesostris, kings with hawks* 
 heads and tigers' claws; butchers of the Inquisition, 
 conquerors of Bastilles; wars that sow murder and 
 rapine that is what they want. The obscurity of 
 the mysteries is necessary to belief; the absurdity of 
 suffering, to love. But reason, tolerance, love, happi- 
 ness bah! Give them that, and you insult them! 
 
 CAMILLE. You are bitter. You must do good to 
 men in spite of themselves. 
 
 HERAULT. That is what everybody is doing now- 
 adays, and the result is nothing to boast of. 
 
 CAMILLE. Poor Republic ! What have they done to 
 You? Oh, flowering fields, rejuvenated earth, clear air, 
 and bright light of the heavens, clear-eyed Reason has 
 sent packing the sorry superstitions and the ancient 
 Gothic saints from fair France. Young men and 
 women dancing in the meadows, heroic armies, fraternal 
 feeling, impregnable wall against which the armies of 
 Europe in vain break their lances ; joy of beauty, noble 
 Panathenaics, white-armed maidens, dressed in thin 
 flowing draperies; liberty to live, pleasure that throbs
 
 DANTON 147 
 
 from sheer joy of living. Fair Republic of Aspasia 
 and the charming Alcibiades what has become of 
 you? What are you now? You wear a red cap, a 
 dirty shirt; you have a hoarse voice, the fixed ideas 
 of a maniac, the pedantic manner of a school- 
 master ! 
 
 HEEAULT. You are an Athenian among barbarians. 
 Ovid among the Scythians. You will never reform 
 them. 
 
 CAMILLE. I shall at least try. 
 
 HEEAULT. You are wasting your time perhaps 
 your life. 
 
 CAMILLE. What have I to fear? 
 
 HEEAULT. Beware of Robespierre. 
 
 CAMILLE. I have known him since we were children : 
 a friend may say anything. 
 
 HEEAULT. A disagreeable truth is more easily for- 
 given by an enemy than a friend. 
 
 LUCILE. Stop! He must be a great man and save 
 the Patr'ie. Whoever doesn't agree with me, will have 
 none of my chocolate. 
 
 HEBAULT [smiling]. I'll not say another word. 
 [LUCILE goes out.] 
 
 PHILIPPEAUX. So you have decided to go ahead, 
 Desmoulins ? 
 
 CAMILLE. Yes. 
 
 PHILIPPEAUX. No truce, then! Press on, drive 
 your quill without mercy. The worst danger lies in 
 this skirmishing warfare you are carrying on. You 
 are satisfied merely to goad them with your arrows ; 
 that only gives them more power against you. Aim at
 
 148 DANTON 
 
 the heart, if you can, and complete the work at a 
 stroke. 
 
 HERAULT. My friends, I do not approve of your 
 plans, but if you have made up your minds, you must, 
 of course, have every chance in your favor. If we 
 intend to start warfare, Desmoulins' pen forgive me, 
 Camille ! is not enough. The people do not read. 
 The success of the Vieux Cordelier misleads you; it 
 does not reach the people; it has quite another public. 
 You know very well, Camille: you complained that one 
 number was sold at twenty sous. Aristocrats like us 
 buy it. The people know only what the club orators 
 tell them, and they are not on your side. You may 
 write down to the people and try to use expressions 
 you have heard in the markets ; you will never be one 
 of the people. There is only one way to influence 
 them: have Danton talk to them. His thunder alone 
 can stir that vast chaos. Danton has only to shake his 
 mane, and the forum is in his power. But Danton 
 does nothing; he's asleep away from Paris. He 
 doesn't address the Convention, No one knows what 
 has become of him. Who has seen him lately? Where 
 is he? What is he doing? [Enter DANTON and 
 WESTERMANN.] 
 
 DANTON. Danton swims in debauchery. Danton 
 dallies with the women. Danton's rest is like Her- 
 cules'! [DESMOULINS runs to DANTON and shakes 
 hands with him, laughing. WESTERMANN stands aside, 
 preoccupied.] 
 
 CAMILLE. Hercules still keeps his club, so long as 
 there are monsters to be killed.
 
 D ANTON 149 
 
 DANTON. Don't speak of killing. It's too horrible. 
 France reeks with blood; the smell of dead flesh be- 
 fouls the air. I just crossed the Seine; the sun was 
 setting, and the river was red. It seemed to flow in 
 waves of blood. If our rivers are so foul, where shall 
 we wash our hands ? There are enough dead ! Let us 
 build up the Republic. Let the harvests and men grow 
 once more and become a new Patrie. Let us love one 
 another and cultivate our fields. 
 
 CAMILLE. May some god give us the chance, Dan- 
 ton! We are counting on you. 
 
 DANTON. What is it, my children? 
 
 PHIUPPEAUX. We need your help to fight. 
 
 DANTON. How can I help you? Must I always do 
 everything? You are all alike. Here is Westermann; 
 he is a man; he has fought; he has saved the Patrie 
 two or three times ; and before he sits down to supper, 
 he cuts a man's throat as an appetizer. I must aid 
 him, too ! Do you want me to ride a horse and carry 
 a saber, besides? 
 
 WESTERMANN. When it comes to fighting, I yield 
 to no one. Take me out to the battle-field; show me 
 a company to rout, and see how I acquit myself. But 
 to have to speak, answer the mouthing members of the 
 Convention, frustrate the underhanded schemes of that 
 Committee of toads that are always plotting my ruin, 
 I can't do it. I feel lost in that city; the whole pack 
 snap at me; I can't move; I must stand it and not 
 even try to defend myself. Are you going to let me be 
 devoured alive, and not help me? By God, I once 
 fought for you; we have the same enemies. My cause
 
 150 D ANTON 
 
 is your cause yours, Danton yours, Philippeaux, as 
 you very well know ! 
 
 PHILIPPEAUX. I know, Westermann. It's because 
 you attacked Rossignol, Ronsin, and all the black- 
 guards, as I did, who dishonor the army. And the 
 Jacobins are yelping after us. We shan't desert you. 
 
 CAMILLE [to DANTON]. We must do something. I 
 offer my pen, and Westermann his sword. Guide us, 
 Danton. You know how to handle the crowd, you 
 understand the strategy of revolutions. Lead us; we 
 have another Tenth of August ahead. 
 
 DANTON. Later. 
 
 PHILIPPEAUX. You've disappeared from the arena; 
 they are forgetting you. Show yourself. What have 
 you been doing these many weeks, hidden in the 
 country? 
 
 DANTON. I have been communing with mother 
 earth, in order to draw new strength from it, like 
 Anteus. 
 
 PHILIPPEAUX. Rather you are looking for a pretext 
 to retire from the fray. 
 
 DANTON. I cannot lie: you speak the truth. 
 
 CAMILLE. What's the trouble? 
 
 DANTON. I am sick of humanity. I vomit men. 
 
 HERAULT. You are not so sick of women, it seems? 
 
 DANTON. The women at least are frank enough to 
 be merely themselves and nothing more. They are 
 what we all are : animals. They seek pleasure directly, 
 and never lie to themselves and cover up their instincts 
 with the cloak of reason. I hate the hypocrisy of the 
 intelligence, the sanguinary idiocy of these idealists,
 
 D ANTON 151 
 
 these dictators of impotence, who call the natural needs 
 corruption, and pretend to deny nature, in order to 
 flatter their own monstrous egotism and their mad 
 desire for destruction. Oh, if I could only be a brute, 
 an honest out-and-out brute, with the frank desire to 
 love others so long as they allow me a place in the sun ! 
 
 CAMILLE. Yes, we fairly reek with hypocrisy. 
 
 DANTON. The most odious of hypocrisies: the 
 hypocrisy of the dagger. The virtuous guillotine! 
 
 PHILIPPEAUX. We have destroyed Capet, only in 
 order that Talien, Fouchet, and Collot d'Herbois 
 might repeat their persecutions and massacres as at 
 Bordeaux and Lyon ! 
 
 CAMILLE. These maniacs have established a new re- 
 ligion an obligatory and lay religion, giving the pro- 
 consuls a free hand to hang, slash, and burn all in 
 the name of virtue. 
 
 DANTON. There is no danger in any state as great 
 as that of the men with principles. They don't try 
 to do good, but to be in the right ; no suffering touches 
 them. Their only morality, their only political ideal, 
 is to impose their ideas on others. 
 
 HEEAULT [reciting ironically] : 
 
 " A man of honor has a higher aim, 
 His joy consists in giving joy to others!" 
 
 LUCILE [entering, and continuing the quotation] : 
 
 " The gen'rous man is not so hard to please. 
 He jogs along and spurs his fractious beast 
 Without inquiring if the poor young thing 
 Enjoys himself or not "
 
 152 DANTON 
 
 HERAULT. Hm ! You're well up in your authors ! 
 
 LUCILE. What of it? Every one knows La Pu- 
 celle. 
 
 DANTON. You are right, my dear. It is the brevi- 
 ary of good women. 
 
 HERAULT. Did you ever recite it to Robespierre? 
 
 LUCILE. I'd never dare. 
 
 CAMILLE. Did you ever see him when some one told 
 a nasty story in his presence? His brow contracts; 
 he clasps his hands, he makes faces like a monkey with 
 the tooth-ache. 
 
 HERAULT. He inherits that from his father, and 
 gets his hatred of Voltaire from Rousseau. 
 
 LUCILE [astonished]. What! Is he Rousseau's 
 son ? 
 
 HERAULT [ jokingly] . Didn't you know? 
 
 DANTON. Jesuit nonsense! He's more corrupt 
 than the rest. He who slinks off to have his pleasures, 
 usually has very poor morals. 
 
 PHILIPPEAUX. Possibly, but if Robespierre loves 
 pleasure he hides it effectively ; and he is right, Danton. 
 You parade your pleasures too much. You would 
 sacrifice your fortune for a night at the Palais- 
 Royal. 
 
 DANTON. Because I prefer good fortune to bad. 
 
 PHILIPPEAUX. Meantime, you are compromising 
 yourself. Public opinion is quick to judge you. And 
 what will posterity say when it learns that Danton, 
 on the eve of a decisive struggle for the State, thought 
 only of pleasure? 
 
 DANTON. I don't give a damn about public opinion ;
 
 DANTON 158 
 
 reputation is nothing, and posterity a stinking 
 cesspool ! 
 
 PHILIPPEAUX. And virtue, Danton? 
 
 DANTON. Ask my wife whether mine satisfies her. 
 
 PHILIPPEAUX. You don't believe what you say. 
 You libel yourself and play into the hands of the 
 enemy. 
 
 WESTERMANN [bursts forth after attempting to re- 
 strain himself] . You damned gossips and braggarts ! 
 Some of them declaim about their virtues, and some 
 about their vices. You can't do anything but talk. 
 Your city is a nest of petty lawyers. The enemy is 
 threatening us. Danton, tell me, yes or no, are you 
 going to do anything? 
 
 DANTON. Don't bother me. I've given my life and 
 my peace of mind to save the Republic, but it doesn't 
 deserve a single hour I have sacrificed. I tell you, 
 Danton has at last bought the right to live for himself. 
 
 CAMILLE. Danton has not bought the right to be 
 a Sieyes. 
 
 DANTON. Am I a draft-horse, condemned to turn 
 the millstone till I drop? 
 
 CAMILLE. You have entered a narrow pass sur- 
 rounded by steep precipices and you cannot turn back : 
 you must go on. The enemy are at hand ; if you stop, 
 they will push you over the side. They are already 
 lifting a hand and planning when and where to strike. 
 
 DANTON. I have only to turn and show them my 
 mane, and they will fall back in dismay. 
 
 WESTERMANN. Do it, then. What are you waiting 
 for?
 
 154 DANTON 
 
 DANTON. Later. 
 
 PHILIPPEAUX. But your enemies are plotting. Bil- 
 laud-Varenne is saying things against you. Vadier is 
 making jokes about your quick demise. Reports of 
 your arrest are circulating in Paris. 
 
 DANTON [with a shrug]. Nonsense ! They wouldn't 
 dare! 
 
 PHILIPPEAUX. Do you know what Vadier says? I 
 hardly dare repeat it. He said, " We'll soon gut that 
 fat turbot." 
 
 DANTON [enraged]. Did Vadier say that? Well, 
 tell that blackguard that I'll eat his brain, and grind 
 his skull to powder ! The moment I begin fighting for 
 my life, I am worse than a cannibal ! [He flies into a 
 rage.] 
 
 WESTERMANN. At last! Now, come! 
 
 DANTON. Where ? 
 
 WESTEEMANN. Speak before the clubs, inspire the 
 people, overthrow the Committees, put down Robes- 
 pierre. 
 
 DANTON. No. 
 
 PHILIPPEAUX. Why not? 
 
 DANTON. Later. I don't want to. 
 
 CAMILLE. You're injuring yourself, Dan ton. 
 
 WESTEEMANN. It makes me rage when I see these 
 good people afraid to act. What fiendish poison is in 
 the air, keeping you people, whose heads are already 
 in the noose, from moving a leg, from fighting, or at 
 least running away? I've done all I could. I leave 
 you ; I'll find Robespierre, whom you are all afraid of 
 Yes, you are, though you joke about it; your very
 
 DANTON 155 
 
 fear makes him strong I'll tell him the truth, and 
 he'll see for the first time a man who dares resist him. 
 I'll break the idol ! [He goes out fuming.] 
 
 PHILIPPEAUX. I'm coming with you, Westermann. 
 
 DANTON [quietly, and with a touch of sarcasm]. 
 He will break nothing. Robespierre will look at him 
 like that and it will be over. Poor fellow! 
 
 PHILIPPEAUX. Danton, Danton, where are you? 
 Where is the athlete of the Revolution? 
 
 DANTON. You are cowards. There is nothing to 
 fear. 
 
 PHILIPPEAUX. Quos "cult perdere [He goes 
 out. HERAULT rises, takes his hat, and prepares to 
 leave.] 
 
 CAMILLE. Are you going, too, Herault? 
 
 HERAULT. Camille, Westermann's style of waging 
 war is not yours, I know. The best thing you can do 
 is to retire altogether. Let them forget you. Why 
 discuss it? 
 
 CAMILLE. I must satisfy my conscience. 
 
 HERAULT [shrugs his shoulders, then kisses LUCILE'S 
 hand]. Good-by, Lucile. 
 
 LUCILE. Good-by. I hope to see you soon again. 
 
 HERAULT [with a smile]. Does one ever know? 
 
 CAMILLE. Where are you going? 
 
 HERAULT. Rue Saint-Honore. 
 
 DANTON. Are you too making a visit to Robes- 
 pierre ? 
 
 HERAULT. No : that is where I usually walk. I see 
 the carts pass by. 
 
 CAMILLE. I thought you disliked the spectacle?
 
 156 DANTON 
 
 HERATJLT. It teaches me not to fear death. [He 
 goes out with LUCILE.] 
 
 DANTON [following HERAULT with his eyes]. Poor 
 devil, he's nervous. He blames me for not doing any- 
 thing. You, too, Camille, would like to blame me; I 
 can see it in your face. Go on, you think me a cow- 
 ard? You think Danton sacrifices his friends for the 
 glory of his belly? 
 
 CAMILLE. Danton, why do you refuse? 
 
 DANTON. Children ! Danton is not built like other 
 men. Volcanic passions stir within this breast, but 
 they are always subject to my will. My heart has 
 tremendous needs, and my senses make terrible demands 
 on me ; but the dominating head is there. [He touches 
 his brow.] 
 
 CAMILLE. But what is your idea? 
 
 DANTON. To save the country. Save it at all 
 cost from our sacrilegious quarrels. Do you know the 
 disease that is killing the Republic ? Mediocrity. Too 
 many brains are thinking about the State. No nation 
 can stand a Mirabeau, a Brissot, a Vergniaud, a Marat 
 a Danton, a Desmoulins, a Robespierre. One of 
 these geniuses could have gained the victory for Free- 
 dom. But all together, they fight with each other, 
 and France bleeds. I took too prominent a part my- 
 self, though I must do myself the justice of saying that 
 I never fought a Frenchman unless my life depended 
 upon it, and even in the fury of the combat I did 
 everything in my power to save the defeated enemy. I 
 do not intend, for personal interest, to enter into a 
 struggle with the greatest man of the Republic next
 
 DANTON 157 
 
 to myself. I do not want to depopulate France. I 
 know Robespierre; I saw his beginning, I watched him 
 grow from day to day, through his tenacity, his work, 
 his faith in his ideas. His ambition grew, too, and 
 conquered the Assembly, and all of France. One man 
 alone is a menace to him: my popularity counter- 
 balances his, and his morbid vanity suffers. Often I 
 must give him credit for it did he attempt to stifle 
 his instinctive envy. But the fatality of events; jeal- 
 ousy, stronger than reason; my enemies who excited 
 him everything draws us into the struggle. No mat- 
 ter what the result, the Republic will be shaken to its 
 foundations. Well, it is my place to give an example 
 of sacrifice. Let my ambition sink before his ! I have 
 drunk deep of that bitter draught, and it has left a 
 bad taste in my mouth. Let Robespierre drain the cup 
 if he likes. I retire to my tent. I am less resentful 
 than Achilles, and I shall wait patiently until he offers 
 me his hand. 
 
 CAMILLE. If one must sacrifice, why should it be 
 you? Why not he? 
 
 DANTON [with a shrug]. Because I alone am capa- 
 ble. [After a moment's pause.] Because I am the 
 stronger. 
 
 CAMILLE. And yet you hate Robespierre? 
 
 DANTON. I cannot harbor a thought of hatred. 
 There is no hatred in me. That is not a virtue (I 
 don't know what that means), it is only a matter of 
 temperament. 
 
 CAMILLE. Aren't you afraid to leave the field free 
 to your enemy?
 
 158 DANTON 
 
 DANTON. Ah, I know him well: he can carry the 
 play up to the fourth act, but he is bound to ruin the 
 denouement. 
 
 CAMILL.E. Meantime, think what harm he can do! 
 Your power is the only balancing influence against this 
 reign of terror and violence. And what about your 
 friends? Will you leave them to the fate that threat- 
 ens them? 
 
 DANTON. I am helping them by allowing my powers 
 a respite. They are now feeling the fear which I have 
 inspired. Robespierre will listen to me, as soon as his 
 jealousy allows him a breathing-spell. And my hands 
 will be free the moment I am no longer the representa- 
 tive of a party, but of all mankind. You must treat 
 men as you would children, allow them the toys they 
 want, in order to prevent their being lost together 
 with you. 
 
 CAMILLE. You are too generous. Your renuncia- 
 tion will never be understood. Robespierre will not 
 believe in your sincerity. He is suspicious and he will 
 find some Machiavellian explanation for it. You have 
 every reason to fear that your enemies will profit by 
 your abdication to strike a blow at you. 
 
 DANTON. Danton does not abdicate: he is retiring 
 temporarily from the conflict ; but he is nearby in case 
 of danger. Don't worry; all by myself, I am the 
 strongest of them all; men like me do not fear to be 
 forgotten; all we have to do is to remain quiet for a 
 while in order that the people may notice what a great 
 difference is made by our absence. Why, I shall even 
 increase my popularity. Instead of disputing the
 
 DANTON 159 
 
 power with the Achasans, I allow that power to weigh 
 heavy on their puny shoulders. 
 
 CAMILLE. The first use they will make of it will be 
 against you. The whole pack of Vadier's men will be 
 down upon you. 
 
 DANTON. I'll attend to them ! I am used to fight- 
 ing monsters. When I was a child, I struggled with 
 bulls. This broken nose of mine, this torn lip, this 
 battered face it all bears marks of their horns. One 
 day I chased some wild pigs through the woods, and 
 they bit my stomach. I'm not afraid of Vadiers. 
 And besides, they are too afraid. 
 
 CAMILLE. But what if they did dare? They have 
 recalled Saint-Just from the army in order to reassure 
 themselves. They say they are waiting for his return 
 to begin action. 
 
 DANTON. Well, if they push me too far, on their 
 heads be it! I have a thick skin, and I am not easily 
 insulted, but the day I throw myself upon them I shan't 
 stop until the last one is laid low. The dirty scoun- 
 drels! I could make a mouthful of the lot of them! 
 [LuciLE runs into the room, goes to CAMILLE, and says 
 in a frightened voice:] 
 
 LUCILE. Robespierre! [Enter ROBESPIERRE, re- 
 served and impassive; he glances about quickly and 
 cautiously, and makes no other movement.] 
 
 CAMILLE [cordially, but a little ironically, as he 
 greets ROBESPIERRE]. My dear Maximilien, you come 
 in the nick of time. You have been uppermost in our 
 conversation during the past hour. 
 
 DANTON [embarrassed] . How arc you, Robespierre?
 
 160 D ANTON 
 
 [Undecided whether to offer his hand, he waits for his 
 rival to make the first step. ROBESPIERRE does not 
 reply, but shakes hands formally with LUCILE and 
 CAMILLE, and bows quickly to DANTON. He then sits 
 down. CAMILLE and DANTON remain standing. LU- 
 CILE busies herself as before.] 
 
 LUCILE. How kind of you to find time to come and 
 visit us ! And you must be very busy ! Sit closer to 
 the fire. There's a fog outside that chills you to the 
 bone. And how are your dear landlords and hosts, 
 Citizens Duplay, and my little friend Eleonore? 
 
 ROBESPIERRE. Very well, thank you, Lucile. Ca- 
 mille, I have something to discuss with you. 
 
 LUCILE. Shall I leave? 
 
 ROBESPIERRE. No, not you! 
 
 CAMILLE [stopping DANTON, who starts to go]. 
 Danton is a partner in all my thoughts. 
 
 ROBESPIERRE. So they say. But I hesitated to be- 
 lieve it. 
 
 DANTON. Don't you like it? 
 
 ROBESPIERRE. I don't think so. 
 
 DANTON. Well, there is one thing that you can 
 never prevent : people loving Danton. 
 
 ROBESPIERRE. The word love is common, the reality 
 rare. 
 
 DANTON [with a sneer]. It is said that there are 
 certain men who never know it. 
 
 ROBESPIERRE [after a short pause, says coldly, his 
 hands twitching nervously]. I have not come to dis- 
 cuss Danton's debaucheries. Camille, in spite of my 
 warnings, you insist on following bad advice and giving
 
 DANTON 161 
 
 in to your own foolish impulses. Your pamphlet is 
 sowing seeds of dissension all over France. You are 
 wasting your mind and destroying public confidence in 
 men who are necessary to the Republic. All the re- 
 actionaries are making use of your sarcastic remarks 
 and directing them against the cause of Liberty. For 
 a long time I have combated the hatred you arouse, 
 and twice I have saved you; but I cannot continue 
 forever. The State is alive with sedition; and I have 
 no sympathy for any will that is against the State. 
 
 CAMILLE [hurt]. Please spare yourself the trouble 
 of thinking of me. Your solicitude is touching, Maxi- 
 milien, but I need no one's help. I can defend myself, 
 and I can walk alone. 
 
 ROBESPIERRE. You are vain. Don't try to answer 
 me. Your stupidity is your only excuse. 
 
 CAMILLE. I need no excuse. I have deserved well 
 of the Patrie. I defend the Republic against the Re- 
 publicans. I have spoken freely, and I have spoken 
 the truth. The moment it is not good to speak every 
 truth, there is no more Republic. The Republicans' 
 motto is like the wind blowing over the waves of the sea : 
 Tollunt, sed attollunt! It agitates, but raises them at 
 the same time! 
 
 ROBESPIERRE. The Republic is not yet, Desmoulins. 
 We are making it. You cannot found liberty with 
 liberty. Like Rome in troubled times, the nation must 
 be under a dictator who shall tear down all obstacles, 
 and conquer. It is ridiculous to maintain that since 
 Europe and every faction menaces the Republic, you 
 have the right to say everything, do everything, and
 
 162 D ANTON 
 
 with word and deed, put weapons into the hands of the 
 enemy. 
 
 CAMILLE. What weapons have I given the enemy? 
 I have defended the most sacred things in the world: 
 fraternity, holy equality the heart and soul of Re- 
 publican maxims, the res sacra miser; respect for 
 misery, which is commanded by our sublime Constitu- 
 tion. I have made men love liberty. I wished to light 
 up the eyes of all peoples with the radiant image of 
 happiness. 
 
 ROBESPIEBRE. Happiness ! There is the fatal word 
 with which you draw to you every form of selfishness 
 and covetousness. Who does not wish for happiness? 
 We are not offering the happiness of Persepolis to 
 the people, but the happiness of Sparta. Happiness 
 is virtue. But you have abused the meaning, and 
 awakened in the minds of cowards a desire for that 
 criminal happiness, which consists in forgetting others, 
 and in enjoying what is unnecessary. A shameful con- 
 ception ! It would soon extinguish the sacred flame of 
 the Revolution ! Let France learn to suffer, let her 
 be happy in suffering for the cause of freedom, in 
 sacrificing her comforts, her peace, her affections, for 
 the happiness of the whole world ! 
 
 CAMILLE [beginning politely but airily, and at the 
 end becoming clear, forceful, and decisive], Maxi- 
 milien, as I listen to you, I am reminded of a passage 
 from Plato : " * When I listen to you,' said the good 
 general Laches, * when I listen to a man who speaks 
 well of virtue, a man who is a real man of the people, 
 worthy of what he speaks of, I experience an ineffable
 
 DANTON 163 
 
 pleasure. It seems to me that he is the only musician 
 who makes perfect harmony; for his practice is in 
 accord with his theory, not according to the Jacobin 
 or Genevese fashion, but the French, which alone de- 
 serves the name of Republican harmony. When such 
 a man speaks to me, he fills me with joy, and no one 
 doubts that I am drunk with his talk. But he who 
 sings of a virtue which he practises not, cruelly af- 
 flicts me, and the better he appears to speak, the greater 
 aversion do I feel for music.' ' [DESMOULINS turns 
 his back on ROBESPIERRE, who rises, without a word or 
 a gesture, and starts to go. LUCILE, who is concerned 
 at the turn in the conversation, and who keeps her eyes 
 fastened on ROBESPIERRE, takes his hand and tries to 
 pass off the matter as a joke.] 
 
 LUCILE [pointing to CAMILLE]. He must always be 
 contradicting, the naughty boy ! If you only knew how 
 angry he makes me sometimes ! Dear Maximilien, you 
 two are always the same. You used to argue like that 
 when you were at school in Arras. [ROBESPIERRE, with 
 a glacial look, does not answer, but starts for the door.] 
 
 DANTON [goes toward ROBESPIERRE with true sin- 
 cerity]. Robespierre, we are all three of us in the 
 wrong. Let us be men, submitting only to reason, and 
 let us sacrifice our petty quarrels for the good of the 
 nation. See, I come to you, I offer you my hand. 
 Forgive my impatience. 
 
 ROBESPIERRE. Danton believes a word can make up 
 for his insults. It is easy for the offender to forget. 
 
 DANTON. Perhaps I do wrong in offering to be gen- 
 erous to my enemies, but the Republic demands it.
 
 164 DANTON 
 
 She needs my energy and your virtue. If you dislike 
 my energy, remember that I dislike your virtue. We 
 are quits. Do as I do, hold your nose and save the 
 nation. 
 
 ROBESPIERRE. I believe no man indispensable to the 
 nation. 
 
 DANTON. Every envious man says that. Accord- 
 ing to that fine way of reasoning the nation would soon 
 be emasculated. 
 
 ROBESPIERRE. There is no power where confidence is 
 lacking ! 
 
 DANTON. So, you mistrust me? Do you really be- 
 lieve those absurd stories about me? Those wild 
 ravings invented by Billaud-Varenne ? Look at me. 
 Have I the face of a hypocrite? Hate me, if you will, 
 but don't suspect me ! 
 
 ROBESPIERRE. I judge men by their actions. 
 
 DANTON. Do you complain of my actions? 
 
 ROBESPIERRE. You boast that you feel no hatred 
 you don't hate the enemies of the Republic, but yet 
 that is what is destroying the Republic. Pity for those 
 hangdogs means cruelty toward the victims. You see, 
 this weakness has forced us to raze whole cities; some 
 day it may mean thirty years of civil war. 
 
 DANTON. But you see crime everywhere! It is 
 sheer madness. If you are sick, you must be taken 
 care of, but don't make every one take your medicine. 
 The Republic is killing itself. It is high time to put 
 a stop to that absurd and ferocious Terror which is 
 consuming France. But if you don't hurry, if you 
 refuse to join us, you will soon be unable to stop it;
 
 DANTON 165 
 
 it will burn you with the rest or before the rest. 
 Can't you see that the day Danton is not by, you will 
 be the first to be struck down? I am the one who is 
 still protecting you from the fire. 
 
 ROBESPIERRE [turning from DANTON]. May it con- 
 sume me ! 
 
 CAMILLE [aside to DANTON]. You said too much, 
 Danton ; you wounded his pride. 
 
 DANTON. In the name of the Patrie, Robespierre, 
 of this Patrie we both love so ardently, let us make 
 peace for us all, friends and enemies so long as they 
 love France! Let this love wash clean all suspicion 
 and all faults! Without it there is no virtue. With 
 it, no crime. 
 
 ROBESPIERRE. No Patrie without virtue! 
 
 DANTON [menacingly]. Once more, I ask you to 
 make peace. You must realize what it costs me to 
 make these advances. But I swallow my pride, if I 
 can help the Republic. Give me your hand; free 
 Fabre; reinstate Westermann; protect Herault and 
 Philippeaux from the infuriated people. 
 
 ROBESPIERRE. It is my business to put down crime, 
 not to govern it. 
 
 DANTON [restraining himself with the greatest dif- 
 ficulty]. So you want war, Robespierre? Think 
 well. 
 
 ROBESPIERRE [impassive as ever, turns his back on 
 DANTON, and speaks to DESMOULINS]. Camille, I ask 
 you for the last time: will you cease your attacks on 
 the Committee? 
 
 CAMILLE. Let it cease to deserve them!
 
 166 D ANTON 
 
 ROBESPIERRE. Submit to the laws of the nation 
 together with the rest. 
 
 CAMILLE. I am a representative of the nation, and 
 I have a right to speak for her. 
 
 ROBESPIERRE. You owe it an example in obeying 
 the law. 
 
 CAMILLE. We know only too well how those laws 
 are made. We are all lawyers, Robespierre; we know 
 what masquerades beneath the majesty of the law. I 
 would laugh seeing us together here, if I did not think 
 of the tears that are shed at the comedy we now play. 
 We cost mankind too much. Virtue itself is not worth 
 the price we pay for it and crime, all the more so. 
 
 ROBESPIERRE. He who could not accomplish this 
 task had no business undertaking it. But he who ac- 
 cepts, should march straight ahead and say nothing, 
 until he falls crushed with its weight. 
 
 CAMILLE. I am willing to sacrifice myself, but not 
 others. 
 
 ROBESPIERRE. Good-by. And remember Herault. 
 
 CAMILLE. Why do you mention Herault? 
 
 ROBESPIERRE. He is arrested. 
 
 DANTON and CAMILLE. Arrested? He just left this 
 house ! 
 
 ROBESPIERRE. I know. 
 
 LUCILE. What has he done? Maximilien, what is 
 his crime? 
 
 ROBESPIERRE. He kept a prescript in his house. 
 
 CAMILLE. He did his duty. 
 
 ROBESPIERRE. The Committee has done its duty. 
 
 DANTON [no longer able to restrain himself]. You
 
 DANTON 167 
 
 damned blackguard, do you want to cut the throats of 
 us all? You lop off the branches before attacking the 
 heart. Let me tell you, my roots extend way down 
 into the earth, in the hearts of the people of France. 
 You will never pull them out except by killing the 
 Republic. My fall will carry the rest of you along, 
 and the vile vermin that are now gnawing at my feet 
 will be the first to go. Does my patience encourage 
 you? Do the vermin run up my body? I won't stand 
 it much longer! The lion stretches himself! You 
 little rat, you don't know that I could crush you be- 
 tween my fingers if I wished? Hurrah for war, if 
 you want war! The excitement of past conflicts is 
 getting the better of me. My voice has been silent for 
 too long. Once more it will send the nation to fight 
 against the tyrants ! 
 
 CAMILLE. We'll scale the new Tuileries. The Views 
 Cordelier will sound the battle-cry. [ROBESPIERRE 
 quietly goes to the door. LUCILE, deeply troubled and 
 unable to utter a word, disappears for a moment into 
 the next room, and comes back with a baby.] 
 
 LUCILE. Maximilien! [ROBESPIERRE turns, looks 
 at the little Horace, hesitates a moment, smiles, then 
 takes the baby and sits down. He kisses him, and looks 
 at LUCILE and CAMILLE. Then, without a word, he 
 returns the baby to LUCILE, and goes out. The inci- 
 dent is played without "visible emotion, except on the 
 part of LUCILE.] 
 
 CAMILLE. Poor Lucile! You're worried? 
 
 LUCILE. Oh, Camille, Camille, how imprudent of 
 you!
 
 168 D ANTON 
 
 CAMILLE. You made me nervous just now. 
 
 LUCILE. I'm sorry. 
 
 CAMILLE. One must say what one thinks. And 
 then [With a shrug.] Oh, I have nothing to fear: 
 he really likes me, and he will defend me. 
 
 LUCILE. Still, I'm afraid. 
 
 CAMILLE. He is more afraid than we: Danton's 
 voice has proved effective. He is one of those men 
 who need to fear those they love. Well, we must see 
 our friends, and come to an understanding. Let us 
 lose no time. Come, Danton. 
 
 DANTON [who sits, preoccupied]. Yes. Where are 
 we going? 
 
 CAMILLE. To join Philippeaux and Westermann, 
 and save H6rault. 
 
 DANTON. Tomorrow tomorrow. 
 
 CAMILLE. Tomorrow will be too late. 
 
 DANTON [very sad affectionately]. Lucile, read 
 me something; sing to me; console me. 
 
 LUCILE. What is the matter with you? [She 
 stands behind him and leans on his shoulder. He takes 
 her hand and presses it to his cheek.] 
 
 DANTON. Oh, Republic ! Destroying herself ! De- 
 stroying her own handiwork. Victors or victims, what 
 difference does it make? Victims in either case! 
 
 CAMILLE. In either case, victors, crowned with 
 Glory ! 
 
 DANTON [rising violently]. Come, then, and may 
 the Republic confound the world with the echo of her 
 fall!
 
 ACT H 
 
 ROBESPIERRE'S room in the Duplay house. There are 
 two doors. The walls are white and bare. There 
 is a chestnut bedstead with blue damask curtains 
 with a white -flower design. A simple desk. A -few 
 straw-bottomed chairs. Some flowers in a glass 
 on the window-sill. Down-stage center is a small 
 stove, with a chair on one side and a stool on the 
 other. The door on the left leads to the Duplays* 
 apartments. The window looks out on a court- 
 yard in which carpenters are working; they are 
 heard hammering, planing, and sawing. ROBES- 
 PIERRE sits alone at his desk.] 
 
 MADAME DUPLAY [opening the door]. Am I dis- 
 turbing you, Maximilien? 
 
 ROBESPIERRE [with a friendly smile]. No, Citizen 
 Duplay. [He offers her his hand.] 
 
 MADAME DUPLAY. Always working! You never 
 went to bed last night ! 
 
 ROBESPIERRE. I was at the Committee. 
 
 MADAME DUPLAY. I heard you come in. It was 
 after three. Couldn't you rest this morning? 
 
 ROBESPIERRE. You know I never sleep very much; 
 I have trained my body to obey my head. 
 
 MADAME DUPLAY. You promised me you wouldn't 
 sit up any more. You're wearing yourself out; 
 
 169
 
 170 DANTON 
 
 you'll get sick. And then what would become of 
 us? 
 
 ROBESPIERRE. My poor friends, you must get used 
 to doing without me. I shan't always be here, you 
 know. 
 
 MADAME DUPLAY. You aren't thinking of leaving 
 us? 
 
 ROBESPIERRE [with sincerity and emphasis]. No, 
 but I shall leave sooner than you expect. 
 
 MADAME DUPLAY. Oh, no ; I insist on being the first 
 to leave, and I am in no hurry. 
 
 ROBESPIERRE [with a smile], I should feel easier if 
 I knew others were not so dependent on me. 
 
 MADAME DUPLAY. Don't you care to have people 
 like you? 
 
 ROBESPIERRE. France would be better off if 
 every one thought less of Robespierre and more of 
 Liberty. 
 
 MADAME DUPLAY. But Liberty and Robespierre are 
 one. 
 
 ROBESPIERRE. That is why I am so concerned about 
 her. I fear for her health. 
 
 MADAME DUPLAY [going to the window]. What 
 noise they make in the court! I know it must tire 
 you. I told Duplay twenty times to ask them not to 
 begin so early and wake you up, but he said you in- 
 sisted that everything go on as usual. 
 
 ROBESPIERRE. He is right. That regular activity 
 rests me. Work is beneficial to others as well as to 
 oneself. The noise is refreshing to me. I have 
 breathed such vitiated air all night!
 
 DANTON 171 
 
 MADAME DUPLAY. What work kept you up last 
 night ? 
 
 ROBESPIERRE. It was not the work, but the worry. 
 
 MADAME DUPLAY. You seem preoccupied as if 
 some great catastrophe were about to happen. 
 
 ROBESPIERRE. Yes, a catastrophe. 
 
 MADAME DUPLAY. Can't you prevent it? 
 
 ROBESPIERRE. Oh, I must bring it about, on the 
 contrary. 
 
 MADAME DUPLAY. Of course, I have no right to ask 
 questions, but you mustn't be sad today. We're hav- 
 ing a festival. Le Bas and Saint-Just came back from 
 the army last night. 
 
 ROBESPIERRE. Saint- Just returned! Good: I need 
 him. 
 
 MADAME DUPLAY. And I forgot to tell you: a gen- 
 eral came here and wanted to see you, General Wester- 
 mann. He came before sunrise, but I wouldn't let him 
 in. He said he would come back in an hour. Will 
 you receive him? 
 
 ROBESPIERRE. I don't know. 
 
 MADAME DUPLAY. He waited a long time in the 
 yard in the rain. 
 
 ROBESPIERRE. Very well. 
 
 MADAME DUPLAY. What an awful night! I came 
 in soaked to the skin. 
 
 ROBESPIERRE. Where were you? 
 
 MADAME DUPLAY. At the Markets. I was waiting 
 in line since midnight. They were pushing so! You 
 had to keep your eyes open, or some one would take 
 your place! The moment they opened, every one
 
 172 DANTON 
 
 began to fight. I stood up for my rights, and I finally 
 got three eggs and a quarter pound of butter. 
 
 ROBESPIERRE. Three eggs for this household? 
 Why, that's nothing at all ! 
 
 MADAME DUPLAY. One for Eleonore, one for Elisa- 
 beth, and one for you my three children! 
 
 ROBESPIERRE. Dear mother Duplay, you don't im- 
 agine I shall take bread out of your mouth? 
 
 MADAME DUPLAY. You're not going to refuse ! It 
 was for you I went to the Market. You're not well; 
 you have a weak stomach. If you could only eat 
 meat ! But you won't let us buy any ! 
 
 ROBESPIERRE. Meat is very scarce, and it must be 
 kept for the soldiers and the sick. We have decreed 
 a civil lent. My colleagues and I must offer a good 
 example of abstinence. 
 
 MADAME DUPLAY. Not everybody has your scruples. 
 
 ROBESPIERRE. I know: I have seen some of them 
 indulge in feasting amidst all this misery; it horrifies 
 me. Every feast of that kind deprives the country of 
 at least thirty defenders. 
 
 MADAME DUPLAY. What misery! No more meat, 
 no more poultry, no more dairy products. The vege- 
 tables have been commandeered for the army. And no 
 more fuel. This is the second night that Duplay has 
 stood in line at the coal boat. He's just come in 
 without a thing. And there is no wood at all. Do you 
 know what they asked me for a cord? Four hundred 
 francs. Fortunately spring is not far off. Another 
 month of this, and we'll all be dead. I never remember 
 so hard a winter.
 
 DANTON 17S 
 
 ROBESPIERRE. You have suffered, all of you, poor 
 women, and you have shown splendid courage. But 
 you must admit that with all the suffering, you felt 
 joys you never dreamed of before: the joy of helping 
 on, no matter how humbly, with the sublime work of 
 freeing the world! 
 
 MADAME DUPLAY. Yes, I am happy. No matter 
 what happens, those months of misery will remain the 
 happiest of our lives. What we have suffered are not 
 the ordinary things, the useless things. Every time 
 we fasted it was for the good of the nation. This 
 feeling of pride we owe to you, Maximilien. Last night 
 I was thinking as I was doing the wash; no matter 
 how humble I am, no matter how I may worry about 
 the morrow, and wonder where our bread is coming 
 from, I am working for the nation; nothing is 
 lost; every thing I do counts toward victory. I 
 am marching with you at the head of all man- 
 kind! 
 
 THE WORKINGMEN [outside, singing] : 
 
 " We forge and saw with all our might 
 
 Making muskets for the fight. 
 Soldier boys, you'll have enough 
 
 If we have to work all day and night, 
 For we forge and saw with all our might." 
 
 MADAME DUPLAY [smiling']. They've just filled an 
 order for the Northern Army; they're starving to 
 death, but they're happy. 
 
 ROBESPIERRE. Sublime people! How good it is to 
 be one of them! Who could forgive those who try to
 
 174 D ANTON 
 
 corrupt that source of abnegation and sacrifice? 
 [WESTERMANN is heard muttering outside.] 
 
 MADAME DUPLAY. There's the General. He's get- 
 ting impatient. 
 
 ROBESPIERRE. Send him in. [MADAME DUPLAY 
 goes out. ROBESPIERRE looks into his mirror. In an 
 instant, his face is transformed; becoming hard, im- 
 mobile, and cold. WESTERMANN enters.] 
 
 WESTERMANN. Good God, not a moment too soon! 
 I've been walking up and down outside for the last two 
 hours. It's harder to enter your house than a Vendee 
 city. [ROBESPIERRE, his hands behind his back, mo- 
 tionless, face stolid, lips contracted, looks WESTER- 
 MANN in the eye. WESTERMANN stops for a moment, 
 then continues.] I thought you didn't want to re- 
 ceive me. Desmoulins told me you wouldn't. I swore 
 you would, if I had to send a cannon-shot through the 
 front-door. [He laughs.] Pardon my military frank- 
 ness. [ROBESPIERRE stands as before. WESTER- 
 MANN, ill at ease, tries to appear natural.] Lord, 
 you're well guarded. There's a very pretty girl on 
 guard at the door. She's mending socks. She's hard 
 to deal with incorruptible, like you! I'd have had 
 to enter over her dead body ! If I were in the 
 enemy's country, that wouldn't have been so bad 
 [He gives a forced laugh. ROBESPIERRE maintains si- 
 lence, and twists his hands impatiently. WESTERMANN 
 sits down, trying to appear at his ease, while ROBES- 
 PIERRE stands. WESTERMANN then rises.] There are 
 some idiots who say that I'm your enemy. I don't 
 give a damn what they say. How can I be the enemy
 
 DANTON 175 
 
 of virtue? Nonsense! Aristides the enemy of Leon- 
 idas? The bastion of the Republic and the rampart 
 of the Patrie! Why, they're meant to help each other! 
 Good fellows like us always put the glory of the nation 
 above everything, don't we? We understand, don't 
 we? [He offers his hand. ROBESPIEREE does not 
 move a muscle.'] He won't give me his hand, eh? 
 Won't you, really? Are you my enemy, then? 
 You're planning to ruin me? By God, if I thought 
 that ! Am I a good-for-nothing blackguard to be 
 kept waiting for two hours in the street, and then 
 when you finally let me in, you don't even offer me a 
 chair? You let me stand up, and don't even answer 
 me? By God! [He stamps on the floor.] 
 
 ROBESPIERRE [glacially]. General, you are on the 
 wrong track. There is a great difference between 
 Leonidas and Pere Duchesne. You take your models 
 from a dangerous quarter. 
 
 WESTERMANN [surprised]. What quarter? 
 
 ROBESPIERRE. The Revolution. 
 
 WESTERMANN [genuinely astonished]. But, tell me, 
 citizen, what have I done? What do you accuse me 
 of? 
 
 ROBESPIERRE. The Committee of Public Safety will 
 tell you. 
 
 WESTERMANN. I have a right to be told now. 
 
 ROBESPIERRE. Ask your conscience. 
 
 WESTERMANN. My conscience is clear. 
 
 ROBESPIERRE. I pity the man who cannot hear the 
 voice of remorse. 
 
 WESTEBMANN [calming himself with a violent effort,
 
 176 DANTON 
 
 though his voice trembles with anger and grief]. I 
 feel remorse for only one thing: having sacrificed my 
 life to an ungrateful nation. I have suffered for it 
 during the past thirty years. I've gone through every 
 form of misery. Ten times I have saved the country 
 from invasion. It never recognized my services. The 
 first impostor that comes along denounces me ; they be- 
 lieve anonymous letters from soldiers I punished for 
 cowardice; they accuse me, threaten me, degrade me 
 from my rank, while damned little rapscallions are 
 promoted over my head. I must obey Rossignol, a 
 stupid little goldsmith who knows nothing about war, 
 whose reputation is made on his silly blunders. All 
 his titles merely prove the vileness of his origin. 
 Kleber, Dubayet, and Marceau are wasting away in 
 some petty position, and that shopkeeper Niort com- 
 mands both the armies ! 
 
 ROBESPIEEEE. The Republic places more confidence 
 in a commander with true Republican loyalty than in 
 mere military heads. 
 
 WESTEEMANN. What confidence does the Republic 
 place in Rossignol's defeats? 
 
 ROBESPIEEEE. The responsibility for them does not 
 rest on Rossignol's shoulders, but upon those who are 
 about him. If Kleber, Dubayet, and Westermann are 
 so proud of their ability, why do they not put it at 
 the service of the general whom the nation has placed 
 at their head? 
 
 WESTEEMANN. So you want to deprive us of our 
 just glory? 
 
 ROBESPIEEEE. Yes.
 
 DANTON 177 
 
 WESTERMANN. Confess, you are afraid of military 
 glory ! You want to minimize it ! 
 
 ROBESPIEKEE. Yes. 
 
 WESTERMANN [with a sneer']. Lawyers might be 
 jealous, eh? 
 
 ROBESPIERRE. It is an insult to reason, and a 
 menace to freedom. What has made you so proud? 
 You are only doing your duty. Do you risk your life? 
 The heads of every one of us are the stakes in the 
 desperate game we are playing against despotism. Do 
 you deserve any more credit than we in risking your 
 life? We are all devoted to liberty or to death. You, 
 like us, are an instrument of the Revolution, the great 
 knife that is to cleave a way through the enemy for 
 the Republic. It is a terrible task, but it must be 
 accepted bravely, and humbly. You have no more right 
 to be proud of your cannon than we of our guillotine. 
 
 WESTERMANN. You outrage the grandeur of war. 
 
 ROBESPIERRE. Nothing is grand but virtue. No 
 matter where it resides in soldiers, workingmen, 
 legislators the Republic honors it alone. But the 
 criminals must tremble. Nothing protects them from 
 its just wrath, neither their titles nor their swords. 
 
 WESTERMANN. Are you threatening me? 
 
 ROBESPIERRE. I was speaking of no one in par- 
 ticular. On his head be it who recognizes himself ! 
 
 WESTERMANN. God in heaven! [He looks threat- 
 eningly at ROBESPIERRE, quivering from head to foot. 
 He turns to go, then swings round.} On your guard, 
 Sylla ! My head sits more solidly on my shoulders than 
 Custine's. There are still men who do not fear
 
 178 D ANTON 
 
 tyranny. I am going to find Danton. [He knocks 
 against the wall before he finds the door, and then 
 rushes out. ELEONORE enters from the door leading 
 to the Duplays* apartments.] 
 
 ELEONORE. He's gone at last. Oh, Maximilien, I 
 was so worried while he was here! 
 
 ROBESPIERRE [affectionately]. My dear Eleonore. 
 Were you listening? 
 
 ELEONORE. That man's voice frightened me. I 
 couldn't help coming. I was in there, in Mamma's 
 bath-room. 
 
 ROBESPIERRE. What could you have done if he had 
 attempted violence? 
 
 ELEONORE [embarrassed]. I I don't know. 
 
 ROBESPIERRE [taking her hand from behind her 
 back]. What is this? 
 
 ELEONORE [blushing]. A pistol that Philippe left 
 on the table last night when he came home. 
 
 ROBESPIERRE [taking the pistol, and holding her 
 hand in his]. No, no, these hands must not be soiled 
 with such murderous instruments! They must not 
 shed blood, even to save my life. I want there to 
 remain at least two innocent hands in all the world, 
 to purify the world and Robespierre's heart when the 
 work is at last done. 
 
 ELEONORE. But why expose yourself to such dan- 
 ger? You provoked that man, and they say he is 
 cruel. 
 
 ROBESPIERRE. I am not afraid of the swashbucklers. 
 The moment you take them from the field of battle 
 they merely talk; they tremble when they find them-
 
 D ANTON 179 
 
 selves in the presence of a new power, one they never 
 met with steel: the Law. 
 
 ELEONORE. Citizen Fouche also called, but he was 
 not admitted. That was your order. 
 
 ROBESPIERRE. My door is forever closed to the man 
 who dishonored the majesty of the Terror in the mas- 
 sacres at Lyon. 
 
 ELEONORE. He did not want to go. He even cried. 
 
 ROBESPIERRE [severely]. So do crocodiles. 
 
 ELEONORE. He went to see your sister, to ask her 
 to intercede on his behalf. 
 
 ROBESPIERRE [his expression changing]. Is she 
 coming? The fool made her believe he was in love 
 with her ! She does not respect him, but that sort of 
 attention always flatters a woman, no matter who the 
 man happens to be. She will try to defend him. In 
 the name of Heaven, don't let her in. Tell her I am 
 very busy, and that I can see no one. 
 
 ELEONORE [smiling]. You brave all the tyrants of 
 Europe, but you are afraid of your own sister ! 
 
 ROBESPIERRE [smiling]. She is a good woman, and 
 she loves me dearly. But she is so tiresome! Her 
 continual jealousy, the scenes she makes they drive 
 me mad! I think I would agree to anything to keep 
 her quiet. 
 
 ELEONORE. Don't worry ; Mamma knows, and won't 
 let her in. 
 
 ROBESPIERRE. My dear friends, how wonderfully 
 you take care of me ! 
 
 ELEONORE. We are responsible to the nation for 
 
 you.
 
 180 DANTON 
 
 ROBESPIERRE. What a pleasure it is for me to live 
 here! It's a feast for the soul! This is no selfish 
 retreat from the tempests. No, the door is opened to 
 all the care and troubles of the nation; they assume 
 a certain dignified air when they enter. We receive 
 destiny here, without flinching, our eyes in its eyes. 
 I never cross the threshold without breathing the air 
 of that court, with the smell of fresh-cut wood, peace, 
 and hope. The honest face of Duplay, your mother's 
 welcome voice, your hand, Eleonore, extended toward 
 me like the hand of brotherhood, all the loyal affection 
 you have for me, inspire in me the greatest, the rarest, 
 thing of all, the thing I most need and of which I 
 always had least ! 
 
 ELEONORE. What? 
 
 ROBESPIERRE. Confidence. 
 
 ELEONORE. Is there some one you don't trust? 
 
 ROBESPIERRE. I trust no man. I can read lies in 
 their faces, I see intrigue in their protestations. Their 
 eyes, their mouths, their hands, their whole body lies. 
 Suspicion poisons every thought I have. I was in- 
 tended for a quieter existence. I love men, and I wish 
 to believe in them. But how can I, when I see them 
 perjure themselves ten times a day, sell themselves, 
 their friends, their armies, their Patrie, for motives 
 of fear, or ambition, or viciousness, or malevolence 
 pure and simple? I have seen Mirabeau, Lafayette, 
 Dumouriez, Custine, the king, the aristocrats, the 
 Girondins, the Here'sists all of them betrayed one 
 after the other. The soldiers would have surrendered 
 the nation twenty times had they not feared the guil-
 
 DANTON 181 
 
 lotine awaiting them. Three-fourths of the members 
 are conspiring against the Convention. Vice is curbed 
 under the heroic discipline imposed by the Revolution. 
 Its allies dare not attack the forces of virtue in broad 
 daylight; they hide under masks of piety and mercy, 
 in order to influence public opinion, and deflect it in 
 favor of rogues, inciting them against the true patriots. 
 But I will tear their masks froin their faces, and force 
 the Assembly to see what is beneath: the hideous face 
 of treason. I will force the disguised accomplices of 
 the conspirators to condemn them, or else die with 
 them myself. The Republic will be victorious. But, 
 oh God, in the midst of what devastation ! Vice is like 
 the Hydra: every drop of blood that falls to the 
 ground will grow up into another monster. The best 
 men have fallen into its clutches ; they fall as if stricken 
 with the plague : the day before yesterday it was Philip- 
 peaux; yesterday, Danton; today, Desmoulins Des- 
 moulins, my friend from childhood, my brother! Who 
 will be the next traitor? 
 
 ELEONORE. Is it possible ? So much treason ! 
 Have you the proofs? 
 
 ROBESPIERRE. Yes, more than proofs: moral cer- 
 tainty, that infallible light which never deceives. 
 
 ELEONORE. No, you cannot be mistaken: you know 
 everything, you see deep into people's hearts. Are 
 they all corrupt? 
 
 ROBESPIERRE. There are four or five whom I re- 
 spect: the honest Couthon, who thinks nothing of his 
 own sufferings, and only of those of the world; the 
 lovable and modest Le Bas; my brother, who has a
 
 182 D ANTON 
 
 good heart but thinks too much about his pleasure; 
 two children, and a man who is on the point of death. 
 
 ELEONOEE. But Saint- Just? 
 
 ROBESPIEREE. I am afraid of him. Saint-Just is 
 the living sword of the Revolution, her implacable 
 weapon; he would sacrifice me, as he has the others, 
 to his immutable law. Ever}' one else conspires against 
 me. They dislike my clearsightedness, they are jealous 
 of the people's love for me; they try to render me 
 odious in their eyes. The proconsuls of Marseille 
 and Lyon commit atrocities in the name of Robespierre. 
 The counter-revolution now preaches clemency, and 
 again terror. If I release my hold through weariness, 
 I am lost, and so is the Republic. Couthon is ill. Le 
 Bas and my brother are two stupids. Saint-Just is 
 far away, and holds the armies. I am left alone sur- 
 rounded by traitors, who are trying all the while to 
 strike me from behind. They will kill me, Eleonore. 
 
 ELEONOEE [taking his hand, and with child-like vi- 
 vacity]. If you die, you will not die alone. [ROBES- 
 PIEEEE looks at her affectionately, and she blushes.] 
 
 ROBESPIEEEE. My dear Eleonore, no, you will not 
 die. I am stronger than my cowardly enemies. I 
 have Truth on my side. 
 
 ELEONOEE. You are so worried, and yet you ought 
 to be happy, because you are working for every one's 
 happiness. How unjust life is! 
 
 ROBESPIEEEE. Now I have made you sad. I was 
 wrong to shatter your illusions. Forgive me. 
 
 ELEONOEE. Don't be sorry. I am very proud of 
 your confidence in me. All night long I thought about
 
 D ANTON 183 
 
 those pages from Rousseau you read us yesterday. 
 They were so soothing. I heard the sound of your 
 voice and those beautiful words. I know them by 
 heart ! 
 
 ROBESPIERRE [reciting, with an air of affectionate 
 melancholy, and with great sincerity], "The com- 
 munion of hearts gives to sadness something inexplica- 
 bly sweet and touching, and friendship is the especial 
 gift to the unfortunate for the assuagement of their 
 woes and the consolation of their sufferings." [ELEO- 
 NORE, her hand in his, says nothing, but she smiles and 
 blushes.] You say nothing? 
 
 ELEONORE [reciting]. "Can anything that one 
 says to one's friend ever equal what one feels by his 
 side?" 
 
 MADAME DUPLAY [outside]. Maximilien, here is 
 Saint-Just. [ELEONORE runs out. SAINT-JUST en- 
 ters. ROBESPIERRE greets him. They shake hands as 
 if they had been separated only a very short time.] 
 
 SAINT- JUST. How are you? 
 
 ROBESPIERRE. How are you, Saint- Just? [They 
 sit down.] 
 
 SAINT- JUST [gazing calmly at ROBESPIERRE]. I am 
 very glad to see you again. 
 
 ROBESPIERRE. Le Bas writes us that it wa only by 
 the barest chance that we see you again. 
 
 SAINT- JUST. Yes. [A pause.] We need arms 
 there ; the army lacks muskets. 
 
 ROBESPIERRE. We are manufacturing them. All of 
 Paris is at work. They have set up blacksmith shops 
 in the churches. All other work is at a standstill.
 
 184 DANTON 
 
 You must have seen Duplay's carpenters making the 
 stocks when you came by. Jewelers are making the 
 locks ; there are forges in all the public places. 
 
 SAINT-JUST [after a pause]. Food is very scarce. 
 Whole divisions are out of provender. We have very 
 little time; the campaign begins in three weeks at the 
 latest. All the blood of France must flow to the 
 North. 
 
 ROBESPIEEBE. The orders have been given. France 
 is starving in order that the soldiers may have enough 
 to eat. 
 
 SAINT-JUST. When you no longer need my advice, 
 send me back. The first engagements will be decisive. 
 Every effort must be made. ' 
 
 ROBESPIEEEE. Doesn't the life you lead wear you 
 out? 
 
 SAINT- JUST [sincerely, but without emphasis]. It 
 affords me some rest from useless discussion. Thought 
 and action out there are identical, like thunder and 
 lightning. Every desire immediately becomes a fact, 
 forever; it is written in the blood of men and the 
 destiny of the world. The task is a truly grand one, 
 and the agony divine! At night, in the snow, at the 
 out-posts of the army, along the weary stretches of 
 the Flemish plain, under the vast winter sky, I feel a 
 thrill of joy run through my body, and my heart's 
 blood throb in my breast. Alone, lost in the midst of 
 the shadows of the Universe, surrounded by enemies, 
 with one foot in the grave, we are the guardians of 
 Reason, the living Light. We are decisive factors in 
 the destiny of the world. We re-create Man.
 
 D ANTON 185 
 
 ROBESPIERRE. Happy the man who strives on the 
 field of action, and is not forced to stay at home. 
 
 SAINT- JUST. Who strives more than you? The 
 liberty of the world is here in Paris. 
 
 ROBESPIERRE. Here we have the agonizing task of 
 stamping out viciousness. It soils every one who takes 
 part in the nasty business. I must confess, when I 
 contemplate the vicious crimes which the torrent of 
 the Revolution rolls along with all its virtue, I am 
 afraid that I shall catch up some of the nastiness and 
 be identified with it in the eyes of posterity. Merely 
 because I am near perverse and impure men. 
 
 SAINT-JUST. Put the sword between yourself and 
 them. You should touch the impure only with steel. 
 
 ROBESPIERRE. The corruption is spreading every- 
 where. Men I counted on most have succumbed. Old 
 friends. 
 
 SAINT- JUST. No friends! We have only the 
 Patrie! 
 
 ROBESPIERRE. Danton is a menace ; he is under sus- 
 picion. He has uttered violent and insulting words. 
 He is surrounded by conspirators, debauchees, ruined 
 financiers, degraded officers. Every sort of malcontent 
 has joined his forces. 
 
 SAINT-JUST. Danton must go ! 
 
 ROBESPIERRE. Danton was once a Republican. He 
 loved the Patrie. Perhaps he still loves her? 
 
 SAINT-JUST. No one respects her unless he proves 
 it by austere and pure living. He is not a Republican 
 who possesses aristocratic vices and ideas. I hate 
 Catiline. His cynical heart, his cowardly brain, his
 
 186 DANTON 
 
 ignoble political ideals he tries to please all parties 
 in order to use them for his own ends it all brings 
 dishonor upon the Republic. Danton must be laid 
 low. 
 
 ROBESPIERRE. His fall will carry the imprudent 
 Desmoulins along with him. 
 
 SAINT-JUST. That impudent pen-pusher! Why, 
 the sufferings of the Patrie are merely an excuse for 
 him to do a clever piece of writing ! He's a dilettante, 
 who would sacrifice Liberty for a pretty antithesis! 
 
 ROBESPIERRE. A child, the dupe of his friends, and 
 of his own mind. 
 
 SAINT-JUST. Cleverness is also a crime, when 
 Prance is in danger. The misfortunes of the State 
 have thrown a sad, a religious air, over everything. I 
 am suspicious of all who laugh. 
 
 ROBESPIERRE. But I love Desmoulins. 
 
 SAINT-JUST. And I love you, but if you were a 
 criminal, I would accuse you. 
 
 ROBESPIERRE [walks away, distressed. He returns 
 after a moment's silence]. Thank you. You are 
 happy; you never hesitate. You never compromise 
 with evil. 
 
 SAINT-JUST. I have seen more evil than you. 
 
 ROBESPIERRE. Where? 
 
 SAINT-JUST. Within myself. 
 
 ROBESPIERRE [surprised]. In yourself, you whose 
 life is an example of self-sacrifice? 
 
 SAINT- JUST. You don't know! 
 
 ROBESPIERRE [incredulously] . Some youthful slip ? 
 
 SAINT- JUST [seriously]. I have been to the brink
 
 DANTON 187 
 
 of the abyss ; I saw crime down below, ready to devour 
 me. Ever since I have sworn to destroy it in the 
 world at large and within myself. 
 
 ROBESPIERRE. Sometimes I tire of the struggle. 
 The enemy is too powerful. Can we really reform 
 mankind? Will our dream be realized? 
 
 SAINT-JUST. The day I cease to believe that, I shall 
 kill myself. 
 
 ELEONORE [opening the door, says softly"]. Here 
 are Billaud-Varenne and Vadier. [They enter. BIL- 
 LAUD-VARENNE'S head droops from fatigue, and his 
 eyes are heavy. VADIER compresses his lips, and is 
 bitter and sardonic. He speaks with a marked South- 
 ern accent (which is not indicated in the text). 
 ROBESPIERRE and SAINT-JUST rise and coldly greet the 
 newcomers. They bow, but do not offer to shake 
 hands.] 
 
 BILLAUD-VARENNE. Greetings and Fraternity! 
 
 VADIER [noticing SAINT- JUST]. Saint-Just! Good! 
 We shall now make up for lost time. [BILLAUD- 
 VARENNE and VADIER seat themselves unceremoniously. 
 SAINT-JUST walks about. ROBESPIERRE remains stand- 
 ing, and leans against the window-sill. After a pause.] 
 
 BILLAUD-VARENNE. The guillotine! You have 
 waited too long, Robespierre : we are in immediate dan- 
 ger. If Danton is still alive tomorrow, the cause of 
 liberty is lost. 
 
 ROBESPIERRE. What news? 
 
 BILLAUD-VARENNE [with papers in his hand] . Look. 
 The traitor is at it again. 
 
 ROBESPIERRE. Who?
 
 188 DANTON 
 
 VADIEE. Your friend, Maximilien : Camilla, dear 
 Camille. 
 
 ROBESPIEERE. Has he been writing again? 
 
 BILLAUD-VAEENNE. These proofs have just been 
 seized. Read. 
 
 VADIEE [rubbing his hands]. The seventh Vieux 
 Cordelier. The continuation of the good apostle's 
 Credo. 
 
 ROBESPIEEKE. The idiot! Will he not learn to 
 hold his tongue? 
 
 BILLAUD-VAEENNE [like a monomaniac}. The guil- 
 lotine ! 
 
 SAINT- JUST [reading the proofs with ROBESPIEEEE]. 
 Like a prostitute, who cannot but bring dishonor upon 
 herself. 
 
 ROBESPIEEEE. And Danton? 
 
 BILLAUD-VAEENNE. Danton is at it again; he is 
 speaking at the Palais-Royal. He insults Vadier, and 
 me, and all the patriots. Desmoulins is with him. 
 They're all together with the women and Westermann, 
 too. They make obscene allusions to the Committee. 
 The people are gathering about them, and laughing. 
 
 SAINT- JUST. You hear, Robespierre? 
 
 ROBESPIEEEE [disdainfully] . No danger. We shall 
 have time to deliberate in peace before Danton is 
 through drinking. [Looking again at the proof t.] 
 Why, this is suicide ! 
 
 VADIEE. He's gone too far this time ! 
 
 BILLAUD-VAEENNE. His head should follow! 
 
 SAINT-JUST [reading]. He compares the members 
 of the Convention to Nero and Tiberius.
 
 DANTON 189 
 
 BILLAUD-VARENNE [reading]. He dares to say that 
 we went after Custine on Pitt's orders, and not because 
 Custine was a traitor, but because he was not a worse 
 one. 
 
 VADIEE [reading]. " The Committee will reduce the 
 Assembly to the servile condition of a parlement the 
 rebellious members of which are to be thrown into 
 prison." 
 
 ROBESPIERRE [correcting them] . He puts " would 
 reduce," and not " will reduce." 
 
 VADIER. The same thing. 
 
 BILLAUD-VARENNE [reading]. " See how near is the 
 Committee to ruining the Republic, when it sends two 
 of its Deputies which it cannot bribe to the Luxem- 
 bourg? " 
 
 ROBESPIERRE. He says " it can send," and not " it 
 sends." 
 
 BILLAUD-VARENNE [pettishly]. Don't be so par- 
 ticular ! 
 
 SAINT-JUST [reading]. He has the effrontery to 
 maintain that " the War-office appointed as heads of 
 the armies the brothers of actresses with whom they 
 had been intimate." 
 
 VADIER. Disorganizing the defense, reviling the na- 
 tion in the eyes of foreigners! Can nothing stop his 
 vile tongue! 
 
 BILLAUD-VARENNE. And the whole thing bristling 
 with demands for clemency, and talk about humanity! 
 
 VADIER. And his hypocritical tears ! Bah ! 
 
 SAINT-JUST. There is no plague of Egypt like a 
 sentimental man! No tyrant brings more harm to
 
 190 D ANTON 
 
 mankind. The traitors of the Gironde called them- 
 selves merciful, too, when they carried the torch of 
 rebellion through France. 
 
 ROBESPIERRE. Desmoulins is merely weak, he is not 
 dangerous. I knew him as a child. I know him now. 
 
 BILLAUD-VARENNE [suspiciously] . Do Robespierre's 
 friends enjoy special privileges? 
 
 VADIER [jeering, as he reads the " Vieux Cordelier "]. 
 And listen to this, Maximilien this is for you. It 
 seems that your closing the houses of ill-fame and pre- 
 tending to be so zealous in reforming the world, is 
 merely on Pitt's orders ; because you " thereby deprive 
 the government of one of its sources of income: 
 licentiousness." Do you hear that, oh Incorruptible 
 one? 
 
 SAINT-JUST. The nasty hypocritical scoundrel! 
 
 BILLAUD-VARENNE [violently]. The guillotine! 
 [He falls, with his head on the table, like an ox that 
 has been felled.] 
 
 ROBESPIERRE. Has he fainted? 
 
 VADIER [coldly]. Dizziness. [ SAINT-JUST opens 
 the window, and BILLAUD-VARENNE comes to.] 
 
 SAINT- JUST. Are you ill, Billaud? 
 
 BILLAUD-VARENNE [hoarsely]. Who are you? 
 Scoundrels ! I'm utterly exhausted : I haven't slept for 
 the last two nights. 
 
 VADIER. He spends his nights at the Committee and 
 his days at the Assembly. 
 
 ROBESPIERRE. You are overworking. Would you 
 like some one to take your place for a few days? 
 
 BILLAUD-VARENNE. My work can't be done by
 
 DANTON 191 
 
 others. Corresponding with the various departments, 
 holding every string of France in my hand: no one 
 else could do that. If I stop for a moment, everything 
 will collapse. No, I must stay until I drop. 
 
 SAINT-JUST. We shall all die at our posts. 
 
 BILLAUD-VARENNE. Oh, Nature, thou didst not cre- 
 ate me for such tempests! My soul is torn by these 
 murderous blasts from the desert! My heart is too 
 soft; I was intended for sweeter things: retirement, 
 friends, a family! 
 
 VADIER [ironically]. Let us not become sentimental, 
 Billaud! 
 
 BILLAUD-VARENNE [becoming violent again]. Let 
 us purify the atmosphere! To the guillotine with 
 Desmoulins ! 
 
 ROBESPIERRE. It is I who should give the example: 
 I wash my hands of Desmoulins. 
 
 VADIER [laughing to himself]. Brutus, oh, mag- 
 nanimous man, virtuous man, I knew very well you 
 would never hesitate to rid yourself of a friend ! 
 
 ROBESPIERRE. The fate of Desmoulins is bound up 
 with that of another man. 
 
 BILLAUD-VARENNE. Are you afraid to mention 
 Danton by name? 
 
 ROBESPIERRE. I am afraid to break a talisman of 
 the Republic. 
 
 VADIER. Its lucky piece. 
 
 ROBESPIERRE. Danton is my enemy. If my friend- 
 ship counts for nothing in our deliberations, my hatred, 
 on the other hand, should not weigh in my judgment. 
 Before entering the fray, let us consider in cold blood
 
 192 DANTON 
 
 what risks we incur in thus dismantling a fortress of 
 the Revolution. 
 
 BILLAUD-VARENNE. A fortress for sale! 
 
 VADIER. The scarecrow of the Revolution ! In 
 time of public danger such monstrous idols are brought 
 out to rout the enemy. He rather inspires fear in the 
 breast of those who hear him. His hideous face 
 frightens Liberty. 
 
 ROBESPIERRE. You cannot deny that his face is 
 known and feared throughout Europe. 
 
 VADIER [chaffingly]. True, and like a good sans- 
 culotte he cheerfully shows to the world " What 
 Caesar shamelessly showed to Nicodemus in his youth, 
 and what long ago the hero of Greece admired in 
 Hephestos, and Hadrian put into the Pantheon." 
 
 SAINT- JUST [angrily] . Stop your nasty joking! 
 Would you make war on corruption with corruption? 
 
 VADIER. Now, you aren't going to make me recite 
 Rousseau to you? 
 
 ROBESPIERRE [making an effort at impartiality]. I 
 think it no more than right to take Danton's past 
 services into account. 
 
 SAINT-JUST. The more good a man does, the 
 greater his obligation to continue. Woe be unto him 
 who has once defended the cause and the people, and 
 abandons them afterward! He is a greater criminal 
 than the man who consistently fought against it. For 
 he once knew the good, and has wilfully betrayed it. 
 
 ROBESPIERRE. Hebert's death stirred up public 
 sympathy. The police reports I received inform me 
 that our enemies are profiting by the confusion of the
 
 DANTON 193 
 
 people, who have been suddenly enlightened, in order 
 to shake their faith in their true friends. Everything 
 nowadays is open to suspicion; even the memory of 
 Marat. We must be prudent, and take care not to 
 add to the general suspicion by internal quarrels. 
 
 SAINT-JUST. Let us put an end to suspicion with 
 the death of the suspects. 
 
 VADIER [aside, glancing at ROBESPIERRE]. The 
 coward ! He's afraid to touch his aristocratic friends ! 
 Cromwell keeps with the majority! If he persists I'll 
 guillotine a hundred toads in his pond ! 
 
 ROBESPIERRE. A head like his does not fall without 
 making the State feel it. 
 
 BILLAUD-VARENNE [suspiciously and with violence]. 
 Are you afraid, Robespierre ? 
 
 VADIER [inciting BILLAUD-VARENNE]. Ask him, 
 Billaud, if he uses Danton like a mattress to hide be- 
 hind, and escape the bullets? 
 
 BILLAUD-VARENNE [brutally]. Speak out: You are 
 afraid of being exposed by Danton's fall? You stick 
 close to him! Danton diverts the attention and the 
 blows from you, eh? 
 
 ROBESPIERRE. I take no notice of such slander. 
 What do I care for the dangers? What is my life 
 to me? But I have some experience from the past, and 
 I am looking into the future. You are bloodthirsty 
 monsters ; your hatred blinds you. You think of your- 
 selves, and not of the Republic. 
 
 SAINT-JUST. Let us calmly consider what the Re- 
 public owes to the conspirators. Let us not ask 
 whether Danton is talented, but whether his talents
 
 194 D ANTON 
 
 serve the Republic. Where have these attacks of the 
 past three months come from? Danton. Who in- 
 spired Philippeaux's letters against the Committee? 
 Danton. Who dictates Desmoulins' pamphlets? Dan- 
 ton. Each number of the Vieux Cordelier is submitted 
 to him; he corrects the manuscript in his own hand. 
 If the river is poisoned, let us stop it at the source. 
 Where is Danton's sincerity? Where is his bravery? 
 What has he done the past year for the Republic? 
 
 ROBESPIERRE [pretending to be convinced, and 
 speaking with a mixture of sincerity and hypocrisy]. 
 It is true he never spoke for The Mountain when it 
 was attacked. 
 
 SAINT-JUST. No, but he did for Dumouriez, and the 
 generals who were his accomplices. The Jacobins de- 
 fended him; you, too, Robespierre. But when you 
 were accused, did he say a word? 
 
 ROBESPIERRE. No, and when he saw me deserted, a 
 victim of the slanders of the Gironde, he said to his 
 friends : " Since he wishes to ruin himself, let him ! Let 
 us not share his lot!" But do not drag me into the 
 discussion. 
 
 BILLAUD-VARENNE. You yourself told me, Robes- 
 pierre, that he did all he could to save the Girondins, 
 and to strike Hanriot, who arrested the traitors. 
 
 ROBESPIERRE. That is true. 
 
 SAINT-JUST. And you told me, Robespierre, that 
 he was base enough to confess his embezzlements, and 
 Fabre's his secretary during his brief administra- 
 tion as Minister of Justice. 
 
 ROBESPIERRE. I don't deny that.
 
 DANTON 195 
 
 SAINT-JUST. He was Lafayette's friend. Mirabeau 
 bought him. He corresponded with Dumouriez and 
 Wimpfen. He flattered Orleans. Every enemy of the 
 Revolution was on familiar terms with him. 
 
 ROBESPIERRE. You must not exaggerate! 
 
 SAINT-JUST. You yourself told me. I should never 
 have known otherwise. 
 
 ROBESPIERRE. Of course, but 
 
 BILLAUD-VARENNE [violently]. Do you deny it? 
 
 ROBESPIERRE. I cannot. Danton was an assiduous 
 member of those Royalists gatherings, where Orleans 
 himself mixed the punch. Fabre and Wimpfen, too, 
 were present. They tried to bring the Deputies of 
 the Mountain, to seduce and compromise them. But 
 that was of no importance. 
 
 BILLAUD-VARENNE. On the contrary! It was high 
 treason. Out and out conspiracy! 
 
 ROBESPIERRE. I have just thought of a small detail. 
 It seems that lately he boasted that if he were accused 
 he would throw the blame on us for the Dauphin affair. 
 
 BILLAUD-VARENNE. The blackguard ! Did he say 
 that? And you defend him? 
 
 ROBESPIERRE. Westermann just left this room. 
 He threatened me with Danton, and an uprising. 
 
 BILLAUD-VARENNE. And we sit here talking! The 
 marauders are still at large ! 
 
 ROBESPIERRE. Do you want him? 
 
 SAINT-JUST. The nation wants him. 
 
 VADIER [aside]. The hypocrite! He wants him, 
 too ! But we must persuade him ! 
 
 ROBESPIERRE. He was a great man. At least, he
 
 196 D ANTON 
 
 had the air of a great man, and at times he even seemed 
 a good and virtuous man. 
 
 SAINT-JUST. Nothing so resembles virtue as a great 
 crime. 
 
 VADIER [sarcastically]. You will deliver his funeral 
 oration later on, Maximilien. But now let us bring 
 down the beast. 
 
 SAINT-JUST. Vadier, you must respect death. 
 
 VADIER. But the little fellow is still alive. 
 
 SAINT-JUST. Danton is already doomed. 
 
 BILLAUD-VARENNE. Who will take it upon himself 
 to accuse him? 
 
 VADIER. Saint-Just. The young man does it so 
 well. Every sentence of his is as good as a stroke of 
 the guillotine. 
 
 SAINT-JUST. It would give me great pleasure to 
 attack the monster. 
 
 ROBESPIERRE [getting papers, which he gives to 
 SAINT-JUST]. Here are the notes, all ready for you. 
 
 VADIER [aside]. He has a whole portfolio like that 
 for each of his friends. 
 
 ROBESPIERRE. Let us not honor Danton by trying 
 him alone : it would attract too much attention. 
 
 BILLAUD-VARENNE. Let us overwhelm him in a gen- 
 eral accusation. 
 
 VADIER. Whom shall we put with him, to fill out 
 the menu? 
 
 SAINT-JUST. Every one who has tried to corrupt 
 the cause of Liberty by means of money, evil example, 
 or brains. 
 
 VADIEB. Let us be clear. You're too vague.
 
 DANTON 197 
 
 ROBESPIERRE. Danton loved gold. Let him be 
 buried with gold. Let us implicate him in the bank 
 affair. Put him in with the embezzlers. He will find 
 himself in company with his friend, his secretary, his 
 Fabre d'Eglantine. 
 
 VADIER. Fabre, Chabot, the Jews, the Austrian 
 bankers, the Freys, and the Diederischens good. We 
 begin to have an imposing list. 
 
 BILLAUD-VARENNE. It might be well to add 
 Herault, the friend of the emigres. 
 
 SAINT-JUST. Philippeaux, above all, the disorgan- 
 izer of the army, the destroyer of discipline. 
 
 ROBESPIERRE. Westermann, with his bloody sword, 
 always ready for an insurrection. Is that all? 
 
 VADIER. You forget dear Camille. 
 
 ROBESPIERRE. Wouldn't you prefer Bourbon, or 
 Legendre, the mouthpieces of the enemy in the As- 
 sembly ? 
 
 VADIER. No Camille. 
 
 BILLAUD-VARENNE. Camille. 
 
 SAINT-JUST. Justice ! 
 
 ROBESPIERRE. Take him. 
 
 SAINT-JUST. Good-by for the present. I must pre- 
 pare my report. I shall strike them tomorrow at the 
 Convention. 
 
 VADIER. No, no, young man. Your youthful im- 
 prudence is running away with you. Would you call 
 Danton into court? 
 
 SAINT-JUST. Danton believes that no one will dare 
 attack him face to face. I shall undeceive him. 
 
 VADIER. Your good intentions, my friend, are not
 
 198 DANTON 
 
 enough. You must have lungs deep enough to drown 
 out the roarings of that bull ! 
 
 SAINT-JUST. Truth will overcome tempests. 
 
 ROBESPIERRE. We cannot expose the Republic in 
 an open argument like that. 
 
 SAINT-JUST. What then? [ROBESPIERRE does not 
 answer.] 
 
 BILLAUD-VARENNE. Have Danton arrested to- 
 night. 
 
 SAINT- JUST [violently]. Never! 
 
 VADIER. The end justifies the means! 
 
 SAINT-JUST. I never strike an unarmed enemy. I 
 will face Danton willingly. Combats like that can 
 only bring honor to the Republic ; but your suggestion 
 is dishonorable. Ignoble! 
 
 BILLAUD-VARENNE. The enemies of the people de- 
 serve no consideration! 
 
 VADIER. Useless bravery in politics is always 
 stupid, and sometimes treasonable. 
 
 SAINT-JUST. I won't have it! [He throws his cap 
 to the -floor.] 
 
 BILLAUD-VARENNE [severely] . Do you then prefer 
 the fight to the welfare of the Republic? 
 
 SAINT-JUST. Such attempts require danger; it 
 sanctifies them. A Revolution is a heroic enterprise, 
 in which the leaders walk between the guillotine and 
 immortality. We should be criminals if we were not 
 ready to sacrifice our lives, and the lives of the others, 
 at any moment. 
 
 VADIER. Never worry ; you are risking enough as it 
 is. If Danton were a prisoner he would incite the
 
 DANTON 199 
 
 people; and never doubt, if he is victorious, he will 
 send you to the block. 
 
 SAINT-JUST. I despise the dust I am made of. My 
 heart is the only thing that really belongs to me, and 
 I will pass through life, through blood and murder, 
 without sullying its purity. 
 
 BILLAUD-VARENNE [with hard and disdainful se- 
 verity]. Self-esteem is pure selfishness. It makes no 
 difference to us whether Saint-Just's heart is sullied 
 or not ; we are saving the Republic. 
 
 SAINT- JUST [with an inquiring look at ROBESPIEEEE]. 
 Robespierre ! 
 
 ROBESPIERRE. My friend, you need fear nothing so 
 far as your soul is concerned. The storm and stress 
 of a Revolution are not dealt with according to ordinary 
 processes of law; we cannot apply moral standards 
 to the force that is now shaping the world on a new 
 foundation. Of course, we must be just; but the indi- 
 vidual conscience cannot judge: only the public con- 
 science matters. Our light is in the people: its salva- 
 tion is our law. We have but one question to ask 
 ourselves : do the people want Danton put down ? Once 
 that question is decided, the whole matter is ended. 
 We must wage war to win. Justice means that that 
 which is just shall triumph. We cannot wait : Danton 
 must be laid low. To allow him to arm himself would 
 be to offer our breast to the dagger of an assassin; 
 military and financial despotism would rule the Revolu- 
 tion, and civil wars lay waste our land for a hundred 
 years. We would be hated in history, though we de- 
 serve to be loved.
 
 200 DANTON 
 
 BILLAUD-VARENNE. We must win at all costs! 
 Every one must tremble with fear at our terrible dic- 
 tatorship ! 
 
 VADIER. This is not a question of whether one man 
 shall or shall not be judged according to law, but 
 whether all Europe is to become Jacobin or not. 
 
 SAINT-JUST [his hands to his breast, resembling Da- 
 vid's " Robespierre," in his picture of the " Tennis- 
 Court Oath"]. Oh, Republic, take my honor if you 
 will, take me and devour me ! 
 
 BILLAUD-VARENNE [sharply]. Perhaps at this very 
 moment the Republic is choking; our ideas are fruit- 
 less ; Reason is dying. Quick ! 
 
 ROBESPIERRE. Arrest Danton. [He signs a paper. 
 BILLAUD-VARENNE also signs, in feverish haste.] 
 
 SAINT-JUST. For you, Liberty! [He signs.] 
 
 BILLAUD-VARENNE. The Convention won't object? 
 
 ROBESPIERRE [disdainfully]. The Convention is al- 
 ways ready to sacrifice its members for the public 
 welfare. 
 
 VADIER [signing]. Leave this matter to me. 
 
 ROBESPIERRE [with a sigh]. The Revolution weighs 
 heavier on our shoulders than ever. 
 
 VADIER [aside]. The cat-tiger has scruples, but he 
 licks his chops all the same! 
 
 ROBESPIERRE. A regrettable necessity. We muti- 
 late the Republic in order to save her. 
 
 SAINT- JUST [somber and exalted]. The philosopher 
 Jesus said to his disciples : " And if thy right hand 
 offend thee, cut it off, and cast it from thee; for it is 
 profitable for thee that one of thy members should
 
 DANTON 201 
 
 perish, and not that thy whole body should be cast 
 into hell." And I say to you : if your friend is corrupt, 
 and corrupts the Republic, cast him from the Republic ; 
 if your brother is corrupt and corrupts the Republic, 
 cast him from the Republic. And if the blood of the 
 Republic, if your own blood, flows from a gaping 
 wound, let it flow. The Republic must be purified, or 
 die ! The Republic is virtue. If that virtue be stained, 
 the Republic ceases to exist. 
 
 VADIER [aside]. They are all mad. They ought to 
 be put into strait-jackets. They must be put in cells. 
 On, then ! [He starts to go.] 
 
 BILLAUD-VARENNE. Wait until I sign. 
 
 VADIER. You have already signed. 
 
 BILLARD-VARENNE. Where? I don't remember. 
 What have I done? Was I right? Tristis est anima 
 meal Oh, if I could only stretch out in the fields, on 
 the fresh earth; smell the scent of the woods; see a 
 brook running between banks of willows! Rest! 
 Rest 
 
 ROBESPIERRE. The founders of the Republic have 
 no rest this side the grave.
 
 ACT III 
 
 [The Revolutionary Tribunal. 
 
 The Public Prosecutor FOUQUIER-TINVILLE; 
 HERMAN, the Judge, the Jury, gendarmes, anS 
 the People, are present. On the prisoners' bench- 
 are DANTON, DESMOULINS, HERAULT, PHILIP- 
 PEAUX, WESTERMANN, CHABOT and the brothers 
 FREY the last two of whom do not speak and 
 FABRE D'EGLANTINE, who sits in an arm-chair in 
 their midst. In the front row with the public, 
 sits the painter DAVID and some of his friends. 
 The windows of the room are open, and through 
 them the shouts of the crowd are heard. From 
 time to time, VADIER'S head is seen peering through 
 the wicket in the door, behind the JUDGE, watching 
 the trial. General HANRIOT stands at the door. 
 HERMAN and FOUQUIER-TINVILLE cast anxious 
 glances toward him every -few moments. 
 
 CHABOT and the brothers FREY are being ques- 
 tioned, and DANTON is boiling with rage. DES- 
 MOULINS appears crushed and discouraged. HE- 
 RAULT calmly looks on, smiling. PHILIPPEAUX, 
 jaws set and eyes riveted on his judges, prepares 
 his defense. FABRE D'EGLANTINE, who is ill and 
 suffering, sits back in his chair. The crowd jostle 
 and push, following the trial with great interest. 
 They emphasize with their remarks and shouting
 
 DANTON 203 
 
 each development in the trial, like an audience at 
 a melodrama amused and moved at the same 
 time.] 
 
 JUDGE [to the brothers FREY], You are an agent 
 of Pitt. You have tried to corrupt the Convention. 
 In order to further your speculations and corrupt 
 practices, you tried to bribe the representatives of the 
 people. You have put a price on the conscience of 
 every one you wished to buy. 
 
 DANTON [bursting forth}. Judge, I demand a 
 word! 
 
 JUDGE. Your turn will come, Danton. 
 
 DANTON. What have I to do with all this nasti- 
 ness? What have I to do with these thieves? 
 
 JUDGE. You will be informed. 
 
 DANTON. My natural decency prevents my crush- 
 ing those scoundrels. You know that very well, and 
 you take advantage of my silence in order to associate 
 me in the minds of the people with underhanded swin- 
 dlers and embezzlers. 
 
 HEBAULT. Calm yourself, Danton. 
 
 JUDGE. You must respect the law. You will have 
 a chance to explain later. 
 
 FouQuiER-TiNvrLLE. Quiet, Danton. You will 
 have to answer the charges, together with the rest who 
 are accused with you. 
 
 DANTON. Danton must not be tried for corruption 
 after a pack of blackguards. You might at least give 
 him first place. Danton refuses to be second in any- 
 thing whatsoever, in virtue or in vice.
 
 204 DANTON 
 
 PHLLIPPEAUX. Don't, Danton. You must be pru- 
 dent. 
 
 JUDGE [to the brothers FEEY]. You are Jews by 
 birth, and you came originally from Moravia; your 
 name is Tropuscka. You took the name of Schoen- 
 feld, under which you bought patents of nobility in 
 Austria, and for the time being called yourself Frey. 
 One of your sisters was baptized, and is now being 
 kept by a German baron. The other married Chabot, 
 a former priest, and now a representative in the Con- 
 vention. You have associated yourself with certain 
 other adventurers of doubtful birth like yourself: 
 Diederischen, who came originally from Holstein, and 
 was employed in a Viennese bank; Gusman, called the 
 Spaniard, who passed as a German nobleman; the 
 former Abbe d'Espagnac, an army contractor. With 
 the help of certain deputies whom you had bribed, you 
 prospered. Chabot served as a go-between for you 
 and his colleagues. He put his own price at 
 150,000 livres. He gave Fabre d'Eglantine 100,000 
 of the sum, and Fabre altered the Convention's 
 decree relative to the Compagnie des Indes. 
 I am submitting the original document to the 
 jury. 
 
 VADIEK [stealthily opening the ziricket and beckoning 
 to HANRIOT]. Is all well, Hanriot? 
 
 HANEIOT [in an undertone}. Everything will be 
 satisfactory. 
 
 VADIEK [pointing to FOUQUIER-TINVILLE and the 
 Court]. They are not baulking? 
 
 HANKIOT. Don't worry. I have my eye on them.
 
 DANTON 205 
 
 VADIER. Good. And don't hesitate; if the prose- 
 cutor flinches, arrest him. [He closes the wicket.] 
 
 HERAULT [looking at the crowd]. See the people 
 gape at us ! 
 
 DANTON [really ashamed, but with a forced laugh]. 
 They're not used to seeing this old face of mine on 
 this infamous bench. It's not an ordinary sight! 
 Danton at the mercy of a pack of charlatans. Ha, 
 ha! I must laugh! Look at David over there; his 
 tongue sticks out from sheer hatred, like a dog's. 
 Good God, Camille, pull yourself together! What the 
 devil, the people are looking at us ! 
 
 CAMILLE. Ah, Danton, I shall never see my Lucile 
 again ! 
 
 DANTON. Nonsense! You'll sleep in her arms to- 
 night. 
 
 CAMILLE. Get me away from here, Danton ; save me. 
 I don't know what to do. I can never defend my- 
 self! 
 
 DANTON. Weaker than a girl ! Keep a stiff upper 
 lip, and remember that we are making history. 
 
 CAMILLE. What do I care for history? 
 
 DANTON. If you want to see Lucile, don't sit there 
 looking like a criminal ! What the devil are you look- 
 ing at? 
 
 CAMILLE. Look, Danton, there 
 
 DANTON. What? What is it? 
 
 CAMILLE. Near the window that young man 
 
 DANTON. That impudent rascal, with a shock of 
 hair over his eyes, that law-clerk with his arm around 
 a woman's waist?
 
 206 DANTON 
 
 CAMILLE. Nothing nothing hallucinations : I saw, 
 I thought I saw myself 
 
 DANTON. Yourself? 
 
 CAMILLE. I imagined I was in his place, at the 
 trial of the Girondins my victims Oh, Danton! 
 [Meanwhile the documents have been handed to all the 
 jurymen.} 
 
 JUDGE. Fabre, do you still deny the accusations? 
 
 FABRE D'EGLANTINE [quietly, ironically, but wea- 
 rily] . There is no need of my explaining it all again : 
 you would refuse to listen; you have already made up 
 your mind. I showed you just now that the true 
 version of the decree which I made out had been 
 changed, added to, and corrected, by traitors. That 
 is evident to any one who will take the trouble to look 
 at the papers dispassionately and in a spirit of justice. 
 But there is no one of that sort here : I know very well 
 that I was condemned in advance. I was unlucky 
 enough to incur Robespierre's displeasure, and it is 
 your business to pander to his egotism. I know this 
 is the end. But I am tired of life, it has brought me 
 too much suffering for me to make an effort to preserve 
 it. 
 
 FouftuiER-TiNviLLE. You are outraging justice, 
 and you slander Robespierre. It is not Robespierre 
 who accuses you of corruption: it is Cambon. It is 
 not Robespierre who accuses you of conspiracy: it is 
 Billaud-Varenne. Your propensity for intrigue is well- 
 known. It has often led you to plot and conspire and 
 write dangerous plays. 
 
 FABRE D'EGLANTINE. Silence! Ne sutor ultra
 
 DANTON 207 
 
 crepidam. Messieurs, you my audience, I call you to 
 witness: have not my plays diverted you? Fouquier 
 csn take my head from me, but not my Philinte! 
 
 FouQUiER-TiNviLLE. Some abnormal form of curi- 
 osity has led you to consider the Nation's Assembly 
 as a theater, where you sought to play upon the secret 
 springs of the soul. You made use of everything: the 
 ambition of certain people, the laziness of others; 
 anxiety, envy, everything suited your ends. This impu- 
 dent cleverness of yours has revealed you as the leader 
 of an organized counter-revolution, either because 
 your effrontery or your brazen humor were pleased to 
 run counter to the established order through your 
 unhealthy disdain of reason or rather your confessed 
 aristocratic ideas, and your cupidity nourished for 
 a long time by money from Pitt for the ruin of the 
 Republic. In 'ninety-two you were discovered con- 
 spiring with the enemy. Danton sent you to Du- 
 mouriez in order to carry on your criminal negotia- 
 tions, which saved the Prussians, who were practically 
 defeated. This now brings us to the other prisoners. 
 I must leave you now, as they are anxious for me to 
 tear away their masks. I shall come to you again 
 before long, and show the center of this vast network 
 of intrigues. [The prisoners are agitated, and the 
 spectators become more attentive. DANTON is seen 
 speaking words of encouragement to his friends.] 
 
 FABRE D'EGLANTINE [impertinently, to FOUQUIER- 
 TINVLLLE]. The plot was not well thought out, and 
 the intrigue confusing ; too many characters ; you can't 
 tell where they come from, and you know only too well
 
 208 DANTON 
 
 where they are going. Why talk so much about them ? 
 Your play is execrable, Fouquier. You had much 
 better chop off my head at once : I have the tooth-ache. 
 
 JUDGE [to HERAULT DE SECHELLES] . Prisoner, 
 your name and occupation? 
 
 HERAUI/T. Formerly Herault-Sechelles. Former 
 Attorney-general at the Chatelet: I once sat in the 
 present room. Former President of the Convention : in 
 its name I inaugurated the Republican Constitution. 
 Former member of the Committee of Public Safety; 
 once the friend of Saint-Just and of Couthon, who are 
 now murdering me. 
 
 JUDGE. You are an aristocrat. Your fortune 
 dates from your relations with the Court, and from 
 the time you were presented to the Capet woman by 
 the Polignac woman. You have been in constant com- 
 munication with the emigres; you were the friend of 
 Proly the Austrian, the bastard son of the Prince of 
 Kaunitz, who was sent to the guillotine last month. 
 You have divulged the secrets of the Committee of 
 Public Safety, and sent important papers to foreign 
 courts ; you sheltered under your roof, in direct viola- 
 tion of the law, the former war commissioner Catus, 
 who was wanted on the charge of being an emigre and 
 a conspirator. You were even so audacious as to 
 follow him and defend him in the Lepelletier section 
 where he was arrested. 
 
 HERAULT. I deny one thing: I never divulged state 
 secrets, and I defy you to prove the accusation. The 
 rest is true, I am proud to confess. 
 
 JUDGE. Have you any explanation to make?
 
 DANTON 809 
 
 HEEAULT. None at all. I had friends, and no 
 power in the State could prevent my caring for them 
 and helping them when they needed help. 
 
 JUDGE. You were once President of the Conven- 
 tion. It was your duty to furnish an example of 
 obedience to the nation. 
 
 HEEAULT. I now offer them an example of another 
 sort: sacrificing my life for my duty. 
 
 JUDGE. Is that all you have to say? 
 
 HEEAULT. That is all. 
 
 FouQuiEE-TiNviLLE. The next, Herman! 
 
 JUDGE [to DESMOULINS, who is next]. Your name 
 and occupations? 
 
 CAMILLE {nervously]. Lucie-Camille-Simplice Des- 
 moulins, Deputy to the Convention. 
 
 JUDGE. How old are you? 
 
 CAMILLE. As old as the sans-culotte Jesus when 
 he was crucified: thirty-three. 
 
 JUDGE. You are accused of having sought to bring 
 (discredit upon the Republic. You have spoken libel- 
 ously of the actions of the State, and compared the 
 glory of our time to the nastiness of the Roman em- 
 perors. You have reawakened the hopes of the aris- 
 tocrats, excited suspicion against those who saw the 
 necessity of putting down rebellion, and undermined 
 the work of national defense. Under your mask of 
 humanity, which is belied by your character as already 
 known, you have tried to release from prison the sus- 
 pects, and overwhelm the State with a counter-revolu- 
 tion. What have you to say in your defense? 
 
 CAMILLE [deeply agitated, tries to answer, but can
 
 210 D ANTON 
 
 only stutter. He puts his hand to his forehead. His 
 friends look at him in anxiety]. I ask for mercy. I 
 don't know what's the matter with me! I i. can't 
 speak. 
 
 JUDGE. Do you confess having done these things? 
 
 CAMILLE. No, no. 
 
 JUDGE. Then defend yourself. 
 
 CAMILLE. I cannot. Excuse me. I I am ill. 
 [His friends press about him. He sits down, breath- 
 ing hard, and mops his forehead with a handkerchief. 
 The Judge shrugs his shoulders.] 
 
 FouQuiER-TiNvii/LE. Do you confess or not? 
 
 PHILIPPEAUX. Read the seditious passages. 
 
 DANTON. Yes, read them ; dare read them before 
 the people. Let them judge where their friends 
 stand ! 
 
 JUDGE. I have sufficiently indicated them. There 
 is no need of again calling public attention to such 
 dangerous sentiments. 
 
 DANTON. For whom are they dangerous ? For cut- 
 throats ? 
 
 FOUQUIEB-TINVI:L:LE. I see your course has been pre- 
 pared in advance. We shall pay no attention to it. 
 
 CAMILLE [in agony]. I am ashamed I beg your 
 pardon, all of you. I haven't slept for several nights ; 
 all these charges against me ! I'm not master of 
 myself I can't speak. Give me a breathing-spell. 
 I I feel dizzy. 
 
 FouQuiER-TiNViLLE. We have no time to waste. 
 
 DANTON. At what hour have you decided to have 
 our heads? Can't you wait, hangman?
 
 DANTON 211 
 
 PHILIPPEAUX. You will wait for Desmoulins. You 
 have no right to murder people without hearing them. 
 
 FABBE D'EGLANTINE. You know he is sensitive and 
 very impressionable. You are trying to take advan- 
 tage of his weakness. You won't do a thing to him 
 while we still live. 
 
 HERAULT [ironically] . Like the duel of the Em- 
 peror Commodius who, armed with a cavalry sword, 
 forced his enemy to fight him with a fencing-foil tipped 
 with cork. 
 
 JUDGE. Silence ! 
 
 THE FOUR PRISONERS. Silence yourself, hangman! 
 People, protect our rights, the sacred rights of the 
 prisoner. [The People shout: " Bravo! Bravo!"] 
 
 DANTON [rubbing DESMOULINS' hands]. Courage, 
 my boy ! 
 
 CAMILLE [still nervous, but pulling himself together, 
 he grasps DANTON'S hand, smiles at him, and rises]. 
 Thank you, friends, I feel much better now. You have 
 given me strength. That, monsters, is what you will 
 never have: the affection of the people. You accuse 
 me of having spoken my mind? I am proud of it. 
 Faithful to the Republic, which I founded, I will re- 
 main free, no matter what it costs me. You say I 
 have insulted liberty? I have said that liberty meant 
 happiness, reason, equality, and justice. I have com- 
 mitted these outrages, yes ! You see, oh people, how I 
 am rewarded! [The People acclaim him with Bravos.] 
 
 JUDGE. You must not address the people. 
 
 CAMILLE. Whom should I address? The aristo- 
 crats? I begged the Committee to be merciful, for I
 
 212 D ANTON 
 
 wanted the people to enjoy the liberty which they have 
 acquired, but which seems intended now merely to sat- 
 isfy the grudges of a handful of scoundrels ! I asked 
 men to put an end to their quarreling, and that they 
 be bound together by love into a great family. It 
 appears that these desires are criminal. But what I 
 call a crime is this mad political game which soils the 
 nation and the people, forcing it to plunge their hands 
 into innocent blood before the whole universe ! 
 
 JUDGE. It is not your place to accuse; you are 
 here to answer your accusers. 
 
 CAMILLE. Very well, I accuse myself, if you like, 
 of not having always thought as I think today. For 
 too long did I believe in hatred ; the heat of battle led 
 me on, and I have committed too many crimes ; I stirred 
 up vengeance, and more than once the sword was drawn 
 as a result of my writings. Innpcent people were 
 dragged here on my advice. This is my crime, my real 
 crime, and you are my partners in it. This is the 
 crime I am today expiating. 
 
 JUDGE. Whom are you referring to? 
 
 FouQUiEB-TiNviLLE. Whose death do you regret? 
 
 PHILIPPEAUX. Don't answer, Desmoulins! 
 
 FABRE D'EGLANTINE. It's a trap. Take care! 
 
 DANTON. Swallow your tongue, my boy! 
 
 CAMILLE. I refer to the Girondins. [The People 
 murmur, and DAVID says: " He confesses! "] 
 
 JUDGE. The prisoner confesses his implication in 
 the Brissotist conspiracies. 
 
 CAMILLE [with a shrug]. It was my Brissot d6- 
 voilS which condemned the Brissotists.
 
 DANTON 313 
 
 But now you regret it? 
 
 CAMILLE [not answering]. Oh, my colleagues! I 
 say to you as Brutus said to Cicero : " We fear death 
 too much, and exile, and poverty. Nimium timemus 
 mortem et exilium et paupertatem." Is life so dear 
 that we should prolong it without honor? There is 
 not one of us who has not reached the very summit of 
 the mountain of life. We have before us the descent, 
 which is full of precipices, unavoidable even by the most 
 obscure. The descent has no pleasant landscapes to 
 offer, no resting places which were not a thousand times 
 more delectable to that same Solomon who declared, in 
 all his glory and in the midst of his seven hundred wives : 
 " I find that the dead are happier than the living, and 
 that the happiest of men is he who was never born." 
 [He sits down.] 
 
 DANTON. Fool! That speech of yours will cost 
 us our heads! [He kisses DESMOULINS. Some one 
 comes to tell DANTON that it is his turn. He rises 
 and faces the Court.] 
 
 JUDGE [to DANTON]. Prisoner, your name, age, oc- 
 cupation, and place of residence? 
 
 DANTON [in a voice of thunder] . My place of resi- 
 dence? Soon the great void. My name? In the 
 Pantheon. [The People are tense. They talk and 
 appear to approve him; then suddenly they become 
 silent, as the Judge speaks.] 
 
 JUDGE. You know the law. Answer categori- 
 cally. 
 
 DANTON. My name is Georges- Jacques Danton. I 
 am thirty-three years old, and a native of Arcis-sur-
 
 214 DANTON 
 
 Aube. I am a solicitor. I live in Paris at present, 
 in the Rue des Cordeliers. 
 
 JUDGE. Danton, the National Convention accuses 
 you of having conspired with Mirabeau and Dumouriez, 
 of having known their plans for putting an end to our 
 liberty, and of having secretly aided and abetted them. 
 [DANTON roars with laughter. The Court, the People, 
 and even the prisoners stare at him, and then all begin 
 to laugh. The whole room vibrates with Homeric 
 laughter. DANTON strikes the railing in front of him 
 with his fist.] 
 
 DANTON [still laughing]. Liberty conspiring 
 against Liberty ! Danton conspiring against Danton ! 
 Scoundrels ! Look me in the eye ! Liberty resides 
 here! [He puts his hands to his head.] It is in this 
 petrified mask of mine, it is in these eyes which flame 
 with volcanic fire; in this voice, the roar of which 
 rocks the palaces of tyrants to their foundations. 
 Take my head, nail it to the shield of the Republic, 
 and it will, like Medusa, make the enemies of Liberty 
 fall dead from fright. 
 
 JUDGE. I am not asking for your panegyric, but 
 for your defense. 
 
 DANTON. A man like me does not have to defend 
 himself: my actions speak for me. I have nothing to 
 defend, nothing to explain. I don't enshroud myself 
 with all sorts of mysterious things if I want to make 
 love to an old woman as Robespierre does. My door 
 is wide open, I have no curtains to my bed; all of 
 France knows when I drink and when I make love. 
 I am a man of the people; my virtues and vices arc
 
 D ANTON 215 
 
 of the people; I conceal nothing from them. I show 
 myself to the world, and I have nothing to be ashamed 
 of. 
 
 JUDGE. Danton, your language is an insult to jus- 
 tice. The low expressions you use indicate the base- 
 ness of your soul. Moderation is the badge of inno- 
 cence, and audacity that of crime. 
 
 DANTON. If audacity is a crime, I speak for crime. 
 I kiss it, and leave virtue to you, Judge: the lean kine 
 of Pharaoh have no attraction for me. I love 
 audacity, and I am proud of it : the audacity of a good 
 hug. I love the huge breasts where heroes suck. The 
 Revolution is the daughter of audacity. Audacity is 
 what laid low the Bastille ; through me, audacity urged 
 the people of Paris against royalty; audacity it was 
 that urged me to pick the severed head of Louis by 
 its fat ears, and cast it in the teeth of tyrants and 
 their God! [The People, in great excitement, show 
 their approval of DANTON.] 
 
 JUDGE. All this violence proves nothing. I have 
 made specific accusations against you, and I ask you 
 to make specific replies, adhering to the facts. 
 
 DANTON. Do you expect a revolutionary like me to 
 make a dignified answer? My soul is like bronze in 
 a forge. The statue of Liberty is being molded in my 
 breast. Do you want to put me into a squirrel's 
 cage? Do you insist on putting me through a cross- 
 examination? Catechize me? Why, I would tear the 
 net you want to put around me to tatters; my belly 
 would burst the shirt ! I am accused, you say ! Where 
 are my accusers? Let them show themselves, and I
 
 216 DANTON 
 
 will cover them with the opprobrium they so richly 
 deserve ! 
 
 JUDGE. Again, Danton, you are lacking in respect 
 toward the representatives of the nation, toward the 
 court and the sovereign people who have a right to 
 demand an account of your actions. Marat was ac- 
 cused as you are accused. He did not become violent. 
 He did not answer facts with athletic exhibitions and 
 florid rhetoric. He tried to justify himself, and he 
 succeeded. I can offer you no more brilliant example. 
 
 DANTON. I shall then condescend to justify myself, 
 and follow Saint-Just's plan. When I look through 
 this list of horrors, my whole self shudders. I, sold 
 to Mirabeau, Orleans, Dumouriez! I always fought 
 them! I frustrated Mirabeau's plans when I consid- 
 ered them dangerous to the cause of Liberty. I de- 
 fended Marat against him. The only time I saw 
 Dumouriez was to ask him for an accounting of the 
 millions that he had squandered. I suspected his plans, 
 and in order to spoil them, I flattered him. Ought I 
 to have ruined him, when the safety of the Republic 
 lay in his hands? Yes, I did send Fabre to him; yes, 
 I did promise to make him commander-in-chief ; but 
 at the same time I told Billaud-Varenne to keep a 
 strict watch over him. Am I to be blamed because I 
 lied to a traitor? I have committed many another 
 crime for the nation. You can't save a nation with 
 petty virtues. I would have shouldered any crime at 
 all, if need were, to save you all of you, judges, 
 people, even you vile impostors who are now accusing 
 me! I conspire with royalty? Ah, yes, indeed, I re-
 
 DANTON 17 
 
 member how I aided in establishing the royal power on 
 the tenth of August, the triumph of the federalists on 
 the thirty-first of May, and the victory of the Prus- 
 sians at Valmy ! Bring forth my accusers ! I have 
 something to say to the blackguards who are ruining 
 the Republic! I have a few important revelations to 
 make. I demand a hearing. 
 
 JUDGE. These indecent outbursts can only harm 
 your cause. Those who accuse you enjoy the confi- 
 dence of the public. Clear yourself first: a man who 
 is accused deserves no confidence until he has washed 
 himself clean of his accusations. It is not only your 
 Republicanism which is now in question ; you have been 
 cited for evil living, debauchery, prodigality, and em- 
 bezzlement. 
 
 DANTON. Not so fast! Stop the spigot of your 
 flowing eloquence. Let us have a few drops at a time, 
 so that we may lose nothing. So I am accused of 
 loving life, enjoying it? Of course, I love life. Not 
 all the pedants of Arras and Geneva can put a stop to 
 the joy that ferments in the district of Champagne. It 
 swells on the vines and increases the desires of men. 
 Shall I blush because of my superabundant vitality? 
 Nature gave me great capacity and correspondingly 
 great needs. I was fortunate enough not to have 
 sprung from an enfeebled and puny and privileged 
 race; and I have throughout my tempestuous career, 
 preserved my natural vigor intact. What have you 
 to complain of? My vigor has been your salvation. 
 What do you care if I pass my nights at the Palais- 
 Royal? Not a single caress can harm the cause of
 
 218 D ANTON 
 
 Liberty. I have enough love for everything. Have 
 you proscribed all pleasure? Has France made an 
 oath of chastity? Have we all fallen under the rule 
 of a schoolmaster? Because an old fox has lost his 
 tail must we all lose ours? [The People laugh.] 
 
 JUDGE. You are accused of having kept part of 
 the money intrusted to you by the State. You have 
 used secret moneys for the satisfaction of your pleas- 
 ures. You have levied on Belgium and brought from 
 Brussels three carriages full of plunder. 
 
 DANTON. I have already answered those absurd 
 accusations. When I was Minister under the Revolu- 
 tion, fifty millions were left to me. I admit that. I 
 offered to make a strict accounting of them. Cambon 
 gave me 40,000 livres for secret expenses. Half of 
 this I spent openly : I gave free rein to Fabre and to 
 Billaud. I used these funds to help the departments. 
 As to that ridiculous tale of the archduchess' napkins, 
 which were brought from Belgium, do you think me 
 a handkerchief thief? My trunks were opened at 
 Bethune, and I was detained. They found only my 
 own clothes, and a swanskin corset. Does the corset 
 outrage Robespierre's modesty? Is that why I am 
 accused? 
 
 JUDGE. The charge of embezzlement is proved by 
 your prodigality of the past two years. Your income 
 was not sufficient, and you must have taken State 
 money. 
 
 DANTON. As a solicitor in the council, I bought a 
 little property near Arcis. I have assured my mother 
 a small income, also my father-in-law, and the good
 
 D ANTON 219 
 
 woman who brought me up. These sums are no larger 
 than was my income before the Revolution. As for 
 the life I led at Paris or at Arcis, possibly I have not 
 confined my expenditures to the level of shameful econ- 
 omy. I do not force my friends when they sup with 
 me to partake of the meager soup of Mere Duplay. 
 I cannot stint myself or my friends. Are you not 
 ashamed to trifle with Danton about how much he 
 drinks or how much he eats? This nasty hypocrisy 
 is threatening to overwhelm the nation. It blushes for 
 nature, and hides its face at a real healthy thing. Its 
 virtues are but negative virtues. So long as a man 
 has a weak stomach and atrophied senses, lives on a 
 little cheese and sleeps in a narrow bed, you call him 
 Incorruptible, and imagine that that is sufficient to 
 allow him to dispense with courage and intelligence. 
 I detest these anaemic virtues. Virtue means to be 
 great, for yourself and for the nation. When you 
 have the honor of holding a great man in your midst, 
 don't begrudge him his bread. All his needs, his pas- 
 sions, his capacity for sacrifice, are built on a different 
 plan from that of ordinary men. Achilles used to eat 
 the whole back of an ox at a single meal. If Danton 
 requires much to feed his furnace, let him have it 
 without a murmur. Here, in me, is the vast fire, the 
 flames of which protect you against prowling beasts 
 that wait their chance to spring at the throat of the 
 Republic. 
 
 JUDGE. You therefore confess? 
 
 DANTON. You lie! I have just denied. I have 
 lived freely, honestly, carefully, on the money that was
 
 320 DANTON 
 
 confided to me, but I have not been miserly. I ren- 
 dered to Danton the things that were Danton's. 
 Bring the witnesses I asked for, and we shall clear up 
 any misunderstandings. The accusations and answers 
 ought not to remain vague: nothing short of a cate- 
 gorical discussion will bring this trial to an end. 
 Where are the witnesses? Why don't they come 
 forth? 
 
 JUDGE. Your voice is tired, Danton: rest. 
 
 DANTON. Not at all! I can continue. 
 
 JUDGE. You may continue your justification 
 shortly, and more calmly. 
 
 DANTON [furiously] . I am calm ! My witnesses ! 
 I have been asking for them for the past three days ! 
 I have not yet seen a single one. I ask the public 
 prosecutor, before the assembled audience, why justice 
 is refused me? 
 
 FouciuiER-TiNviLLE. I have no objection to their 
 being summoned. 
 
 DANTON. Then bring them. Nothing can be done 
 without your orders. 
 
 FouQUiEB-TraviLLE. I allow the witnesses to be 
 called, except, of course, those designated by the pris- 
 oners as belonging to the Convention; because the ac- 
 cusation is made by the whole Assembly, and it would 
 be ridiculous to insist that your own accusers should 
 be brought in to justify you, especially when they are 
 the representatives of the people, the guardians of th 
 highest power, accountable only to the people. 
 
 HEBAULT. A good Jesuit trick! [He and FABEB 
 D'EGLANTINE laugh.]
 
 DANTON 221 
 
 DANTON. I see! My colleagues will be allowed to 
 murder me, and I shall not be permitted to bring con- 
 fusion on my murderers ! 
 
 FouQuiEB-TiNviLLE. You dare insult the national 
 representatives ! 
 
 PHILIPPEAUX. Are we here as a mere matter of 
 form? Do you want us to remain mute? 
 
 CAMILLE. People, you hear! They are afraid of 
 the truth! They fear the testimony that will con- 
 found them ! 
 
 JUDGE. Address the court, and not the people. 
 
 PHILIPPEAUX. The people are our sole judges ; you 
 are nothing without them. 
 
 CAMILLE. I ask the Convention! 
 
 DANTON. You want to gag us, but you cannot. 
 My voice will stir Paris to its very entrails. Light! 
 Light ! 
 
 JUDGE. Silence ! 
 
 THE PEOPLE. The witnesses! [The Judges be- 
 come alarmed.] 
 
 FouciuiER-TiNviLLE. It is time to cease this 
 scandalous discussion; I shall write to the Convention 
 of your request: we will obey their command. [The 
 People applaud. FOUQUIER-TINVILLE and HERMAN 
 consult together, write the request, and read in an 
 undertone what they have written.] 
 
 CAMILLE [exultant]. We have won our case! 
 
 DANTON. We'll confound the blackguards. You'll 
 see them fall into their own vileness head-first. If the 
 French people are what they ought to be, I shall be 
 obliged to ask their pardon.
 
 222 DANTON 
 
 PHILIPPEAUX. Pardon from those who seek our 
 death? 
 
 CAMILLE [gaily]. We shall appoint Saint- Just 
 schoolmaster at Blerancourt and Robespierre church- 
 warden at Saint-Omer. 
 
 HEEAULT [with a shrug]. Incorrigible! They are 
 on their way to the guillotine, and they still hope! 
 
 DANTON. Idiots ! To accuse Danton and Des- 
 mouKns of conspiring against the Republic! So 
 Barere is a patriot now, and Danton an aristocrat. 
 France won't be humbugged like that for very long! 
 [To one of the Jury.] Do you think we are con- 
 spirators? See, he smiles. He doesn't believe it. 
 Write that he laughed ! 
 
 Fou<juiEE-TiNviLLE [in the midst of his work]. I 
 beg you to cease your personal conversations. It is 
 against the law. 
 
 DANTON. Do you dare tell your father how to make 
 children? I was the one who organized this court; I 
 ought to know how to behave in it. 
 
 CAMILLE. I am beginning to take pleasure in life 
 again. A moment ago, everything was dark ; I felt as 
 if I were already in the grave. 
 
 DANTON. It isn't that everything is light : you your- 
 self have changed. You didn't loom very large on the 
 horizon. 
 
 CAMILLE. I am ashamed of my weakness. My 
 flesh is feeble. 
 
 DANTON. You're a sly one ! You wanted to become 
 an object of sympathy to the women! See that girl 
 there making eyes at you !
 
 DANTON 223 
 
 HERAULT [softly]. My poor friends, I really pity 
 you. 
 
 DANTON. Why, my handsome fellow? 
 
 HERAULT. You're selling the bear-skin, when your 
 own is already disposed of. 
 
 DANTON. My skin? Yes, I know, there are many 
 who would like it. Saint-Just especially. Well, let 
 him come and take it, and if he succeeds, let him make 
 a rug of it. 
 
 HERAULT. Why bother? [He shrugs his shoulders 
 and lapses into silence. Meanwhile, FOUQUIER-TIN- 
 VILLE has finished his letter, which is taken out by a 
 guard.] 
 
 JUDGE. While we await the Convention's answer, 
 let us continue. [The gendarmes make the prisoners 
 sit down again. He says to PHILIPPEAUX.] Your 
 name and occupation? 
 
 PHILIPPEAUX. Pierre-Nicolas Philippeaux, former 
 judge at Le Mans, representative in the Convention. 
 
 JUDGE. Your age? 
 
 PHILIPPEAUX. Thirty-five. 
 
 JUDGE. You are charged with having paralyzed the 
 national defense, during your mission in La Vendee; 
 you attempted to throw the Committee of Public Safety 
 into disrepute, by means of insulting pamphlets; you 
 were a conspirator with Danton and Fabre in their 
 attempt to restore the royalty. 
 
 PHILIPPEAUX. I exposed the indignation of the pub- 
 lic against the brigandage of certain generals. It was 
 my duty, and I accomplished it. 
 
 JUDGE. In this implacable struggle for France, your
 
 224 DANTON 
 
 duty was to do everything in your power to aid the 
 nation. You tried to hinder it. 
 
 PHILIPPEAUX. Ronsin and Rossignol are a dishonor 
 to humanity. 
 
 FouQuiER-TiNViLLE. You were not a representa- 
 tive of humanity, but of the nation. 
 
 PHILIPPEAUX. My nation is humanity. 
 
 JUDGE. Did those you pitied, the Royalists who 
 were crushed by Rossignol, think of humanity? 
 
 PHILIPPEAUX. There is no excuse for crime. 
 
 FouftuiER-TiNviLLE. Victory is. 
 
 PHILIPPEAUX. I accuse you. 
 
 CAMILLE. Before all the people, I denounce these 
 infamies ! 
 
 FOUQUIER-TINVILLE [with a shrug] . Let the people 
 judge. [The People are divided: many applaud 
 FOUQUIER-TINVILLE and converse among themselves.] 
 
 DANTON [aside to DESMOULINS]. Keep your mouth 
 shut ! You're throwing stones in my garden. 
 
 CAMILLE [astounded']. How is that? 
 
 DANTON. I said what was necessary. 
 
 JUDGE [to WESTERMANN]. Prisoner, stand up. 
 
 WESTERMANN. I? Well, forward march! 
 
 JUDGE. Your name? 
 
 WESTERANN. You know my name very well. 
 
 JUDGE. Your name? 
 
 WESTERMANN [with a shrug]. Always mixing 
 things up ! Ask the people ! 
 
 JUDGE. You are Francois-Joseph Westermann, na- 
 tive of Alsace, brigadier-general. You are forty-three 
 years old. You were to have been the sword of this
 
 DANTON 25 
 
 conspiracy. Danton recalled you to Paris to command 
 the soldiers in the counter-revolution. You committed 
 atrocities in your army. You were the cause of the 
 defeat at Chatillon. Together with Philippeaux, you 
 attempted to kill the patriots whom it was your duty 
 to defend. Your record is very bad. You have been 
 three times accused of theft. 
 
 WESTEEMANN. You swine, you lie ! 
 
 JUDGE. I shall have you sent back to your cell for 
 insulting the law, and try you without hearing your 
 defense. 
 
 WESTEBMANN. I was a soldier at the age of fifteen. 
 On the tenth of August I commanded the people when 
 we took the Tuileries. I fought at Jemmapes. 
 Dumouriez deserted me in Holland, surrounded by the 
 enemy, and I brought my legion to Antwerp. Then I 
 was in La Vendee ; I made trouble for the brigands of 
 Charette and Cathelineau. Savenay, Ancenis, and Le 
 Mans are strewn with their carcasses. So the damned 
 pigs accuse me of being cruel? I was more than that: 
 I was ferocious toward cowards. Do you ask for 
 proofs against me? Here they are: I charged my 
 cavalry through our retreating soldiers at Pontorson. 
 I slashed the face of a cowardly officer at Chatillon. 
 I would have burned my whole army, if necessary, in 
 order to be victorious. I pillaged, you say? What 
 has that to do with you? You are out of your minds. 
 I did my duty as a soldier : Fm not a shopkeeper. My 
 duty was to defend the Patrie by every means ; I have 
 accomplished it for the past thirty years, sparing 
 neither my own sweat nor my blood. I received seven
 
 226 DANTON 
 
 wounds not one in the back or rather the only one 
 is my accusation. 
 
 JUDGE. You have often in the presence of witnesses, 
 spoken insultingly of the Convention. You have even 
 threatened to pull down the palace on the heads of the 
 representatives. 
 
 WESTERMANN. Quite true. I hate that suspicious 
 pack of spouters who stop all action by their jealous 
 stupidity. I said that the Convention needed to be 
 cleaned out and I offered to carry off the manure. 
 
 FouQUiER-TraviLLE. Do you confess to having con- 
 spired ? 
 
 WESTERMANN. What conspiracy are you talking 
 about? I did my own thinking, and my own doing. 
 I am a friend of none of these others. I've spoken 
 occasionally to Danton, and I admire his energy; but 
 he's a lawyer, too, and I never trust lawyers. France 
 can't be saved by talk, but only by sabers. 
 
 JUDGE. That is enough. Your case is clear. 
 
 WESTERMANN. Send me to the guillotine ! That at 
 least is something active like a saber stroke. I only 
 ask one thing: put me on my back: I want to face the 
 knife. [VADIER and BILLAUD-VARENNE enter. Fou- 
 QUIER-TINVILLE rises and shakes hands with them. 
 The People are excited.] 
 
 BILLAUD-VARENNE [in an undertone]. Scoundrels! 
 We have them now! 
 
 VADIER [aside to FOUQUIER-TINVILLE]. This will 
 end matters. 
 
 FouauiER-TiNViLLE. It was high time. [Deep agi- 
 tation among the People, who become silent. FOUQUIER-
 
 DANTON 227 
 
 TINVILLE reads, standing, with the other two at his 
 side.] " The National Convention, after having heard 
 the report of the Committee of Public Safety and 
 Public Security, decrees that the Revolutionary Tri- 
 bunal shall continue the examination into the con- 
 spiracy of Danton and his associates; that the Judge 
 shall use every means accorded him by law to impose 
 respect and to put a stop to every effort on the part 
 of the prisoners to disturb the public dignity and inter- 
 fere with the course of justice, and that every pris- 
 oner accused of conspiracy who shall resist or insult 
 the national justice shall be immediately withdrawn 
 from the trial." [The People and the others are aston- 
 ished. All at once the People begin talking, then the 
 prisoners, at first ill at ease, burst out.] 
 
 CAMILLE. Infamous ! They are gagging us ! 
 
 PHILIPPEAUX. They are not judges, but butchers. 
 
 DANTON [to FOUQUIEE-TINVILLE] . You have not 
 read it all. There is something else. The answer! 
 The answer to our demand ! 
 
 JUDGE. Silence ! 
 
 FoiiQuiER-TiNVLLLE. The Convention communicates 
 the following letter, received by the Committees from 
 the police department, which shall be read in order 
 that the court may understand the perils besetting the 
 cause of Liberty. [Reads:] "Commune of Paris. 
 We, the administrators of the police department, hav- 
 ing received a letter from the concierge of the Luxem- 
 bourg prison, immediately went to the said prison, and 
 brought before us Citizen Laflotte, former minister to 
 the Republic of Florence, who has been confined there
 
 228 DANTON 
 
 for the past six days. He declared to us that last 
 night, between the hours of six and seven, as he was 
 in the room of Arthur Dillon, having taken the afore- 
 said Dillon to one side, told him that it was necessary 
 to resist oppression, that the good men detained in the 
 Luxembourg and other prisons ought to join forces; 
 that Desmoulins' wife had placed a thousand ecus at 
 his disposal, in order to arouse the people in the neigh- 
 borhood of the Revolutionary Tribunal " 
 
 CAMILLE [furiously]. The scoundrels! They are 
 not satisfied with murdering me! They are trying to 
 murder my wife ! 
 
 DANTON [shaking his fist at FOUQUIER-TINVILLE]. 
 Scoundrels, scoundrels ! They've invented this to ruin 
 us ! [The People are in a fury of indignation.] 
 
 FouQtriER-TiNviLLE [continuing, as he makes efforts 
 to arouse the interest of the audience] " Laflotte pre- 
 tended to enter into their plans in order to become 
 better acquainted with them. Dillon, believing that he 
 had made a convert to his infamous plot, told him of 
 various plans. Laflotte declares his willingness to re- 
 veal these details to the Committee of Public Safety " 
 [The People drown out his voice.] 
 
 CAMILLE [raving like a madman]. Monsters! [He 
 crumples the papers in his hand and throws them at 
 FOUQUIER-TINVILLE'S head. He says to the People:] 
 Help! Help! 
 
 DANTON [roaring]. Cowards! Cut-throats! Why 
 not bind us to these benches, and cut our throats ! 
 
 PHILIPPEAUX. Tyranny ! 
 
 DANTON. People, they are killing us and you with
 
 DANTON 229 
 
 us! They are murdering Danton! Paris, arise! 
 Arise ! [Two voices, at first, then all the People shout: 
 " Tyranny! "] 
 
 WESTERMANN. To arms! [The People repeat: 
 " To arms! " A wild uproar indoors and out.] 
 
 FouQuiER-TiNviLLE [pale and frightened, to BIL- 
 :LAUD-VARENNE and VADIER]. What shall we do? 
 The people may attack. 
 
 BILLAUD-VARENNE. Hanriot, clear the room. 
 
 VADIER. That would only incite them to battle, and 
 who knows which would be the stronger? 
 
 FouQuiER-TiNviLLE [who has just looked out the 
 window]. They are standing in crowds along the 
 quay. They could force the doors. 
 
 DANTON. People, we can do anything we will. We 
 have triumphed over kings and over the armies of Eu- 
 rope. To arms ! Down with the tyrants ! 
 
 VADIER [to FOUQ.UIER-TINVILLE]. First of all, send 
 these fellows back to prison, and get that spouter out 
 of the way. 
 
 DANTON [shaking his fist at VADIER]. Look at the 
 cowardly cut-throats. Vadier, Vadier! Dog, come 
 here! If this is to be a combat between cannibals, 
 allow me at least to fight for my life ! 
 
 VADIER [to FOUQUIER-TINVILLE] . Prosecutor, carry 
 out the decree. 
 
 FouQuiER-TiNviLLE. The unheard-of indecency 
 which the prisoners choose to employ as weapons of 
 defense, the threats which they are so impudent as to 
 hurl at the Tribunal, must put an end to the session. 
 They force us to deal in like fashion under the grave
 
 230 DANTON 
 
 circumstances. I am therefore forced to ask that th 
 questions be asked and judgment passed in the absence 
 of the prisoners. 
 
 JUDGE. The court will deliberate. Take out the 
 prisoners. [DANTON does not seem to have understood. 
 He chokes, roaring like an animal.] 
 
 VADIEE [in an undertone]. Cry, old fellow, your 
 time has come ! 
 
 HEEAULT [rising and dusting his coat]. This is the 
 end. 
 
 DANTON [allowing himself to be led to his bench by 
 the gendarmes, and there falling in a heap. He sud- 
 denly pulls himself together]. Peace, Danton, peace. 
 Our destinies are being accomplished. 
 
 CAMILLE [supplicating]. I am a friend of Robes- 
 pierre. You can't condemn me. 
 
 WESTEEMANN [to DANTON]. Keep that idiot from 
 dishonoring himself. 
 
 DANTON [in consternation]. They are mad. Mis- 
 erable country, what will become of you without this 
 leader ? 
 
 HEEAULT [to DESMOULINS]. Come, my friends, let 
 us show them we know how to die. 
 
 DANTON. We have lived long enough to lay our 
 heads on the breast of glory. Let them take us to the 
 scaffold ! 
 
 CAMILLE. Oh, my wife! My son! Shall I never 
 see you again? No, I cannot. My friends, help me! 
 
 JUDGE. Take out the prisoners. 
 
 DANTON. Don't, don't; this miserable life is not 
 worth struggling for.
 
 D ANTON 231 
 
 HERAULT [as if in a hurry to have done with every- 
 thing, goes to FABEE D'EGLANTINE, without waiting for 
 the gendarmes, who take charge of the other prisoners]. 
 Give me your arm, my friend ; here at last is an end to 
 your troubles. 
 
 FABRE D'EGLANTINE. We shall at least have en- 
 joyed a splendid performance. 
 
 DANTON. Well, Fabre, here is a play that is more 
 impressive than any you ever wrote no offense, I hope ? 
 
 FABRE D'EGLANTINE. You have not read my latest ; 
 there are some good things in it. I tremble for fear 
 Collot d'Herbois may destroy the manuscript. He is 
 jealous of me. 
 
 DANTON. Console yourself, we shall all do there 
 what you did here on earth. 
 
 FABRE D'EGLANTINE. What? 
 
 DANTON. Write poetry. 
 
 HERAULT. The Convention will be empty tomorrow. 
 I yawn when I think that our survivors will be con- 
 demned, on pain of death, not to sleep through the 
 speeches of Robespierre and Saint-Just, of Saint-Just 
 and of Robespierre. 
 
 DANTON. They will not listen very long. I have 
 dug the grave, and Robespierre will follow me. 
 
 FABRE D'EGLANTINE. I should like to have followed 
 the development of the character of some of these little 
 rascals: Barras, Talien, and Fouche. But I must not 
 ask too much. Come, Herault. [They go out.] 
 
 CAMILLE [clinging to his bench, from which the 
 gendarmes pull him]. I won't go! You will kill me 
 in prison. Oh, People, listen to me : it was I who made
 
 232 DANTON 
 
 the Republic. Defend me! I defended you! You 
 won't take me from here, you monsters! Cowards, 
 murderers ! Oh, Lucile ! Horace ! My dear ones ! 
 [They take him out.] 
 
 DANTON [deeply stirred]. I, too, have a wife and 
 children. [Recovering his self-command.] Come, 
 Danton, no weakness. 
 
 WESTERMANN [to DANTON]. Why don't you take 
 advantage of the people's feelings? They are on the 
 point of fighting. 
 
 DANTON. The pigs ! Nonsense ! Pigs ! They en- 
 joy our little performance; they are there to applaud 
 the victors. I've taught them only too well to act for 
 themselves. 
 
 WESTERMANN. Stir them up now! 
 
 DANTON. Too late. And what the devil do I care? 
 The Republic will fall, and I want to go before I see 
 the end. 
 
 WESTERMANN. See what happened because you hesi- 
 tated! Why didn't you forestall Robespierre? 
 
 DANTON. The Revolution cannot exist with both of 
 us. I could never have defended myself without killing 
 him. I prefer the Revolution to myself. [WESTER- 
 MANN goes out.] 
 
 PHIUPPEAUX. Come, Danton, it is some consolation 
 to die as one has lived. 
 
 DANTON. I committed every crime for the sake of 
 Liberty. I shouldered every task that the hypocrites 
 shunned. I have sacrificed everything for the Revolu- 
 tion. I now see it was all in vain. The minx has 
 played me false; and now she sacrifices me, as she will
 
 DANTON 233 
 
 sacrifice Robespierre tomorrow. She will take up with 
 the first adventurer who presents himself. Well, what 
 of it? I regret nothing; I love her, and I am glad I 
 dishonored myself for her sake. I pity the poor 
 beggars who never embraced her. When once you have 
 been intimate with the divine strumpet, you are ready 
 to die, for you have lived. [He goes out with PHILIP- 
 PEAUX.] 
 
 FouauiER-TiNVii/LE. I ask the jury whether they 
 have sufficient instructions? 
 
 JUDGE. The jury will retire to deliberate. [The 
 Jury goes out. The People shift restlessly about, uti" 
 decided what to think or do. Outside DANTON ** 
 heard, and the shouting of the crowds. They rush to 
 the windows. Some of the court also look out. Those 
 who are in the hall, repeat what is said outside, at first 
 in undertones, then loudly.] 
 
 FouQuiER-TiNviLLE. The riot is beginning. We'll 
 be torn to pieces. 
 
 VADIER. Don't allow the shouting to influence the 
 jury. Go and tell them. [They go out. The People 
 shout angrily at VADIER and FOUQUIER-TINVILLE, who 
 enter the jury-room.] 
 
 JUDGE [terror-stricken]. Citizens, the dignity of 
 the Tribunal Respect for justice [The shout- 
 ing drowns out his last words.] They are coming! 
 We shall all be massacred! [He shrinks toward the 
 door, where he takes hold of the knob. The People, in 
 fury, tear up benches and throw them toward the 
 judges 9 benches, shouting threats of death. Enter 
 SAINT-JUST. The People are somewhat intimidated,
 
 234 DANTON 
 
 and are silent. SAINT-JUST looks at them, coldly, and 
 they fall back. There is dead silence for a few seconds, 
 then murmurs are heard here and there. VADIER enters 
 a moment after, and takes advantage of the calm to 
 speak. ~\ 
 
 VADIEE. Citizens, the Committee on Provisions and 
 Necessities [the People are silent] takes this occasion 
 to announce to the public the arrival of a large amount 
 of grain and wood at the port of Bercy. [A great 
 clamor arises. People jostle one another in a wild 
 attempt to leave the hall. After a few moments, only 
 a small knot of curious onlookers remain. VADIER casts 
 a glance of irony at the People.] Their hearts are 
 good, but their stomachs better. [The Jury re- 
 enters. The monotony of the Judge's questions is 
 drowned by the last stragglers. The noise outside 
 gradually subsides, and HERMAN'S voice becomes more 
 distinct. Sentence is passed in a death-like silence.] 
 
 JUDGE. Jurymen citizens, there was a conspiracy 
 which was to have brought dishonor upon the national 
 representatives, re-established the monarchy, and 
 through corruption destroy the Republican government. 
 Is Georges-Jacques Danton, solicitor, Deputy to the 
 National Convention, guilty of conspiracy against the 
 Republic ? 
 
 THE HEAD OF THE JURY. He is. 
 
 JUDGE. Is Lucie-Simplice-Camille Desmoulins, so- 
 licitor, Deputy to the Convention, guilty of conspiring 
 against the Republic? 
 
 THE HEAD OF THE JURY. He is. 
 
 JUDGE. Is Philippe-Fran9ois-Nazaire Fabre, known
 
 DANTON 235 
 
 as Fabre d'Eglantine, Deputy to the Convention, 
 guilty of conspiring against the Republic? 
 
 THE HEAD OF THE JURY. He is. 
 
 JUDGE. Is Pierre-Nicolas Philippeaux, former 
 judge, and Deputy to the Convention, guilty of con- 
 spiring against the Republic? 
 
 THE HEAD OF THE JURY. He is. 
 
 JUDGE. Is Marie-Jean Herault-Sechelles, attorney 
 general, and Deputy to the Convention, guilty of con- 
 spiring against the Republic? 
 
 THE HEAD OF THE JURY. He is. 
 
 JUDGE. Is Francis-Joseph Westermann, brigadier- 
 general, guilty of conspiring against the Republic? 
 
 THE HEAD OF THE JURY. He is. 
 
 FouQUiER-TiNviL^E. I demand the application of 
 the law. 
 
 JUDGE. Then the Tribunal condemns Georges- 
 Jacques Danton, Lucie-Simplice-Camille Desmoulins* 
 Marie-Jean Herault-Sechelles, Philippe-Fran9ois-Na- 
 zaire Fabre, known as Fabre d'Eglantine, Pierre- 
 Nicolas Philippeaux, and Francois-Joseph Wester-, 
 mann, to the death penalty. The Tribunal commands 
 that this sentence be communicated to them between' 
 the two wickets of the Conciergerie by the clerk of the 
 Tribunal, and that they be executed today, the six- 
 teenth of Germinal, in the Place de la Revolution. 
 [The People file out. Outside, the clamor becomes 
 more and more indistinct, SAINT-JUST, VADIER, and 
 BILLAUD-VARENNE look at each other in silence.] 
 
 VADIER. The rotten colossus at last laid low ! The 
 Republic can now draw a free breath.
 
 236 DANTON 
 
 BILLAUD-VARENNE [looking at SAINT-JUST fierce- 
 ly"] . The Republic will never be free until her dictators 
 have disappeared. 
 
 SAINT-JUST [looking straight at VADIER and BIL- 
 :LAUD-VAREN*JE] . The Republic will never be pure 
 until the vultures are no more. 
 
 VADIER [banteringty]. The Republic will never be 
 free or pure until the Republic is no more ! 
 
 SAINT-JUST. Ideas do not need men. Peoples pass 
 away in order that God may live. 
 
 END
 
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 A 001 157 502 4 
 
 UCLA-College Library 
 
 PQ 2635 R64Q2E 
 
 L 005 747 662 4 
 
 College 
 Library 
 
 PQ 
 
 2635