  A square in Nantes. On the left the deep porch of a church with pillars. To the right and in the background, a perspective of streets with tall, many-windowed houses. Opposite the church a great plaster statue of Liberty. Over the church door is written in white lettering: “The Republic One and Indivisible. Liberty, Equality, Fraternity or Death. National Property.” A distant view of the Loire. Men and women in holiday garb, wearing liberty caps and great tricoloured cockades, cross and recross the square. Life, movement, colour. Red the dominant note. It is the year 1794. Hoarse voices within. Hawkers of Revolutionary journals cross the square. A Hawker Le Journal des Jacobins! Another Le Discours De la Lanterne! Enter GrÉgoire. A Third L’Orateur du Peuple! A Fourth Le pÈre Duchesne! Le PÈre Duchesne! Here!— [He buys a paper. And what to-day says PÈre Duchesne? The Hawker He says That Paris envies Nantes her Carrier! GrÉgoire Humph! A Hawker La Bouche de Fer! Another Les Actes des ApÔtres! A Citizen I’ll buy the Actes. Another I’ll buy the Bouche de Fer. [Enter a man with a long brush and a pot of paste. He proceeds to cover the wooden base of the Statue of Liberty with placards. The Crowd The placards! The placards! A Breton Sailor I cannot read! [He catches by the arm a man in a long cloak, with a broad hat pulled low over his face. Prithee, Citizen, what says the placard? It says Duport is dead; Biron is dead; Barnave is dead. The Crowd Ha, ha! Biron! Barnave! A Man Through the little window they’ve looked at last! À bas les Aristocrats! Vive la Guillotine! Another Ah, here in Nantes we drown them in the Loire! The Crowd Vive Carrier! Vive Lambertye! Vive Lalain! [The man with the brush affixes a second placard. The Breton And this, Citizen? The Man in the Cloak D’Alleray is dead; Bailly is dead; Du Barry is dead. The Crowd Ha! A Woman Ho! ho! The courtesan, she’ll kiss no more! The Crowd She’ll kiss no more! [The man with the brush affixes the third placard. And this one, Citizen? The Man in the Cloak (reads) The Republic One and Indivisible. It is Decreed There is no God. To-day we worship Reason. [The crowd applauds. A Man In a red mantle! Another That’s the Paris Reason! Our Reason wears blue. A Third And oak leaves in her hair. The Breton Is Reason truly a woman? The Man in the Cloak God knows! A Man Ha! he says God! God is a word forbid! The Man in the Cloak Then Reason knows. A Man That’s better. [Singing within. A band of dancers, men and women, whirl into the square. Carmagnole! The Dancers Dansons la Carmagnole! Vive le son, vive le son! Dansons la Carmagnole! Vive le son du canon! [The crowd breaks and joins the dancers. They take hands and with uncouth and extravagant gestures circle once or twice around the statue, then with a long cry exeunt. A Woman The great procession forms upon the quai! Another It winds and winds about and comes this way! [Exeunt men and women. GrÉgoire and the man in the cloak remain. GrÉgoire The priests are gone. It is Reason’s fÊte day. The Man in the Cloak Reason, being a woman, will have her way. GrÉgoire Still, Monsieur l’AbbÉ— The AbbÉ I am known! To serve Monsieur, I had the honour at Morbec. The AbbÉ Monsieur le Baron’s seneschal, I think. GrÉgoire The same,—but I am gaoler now in Nantes. The AbbÉ That night in June your musket would not fire! Diable! I’ve played and lost! Well, fellow? GrÉgoire Hein? The AbbÉ The wind blows cold in Nantes, and so I wear This cloak! So long I’ve looked on fires of hell I needs must have a hat to shade my eyes!— But now I’ll cock it in the face of all— Cold, wind, darkness, devils, and Republic! GrÉgoire I think the citizen has lost his head. The AbbÉ Ay, and my heart as well. HolÀ! what’s that? [A noise without. Clash of steel and excited voices. Enter De Vardes and Fauquemont de Buc pursued by seven or eight red-capped men armed with pikes. De Vardes and De Buc use their swords. The Red Caps Aristocrats! Aristocrats! Take that, Republican! De Buc (thrusting) Out, canaille! The AbbÉ Here’s wine! Have at you, brow-bound galley slaves! De Vardes (over his shoulder) Ha! De Barbasan! [Wounds his adversary. We’re at our last chÂteau! The AbbÉ I’ve shut Voltaire! Here goes the candle out! [He throws his long cloak over the head of one of the red caps and makes at another with his dagger. De Vardes The window splinters! [He sends the pike flying from a red cap’s hand. Take warning, sans-culottes! The AbbÉ One, two, three! De Buc My sword arm! De Vardes Fight with your left. I saw you do it at Nanci! Ah! Ça ira, Ça ira, Ça ira! Les Aristocrats À la Lanterne! De Vardes O Richard, O mon Roi, L’univers t’abandonne! [A howl from the mob. The Mob Aristocrats! GrÉgoire (from the statue) Desperate! [The red caps, De Vardes, The AbbÉ, and De Buc fight across the stage and exeunt. GrÉgoire follows them. Voices (within) Ça ira! Enter women and children of the Revolution. A Woman Upon the church steps I will take my stand! Another I have brought my knitting. A Third And I. A Fourth And I. We are the tricoteuses! Dyed wool we knit while rumbles by the cart. Knit! knit! all knitting in the sun. We are the tricoteuses! Red wool we knit while soul and body part. Knit! knit! the knitting now is done! [They seat themselves upon the church steps. A Child Maman! Maman! how many carts will pass? A Woman None, sweeting, none! It is a holiday. Enter CÉleste, AngÉlique, and Nanon. Nanon It was the very night of the great storm From those dull convent walls she ran away! CÉleste Two years agone— AngÉlique Would she had stayed! Nanon Ah, then, You had been Goddess, AngÉlique! AngÉlique The witch! With her dark skin and with her purple flower! Let her beware! I know a thing or two! I know who comes from Paris back to Nantes! This morning on the quai I saw him! Nanon (eagerly) Is’t That ci-devant, that black Aristocrat, De Vardes? CÉleste The man your brother loves? The same. Nanon I spit upon his name! CÉleste Denounced! Nanon The set of sun Will see him so, or my name’s not Nanon! CÉleste The Loire—the Loire will close above his head! Enter SÉraphine. SÉraphine Whose head? Nanon The Citizen Vardes. SÉraphine Monseigneur! He’s in the prison of La Force at Paris!— One truly told me so—He’s not in Nantes. And if he were— SÉraphine (stammering) Why—why— Nanon And if he were, You would not give him up! I know you well! I know you, SÉraphine! SÉraphine And if you do, You know no ill of me, Citoyenne! CÉleste Yvette Would not give him up either. AngÉlique No, i’ faith! I’ll take my oath on that! SÉraphine Your oath, lint-locks! It’s worth a deal, your oath! Your mind I know! You would be Goddess, you and not Yvette! AngÉlique Let her beware! SÉraphine Yvette! She’s coming now! Bright as the star that’s highest in the night! And all the men have turned astronomers! Faith! ‘tis easy work to worship Reason, When Reason is a woman, and that fair! I’ve seen her gather seaweed on the shore! SÉraphine And now she gathers hearts in her two hands. AngÉlique Oh! oh! Nanon Would that my brother hated her! Disdainful prude! CÉleste Oh, love may turn to hate. She’s Goddess now, but wait, but wait, but wait! Nanon I join my brother at the Olive Tree. Come, AngÉlique, CÉleste! [Exeunt Nanon, AngÉlique, CÉleste. SÉraphine Were’t not too late, I’d warn monseigneur just for old time’s sake! When all is said and done, old times are best; He gave us back Lisette, he fed us all— Eh! ‘twere a pity. What now? Who’s this? Enter hurriedly The Marquise. She looks over her shoulder as if fearing pursuit, then, drawing her cloak and hood closely about her, attempts to cross the square unobserved. Enter a rabble of men and women. The Mob Ah! Ça ira, Ça ira, Ça ira! Les Aristocrats À la Lanterne. Les Aristocrats on les pendra! A Tricoteuse She hides Her face. Another She draws her cloak about her! The First Ho! Her hand is white and there’s a jewel on’t! A Man (accosting The Marquise) Citoyenne! The Marquise Citoyen— The Man Citoyenne, come! Join our ronde patriotique, our carillon! The Marquise Sainte GeneviÈve! The Man What? A Woman (her hand upon The Marquise) Where’s your cockade? Another Woman Show! [Music. The great tricolour flag of the Republic is borne across the stage. La patrie! Vive la patrie! De Vardes France! France! [Stately music. Enter young men in Greek dress, bearing a gilded framework upon which is fixed a tall flambeau, wreathed with flowers. They advance and place the structure before the church steps. A Peasant Brave! But what is it? Another The torch of Reason! The Goddess lights it,—then we worship her! A Third No, we worship Reason! The Second ‘Tis the same thing! [Enter young girls clad in white, linked together with tricolour ribbons and carrying osier baskets from which they scatter flowers. They are followed by children swinging censers, then by a shouting throng drawing a triumphal car upon which sits the Goddess of Reason. She is clothed in a white tunic and a blue mantle; upon her loosened hair is a wreath of oak leaves and she has in her hand a light spear. The Crowd Reason! Reason!—Yvette! Yvette! Mon Dieu! [The car stops. Yvette rises. The Crowd Vive la dÉesse! Vive Yvette! (Lalain comes forward.) Vive Lalain! Lalain People of Nantes! Citoyens! Patriots! Old things are past. To-day we welcome new. Gone are the priests, gone is the crucifix; Chalice and paten whelmed beneath the Loire! Kings, princes, nobles, priests, all crumbled down! Death on a pale horse hath ridden o’er them, The ravens and the sea mews pick their bones. Theirs are the yesterdays, the ci-devants! The red to-day is ours, the purple morrow!— Liberty, Equality, Fraternity! We worship Thee, Triune and Indivisible!— O Mother Nature, pure, beneficent, Redeemed from darkness of the centuries, Smile on thy children, come to worship thee! And thou, supernal Reason, Crown of Man, Eyes of the blind, divine, ascending flame, Pearl without price, rose, light, music, warmth!— O gushing spring where else were desert waste! O flooding light, celestial melody! O flower that blooms on either side the grave! O steadfast star that burns the night away! We worship thee! [He takes the censer from a boy and swings it to and fro before the standing goddess. Clouds of incense arise. The trumpets sound. We worship thee, Yvette! Yvette! Yvette! Reason! Yvette Charruel! Yvette O God! I knew not ‘twas like this! Lalain Reason, descend! Illume thy torch, among us mortals dwell. O sweetest Reason! ne’er regret the skies! Descend— [He gives his hand to Yvette. She descends from the car. A Man She is the fairest Reason! Another Now She’ll light the torch! [A boy brings her lighted touchwood. Lalain fastens it to the point of her spear, and kneeling presents it to her. She advances to the church steps and raises the flaming lance in order to light the torch. She sees De Vardes. The spear falls to the earth. The flame goes out. Yvette O Our Lady! The Crowd Light the torch! Light the torch! Lalain What witchcraft’s this? None, none!—Oh, see the heavens open! [Murmurs of the crowd. AngÉlique Goddess! Goddess! CÉleste She hears not! The Crowd Light the torch! Lalain I see Hell gaping! What’s that man to thee? Death and damnation! Dost still gaze at him? Then to the winds, Irresolution! [He turns to the crowd. See, Patriots, see! The light of Reason dies! Out went the sacred flame beneath the eyes, The basilisk eyes of an Aristocrat! The Crowd Away with him to prison! Death! The Loire! Death to the emigrÉ! [A rush toward the church steps. De Vardes throws himself on guard. Yvette comes between him and the mob. Yvette Back! The Mob Ah—h—h! Art mad? Stand from between the lion and his prey! De Vardes (to the mob) Men of Nantes! leave women to one side! (To Yvette with a gesture toward the car.) Goddess of Reason! Mount Olympus waits! (To Lalain.) At last, RÉmond Lalain! Lalain RenÉ de Vardes! [A man strikes at De Vardes with a long pike. His sword arm falls, and the sword rattles to the ground. A shout of triumph from the mob. The Marquise’s cry from the pillar is not heard. The mob moves forward. Yvette Back, back, I say! You’ll do no murder here! What! One man against a score!—All Bretons! The Mob Death to the emigrÉ! Yvette In Paimpont Wood the trees are greening now, In sun and shade the purple violets blow! De Vardes In those old convent days, ah, ages gone! Beneath the fruit trees, by the fountain there, I’ve seen thee nurse a little fluttering bird, Wounded and frightened, fallen from the blue, But yet God’s bird, and with a life to save! And thou didst stroke its plumage tenderly, And gently fostered it between thy hands Awhile, and up it soared into the blue; A moment since and thou didst save my life. Lo now, there is another thing to do! Before my own life, I’ve a life in charge, In this wild town thou rulest o’er the hour; Be now the goddess and the woman too, Pitiful, tender, generous, and true!— Lo! here a wounded bird— [He moves aside. The Marquise leaves the shadow of the pillar. Yvette Death of my life! The Marquise Oh, guard me, all ye saints! De Vardes Yvette! Yvette! [Lalain comes forward from the statue. Lalain (to Yvette) Right of the Seigneur! Yvette So! Thou hast returned, Beneath the trees, along the moonlit road! And in thine arms the rose and eglantine, And on thy lips the song of all the birds! Back! There is a furze field bars thy way! The Marquise Mon Dieu! Yvette Hast thou another fan to break? Ha! shrinkest thou? Sainte GeneviÈve! Yvette (raising her voice) Nantes! Nantes! De Vardes By all the gods!— Yvette À moi! À moi! Nantes! [An answering cry from within. De Vardes Herd girl of Morbec— Lalain Right of the Seigneur! Yvette À moi! Citoyens! Patriots! ReËnter mob. De Vardes Courage, Clarice! The Marquise O all ye saints! Yvette Citoyens! This ci-devant, this black Aristocrat! Oh! all this while she was in hiding here! Do I not know her laughter, rippling sweet Or o’er a broken fan or broken heart, Or in green Morbec and a garden fair, Or on the moonlit road to ancient Vannes?— She, she the ci-devant, the emigrÉe! Who to false England with her jewels fled,— Rubies, emeralds, and long strings of pearls! The while in barren fields her peasants starved!— I denounce the Citoyenne BlanchefÔret! The Crowd Ah—h—h! The Marquise O terror! De Vardes Thy hand in mine, Clarice! Yvette |
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