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

ACT II
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 Lucile's house. A convolvulus twines itself about the balcony support, and clambers along the wall. The street is lighted by candles, placed on the window-sills. Sounds from blacksmith shops—hammers pounding 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 Workingman [with his bed on his back]. Here, use this. It's my bed.
The Mason. Are you sleeping here?
The Workingman. I will before long, with a bullet in me.
​The Workingman. If the brigands pass here, we won't need anything. Our beds are made elsewhere.
A Carpenter. Help me stretch this cord.
An Apprentice. What for?
A Carpenter. To trip the horses.
A Printer. Hey, Camuset?
Another. Yes?
The Printer. Listen.
The Other. What?
The Printer. Don't you hear?
The Other. I hear anvils. They're making pikes in all the blacksmith shops.
The Printer. No, not that. There— [He points to the ground.]
The Other. There?
The Printer. Yes, under the ground. [He lies down, with his ear to the ground.]
The Other. You're dreaming!
The Workingman [lying down]. Sounds like mining.
The Other. Good Lord, they're going to blow us up!
The Carpenter [incredulously]. Nonsense!
The Workingman [still on the ground]. They've hidden millions of pounds of powder there.
The Other Workingman. That's why we can't find any.
The Carpenter. Do you think an army can go about underground like rats?
The Workingman [still on the ground]. They've ​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 whistles! 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.
​The Carpenter. I don't know, but it's so. Courage, 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 daylight before entering.
The Mason. What time is it?
The Woman. Three. Listen, the cocks are crowing.
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 Carpenter. They keep putting us off at the Hôtel 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 [at 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!
​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 pardon 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 ​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 communication with Versailles.
The Mason. He's the one who organized the Bourgeois 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 depend 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 disappears, 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 warning 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!
​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. [Lucile 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 Desmoulins? Wonderful speech!—How well you spoke! I cried! Fine little fellow!—Monsieur Desmoulins, let me shake hands with you!—Long live Monsieur Desmoulins! Long live our little Camille!
Gonchon [enters, in the uniform of a Captain of the Bourgeois Militia, followed by his patrol.] What the ​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 [with vehemence]. That's not your affair. 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 barricade? Try it!
The Carpenter. Listen to me, Captain, and attend 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?
​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 disperse. Desmoullns 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! Arrest that fellow!
Robespierre [entering]. Sacrilege! Who dares lift a hand against the founder of Liberty?
Desmoulins. Ah, Robespierre! Thanks.
Gonchon [releasing Desmoulins—aside]. A Deputy! 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?
Robespierre. Robespierre.
The Man. I don't know you.
Robespierre. Deputy from Arras.
The Man. Show your card.
​The Man. The little fellow with the cockade? Pass, comrade.
Desmoulins [pointing to Robespierre]. He is with me.
The Man. Pass, you, too, citizen Robert Pierre.
Desmoulins [fatuously]. Admire the power of eloquence, 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.]
​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 together, they form committees and spoil good paper with their rules and regulations! "Show your papers!" 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 respect 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—I must watch over them; they are working for me. Everybody is equal, equal and free, God, I ​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!
Hulin [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. Desmoulins is making jokes and spouting Latin. Robespierre, with his long face, declares he'll sacrifice himself. 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!
​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 mixture. But I don't care: I'm always hoping, and sometimes I'm wrong. This time, Hulin, something good's come to me. The wind has shifted, and luck is with us.
Hulin [chaffingly]. 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 ​through here, and have cleaned up Paris and France, why not go the lot of us, arm-in-arm, soldiers, bourgeois, Tom, Dick, and Harry, and clean up Europe? We aren't selfish: we don't want all the fun for ourselves. 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.
​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 vagabonds 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 Vintimille]. 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. ​Signed by the Committee of the Hôtel de Ville. Countersigned by the Captain of the Bourgeois Militia, Gonchon.
The Man. Good joke! Anybody can buy those. [He grumblingly 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?
​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 talcing the money, jumps upon Vintimille. Hulin pulls him away]. 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 Vintimille]. 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 because 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 up.]
Hulin. Where are you going?
The Man. Get drunk—and forget.
​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. Anyway, I dislike violence, and I don't believe in revolution. 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 numerous and insolent they are, the better, say I.
Hulin. Better for whom?
Vintimille. For us. Our age is rotten with sentimentality. 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 disorders 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 ​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 create quite a disturbance.
Hulin. What if they began with you?
Vintimille. The idea!
Hulin. Do you know what I'd like to do this instant?
Vintimille. No.
Hulin. 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 yourself, 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 conscience. As you say, you are an honest man. Good-by. [He goes.]
Hulin. He's making game of me. He knows me.​—It's true, those villains will always have the better of us honest people, because they're used to giving orders, 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. Desmoulins, Robespierre, and their friends come forth from the café 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 outstretched 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!
​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 taking 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: ​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 Guards. 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 something 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.]
​Hoche [takes his hand and smiles]. How tiresome it must be to suspect people! I'd rather die.
Marat [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.
Marat [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 dangers 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. Soldiers, become again part of the People. And you, People, all of you, become the Army; defend yourselves, 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 Soldiers [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 enthusiasm waxes into a pandemonium, and is increased with ​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 Liberty! 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.]
​La Contat. Oh, oh, 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 nursing her child. Is it amusing to see them starve? You think it a good comedy to see these people, without 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 Nicomède 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 ​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.
​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 few 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 applaud 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! ​Monument 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! Coward!—Cut-throat! [They shake their fists at the Bastille, and shout until they are hoarse. Hulin, Robespierre, 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!
​A Workingman [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-Geneviève. 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 Curé de Saint-Étienne-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!
​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 representative 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 ​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 Bastille. Are you not defending the people, you Bourgeois 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 Duc d'Orléans. 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-Geneviève to outwit us. Let Saint-Antoine not remain idle while Saint-Jacques does her share! Ring your bells, beat your drums, ​and call out the citizens. [To the Electors and Deputies.] You, citizens, guard the Hôtel 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 Mother. 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 Mother. 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 ​lips, begins singing one of the national songs of the day]:
"Oh, come, Thou god of Liberty
And fill our souls this day—"
Hoche [laughing]. Do you hear the little sparrow? [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. Gonchon 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?
​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?
Lucile. 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 did you do 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 Demosthenes! And you were able to speak before that great ​crowd? Weren't you at all nervous? Didn't you forget 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 tyrants—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 masters, 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! ​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 unhappy?
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 ​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 remember 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 future holds in store for us?
Lucile [putting her hand over his mouth]. Camille!
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.
​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 voice and looks at Lucile.] Poor child! [He stands still a moment, looking at the pair. The sound of nearby drums awakens Lucile. She catches sight of Robespierre and quickly jumps up.]
Lucile. Oh!
Camille. What's the matter, Lucile? He is our friend Maximilien.
Robespierre [bows to Lucile]. Didn't you recognize 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, ​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 fusillades.]
Robespierre [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!