by Jean Cocteau
During what follows, the Provost Marshal gets up and comes forward slowly behind Hans.
CARDINAL. Question him, my dear Bishop, question him.
BISHOP, abruptly. Do you know Martin Luther?
Silence.
CHRISTINE. How could he know him, Your Worship? He does not leave the farm.
The Provost Marshal is now immediately behind Hans. He seizes him by the shoulder.
PROVOST MARSHAL, in a thundering voice. I arrest you!
Hans turns around to the Provost Marshal and smiles at him.
CARDINAL. His conscience seems to be clear enough.
CHBISTINE. Look at his smile. He’s like a child.
PROVOST MARSHAL. There are some children about the place who are possessed by the devil. Here, they call them “Kil Kropfs.”
CARDINAL. And with us “Suppositi. ” Let him be, Provost Marshal. He is either a simpleton or extremely clever.
PROVOST MARSHAL. I can’t make anything out of him.
BISHOP, pushing the Provost Marshal to one side and going up to Hans. Hans, do you know a rebel monk called Martin Luther?
DUKE. Poor lad! Don’t you think, my dear Bishop, that that is a senseless question?
BISHOP. It is an important question to me, and he understands some things very well. I’ll repeat it.
Separating every syllable.
Do you know a re-bel monk called Mar-tin Lu-ther?
HANS. Oh, yes! He’s the devil!
CARDINAL. Well answered!
BISHOP. And His Holiness the Pope? Do you know about him?
HANS. Oh, yes!
BISHOP. What does he mean to you?
HANS. He’s the devil.
PROVOST MARSHAL. Not so well answered.
CHRISTINE. Hans!
SYNDIC. He’s a cretin!
CARDINAL. No, an idiot. That’s not the same thing, Syndic. A cretin is a thinking idiot.
BISHOP, to Hans. The Pope is your Father.
HANS. Oh, no! My father is dead. He bought a good place in Heaven. My mother gave all our savings for it.
PROVOST MARSHAL. Fiddlesticks!
CARDINAL. But if his mother bought indulgences, she’s a good Christian. I congratulate him for having such a good mother.
HANS, slowly pointing to the Bishop with his finger. Who is that beautiful lady?
DUKE. That is not a lady; it is your Bishop.
HANS. She has a beautiful dress.
He touches the Bishop’s robe and the Bishop recoils.
CHRISTINE. Hans, you are being stupid. These gentlemen are questioning you. Answer these gentlemen.
HANS, still looking thoughtfully at the Bishop. She has a beautiful ring. I had a beautiful ring. He took it.
CARDINAL. Who took it?
HANS. All of them. They were singing the Vespers. He wanted to take my horse.
CHRISTINE. There is a horse at the farm and he rides it beautifully.
CARDINAL. Do you like riding a horse?
HANS. My horse took me for a cart, and it dragged me to town…. No! No! It was a cart that took me for a horse and I had to drag it up to the village…. It was full of people who screamed and screamed…
Hans lies down on the floor.
CHRISTINE. He’s tired. He’ll talk nothing but nonsense now.
CARDINAL. I have nothing more to ask him. I have come to my own conclusions.
PROVOST MARSHAL. I should like to question him too. In spite of my respect for Your Eminence, I am not so sure about this man.
CARDINAL. Question him then.
PROVOST MARSHAL. Listen to me, Hans.
HANS. I want to go to sleep …
DUKE. My dear Provost Marshal, he’s dog-tired.
PROVOST MARSHAL. One minute, my lord Duke. Listen to me carefully, Hans. Do you know what money is?
He brings a coin out of his pocket.
Mo-ney?
HANS. Oh, yes! It’s the devil. My mother showed me his picture on a gold piece.
PROVOST MARSHAL. Has no one offered you money? For anything, offered you mo-ney?
CHRISTINE. He knows nothing about money.
PROVOST MARSHAL. I hope not. Sometimes the Reformers pay their spies a lot.
CHRISTINE. Poor Hans! He’s remote from your plots.
BISHOP, to Hans. Do you believe in miracles?
HANS. Oh, yes! The first time I went into the water I was afraid of melting. I did not melt. I asked the Holy Wafer before Mass if it was a miracle. It said, “No, it was no miracle, the miracle was melting in the mouth.”
BISHOP, bending toward the Cardinal, and whispering behind his hand. Very evil spirit!
CARDINAL, laughing. What spirits are you talking about? These are only country stories.
BISHOP, to Hans. Do you pray to God?
HANS. Oh, yes! He gave me the ring they stole from me.
DUKE. You won’t get another sensible remark out of him.
BISHOP. That’s what we might have expected. One last question. Ask him, Christine, if he does his religious exercises.
CHRISTINE. I am very willing to do so, but he won’t understand.
She picks up Hans.
Hans, His Lordship the Bishop would like to know whether you do your religious exercises.
BISHOP, shouting. If you go to Mass.
HANS. He always goes to Mass.
BISHOP. Who do you mean by “he“?
CHRISTINE. He means himself. He often speaks of himself in the third person.
PROVOST MARSHAL. I should prefer a dumb idiot.
CARDINAL. They are preferable but very rare.
HANS. I am very sleepy.
BISHOP. You shall sleep. Well! Before going to sleep will you, like a good child, say the Lord’s Prayer?
CHRISTINE. I am afraid he can no longer follow you.
CARDINAL. We might let him off saying the Lord’s Prayer.
BISHOP. Let’s try all the same.
DUKE. It won’t add anything to our findings.
BISHOP, putting his hands together and closing his eyes. “Our Father which art in Heaven, hallowed be Thy Name. Thy Kingdom come …”
HANS …. Kingdom come …
BISHOP. Now he’s getting on. “Thy will be done. On earth as it is in Heaven.”
Silence.
“Give us this day our daily bread.”
HANS …. Daily bread …
BISHOP. “Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive them that trespass against us … ”
PROVOST MARSHAL. That’s the most difficult thing in our beastly times.
DUKE. Really, Provost Marshal —
BISHOP. “Lead us not into temptation, and deliver us from evil. Amen.”
HANS. Amen.
BISHOP, after making the sign of the Cross. He seems to remember the Lord’s Prayer.
CARDINAL. Very little. And if he remembered the Lord’s Prayer he might remember much else. It is better that he should remember as little as possible what his master probably taught him.
DUKE. Take him away, Christine, and let him sleep.
CHRISTINE. May he compete with the others?
CARDINAL. We shall discuss that in a moment.
BISHOP, with a flabby wave of the hand. Good night, young man.
HANS. Good night, Madame.
PROVOST MARSHAL, laughing. He keeps to his point!
BISHOP. Provost Marshal, I do not find this lack of respect funny!
CARDINAL. My dear Bishop, it is not lack of respect, it is lack of sleep.
CHRISTINE. He is asleep on his feet. Forgive him, Your Worship. I am taking him away. Come along, Hans, you are being stupid.
She pushes him toward the lower door. They disappear.
DUKE. To what conclusion have you come, Your Eminence?
CARDINAL. He entertained me.
BISHOP. Not me.
CARDINAL. And as regards his physical appearance, he merits our full support.
PROVOST MARSHAL. Your Eminence is too kind. I admit he looks quite handsome, but the
se Greek gods disgust me. The whole lot of them are on the devil’s side.
CARDINAL. They are no longer anything but images.
PROVOST MARSHAL. I should like to destroy them as Luther does our holy images.
CARDINAL. Luther does not mind his own image. They tell me that his own portrait painter, Cranach, is always with him.
DUKE. What is our decision?
BISHOP. That rests with His Eminence Cardinal Zampi.
CARDINAL. I am a visitor. I should prefer that the Duke who is better qualified than I —
DUKE. Not at all, Your Eminence. It rests with you.
CARDINAL. What does your Bishop think?
BISHOP. I am neither for nor against.
PROVOST MARSHAL. Tomorrow all candidates march around the square and the jury votes for one of them. Before you make your decision, gentlemen, think carefully of one thing. For many months past the young noblemen have been doing all they could to vie with each other in the magnificence of their attire. Our decision will cause annoyance.
SYNDIC. Annoyance to whom? That’s what counts.
PROVOST MARSHAL. The rabble naturally hates the lords. But luxury inspires respect, even enthusiasm. It’s a funny thing but it’s true.
CARDINAL. Let us run the risk… I am not against it. Indeed it may prove illuminating. Try out the fool.
PROVOST MARSHAL. Nothing easier, it’s a secret ballot. It will be a last-minute surprise.
BISHOP. Forgive me for being frank, my lord Duke. Is Christine not solely prompted by the fact that she wants to avenge a fine-looking young man of whom others have made fun?
DUKE. That is possible. Christine keeps her motives well hidden.
CARDINAL. That alters nothing. Put young Hans on the list, I make myself responsible.
PROVOST MARSHAL. All right, Your Eminence, I give in. But perhaps before you consent to this nomination, you should be aware of the terms of the dangerous, the very dangerous liberties allowed by the wine harvest celebrations.
CARDINAL. IS that necessary?
PROVOST MARSHAL. I insist, Your Eminence, that our Bishop should let you know what is involved. I have underlined the most tricky conditions.
CARDINAL. Very well, my dear Bishop, read this document to us.
The Provost Marshal passes the papers to the Bishop.
BISHOP. Article XI. Bacchus shall hold these privileges from noon of one Sunday to noon of the following Sunday.
Article XII. On the second Sunday, an effigy of Bacchus shall be publicly burned; the effigy shall be clad in the costume worn by him in the festivities.
PROVOST MARSHAL. That’s the only difference compared with the Byzantine custom. There Bacchus himself was the burnt offering.
BISHOP, continuing to read. Article XIII. Bacchus shall choose his home as he will. It shall be given up to him entirely for the seven days of his reign, whatever may be the rank of its owner.
CARDINAL. What! The Bishop’s Palace?
BISHOP. The Bishop’s Palace if he wishes.
CARDINAL. Good gracious! Go on!
BISHOP, as he reads, the Cardinal now follows with lips and gestures. Article XVI. Every family in the city, rich or poor, must give him presents (clothes, materials, jewels, carriages). Each person must give up whatever he holds most dear and whatever costs him most to give up.
Article XIX. Bacchus shall have a guard of honor, consisting of fifteen archers and a captain, who will escort him wherever he goes and watch over him. The bodyguard will be entirely under his orders and no one else’s. They shall be chosen by the Provost Marshal from among the best soldiers of the garrison.
PROVOST MARSHAL. So be it.
BISHOP. Article XXIII. Everyone, without distinction of rank or title, shall bow before him and call him “my lord.” His parents shall serve him on their bended knees.
Article XXVIII. Bacchus shall have the right of life and death over his fellow citizens.
Article XXX. Bacchus shall have the right to enter churches on horseback, even during Divine service.
Article XXXV. Bacchus shall have the right…
CURTAIN
ACT TWO
PROVOST MARSHAL. How did it all happen? Since yesterday, I can get nothing but contradictory accounts or stories repeated parrot-fashion.
DUKE, to Lothar. Tell the Provost everything as you told it to me.
LOTHAR. I shall tell you everything in detail, but I wish I couldn’t.
PROVOST MARSHAL. Why?
LOTHAR. I mean I’m sorry I was with that poisonous crew.
PROVOST MARSHAL. How many were there?
LOTHAR. About twenty of us and we all had a lot to drink. Nearly all of them were competitors who had been turned down. You can imagine the state of mind they were in. They had made Hans drunk and were treating him with mock deference, insulting him with honor. They escorted him back to his home according to custom. As his home is a wretched farmstead there were a hundred opportunities for making him more ridiculous. When they were nearly there, they threw him into the pond.
PROVOST MARSHAL. Was he still in his costume?
LOTHAR. Yes, but it was in tatters…. He swam about. He came out of the water and when the Count’s son threatened to throw him in again, Hans got hold of him and threw him in instead. You know the boy, there’s not much of him. He had drunk and eaten like a pig. We saw him struggle, go down, come up again, go under once more, and by the time we got him out, it was too late.
DUKE. It was not murder then. It was only a case of self-defense and it was more or less a game to Hans.
LOTHAR. NO, it was no game to him, but it was not murder.
PROVOST MARSHAL. That is not the story our noble families make of it.
DUKE. It will be easy to establish the facts.
PROVOST MARSHAL. Hmm, no … Your friends have concocted a story which is very different from yours.
LOTHAR. There were peasants there who witnessed it.
PROVOST MARSHAL. Their evidence won’t count for much. But go on with your story.
LOTHAR. The whole crowd wanted to get Hans. But courage is not their strong point and they were afraid of attacking a person who was under the protection of your protocol. The body was taken to the farm. And there we were struck dumb by surprise.
PROVOST MARSHAL. What did you find there?
LOTHAR. Hans’ mother, the peasants who expected him, and the rest of our crowd. They were trying to bring the corpse back to life. Then Hans stood up and shouted in a terrible voice, “Let this be a lesson to you.”
DUKE. Did his mother suspect anything?
LOTHAR. Certainly not. She fell on her knees, thinking that it was a miracle.
PROVOST MARSHAL, jerkily. And did you guess at once that he was no idiot, that he had only been pretending to be one? Or did you think that what happened by the river had acted as a shock, had brought him back to his senses which he had lost just like that ten years ago?
LOTHAR. We knew at once that he had been pretending and he soon made it all clear. He said: “My reason returned when you tortured my friends, but I knew I could only be safe if you thought me an idiot and so I decided to seem one. I watched you and studied you in silence. Now luck has given me a role in which I can speak and act and I shall take advantage of it. Be warned.” When he spoke those words there was something regal about him.
PROVOST MARSHAL. It’s unbelievable.
LOTHAR. Our warriors were quaking with fear. They took away the victim and left the farm like whipped curs, groveling.
PROVOST MARSHAL. That’s not what they say.
DUKE. What do they say?
PROVOST MARSHAL. That the fool was an impostor, playing a game which was part of a plot in which I’m sorry to say they implicate your daughter Christine and your family.
DUKE. What an extremely unpleasant state of affairs.
LOTHAR. And the same charming collection did not stop there, but on the next day, following the old customs, they brought Hans, accompanied by the fifteen archers,
with great ceremony here, as this is the place he had chosen for his home.
PROVOST MARSHAL. Pity he chose your house!
LOTHAR. He knows no other.
PROVOST MARSHAL. And to crown all he lets you stay here! Pity he didn’t show you the door; then you could have defended yourself better.
DUKE. Defend myself? Has it come to that?
PROVOST MARSHAL. My lord Duke, you know this town. It is full of intrigues. When you declared yourself in favor of an unusual choice for Bacchus, you overthrew an old and honored custom. The young people are working up their families against you and, in short, public opinion is not in your favor.
DUKE. They know for what painful reasons I accepted Christine’s suggestion. Maybe I came to this decision too quickly and too lightly.
PROVOST MARSHAL. They know … They… They know what touches them, not others. And the first thing your Bacchus has done doesn’t help at all.
DUKE. IS that so?
PROVOST MARSHAL. IS that so? In front of my very eyes he ordered them to open the prison doors. All the beauties I was keeping there are at large.
DUKE. Is it true that he harangues the crowd?
LOTHAR. He does harangue them and he does it very well. He pleads for kindness and the crowd acclaims him. Nothing subversive as far as I know.
PROVOST MARSHAL. YOU don’t consider it subversive to open the prison doors?
LOTHAR. To be frank, Provost Marshal, I like the fellow, and his ways of conducting himself interest me.
DUKE. Lothar!
LOTHAR. What would you like me to do about it? The rest of us would not have dared to do what he does.
DUKE. Heaven grant that he does not commit any more outrages.
LOTHAR. Don’t count on that. He seems to me to know quite well how to make the most of his rights.
PROVOST MARSHAL. Since you approve of the actions of a lunatic, it is my duty to warn you that it looks far from well for you to follow him in his antics and that everyone is amazed at it.
DUKE. It’s youth, Provost Marshal, it’s youth! Youth enjoys a masquerade. They like to see a few conventions upset.
PROVOST MARSHAL. A few conventions upset! Killing a son of one of our noblest families!
DUKE. A terrible accident, but just an accident. There is no question of murder.
PROVOST MARSHAL. You be careful, my lord Duke. If you have any sympathy with this creature, don’t make it public. That’s my advice to you.
