The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Goddess of Reason, by Mary Johnston

Transcriber's Note:

The cover image was created by the transcriber and is placed in the public domain.

THE GODDESS OF REASON

A DRAMA IN FIVE ACTS

THE
GODDESS
OF
REASON

BY

MARY JOHNSTON

BOSTON AND NEW YORK

HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY

MDCCCCVII

COPYRIGHT 1907 BY MARY JOHNSTON

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Published May 1907

TO

THE HOUSEHOLD AT WOODLEY

THIS DRAMA

IS AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ

• René-Amaury de Vardes, Baron of Morbec
• Rémond Lalain, Deputy from Vannes
• The Abbé Jean de Barbasan
• Count Louis de Château-Gui
• Captain Fauquemont de Buc
• Melipars de L’Orient
• Enguerrand La Fôret
• The Vidame de Saint-Amour
• The Englishman
• Grégoire
• Raôul the Huntsman
• A Sergeant of Hussars
• Yvette
• The Marquise de Blanchefôret
• Mlle. de Château-Gui
• Mme. de Vaucourt
• Mme. de Malestroit
• Mme. de Pont à L’Arche
• Sister Fidelis
• Sister Simplicia
• Sister Benedicta
• Nanon
• Céleste
• Angélique
• Séraphine
• An Actress

Guests of De Vardes; Peasants; Lackeys; Soldiers; Nuns; Young Girls; The Mob at Nantes; Participants in the Fête of the Goddess of Reason; Republican Commissioners; National Soldiers; Women of the Revolution; Royalist Prisoners; Gaolers; Judges; Executioners; etc., etc.

TIME 1791–1794

THE

GODDESS OF REASON

ACT I

The Château of Morbec in Brittany. A formal garden and a wide terrace with stone balustrade. In the background the château, white and peak-roofed, with great arched doors. Beyond it a distant prospect of a Breton village and of the sea beating against a dangerous coast. To the left a thick wood, to the right a perspective of garden alleys, fountains, and flowering trees. On the terrace a small table set with bread, fruit, and wine. In the angle formed by the level of the terrace and the wide stone steps leading into the garden the statue of a nymph, its high and broad pedestal draped with ivy. Scattered on the terrace and steps a litter of stones, broken cudgels, rusty and uncouth weapons. The sun shines, the trees wave in the wind, the birds sing, the flowers bloom. It is a summer morning in the year 1791.

Enter from one of the garden paths a lackey and Rémond Lalain. Lalain wears a riding dress with a tricolour cockade.

Lalain

Say to Monsieur the Baron of Morbec,

Rémond Lalain, the Deputy from Vannes,

In haste is riding north, but hath drawn rein—

Hearing to-day of Baron Henri’s death—

And audience craves that he may homage pay

To Morbec’s latest lord!

The Lackey

I go, monsieur!

[Exit the lackey.

Lalain

These gloomy towers!

[He muses as he paces the garden walk before the

terrace.

Mirabeau is dead!

Gabriel Riquetti, dead, I salute thee,

Great gladiator! Who treads now the sand

That yesterday was trod by Mirabeau?

Barnave, Lameth, ye are too slight of frame!

There’s Lafayette. No, no, mon général!

Robespierre? Go to, thou little man!

Jean Paul Marat, dog leech and People’s Friend?

Wild beast to fight with beast! Faugh! Down, Marat!

Who stands this course, why, that man’s emperor!

Now how would purple look upon Marat?

Jacques Danton?—Danton! Hot Cordelier!

Dark Titan forging to a Titan’s end!

Shake not thy black locks from the tribune there,

Nor rend the heavens with thy mighty voice!

‘Tis not for thee, the victor’s golden crown,

The voice of France—

[The doors of the château open. Enter three lackeys

bearing a great gilt chair, which they place with

ceremony at the head of the steps which lead from

the terrace into the garden.

First Lackey (stamping with his foot upon the terrace)

The gilded chair place here!

We always judge our peasants from this chair,

We lords of Morbec! North terrace, gilt chair!

Second Lackey

Baron Henri sat here the day he died!

First Lackey

Now Baron René takes his turn!

[They place the chair.

Lalain (as before)

Danton!

Why not Lalain? It is as good a name!

Mirabeau’s dead! Out of my way, Danton!

Third Lackey (gathering up the stones which lie

upon the terrace)

I’ll throw these stones into the shrubbery!

Second Lackey (lifting a rusty scythe from the steps)

This scythe I’ll fling into the fountain!

First Lackey (his hands in his pockets)

Hé!

One sees quite well that we have stood a siege!

[The lackeys gather up the stones, the sticks, the broken

and rusty tools and weapons.

Lalain

Where lives the man who doth not worship Might?

O Goddess All-in-All! make me thine own,

As the bright moon did make Endymion;

And I will rim thy Phrygian cap with stars,

And give thee for thy cestus the tricolour!

Enter Grégoire.

Grégoire

Monsieur Lalain!

Lalain (waving his hand)

My good Grégoire!

Grégoire (to the lackeys)

Despatch!

Monseigneur will be here anon!

[He glances at the stones, etc.

Rubbish!

Away with’t!

[Passing the statue of the nymph, he strikes it with

his hand.

Will you forever smile?

Stone lips that long have smiled at bitter wrong!

You might, my dear, have lost that smile last night!

First Lackey

Last night was something like!

Second Lackey (throwing the stones one by one into

the shrubbery)

Sangdieu! last night

My heart was water!

Grégoire

Ah, poltroon; your heart!

Third Lackey (making play with a broken stick)

Our baron’s a swordsman! His rapier flashed!

First Lackey

Keen as the blade of the Sieur de Morbec!

—And that is a saying old as the sea!

Second Lackey

Hard as the heart of the Sieur de Morbec!

—And that was said before the sea was made!

[They laugh.

Third Lackey (pointing to Lalain)

What’s he?

Grégoire

The advocate Rémond Lalain.

Third Lackey

A patriot?

Grégoire

Hotter than Lanjuinais!

Third Lackey

What does he at Morbec?

Grégoire

How should I know?

His home was once within the village there,

And now and then he visits the curé.

First Lackey

The curé! He visits Yvette Charruel!

Lalain (as before)

Mirabeau and I were born in the south.

Oh, the orange flower beside the wall!

And the shaken olives when Mistral wakes!

Grégoire

Once they were friends, Baron René and he;

The Revolution came between—

First Lackey (He sends a pike whirling into the

shrubbery)

Long live

The Revolution!

Grégoire

My friend, ‘twill live

Without thy bawling!

Third Lackey (arranging the bottles upon the small

table)

So! The red wine here,

The white wine there!

(To a fallen bottle.) Stand up, Aristocrat!

Lalain

The sun is high!

[He approaches the terrace and addresses the nearest

lackey.

How long must I await

The pleasure of Monsieur the Baron here?

The Lackey

Monsieur?

Lalain

Go, fellow, go! and to him say,

Rémond Lalain—

The Lackey

I go, monsieur!

[Exit the lackey.

Lalain

‘Tis well,

René de Vardes, to keep me waiting thus!

[Grégoire pours wine into a glass and descending

the steps offers it to Lalain.

Grégoire

The old vintage, Monsieur Lalain!

Lalain

Thanks, friend.

The day is warm.

[He raises the glass to his lips. Laughter and voices

from the winding garden paths.

What’s that?

Grégoire (shrugging)

More guests, no doubt!

The count, the vidame, and the young marquise!

All Morbihan felicitates Morbec,

And brings our baron bonbons and bouquets,

As if there were no hunger and no frost!

[A distant sound from the wood of harsh and complaining

voices.

Lalain

And that?

Grégoire

Soldiers and huntsmen beat the woods;

For half the village is in hiding there,

Having assayed last night to burn Morbec!

As if ‘twould burn! This time the soldiers came!

Mon Dieu! the times are bad.

Lalain (abruptly)

All the village!

Did Yvette Charruel—

Grégoire (shrugging)

Yvette!

First Lackey (from the terrace)

Yvette!

Second Lackey

I warrant monseigneur will hang Yvette!

[Lalain pours the wine upon the ground and throws

the glass from him. It shatters against the balustrade.

Laughter and voices. Guests appear in the garden

walks, the women in swelling skirts of silk or muslin,

powdered hair and large hats; the men in brocade

and silk with cane swords, or in hunting dress.

A Lady (curtseying)

Monsieur le Vicomte!

A Gentleman (bowing)

Madame la Baronne!

Mme. de Malestroit

A heavenly day.

Enguerrand La Fôret

No cloud in the sky.

The Vidame (saluting a gentleman)

Count Louis de Château-Gui!

Count Louis

Ah, monsieur!

[Presents his snuff-box.

Mme. de Pont à L’Arche

For laces I advise Louise. Fichus?

The Bleeding Heart above the flower shop.

The Vidame

—A lettre de cachet. To Vincennes he went!

Mme. de Malestroit

But ah! what use of laces or fichus!

We emigrate so fast there’s none to see!

The Englishman

I quote a great man—my Lord Chesterfield:

“Exist in the unhappy land of France

All signs that history hath ever shown”—

Mme. de Pont à L’Arche

The Queen wore carnation, Madame, pale rose,

The Dauphin—

Lalain

What do I in this galley?

(To Grégoire.) I’ll walk aside!

[Exit Lalain.

Count Louis (to Grégoire)

Was that Rémond Lalain?

Grégoire

It was, Monsieur le Comte.

Count Louis

Ah, scélérat!

The Vidame

The talked-of Deputy for Vannes?

La Fôret

Tribune

Eloquent as Antony!

Count Louis

Demagogue!

The Englishman

I heard him in the Jacobins. He spoke,

And then they went and tore a palace down!

Count Louis

Stucco!

Enter, laughing, Mlle. de Château-Gui, Melipars de

L’Orient, and Captain Fauquemont de Buc. De

L’Orient has in his hand a paper of verses.

My daughter and De L’Orient,

Captain Fauquemont de Buc!

Mlle. de Château-Gui

Messieurs, mesdames!

The poet and his verses!

The Company

Ah, verses!

Count Louis

Who is the fair, Monsieur de L’Orient?

Lalage or Laïs or little Fleurette?

Men sang of Célestine when I was young,—

Ah, Célestine, behind thy white rose tree!

De L’Orient

I do not sing of love, Monsieur le Comte!

Mlle. de Château-Gui

He sings of this day—

De Buc

The Eve of Saint John.

De L’Orient

It is a Song of Welcome to De Vardes!

De Buc

But yesterday poor Colonel of Hussars!