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 the summit of the palace]: Something always remains. Nothing goes on and everything goes on. And my offices, too, go on functioning. Even if the city falls in ruins and men forsake the earth, these offices will continue opening at the usual hour, to see to it that government goes on, even if nothing is left to govern. I stand for eternity, my paradise will have its records, office files, and rubber stamps for ever.
[Exit.]
THE CHORUS: They are in flight. Summer is ending with our victory. So, after all, man has won the day. And for us victory takes the form of our women’s bodies quickened by the showers of love; of happy flesh, warm and glistening like the clusters of September grapes round which the wood wasps buzz. Harvests of the vine are heaped on the belly’s wine press and wine spurts red over the tips of drunken breasts. Soon, O my love, you will see desire bursting like an overripe fruit and the glory of bodies issuing at last in shining freedom. In every corner of the sky mysterious hands are proffering flowers, from quenchless fountains the golden wine is flowing. Now is the festival of victory; let us make haste to join our women!
[All fall silent as a stretcher, on which VICTORIA lies, is carried forward. DIEGO rushes toward it.]
DIEGO: Ah, this makes one want to kill—to kill or to die!
[He stands beside the body, which seems lifeless.] O Victoria, most glorious of women, fierce and unconquerable as love, turn your face toward me if only for a moment. Come back, Victoria! Do not let yourself be lured away to that dim place beyond the world where you will be lost to me forever. Do not leave me, the earth is cold. Struggle to keep your foothold on this narrow ledge of life where we are still together, and do not let yourself slip down into the abyss. For, if you die, it will be dark at noon on all the days that yet are given me to live.
CHORUS OF WOMEN: Now we are at grips with truth; till now it was but half in earnest. What we have before us is a human body,
