Act III
Scene 1
[A Street. Enter Clevard and Thevenin.]
The.
Oh! Clevard, my heart is sinking within me. I met, this moment, leading to a mock trial,
(where Glandève, strong in the opposite party, sits as judge,) all the unhappy family of old
Tricastin—this city cannot boast a more virtuous man—ungrateful people! to whom he has been a friend, a parent.—There's not an indigent man in this whole town that ever implored his help in
vain; and I now behold those very villains, whom his late bounty fed, reviling
him as he passes along.
Clev.
But this he has strength of mind to bear, no doubt, with dignity?
The.
Unless when he turns towards his son, who follows close behind—then I can see his countenance change, the tears gush to his eyes, and stream
down his furrowed cheeks. At this the rabble triumph! [Several shouts are heard.]
Clev.
They are coming this way; I'll join them, and be a spectator of all that
passes.
The.
I would as soon be—a sufferer. [Exeunt severally.]
Scene 2
[A Hall, or large Chamber. Glandève sitting as President; a crowd of persons attending.]
Glan.
You have done me honour, brother citizens, in selecting me for Judge on this
occasion; and, I trust, all my decrees will do honour to the confidence
you have placed.
[A shout from the rabble without; after which, enter Dugas and Guret, followed by Tricastin, and all those (except Madame Tricastin and her attendants) who concluded the preceding Act.]
Dug.
President, here is a family whom I accuse of being traitors.
Glan.
Put each, in his turn, to the bar.
Dug.
This is Tricastin the elder. [Putting him forward.]
Glan [After a pause.]
A few days ago, when I inquired, you told me, Dugas, you knew this man to be a
peaceable citizen.
Dug.
I have since changed my mind.
Glan.
Then, what do you think, my friends, [to the spectators] is it not better that we wait a few days longer before we put Tricastin on his
trial? for in that time the witness may possibly change his mind again.
Dug.
No, I am fixed.
Glan.
And so am I, to wait.—Officers, take the prisoner into your custody; and on your duty protect him from
all violence, till I and my friends here call for him to appear. [He is taken to the other side of the hall.]
Dug.
I thought, Glandève, you were the sworn friend of Liberty?
Glan.
And so I am—Liberty, I worship.—But, my friends, 'tis liberty to do good, not ill—liberty joined with peace and charity.
Dug.
But, if you mean to protect the father, you surely cannot think to save the
son? [Placing him forward.] Every one present knows the crimes of Eusèbe.
Glan.
What are they?
Dug.
All know—he does not think with us.
Glan.
And how long (answer me, some of my friends,) has it been a capital offence to think as you please? If I am a friend to freedom, my first object is, freedom of thought
Dug.
Do you then dispute the voice of the people? 'Tis they, who relying on the
wisdom of their leaders, demand the forfeit life of those who are pointed
out.—Orders, received from persons authorised to give them, should be implicitly obeyed.
Glan.
This reasoning accords with military rules, when an army is prepared to give
an enemy battle—but, suppose there should be issued an order for such an army to turn against
itself, and each man slay his brother soldier; I trust, I hope, they would
all imagine some fatal frenzy had seized the commander-in-chief, and every
one lay down his arms, rather than massacre his comrade.
Dug.
But if there are amongst them culprits to punish—
Glan.
Their trials should be conducted with all due form—a sedate dignity preside over the whole—the judge be studied in all points of law, and every supposed enemy expelled
the jury. But here, a frantic whim directs the most momentous parts:—a judge is elected with no other qualification than being deemed the prisoners'
adversary—the jury has the self-same recommendation.—Unthinking man! know you what you are doing? That rash, that ignorant tribunal
which beheads your foe to-day, may hang you up to-morrow.
[He rises and comes forward to Tricastin and his party.]
My fellow-citizens! disperse your fears—I accepted the office of judge, not to condemn, but to preserve you; and these [pointing to the persons attending in court] are a chosen set of men, whom I convened for the purpose of defeating the blind
fury of your enemies.
Tri.
Virtuous Glandève! who, from a supposed adversary, art become a saviour! behold me and my son
at your feet, acknowledging our admiration and our gratitude. [They kneel.]
Eus.
I here dedicate to you the remainder of my life—mine, and my infant children's.
Dug.
Glandève, you are now, by your own confession, surrounded by men whom you have packed
for your purpose: but I have friends without, treble their number; and when
I give the word, so far from protecting these traitors, you'll not be able
to defend yourself.
Glan.
Wicked man! I scorn your power.
Dug. [Calling with a loud voice at the side of the scenes.]
Advance, my friends!—we are betrayed!—force in, and take your vengeance!
Eus.
Barbarous villain! here end your crimes.
[He draws his dagger, and runs swiftly to Dugas to stab him; Glandève flies to Dugas, and screens him with his own person.]
Glan. [To Eusèbe.]
Vindictive man, hold!—Rather strike here! [to his own breast,] for I trust in heaven I am less unprepared to die than he.
Dug. [Aside.]
Protected by him!
Eus.
I blush at my mistaken zeal; and at your feet, noble Glandève, resign that instrument of death which I had sworn never to part from.
Dug.
And at this moment it might be of use to you; for, behold these soldiers,
who are under my command.
[A band of soldiers, with Colonel Rochelle at their head, instantly rush in.]
Dug. [To the Colonel.]
Well, Sir, you and your brave men have, I find, received my orders, and my
signal for entering here. These are all your victims.
Roch.
Yes, Sir, my brave men have received your commands; and this is their brave
reply:—They are all men of courage—all ready to enter the field of battle against an insulting foe, and boldly kill
him; but, amongst the whole battalion, we have not one hangman. *
Glan.
They are my soldiers then, and no longer yours. [to Dugas]—My generous men, [to the soldiers] fly through the town, and instantly protect all those of the persecuted party!
Roch.
That we have done already, and have recovered dead corses of many from the
ferocious mob. Here, close to the door of this hall, stretched on a bier,
my soldiers bear a lovely matron butchered, with her two children by her
side—we snatched her from the hands of her assassins before her beauteous body was
disfigured: and lest they should regain it from our possession, I ordered
the corpse (followed by her mournful attendants) to be surrounded by a
party of our men, till we had leisure to deposit it in the family burial-place.
[A bier is brought in, followed by several domestic attendants and some soldiers.—On the bier is laid the dead body of Madame Tricastin, and two children dead, by her side. Eusèbe stands like a statue of horror at the sight.—After the bier has been set down a little time, he goes to it.]
Eus.
For what have I been preserved? Oh! night that I escaped through torrents
of blood, at Paris—far, far less horrible than this day to me! Father, behold your grand-children
by their mother's side, and own your son was born for greater anguish than
human nature can support!
Roch. [Going slowly, respectfully, and timidly up to Eusèbe.]
This distraction makes me not doubt but you are the unhappy father of these
infants, and husband of this lady. I was so fortunate as to be some consolation
to her in her last moments, and received her parting words. The crowd had
entered and encompassed your house, and she had called repeatedly for assistance
before I was able to make a passage to her through the multitude:—when I did, her desire to save her life had subsided; for, she had beheld her
two children slain. The eldest, to the last, she held fast by the band—the youngest she pressed violently to her bosom, and, struggling to preserve,
received the murderer's blow through its breast, to her own. Tell Eusèbe (she cried as I came up) I die contented, with my children; and entreat him
not to grieve at what he may think I suffered at my death; for my pain,
except for him I leave behind, is trivial.
Eus.
Dying saint! This was to calm my despair.
Tri.
And suffer it to have its effects. I know and feel your loss, my son, and
I feel my own. Oh! had she been but under this good man's shelter—[to Glandève.]
Con.
But when was joy superlative? Our unlooked-for release from death had been
happiness supreme, but for this abatement.
Glan.
My friends, I conjure you to take every care that the perpetrators of this
barbarous outrage are secured. This man [to Dugas] and his, followers shall be made prisoners till our researches prove successful.—Then, the good (of all parties) will conspire to extirpate such monsters from
the earth. It is not party principles which cause this devastation; 'tis
want of sense—'tis guilt—for the first precept in our Christian laws is charity—the next obligation—to extend that charity EVEN TO OUR ENEMIES.
[The bier is carried off in slow procession—Tricastin and Eusèbe following as mourners, and the attendants singing a dirge.]
* A well-known reply sent by a commander, to the orders be had received from Court
at the massacre of St. Bartholomew: 'Dans tout le militaire,
il ne s'est trouvé que des hommes courageux, prîts à voler aux actions les plus périlleuses, mais pas un seul bourreau'. (back)
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