THE SECRETARY: Yes, I suppose we must. [She opens her notebook and starts turning over the pages with a certain listlessness.]
NADA: Why, of course we must! We are on the right track, that’s sure. To abide by the regulations or not to abide by them—there you have all philosophy and ethics in a nutshell. But in my opinion, if Your Honor will permit me to express it, we don’t go far enough.
THE PLAGUE: You talk too much.
NADA: That’s because I’m bubbling over with enthusiasm, and while I’ve been with you I have learned quite a lot. Suppression—that’s always been my gospel. But until now I had no good arguments to back it up. Now I have the regulations on my side.
THE PLAGUE: But the regulations do not suppress everything. Watch your step, my man, you’re not in line.
NADA: Mind you, there were rules and regulations before you came on the scene. But no one had had the idea of an all-embracing regulation, a sum total of all accounts, with the human race put on the index, all life replaced by a table of contents, the universe put out of action, heaven and earth at last devalued and debunked.…
THE PLAGUE: Go back to your work, you drunken sot. And you, my dear, get busy.
THE SECRETARY: How shall we start?
THE PLAGUE: Oh, at random. That way it’s more impressive.
[The SECRETARY strikes out two names. Two thuds in quick succession; two men fall. The crowd surges back; the workers stop work and gaze at the dead men with dismay. Plague Guards rush up, replace the stars on the doors, close windows, pile the corpses up on the side.]
DIEGO [at the back of the stage; quietly]: Long live death! You no longer frighten us.
[The crowd surges forward. The men start work again. The Guards retreat. Same action as before, but in reverse. The wind whistles each time the crowd moves forward, and dies away when the Guards return.]
THE PLAGUE: Eliminate that man.
THE SECRETARY: Impossible.
THE PLAGUE: Why?
THE SECRETARY: He has ceased being afraid.
THE PLAGUE: You don’t say so! Does he know?
THE SECRETARY: He has suspicions.
[She strikes out some names. Dull thuds. The crowd surges back. Same action as before.]
NADA: Splendid! They’re dying like flies. Ah, if only we could blow up the whole world!
DIEGO [calmly]: Go to the help of those who fall [Some movements of the crowd, in reverse.]
THE PLAGUE: That fellow is really going too far.
THE SECRETARY: As you say, he’s going far.
THE PLAGUE: Why do you sound so sad about it? You haven’t by any chance let him know how things stand, have you?
THE SECRETARY: No. He must have found that out for himself. A sort of clairvoyance.
THE PLAGUE: He may have clairvoyance, but I have the means of action. We shall have to try new tactics. I leave their choice to you.
[Goes out.]
CHORUS [flinging off the gags]: Ah! [A huge sigh of relief.] This is the beginning of the end, the strangle hold is loosening, the sky is clearing, the air growing breathable. Listen! You can hear it again, the murmur of the streams that the black sun of the plague had dried up. Summer is passing, and soon we shall no longer have the grapes of the vine arbor, nor melons, green beans, and fresh salad. The water of hope is softening the hard earth and promising us the solaces of winter—roast chestnuts, corn with the grains still green, tender walnuts, milk simmering on the hearth.
CHORUS OF WOMEN: Ignorant as we are, this much we know—that too high a price should not be paid for these good things. Everywhere in the world, and whoever be the master, there will always be fresh fruit for the plucking, the poor man’s cup of wine, a fire of vine twigs at which we can warm our hands, waiting for better times.…
[The JUDGE’S DAUGHTER jumps out of a window in the Judge’s house, runs across to the group of women and hides among them.]
THE SECRETARY [coming down toward the crowd]: Really you’d think we were in the midst of a revolution. But that is not the case, as you are well aware. Anyhow, it’s not the masses who launch revolutions nowadays, and it’s no use trying to put the clock back. Modern revolutions don’t need insurgents. The police attend to everything, even to the overthrow of the government in power. And, when you think of it, isn’t that a great improvement? That way the common people can take it easy, while some kind souls do all the thinking for them and decide what modicum of welfare they can do with.
THE FISHERMAN: I’ve half a mind to knock that damned eel on the head and rip her guts out.
THE SECRETARY: So, my good friends, wouldn’t you do best to let it go at that? Once a government has settled in, it always costs more than it’s worth to change it. Even if the present system strikes you as intolerable, there’s always the hope of getting some concessions.
A WOMAN: What concessions?
THE SECRETARY: How can I tell? But surely you women realize that every upheaval costs a lot of suffering, and a good appeasement often pays better than a ruinous victory?
[The women approach. Some men, too, leave Diego’s group.]
DIEGO: Don’t listen. All she said has been thought up in advance.
THE SECRETARY: What do you mean by “thought up”? I’m talking common sense, that’s all.
A MAN: Just what concessions did you have in mind?
THE SECRETARY: Well it’s difficult to answer that right off. Still, to give an example, I don’t see why we shouldn’t join with you in appointing a committee to decide, by a majority of votes, what eliminations should be ordered. Then this notebook in which the eliminations are made would be kept in the possession of the committee. Mind you, I’m only saying this by way of illustration of an arrangement we might come to. [She is dangling the notebook at arm’s length. A man snatches it from her hand. She addresses him with feigned indignation] Will you give me back that notebook at once! You know quite well how valuable it is and that it’s enough to strike out the name of one of your fellow citizens for him to die on the spot.
[Men and women crowd excitedly round the man who has the notebook. Cries of jubilation: “We’ve got it!” “That’s cooked their goose!” “We’re saved!”
The JUDGE’S DAUGHTER runs up, snatches away the notebook, and after retreating to a corner and skimming through the pages, strikes out an entry. A shrill cry in the Judge’s house and the sound of a body falling heavily on the floor. Men and women rush at the girl.]
A VOICE: You poisonous vixen! It’s you who should be eliminated!
[Someone takes the notebook from her; all gather round him and hunt until they find the name of the JUDGE’S DAUGHTER. A hand strikes it out. The girl drops without a cry.]
NADA [at the top of his voice]: Forward, let’s all join in a general suppression. It’s not enough suppressing others, let’s suppress ourselves. Here we are gathered together, oppressors and oppressed, a happy band of victims waiting in the arena. Go to it, bull; now for the universal cleanup.
A BURLY MAN [who now is holding the notebook]: That’s so. There’s plenty of cleaning up to do in this here city. We’ll never have another chance like this of rubbing out some of those sons of bitches who’s been living on the fat of the land while we were starving.
[The PLAGUE, who has just come on the scene again, lets out an enormous guffaw, while the SECRETARY demurely steps back to her place beside him. Nobody moves while the Plague Guards roam the stage, replacing the scenery and symbols of the PLAGUE.]
THE PLAGUE [to DIEGO]: You see! They’re doing the work themselves. Do you really think they’re worth all the trouble you are taking?
[But meanwhile DIEGO and the FISHERMAN have leaped onto the raised platform where the man who holds the notebook is standing, and knocked him down. DIEGO takes the notebook and tears it up.]
THE SECRETARY: That’s no good. I have a duplicate. [DIEGO hustles the men toward the other side of the stage.]
DIEGO: Get back to your work. You’ve been tricked.
THE PLAGUE: When they’re frightened, their fear is for themselves. But their hatred is for others.
DIEGO [coming back and facing him]: Neither fear, nor hatred—therein lies our victory.
[The Guards retreat before Diego’s men.]
THE PLAGUE: Silence! I am he who turns the wine bitter, and dries up the fruit. I nip the young vine when it is putting forth its grapes and rot it when it needs the fires of summer. I loathe your simple joys. I loathe this country in which men claim to be free without being rich. I have prisons and executioners on my side, power and blood are my ministers. This city will be wiped out, and upon its ruins history will expire at last in the august silence of all perfect social orders. Silence then, or I destroy everything.
[A mimic hand-to-hand conflict ensues between Diego’s partisans and others, in the midst of an appalling din—thuds of eliminations, buzzings in the air, creakings of garottes, an avalanche of slogans. Then, while the struggle gradually turns in favor of Diego’s men, the tumult dies down and the voices of the CHORUS, indistinct as yet, drown the noises of the PLAGUE.]
THE PLAGUE [with a furious gesture]: We still have the hostages.
[He makes a sign and the Plague Guards leave the stage, while the others form up once more in groups.]
NADA [standing on
