# The Fourteenth of July and Danton/The Fourteenth of July/Act I

ACT I
[The Garden of the Palais-Royal, seen from the Café de Foy. It is Sunday the 12th of July, 1789. At the back is the "Cirque"; at the right, a fountain, 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 cafés, 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, aristocrats, soldiers, priests, women, and children, ​some of whom play about between the legs of the others.]
News-criers.Great plot discovered! Famine, famine 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 coming! 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 Frenchman.
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 Minister, 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 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 everything. 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 Duc d'Orléans!" 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 ​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 Versailles?—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 him]."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 Bourgeois.The gambler's purse has no strings.
Gonchon.Young man, I see you are in trouble. To oblige you, I will lend you three écus on that chain.
Desmoulins.Generous Gonchon, do you want to strip me naked like St. John? Leave that to the ladies: they will do very well without your assistance.
Gonchon.You little guttersnipe, do you know whom you are addressing?
​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 reforming 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 Duc d'Orléans—two sides of the same head.
​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 Flanders are in the Plain of Grenelle, the artillery at Saint-Denis; the German cavalry at the École militaire. The Marshal, with all his aides-de-camp, is giving orders 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 stationed cannon at the Pont de Sèvres. 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 Workingman.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 Bourgeois.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?
Another.They're in already! And there's the Bastille; it's like a cancer—incurable!
A Workingman.The vile monster! Who will free us?
A Student.They've already made a company of Swiss Guards retreat today.
Another.Their cannon are in the Faubourg Saint-Antoine.
A Workingman.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 Workingman.I don't know how, but it's got to be done.
All [seriously and incredulously].Take the Bastille?[They turn to one another.]
News-criers [in the distance].Latest news! Desperate struggle!
A Man [shabby and pale, with the air of a maniac]. We haven't anything to fear from the soldiers. They wont 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 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.
Desmoulins.You're sick, my friend, you need attention.
A Workingman.There's truth in what he says, though. The Queen would be glad to see us all dead.
Desmoulins.Why so?
​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 hint 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 thrashing.
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 patriot!—Into the river!
Desmoulins.Citizens, it's only a joke.
The Crowd [furiously].To the river!
Hulin [bullying the Crowd].Here! [He stands ​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 Desmoulins.] 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 Théâtre-Français!—The Théâtre-Français!—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 Châtelet. 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 ​really think if you took it into your heads to try to make me cry Long live Comedy, I would cry Down with Molière! 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 certainly 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 theater! 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 ​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, Mademoiselle, but it's not the thing to set yourself against the poor like us, and side with the people who are exploiting 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, Mademoiselle—and I can see in your eyes that 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 ​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 Lorraine 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 Orléans!
Gonchon's Followers. Long live Orléans!
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? ​Who are you? Where do you come from? Who will guarantee you? I 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 aristocracy! [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 op the Crowd. Go on! [They applaud.]
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 ​give yourselves into the hands of the enemy. Behind each pillar, at the corner of each café, 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! Before 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 protest? If the aristocracy offered you gold and food, do you dare swear that you would not become aristocrats yourselves? You cannot silence me with your protestations. You will hear the truth. You are too accustomed to flatterers who court your favor and betray 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!
​La Contat. See! He's crying!
Marat. 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 applauding]. There's a real friend of the people! Long live Marat! [They surround him, put him on their shoulders 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 allowed 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, assumes a different expression as he listens to her. His face brightens, and he looks tenderly at the child, and takes her hands in his.]
​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 washerwoman. You had measles last winter. You were afraid. You cried as you lay in your little bed, because 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 understood 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]. Liberty.
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 themselves.]
​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 ​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 Comédie? [They go out laughing. The Crowd surges out. Marat and Hulin are down-stage alone; Marat stands, while Hulin sits at a café 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! Today, when their very lives are in danger, they think of nothing but performing for each other. I want nothing 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: ​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—Neuchâtel 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 counting 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?
​Marat. I serve no master: I serve humanity. But you are the valet of a corrupt man, a miserable aristocrat.
Hulin. I don't serve him because he is corrupt. You don't ask of your 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 corrupted 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 conscience.
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. It'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.
​Hulin. Will-power and intelligence are not currency 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 odious 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 satisfied 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 outstretched 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 ​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 revolutions—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 disdain]. 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 spectacles. He's a doctor from my country. One feels ​immediately 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 Marat with hit 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.
Hulin [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, ​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, but 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 education! 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 everyday sense! So much the worse for them! If they don't, it will be done without them!
​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 demanding 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 to be destroyed. And you, what are you going to do? ​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, Monsieur, don't you hear me, Leonidas? What'll we do to Artois?
The Urchin. The pillory!
​The Urchin. A flogging!
The Porter. And Condé?
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 Bastille, 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?
​Hoche. Who?
Hulin. Vintimille.
Vintimille. Messieurs, M. de Vintimille's upholsterer asks permission to speak.
The Crowd. Hear the upholsterer!
Vintimille. Messieurs, you are quite right in wishing 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 écus from the pocket of M. de Vintimille; and he asks you to consider 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 ​possesses a liberal mind, and she recognizes no privileges: 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 Madame!
Vintimille. Really, Messieurs, I am taking advantage—
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 [in 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.
​La Contat. Very well: at the Bastille. [Vintimille 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.
​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 triumph; 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 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 understand! 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 ​Versailles. 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!
Hulin. 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 thunder of applause, which drowns out the rest of the sentence.]
"Every man is born with inalienable and indefeasible ​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 oppression! [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 Robespierre.] 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 government is its work.—When the government violates the ​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 thunderbolt 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 catastrophe 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 ​lifeblood 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 Desmoulins, 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!—Scoundrels! 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.
​Gonchon [to his followers]. Let's take advantage of the occasion!
A Followee 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 outside 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 defender, our father! Cover him with crêpe! The Patrie is in mourning! [Gonchon and his followers come forth from the shop with the bust of the Duc d'Orléans. 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'Orléans.
Hulin. I'm going to break in his head, and those of his bearers.
​Hulin. Don't you know him?
Hoche. An Orléans? 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'Orléans' head with crêpe. A procession then forms, in absurdly solemn order. Silence. 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 surrounded 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 Orléans' bust, followed by the shopkeepers of the Palais-Royal. Then the rest of the Crowd. A great silence, 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 ​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.]