by Jean Cocteau
PROVOST MARSHAL, dragging out his words and looking heavenward. Well! You see …
CARDINAL. Speak out, speak out!
PROVOST MARSHAL. The sale of indulgences is not very popular with us. The people feel that Rome is bleeding us and that we are her milch cows. They speak disrespectfully of the Church as the “lady with the box.”
BISHOP. Provost Marshal, you are losing control of your tongue!
CARDINAL. Let him go on, let him go on. It is essential for me to know the position.
BISHOP. The fault does not rest with the Church. Certain nobles traffic in relics and indulgences, and the feeling against them is laid at the door of the Church.
SYNDIC. YOU are no doubt aware, Your Eminence, that the various merchant companies which I represent have their own chapels in the Cathedral and stalls at which they sell their goods. Feast days lead to a lot of spending. People buy, they get rid of their money. It gives a very good yield to faith.
CARDINAL. I understand. The Emperor Charles the Fifth is right, customs are not abolished in a minute. They are derived from faith. That is what reassures me about the progress of the reformation … They’ll repent at leisure.
BISHOP. The gangrene goes deep, Your Eminence. Even in Switzerland, Zwingli is at work.
CARDINAL. Zwingli is not to be feared. He is a poet. Besides the Anabaptists will look after him. Let them deal with him. They’ll baptize him in their own way, headfirst into some lake. The Church is one Church and the wolves will devour each other.
PROVOST MARSHAL. They call Rome the she-wolf.
CARDINAL. We are aware of these things and of the support given to the heretics by Prince Philip. The Holy Father laughs at these insults. His life is spent on a higher level. But if events should take a serious turn, His Holiness wishes me to look for a remedy for them. This is why he has sent me.
PROVOST MARSHAL. I am sorry to say things are looking very bad, although they have eased since Brother Martin has found shelter with the nobles who fear the breaking up of their estates and who hide him away in the hills. The Elector Frederick is suspected of having spirited him away to Thuringia.
BISHOP. Your Eminence probably knows as much of these events as we do. To resume: the Antichrist (who speaks of the Pope as Antichrist) only believes in the devil and teaches that the Evangelists never speak of Christ as the Son of God. He hates the common people because they begin to follow those of his disciples who no longer agree with his teachings. He regards the peasants as ranters and thinks they ought to be throttled. Now all this is in our favor and the moment seems ripe for drawing the people back to our side, by allowing them all reasonable distractions, and for stiffening our policy against the feudal potentates who protect a rebel monk and tear him from the grip of justice.
CARDINAL. Luther drinks and has fits. He is a drunkard and an epileptic. He will not trouble us for long. And besides, if he marries (and he will, if only to give an example to others), marriage will deprive him of the mystery which is necessary to those who wield power. We shall have more worries in Flanders and Sweden or with the Rotterdam philosopher, Erasmus.
PROVOST MARSHAL. They tell me that in France there is some Abbé called Cauvin or Calvus or Calvin, who is getting busy on his own account.
CARDINAL. The King of France bears with him. He is amused by him. His is the reign of pleasure but he is highly intelligent and encourages the arts. If ever the Abbé goes too far, he will act. But then the French are always somewhat heretical.
BISHOP. I am very much afraid of moderate heretics.
CARDINAL. I agree with you. We can only leave them to stew in their own juice.
DUKE. Gentlemen, may I be allowed to remind you that we are here to make decisions and that time presses?
CARDINAL. How many competitors are there?
DUKE. About twenty.
CARDINAL. Who are the jury?
DUKE. Ourselves with a few prominent men who will vote with us.
CARDINAL. It is too late to make a clean cut. But perhaps there is still some way round, some compromise.
DUKE. That is what I wish to speak to the council about. It is an idea of my daughter Christine’s. She has been distressed because her young brother wished to compete.
BISHOP, to Cardinal. The Duke’s daughter is a splendid person. Rather lively, but a splendid person.
CARDINAL. By all means, let us —
DUKE. The idea may seem fantastic. I admit that it gave me a shock at first, but in the end I thought it would be workable. Here it is: in the nearest village to the town, there is an idiot.
CARDINAL, looking toward the Bishop. There are many, even in towns.
BISHOP. I know the individual. Unless I am much mistaken, the person in question is one of those simpletons who is often venerated in his own village.
DUKE. That is correct. Many of our village folk cultivate the presence of such creatures. Forgive us this superstition, Your Eminence.
CARDINAL. Italy is not free of such notions. They are divided there between regard for village idiots and fear of the evil eye.
DUKE. My daughter tells me that this village idiot has a handsome face and fine carriage. He is called Hans and he is the only son of a peasant woman.
BISHOP. I was right, but this Hans was not an idiot from birth. He became one as the result of a most unfortunate incident.
CARDINAL. What was that?
BISHOP. The Provost Marshal should tell us about it.
PROVOST MARSHAL. It was during a hunt — a band of young noblemen amused themselves by setting their pack on him, and chasing him like an animal.
CARDINAL. Is that possible?
DUKE. Only too true, I’m afraid.
PROVOST MARSHAL. Yes! That’s the sort of thing that our fashionable youth get up to. Their worst and latest craze is flirting with the Reformation.
Interrogatory gesture of Cardinal to Bishop.
BISHOP. Why, yes! Some out of spirit of contradiction to their families and others because a whole family is secretly converted.
CARDINAL. What is it that draws families into heresy?
PROVOST MARSHAL. Their pockets. They are afraid of the New World’s gold passing them by and reducing their circumstances, and that Fugger’s Bank in Augsburg would only favor the feudal lords. They would be robbed of their privileges and condemned to retrench their spending.
CARDINAL. And what do the heads of families expect from the reformers?
PROVOST MARSHAL. The people were on the march and they wished to please the people. Now the people are in revolt and Brother Martin is strangling them.
CARDINAL. Is Brother Martin a turncoat?
BISHOP. He has no choice. Truth prevails in the end. Imposture needs quick results. It takes money to get them.
DUKE. Gentlemen, gentlemen! We are wandering from our point and that is typical of the times we live in. No one speaks of anything but the Reformation, which is too great an honor to pay it. Thank God, there are other subjects of conversation, as for instance the one which has brought us together and to which I must recall your attention.
SYNDIC. I am so sorry, my lord Duke. The Reformation plays its part in our business. There is a danger that secret societies here may take a hand in it. They may foist on us a Bacchus who thinks like themselves and who might use the masquerade to work on the masses.
BISHOP. My dear Syndic, one must be wary of masks. There are so many of them here. But this danger does not come into the picture. We are four out of twelve. Two other votes are on our side and so one more would give us a majority. I should be surprised if the fortuitous and holy presence of the Cardinal does not put some fear in the hearts of even our most brazen councilors who may now be chary of coming into the open. The game would not be worth the candle. The result is therefore a foregone conclusion.
Turning to the Duke.
My lord Duke …
DUKE. I know that the events which made an idiot of this young man were disastrous, but they may be turned to our account
. It might be sound policy to play into the people’s hands by breaking with our habit of choosing one of our own class in favor of the election of one of theirs.
CARDINAL. You’re not afraid of a scandal? And of making those who turn in bitterness to heresy more bitter still?
DUKE. I don’t think so. Everyone will at least pretend to approve of your great wisdom.
CARDINAL. Does this mean that you are offering me the direction of your jury?
DUKE. To be its honorary president, which commits you to nothing and which covers us.
CARDINAL. It is difficult for me to refuse to be of this service to you.
PROVOST MARSHAL. Before the manhunt, was our young man not the pupil of a priest whom we burned?
CARDINAL. A priest! What was his name?
BISHOP. The vicar of our village. The Abbé Knopf.
CARDINAL. I think I know that name. Knopf … Knopf… Did he have anything to do with occult sciences?
PROVOST MARSHAL. He was a madman. A necromancer. An astrologer. An intellectual. In a word, a heretic. He was condemned in Rome and burned alive on the spot.
DUKE. If my proposals do not offend you, it would be advisable to act with prudence. I should be grateful if it could be arranged so that the whole weight of responsibility did not rest on my house alone.
CARDINAL. Might I question your daughter?
DUKE. I was going to propose this to Your Eminence. I shall fetch her.
CARDINAL. We shall wait until she comes.
The Duke goes out by the small door.
CARDINAL. What do you think of this young girl?
BISHOP. She is a little spirited — But I think well of her.
PROVOST MARSHAL. Tut, tut, tut.
CARDINAL. What do you mean, Provost Marshal?
PROVOST MARSHAL. That she is rather too modern for my taste.
CARDINAL. But what else?
PROVOST MARSHAL. Rather too modem.
CARDINAL. Do you mean that she is on the side of modern ideas?
PROVOST MARSHAL. Heaven forbid that I should make a charge of that kind! But I find her rather too modern, too free.
BISHOP. Make yourself a little clearer.
PROVOST MARSHAL. She has too many friends.
CARDINAL. That is no crime.
PROVOST MARSHAL. Oh! No, not at all. But in my young days the aristocracy did not have friends, they only had relations.
CARDINAL. I must challenge you there, Provost Marshal! It is necessary to move with the times so long as propriety is observed. Your old families must be living under restrictions which youth cannot endure and which it is dying to reform.
PROVOST MARSHAL. NOW those are the last words which I expected to hear from Your Eminence!
BISHOP, tapping the table. Come! Come!
CARDINAL. Never mind, my dear Bishop. He is right. It is so easy to say things that are dangerous, without being aware that they are so. It must be the devil who whispers them to us.
Enter Duke and Christine.
CHRISTINE, curtsying. Your Eminence! My Lord! Gentlemen! …
CARDINAL. Your father has been telling us of a rather unusual suggestion that I understand comes from you. Is that the case?
CHRISTINE. It is.
CARDINAL. Under what circumstances did you meet your candidate?
CHRISTINE. May I begin by saying that I do not always share the opinions of those in our walk in life.
PROVOST MARSHAL, bending toward Cardinal. Here we go!
CHRISTINE. To my shame I was a member of a hunting party which resulted in Hans losing his reason.
CARDINAL. And you tried in vain to stop this unworthy sport?
CHRISTINE. That is what happened, Your Eminence. I came home sick at heart, disgusted with my friends. I decided to go back to the village and as far as possible to undo the damage done. It was then that I learned that this unfortunate peasant had become what they call a demented person.
CARDINAL. Demented?
CHRISTINE. Yes, Your Eminence. It may come from the French word “demeuré,” someone who has stayed childish. He had no one but his mother. I helped them from time to time. Last year, the men responsible for the tragedy again did something dreadful.
CARDINAL. Do not be afraid to tell us.
CHRISTINE. They forced him to witness five of his comrades being tortured.
CARDINAL. Did he understand what was happening?
CHRISTINE. Not at first. He laughed. But then he started to scream and writhe. Everyone thought he was dying of epilepsy. Later on he calmed down, but he spoke like a fool.
CARDINAL. Can he speak?
CHRISTINE. Like us, Eminence, but what he says does not make sense, and his words are often quaint like a child’s. The village people like to hear him talk, for he makes them laugh.
CARDINAL. May we see him?
CHRISTINE. That would be best, Your Eminence. I thought that if my idea appealed to you, I might prove to you that it was not unreasonable and that the appearance of my protege would not spoil the tone of the festivities.
CARDINAL. They say that he is handsome.
CHRISTINE. His good looks are not of our class. He has been washed, scrubbed, brushed, and dressed up. At present he is in the kitchen quarters in the required costume and the servants are admiring him open-mouthed.
CARDINAL. Well! It’s now our turn to do so. Let us see this rare bird.
CHRISTINE. Tame him if you will, Your Eminence. He knows nothing of the pomp of Rome. He is a shy animal.
CARDINAL. We shall not eat him.
To the Duke.
I authorize your daughter to present her discovery to us.
DUKE. Fetch him, Christine.
Exit Christine.
CARDINAL. The Vatican is crammed full of statues of antique gods. I shall be glad to see one made of flesh and blood.
PROVOST MARSHAL. It’s unbelievable that the Church should permit a masquerade celebrating a pagan god.
BISHOP, throwing up his arms in despair. Now he’s off again!
CARDINAL. A pagan god is a puppet, Provost Marshal. The Church is not disturbed by such things and indeed can join in the healthy enjoyment of the people. Bacchus is the God of wine. Our Lord Jesus Christ changed water into wine and this still forms part of the Mass.
PROVOST MARSHAL. These heretical swine want to do without the wine of the Mass.
CARDINAL, drily. Do not let us speak of them. I shall be doing so in due season and in the right quarters.
Enter Christine by the small door, pushing Hans before her, dressed as Bacchus.
There is a prolonged silence. Christine leads Hans to the Cardinal who looks at him closely. Hans is looking into space. During the whole scene, he wanders about the hall, obliging members of the council to turn around and to follow him with their eyes wherever he goes. Everyone shouts at him, drawing out their syllables as if speaking to a deaf person.
BISHOP. Do you know the Lord’s prayer?
CHRISTINE. He knows it very well.
BISHOP. Say it.
Silence.
I’ll help you. Say it with me…. “Our Father which art in Heaven
Silence.
Have they cut out your tongue?
HANS, drawing back in horror. Oh, no! Not mine! Not mine!
CHRISTINE. Some of his comrades had theirs cut out. Your Worship has frightened him.
BISHOP. Now, now, Hans! Pull yourself together and say the Lord’s Prayer: I’m listening. “Our Father
HANS. Back home, the priest hides behind a little grating. He thinks I don’t see him, but I do. I see his eyes.
CHRISTINE. Perhaps you make him feel shy. Sometimes he answers questions he has not been asked.
CARDINAL. Let us be very gentle with him.
To Hans.
Do not be afraid. Sit down.
HANS. Not me! Sometimes the devil changes into a chair and you only notice it because the chair has a game leg.
CARDINAL. Not so silly …
BISHOP. Do y
ou know the devil?
HANS. Oh, yes!
BISHOP. Have you seen him?
HANS. Oh, yes! Often.
Everyone looks at everyone else.
BISHOP, with some fear. What does he look like?
HANS. He flies around the sun.
CARDINAL. That sounds like the Abbé Copernicus. He told one Tribunal that the earth goes around the sun. It was not difficult to show he was wrong. We said to him: “If the earth goes around the sun, then Joshua would have had to stop the earth. And everyone knows that it was the sun he stopped.”
BISHOP. That puts it in a nutshell. The Abbé Copernicus is mad.
CARDINAL. We regard him as such. That’s what saves him. He’s as obstinate as a mule.
DUKE. May I put a question to him?
CARDINAL. Of course.
DUKE. Can you read?
HANS. Oh, yes! I can read up to five.
BISHOP. Do you remember your teacher, the Abbé Knopf?
HANS. Oh, yes! He could read up to ten.
BISHOP. It seems to me that he could read a little too well. It did not help him much. Did you know they burned him for a heretic?
CHRISTINE. Your Lordship, he can’t understand. That’s too difficult for him, it muddles his poor head.
BISHOP. He is following me perfectly well. Hans, did you know that they burned your master the Abbé Knopf?
He makes signs.
Fire! Fire!
HANS, edging back. Oh, no! Brother Knopf lives with us. He has become a cat and he likes drinking boiling water.
BISHOP. Boiling water?
HANS. Yes! The other day I left him alone by the fire in the kitchen. There was a pot on the fire. When I came back into the room there was smoke everywhere but no water in the pot. He’d drunk it.
PROVOST MARSHAL. He’s making fools of us.
CARDINAL, thoughtfully. I wonder.
CHRISTINE. That is the very kind of story which amuses the village folk. I knew this one about the cat.
DUKE. One could not doubt his simplicity.
PROVOST MARSHAL. That remains to be seen. Some of our fine fellows play the fool to get exemption from service.
To the Cardinal, in a low voice.
Would Your Eminence allow me to try an experiment?
CARDINAL. Do as you please.
PROVOST MARSHAL, in a low voice. Speak to him, keep his attention occupied.
