by Jean Cocteau
HANS. We shall see.
CARDINAL. Your caprices are intriguing and astonishing but they do not convince. The course you are steering is not straight enough.
HANS. I have no respect for those who steer a straight course.
CARDINAL. It will be your own fault when they carry banners through the town which say: “Down with Popery.” “Down with Tithes.” “Down with the Nobles.” “Down with Luther.” Always “down with, down.” And what do you propose in their place? You want to dissolve sects and parties, in favor of your own. And what is your party? It is a fair question I am asking you. You don’t even know the answer.
HANS. If I knew, I should be a party to a Party. And this is what I am against.
CARDINAL. One solitary man can only impose his will on others through secret societies, through the police, or by means of the banks. This means a regime of cunning and terror altogether repugnant to you. You could not lend yourself to it. Fear of God or fear of piercing arrows. Without this man would think himself free to follow your example of freedom. Disorder would rule the day.
HANS. Through disorder we find ourselves. The minute someone else interferes, we never find anything again.
CARDINAL, after a moment’s silence. Brother, little brother … If only you were willing to put yourself in order, back into order.
HANS. Into orders?
CARDINAL. Perhaps. Could you but discipline your soul, free it from its wild strain, repair the rents in your intelligence, you would become a remarkable theologian, a monk such as we lack.
HANS. I do not care for monks’ bellies.
CARDINAL. There are lean ones.
HANS. I care neither for gluttons nor ascetics.
Silence.
CARDINAL, getting up. You care for no one but yourself.
Hans slumps down into a chair with his face in his hands. Now, the Cardinal walks up and down. He comes up to Hans and takes him by the shoulders.
CARDINAL. Come, come. I am not an ogre.
HANS, violently. Leave me alone. I hate judges who bend lovingly over the accused.
CARDINAL. This is neither the Diet, nor the Sacred College, nor the Court of Rome. I do not accuse you. I am only watching you and examining the contradictions in your dialectic. It is far from being foolish, but it is childish. And to tell you the truth, I have my suspicions about this heresy of yours.
He stands stock still.
Shall I speak to you as man to man?
HANS. I thought that was what we had been doing.
CARDINAL. YOU know enough to think me ridiculous, but not enough to convince me.
Pause.
Who employs you?
HANS. I don’t understand.
CARDINAL. This is what I mean: no one batters his head against a stone wall. I want to know who pays you. Is that clear?
HANS, getting up. This is damnable. So the Reformers are perhaps right after all. Are you one of the ogres who fill the papal tills with first fruits, tithes, confession certificates, and other scandals which drain Germany of its blood.
CARDINAL, as if he had not heard. I should like to know what strange end those who employ you have in view.
HANS. What cowardly insults. I am alone and a free man.
CARDINAL. Prove it.
HANS. If I belonged to a party, I should betray my freedom of soul through this party or this party through my freedom of soul. Besides my master warned me against the moral comfort which encourages laziness. To join a party is to seek comfort, as a party encloses its members and protects them from the anguish of choosing between hundreds of shades, by offering them a plain party color.
CARDINAL. Have you ever considered that heroism may lie not so much in liberty as in the acceptance of orders which revolt our spirit or repel our intelligence?
HANS. I can obey nothing but my conscience.
CARDINAL. The mind of man never ceases to disobey his conscience.
HANS. That is what I am fighting against in myself.
CARDINAL. What drove you to falsehood?
HANS. Falsehood?
CARDINAL. Yes! Well! To play the village idiot.
HANS. A manhunt made me lose my reason. Seeing what they did to my companions gave me my reason back. I played the part I played because it was my only safeguard. Out in the country they hound us down. But traditions are strong there. An idiot is respected. He is left untouched. No one could foresee the circumstances which led me to become Bacchus. The rest I worked out for myself. Even my mother did not know the truth. Responsibility for my actions should fall on no one but me.
CARDINAL. I rather thought the Duke and his daughter might be mixed up in some strange undertaking which you conceal. But I like them and hope I am wrong.
HANS. You are wrong. I swear it on the Bible.
CARDINAL, rising, moving a few steps back, and looking at Hans for a long time. Per Baccho, little brother. Is it possible that you are truly an innocent man?
HANS. If you mean the contrary to being guilty, then I am. I admit my innocence. Is that a crime?
CARDINAL. I would rather see you plead guilty. I would rather that you were a Turk. Then I should know what I am facing.
HANS. Am I to understand that you would prefer me to be guilty?
CARDINAL. Perhaps. An innocent person may be dangerous, a guilty one gives himself away. An innocent one escapes our nets. He is guilty of strength alone. If a criminal expresses himself he is judged by an act. If an innocent man acts he begets nothing but anarchy.
HANS. I am sorry for you.
CARDINAL. And I am sorry for you. You are a strange goodhearted creature. And I should hate any harm to come to you through us.
HANS. You burned my master at the stake. Burn me.
CARDINAL. Heaven forbid!
HANS. Are you afraid of martyrs?
CARDINAL, haughtily. We have our own.
HANS. You are no doubt right, my lord, to burn us alive. All things devour themselves and fire is a savage thing which devours itself. I cannot think that a stop can be put to such a slaughter which is the very stuff of life. Maybe it will take on the look of a night festival, of a bonfire. I should be an awkward, an unbearable martyr. Because I should like them to dance around my stake in honor, not of my defeat, but of my victory.
CARDINAL. What victory?
HANS. My defeat. No real victory is possible without defeat. Those who win battles sink under the weight of victory, and the losers are victorious because everyone cares for them and looks after them. Christ knew that.
CARDINAL. What, again! Do not interpret the Word of Christ nor add your own to it. The human word tends to become miraculously flesh and to spring into action. Those who speak words hardly recognize them later when they are converted into actions. Sometimes these actions recoil upon those who spoke the words.
HANS. There are words which are never spoken and which might save the world.
CARDINAL. Tell me of one, other than the words of Christ.
HANS. I shall tell you a story from ancient Hindu mythology. I got it from my master and there is none more beautiful. Would you have the patience to hear it?
CARDINAL. I love being educated.
HANS. It’s not a long story; here it is. A great prince was about to die. An archangel appeared to him.
CARDINAL. Do Hindus have archangels?
HANS. All religions have them.
CARDINAL. Go on with your story!
HANS. The archangel appeared and said: “You have been a great prince and you will dwell among us. But first you must go through an ordeal. You must go down into Hell; I will be your guide.” He led him there. In Hell the prince saw fearful torments. Among others he saw this one. Out of the mud there protruded the head of a man, split open, and through the opening, boiling lead was being poured onto his brain. “What did he do?” asked the prince. “I cannot tell you”, said the archangel, “it was too terrible.” The prince continued. “Is this suffering eternal?” “Eternal. ” “And — can no
thing be done for this man?” “Nothing. ” And the prince insisted: “Can nothing be done to save this man?” Said the archangel: “Well! Someone might take his place.” Then the prince said: “I shall take his place.” Then Hell split open. Now there is no Hell.
Long silence.
CARDINAL. Your prince must have been a very, very silent man. You speak too much to say one memorable word. I am afraid we should never understand each other. I belong to the right and you to the left.
HANS. All Christ’s followers belonged to the right and none to the left. They betrayed Him and denied Him and followed Him to His agony. Who stood up for Him?
CARDINAL. A man from the right. A man responsible for order, the Procurator of Judea.
HANS. It is not enough to wash one’s hands. I am afraid you are right, it would be impossible for us to understand each other, Your Eminence.
CARDINAL. Your presumption is appalling. You are running into the flame like a moth. I must leave you.
He goes to the door and turns back.
But before I leave you, you must hear in so many words what shows through every slightest thing you say, all your blasphemies, the contradictions in which you seek in vain to find yourself. It is a terrible fact and your only tragedy — you do not believe in God.
Christine comes in quickly by the low door and stops.
CHRISTINE. Forgive me, Your Eminence. I was on the way out and did not know you were here.
CARDINAL. Come in, come in. I was going out myself. Stay a moment with this restive creature. Perhaps a woman’s hand would be firmer and kinder than mine.
He opens the door.
HANS, bowing. Your Lordship!
CARDINAL, bowing back to Hans. Your Lordship!
Exit Cardinal.
CHRISTINE, shrugging her shoulders mockingly. Your Lordship! Are you still inviting ridicule?
HANS. As long as possible.
CHRISTINE. Fortunately, time draws to a close while your joke goes on and on in our house.
HANS. Forgive me. But by special decree of your father, your house is mine. I allow you to stay here purely out of kindness.
CHRISTINE. I thought you were a village idiot, but not that you were a lunatic.
HANS. You think I am a lunatic because I am no longer a village idiot. There is a difference.
CHRISTINE. What difference?
HANS. That you cannot bear having been the victim of a lunatic and that you liked being the benefactress of an idiot.
CHRISTINE. Dupe, not victim.
HANS. Now we’re off!
CHRISTINE. You are not merely ridiculous, you make me ridiculous. Some think me a silly fool and some suspect me. I congratulate you on your work.
HANS. You would be quite happy under suspicion. It is a part full of mystery which you would not dislike. But a woman never forgives having been taken in, and if, into the bargain, she is treated as a silly fool, the measure of her misery runs over. You can’t be very fond of me.
CHRISTINE. What are you talking about? I ignore you.
HANS. If you ignore me why are you here?
CHRISTINE. It was pure accident. I thought the room was empty. I thought you were in the act of addressing a crowd of donkeys.
HANS. These donkeys might well upset your apple cart.
CHRISTINE. My apple cart is safe enough. I have nothing to do with donkeys.
HANS. I know, I know … You only have to do with horses which gallop about with charming boys who set their hounds on human beings.
CHRISTINE. Those boys may have had something to do with the pity I felt for you. They have nothing to do with my scorn for you.
HANS. Your scorn looks oddly like anger.
CHRISTINE. You know nothing about my anger and I hope you never will.
HANS. I am not afraid of it. I know all about the bacchantes.
CHRISTINE. Stay with your bacchantes and leave me out of it. I am going.
She goes to the door, but Hans prevents her from going out.
HANS. Not until you show me your temper.
CHRISTINE. You dare …
HANS. You are behaving like a vain young lady. You are worth more than that. I should like to see the woman in you.
CHRISTINE. What are you trying to do? Leave me alone and go back as quickly as possible to those who direct you and pay you.
HANS. What! You too!
CHRISTINE. It does not interest me whether others see it or not. My faith is all that matters to me. It only remains for me to convince others by my attitude as a vain young lady that I am not the tool of an intrigue about which I know nothing and care less. I am going.
HANS. You are not going.
CHRISTINE. Of all the —
HANS. What matters to me is that you should understand that I do not belong to any sect or party.
CHRISTINE. What matters to me is that I should go. If you are free, let me be free.
HANS. I might have joined the Reformers. Everything drew me to them. But Martin Luther is considering a match which is not a love match. That is the only kind I acknowledge.
CHRISTINE. You amuse me. What does a peasant know of Martin Luther and his marriage?
HANS. A peasant knows that Luther is organizing the extermination of his brethren.
CHRISTINE, crying out. You’re inventing that.
HANS. Ha! So Luther interests you, does he?
CHRISTINE. Not in the least. It only makes me indignant that a peasant should talk of things he knows nothing about and that he goes about boasting.
HANS. A peasant! Well! Well! It would be curious if facts showed you up as harboring one of the peasants whom you pretended to be fond of and whose downfall you were secretly planning.
CHRISTINE. What are you daring to say?
HANS. I wonder if the idiot Hans was not used as a screen to cover long-term policies which those who engineer them take good care not to shout about from the house tops.
CHRISTINE. So you even malign my father. Let me tell you, he’s far above all your politics and the questions which split Germany. He does nothing which could not be done in broad daylight, and Lothar is only a nitwit. If you are a spy, you’ll learn nothing here.
HANS. A spy would remain silent, and I speak. I speak, as Cardinal Zampi says, at random. That upsets everyone in a cautious town.
CHRISTINE. You are upsetting me. That’s what concerns me. I command you to let me out.
HANS. Command? It is for me to command.
CHRISTINE. What?
HANS. You will leave only if I wish it. Your temper is rising, Christine.
CHRISTINE. I forbid you to call me Christine.
HANS. Your anger is rising — it has reached your thighs.
CHRISTINE. My anger is rising — I shall spit in your face if you don’t let me out.
HANS. Do so. That’s a woman’s trick. Your eyes are flaming and you are ugly now. It’s magnificent. Your anger is rising. It has reached the tips of your breasts.
CHRISTINE. You’re a low beast.
HANS. Your eyes are brimming over. Your anger is there.
CHRISTINE. Are you going to let me pass? Yes or no?
HANS. No!
CHRISTINE. Your impunity is only make-believe. You will be stoned, flayed, burned alive.
HANS. Fire cannot be burned.
CHRISTINE. You think you are fire.
HANS. I am fire and you are ice. It’s fine when they meet and smoke and rage and ravage, and when the red-hot iron penetrates the ice it spits in fury like a thousand cats.
CHRISTINE. Must I call for help?
HANS. My archers won’t stir.
CHRISTINE. Your archers are only men-at-arms. They only play at obeying you.
HANS. They obey me.
CHRISTINE. They can’t be afraid of a puppet.
HANS. A puppet is a man to be feared.
CHRISTINE. I am not afraid of you. If you touch me I shall strike you.
HANS. That is what I want. Jesus Christ gave us love’s greatest inv
ention: we eat Him and we drink Him from afar. I want to eat and drink you. To eat and drink you — I want your lips on my lips, your skin against my skin.
CHRISTINE. You disgust me. Your jaw is set like a dog’s, looking at a piece of meat.
HANS. A dog’s, that’s right. He’s just like me.
CHRISTINE. The joke’s too long-drawn out. You should keep your jokes for politics.
HANS. I have no politics but love.
CHRISTINE. Are you taken in by this masquerade?
HANS. Life is a masquerade, and everyone is taken in by it. I like you.
CHRISTINE. I don’t like you.
HANS. That doesn’t matter. Great things always begin badly. A couple consists of two human beings having a fight.
CHRISTINE. Don’t come near me.
HANS. I shall come near you. I am going to tear falsehood out of you.
CHRISTINE. It’s wonderful to hear you speak of falsehood.
HANS. You chose me. You washed me, you took my filth from me, you stripped me under pretext of making me presentable. I no longer breathed. I shut my eyes. I tried to make your hands stay in my dirty knots of hair, on my dirty shoulders, on my dirty knees. I became your masterpiece. My lie was a lovely one.
CHRISTINE. Are you not ashamed of yourself?
HANS. I am ashamed of your falsehood, of the lies you tell yourself out of pride and nothing else.
CHRISTINE. Do you imagine I am lying when I say I despise you and order you to let me out?
HANS. You are lying when you say that you despise me and order me to let you out.
CHRISTINE. You are incredible.
HANS. Exactly, no one gives me credit.
CHRISTINE. For the last time, let me out.
HANS. Where will you go?
CHRISTINE. That’s the climax!
HANS. You will be going out into a world which hates you because your name is linked with mine.
CHRISTINE. Do they hate you then?
HANS. Your world is not my world, and your people are not my people.
CHRISTINE. They are the people who are in power.
HANS. They will not always be in power.
CHRISTINE. No doubt you wish to persuade your people to seize our property by force.
