State of Siege, Albert Camus

 

State of Siege
Characters in the Play
First Part Prologue
Second Part
Third Part

STATE OF SIEGE

A PLAY IN THREE PARTS

To JEAN-LOUIS BARRAULT

CHARACTERS IN THE PLAY

THE PLAGUE – WOMEN OF CADIZ
THE SECRETARY – MEN OF CADIZ
NADA – AN OFFICER
VICTORIA – A HERALD
THE JUDGE – A FISHERMAN
THE JUDGES’S WIFE – AN ASTROLOGER
THE JUDGE’S DAUGHTER – AN ACTOR
DIEGO – A MERCHANT
THE GOVERNOR – A PRIEST
THE ALCALDE – A BOATMAN
BEGGARS, GUARDS, TOWN CRIERS

L’ÉTAT DE SIÈGE (STATE OF SIEGE) was presented for the first time at the THÉÂTRE MARIGNY, Paris, on October 27, 1948, by the COMPAGNIE MADELEINE RENAUD-JEAN-LOUIS BARRAULT, with incidental music by ARTHUR HONEGGER.

FIRST PART

PROLOGUE

A musical overture built around a theme recalling the sound of an air-raid siren.
When the curtain rises the stage is in darkness.
The overture ends, but the drone of the siren persists in the background.
Suddenly a comet rises stage-right, then glides slowly across the blackness of the sky toward stage-left, showing up in outline the walls of a Spanish fortified city and the forms of some people standing with their backs to the audience and gazing up at the comet.

A clock strikes four. The dialogue that now begins is barely comprehensible, a muttering of broken phrases.
It’s the end of the world.
Don’t talk nonsense!
If the world is dying …
The world, maybe; not Spain.
Even Spain can die.
On your knees, and pray for mercy!
It’s the comet of evil.
Not of Spain; there’ll always be a Spain!
[Two or three people turn their heads. Some shift their positions cautiously. Then all are motionless again, while the buzzing in the air grows louder, shriller, more insistent, and, taken up by the orchestra, acquires the tone of a threatening voice. The comet, too, swells prodigiously. Suddenly a woman screams; at her scream the music stops abruptly and the comet dwindles to its original size. Gasping for breath, the woman rushes away. There is a general movement of the crowd. The ensuing dialogue, pitched slightly higher than before, is easier to follow.]
It’s a sign of war.

That’s sure.
It’s nothing of the sort!
That depends.
Nonsense! It’s only the heat.
The heat of Cadiz.
That’s enough!
It’s terrifying, the noise it makes.
It’s deafening!
It means our city’s doomed.
Alas, poor Cadiz! You’re doomed!
Quiet! Quiet!

[They are gazing again at the comet when a voice is clearly heard, that of an OFFICER of the Watch.]
THE OFFICER: Go back home, all of you. You have seen what you have seen, and that’s enough. Much to-do for nothing, and nothing will come of it. Cadiz is still Cadiz, after all.
A VOICE: Still, it’s a warning. Signs in the heavens are sent to warn us.

A VOICE: O great and terrible God!
A VOICE: There’s a war coming—it’s a sign of war.
A VOICE: That’s all old wives’ tales, you dolt! We have too much intelligence nowadays, thank goodness, to believe such superstitious nonsense.
A VOICE: So you say! And that’s the way one’s sure of running into trouble. Stupid as pigs, that’s what you clever folk are. And, don’t forget, pigs end up with their throats slit.
THE OFFICER: Go back to your homes. War is our concern, not yours.

NADA: Ah! I only wish it was! But what happens when there’s a war? The officers die in their beds, and it’s we who get it in the neck.
A VOICE: That’s Nada. Listen to him! Nada the halfwit.
A VOICE: Tell us, Nada. You should know. What does that thing portend?

NADA [he is a cripple]: You never like what I have to tell you. You always laugh at me. Why not ask that medical student instead; he’s going to be a doctor soon and he should know.… Me, I talk to my bottle. [Raises a bottle to his lips.]
A VOICE: Diego! Tell us what it means.
DIEGO: What does that matter to you? Keep stout hearts and all will be well.
A VOICE: Ask the officer what he thinks about it.

THE OFFICER: The officer thinks you people are committing a breach of the peace.
NADA: The officer is lucky. He does his job and has no use for highfalutin ideas.
DIEGO: Look! It’s off again!

A VOICE: O great and terrible God!
[The buzzing starts again, and the comet crosses the sky as before. Voices in the crowd.]
Stop!
That’s enough!
Poor Cadiz!
Listen! It’s sizzling!
It means we’re all done for.
Keep quiet, damn you!
[A clock strikes five. The comet fades out. Day is breaking.]

NADA [seated on a milestone, chuckling ironically]: So there you are! I, Nada, luminary of this city by grace of my superior wit and knowledge, drunkard out of disdain for everything and my loathing for your esteem, flouted by you because I alone have kept intact the freedom that comes of scorn—I. Nada the prophet, am moved to give you, now that the fireworks are over, a warning, gratis and guaranteed correct. So let me tell you, we are in for it, definitely in for it—and we’re going to be in it, up to the neck.

Mind you, we’ve been in for it quite a while; only it took a drunkard like myself to know that. For what? you ask me. That’s for you to guess, my brainy friends. I formed my own opinion long ago, and I’ve no intention of departing from it. Life and death are one, and man’s a faggot for the burning. Yes, you’re heading for trouble, take my word for it; that comet was a bad omen, sure enough. A warning to you all.

Ah, you don’t believe me? Just as I expected. Provided you eat your three meals, work your eight hours a day, and pay the keep of your two women, you think that all is well and you’re in step. And so you are, marching in step like a chain-gang, mighty pleased with yourselves, treading the good old beaten track. Only, my worthy friends, don’t forget you’re marching to calamity. Well, there you have my warning, my conscience anyhow is clear. But you need not worry; they are bearing you in mind up there. [Points to the sky.] And you know what that means. They’re holy terrors.

JUDGE CASADO: That’s enough, Nada. I will not permit blasphemy. You have been taking liberties—disgraceful liberties—with the Creator far too long.
NADA: Oh, come now, judge! Did I say anything about the Creator? I heartily approve of all He does. For I, too, am a judge in my own fashion. I’ve read in books that it’s wiser to be hand in glove with Him than to be his victim. What’s more, I doubt if God is really to blame. Once men start upsetting the applecart and slaughtering each other, you soon discover that God—though He, too, knows the ropes—is a mere amateur compared with them.

JUDGE CASADO: It’s rascals of your sort who bring these celestial warnings. For, mark my words, that comet was a warning. But it was meant for those whose hearts are evil. And who of you can say his heart is pure? Therefore I bid you fear the worst and pray God to pardon your offenses. Down on your knees, then! On your knees! [All kneel, NADA excepted.] Fear, Nada! Fear and kneel!
NADA: It’s no use asking me to kneel. My leg’s too stiff. As for fearing—I’m prepared for everything, even the worst, by which I mean your precious piety.
JUDGE CASADO: So you believe in nothing, wretched man?

NADA: In nothing in the world, except wine. And in nothing in heaven.
JUDGE CASADO: O Lord, forgive him, for he knows not what he says, and spare this city of thy children.
NADA: Ite, missa est. Diego, stand me a bottle at the Sign of the Comet. And tell me how your love-affair’s progressing.
DIEGO: I am engaged to the Judge’s daughter, Nada, and I’ll ask you to stop insulting her father. You’re insulting me as well.

[Trumpet call. A HERALD enters, accompanied by a group of the Watch.]
THE HERALD: These are the Governor’s orders. Let each of you withdraw from hence and return to his work. Good governments are governments under which nothing happens. Thus it is the Governor’s will that nothing shall happen here, so that his government may remain benevolent as it has always been. Therefore we apprise you, the townsfolk of Cadiz, that nothing has occurred to justify alarm or discomposure. And accordingly, as from this sixth hour, each of you is ordered to deny that any comet has ever risen on the horizon of our city. All who disregard this order, any citizen who speaks of comets otherwise than as natural phenomena, past or to come, will be punished with the utmost rigor of the law.

[Trumpet call. The HERALD withdraws.]
NADA: Well, Diego, what do you think of that? Clever, ain’t it?
DIEGO: Clever? I’d say ridiculous. Lying is always a fool’s game.

NADA: No, it’s good administration. What’s more I heartily approve of it, since its object is to knock the bottom out of everything. Ah, how lucky we are to have such a Governor! If his budget shows a deficit or his good lady shares her bed with all and sundry, he just writes off the deficit and turns a blind eye to her goings-on. Cuckolds, your wives are faithful; cripples, you can walk; and you, the blind, can see. The hour of truth has struck!

DIEGO: Don’t play the bird of ill omen, you old screech owl! For the hour of truth is the hour of the deathblow.
NADA: Exactly. Death to all the world, I say! Ah, if only I could have the whole world before me, tense and quivering like a bull in the arena, his small eyes red with fury and the foam on his pink muzzle like a frill of dirty lace! Old as it is, my arm wouldn’t falter, I’d slit