The Goddess of Reason 1

The Goddess of Reason 1

The Goddess of Reason

A Drama in Five Acts

Mary Johnston

 

_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?