The Infernal Machine and Other Plays

by Jean Cocteau

  CARDINAL. Possibly. I cannot judge the reasons which changed her attitude. But certainly it has changed, and I think that your daughter alone could prove to Hans that his martyrdom would be useless.

  DUKE. What do you suggest?

  CARDINAL. The hands of the clock are moving on, my lord Duke. Fetch your daughter. We shall speak to her.

  The Duke goes out by the little door.

  BISHOP. Does Your Eminence think it seemly for us to concern ourselves with this affair?

  CARDINAL. We shall concern ourselves with it if I say so.

  BISHOP. Far be it from me to judge the conduct of Your Eminence, but —

  CARDINAL. There are no buts. Burning a man alive is a right which our courts reserve for themselves. If we let the people burn a man, our courts thereby lose their rights. They no longer count.

  BISHOP. No doubt… no doubt…

  CARDINAL. Without any doubt. That is why, my dear Bishop, we must prepare our program. You will leave me alone with this young girl and you will walk across that empty square.

  Bishop pulls a wry face.

  Give the order that the Cathedral bell be rung as soon as this window is opened. That will be my signal. Then come back. It is important that at the critical moment we should all be together in this hall, if it be true that we have to face an armed attack.

  BISHOP. An armed attack!

  The Cardinal calms him with a gesture and pushes him out.

  The Duke enters by the small door with Christine.

  CARDINAL. My lord Duke, may I ask you to leave me alone with your daughter while you await me in your apartments? Have some writing material ready for me there.

  Exit the Duke by the small door.

  My lady, this is an evil hour. You no doubt know that a stake has been erected in the Square. And you know the use of stakes.

  CHRISTINE. In the present instance, to burn an effigy.

  CARDINAL. No, young lady. The official body has not been asked for the costume with which I understand it is customary to deck the effigy with great pomp and ceremony. In some crises, the crowd becomes an elemental force beyond our control. It will not burn an effigy of Bacchus. It will burn him in person. Neither the Provost Marshal nor the Syndic will come to his aid. You can expect nothing whatever from them.

  CHRISTINE. The wretches.

  CARDINAL. Nothing changes. Twenty-five years ago when we burned Savanarola, in Florence, his youthful bodyguard buried thorns in the planks leading to his place of execution, in order that he should hop about and make strange faces to amuse the Signoria. On the other hand, the role of a Prince of the Church is to practice charity and to prevent crime. The time is approaching when the mob will take the upper hand. We must act before them. I have a proposal to make and I should like you to collaborate with me.

  CHRISTINE. What can I do faced with a mob which makes me part of this story and which hates me?

  CARDINAL. Nothing, I grant you. But if you are willing to listen to me you will learn what I expect of you.

  CHRISTINE. Forgive me, Your Eminence, for becoming excited.

  CARDINAL. Here it is. I discovered without trying to understand nor even wishing to do so that your dislike of this young man had changed to kindness, understanding, and tacit approval of his subversive attitude of mind — of which you at first disapproved. Is that so?

  CHRISTINE. That is so.

  CARDINAL. Good. You had been taken in and we were both dupes. I felt not the slightest bitterness about it. A masquerade is a masquerade. You felt bitter. But later I noticed that you had changed round completely. I do not ask for your reasons. They belong to you. But I do ask for your help in convincing this young man whom the fire attracts, that fire burns and that even a phoenix will not be reborn from his ashes. The house is guarded, escape impossible. I propose other means.

  CHRISTINE. I rely on your wisdom.

  CARDINAL. Very good. I was afraid you might suspect me of some trick. I am incapable of such a thing. I wish to save this young man, that is all.

  CHRISTINE. My lord, I am listening.

  CARDINAL. All that is left us is recantation.

  CHRISTINE. Recantation?

  CARDINAL. Yes, yes! My only power lies there. Let him sign a document recognizing his errors and he will be free.

  CHRISTINE. Free?

  CARDINAL. Free … free… indefinitely. His recantation will astonish, will create a diversion, and will permit me to entrust him to the Bishop, who will entrust him to the priest, who will lead him to a place of refuge.

  CHRISTINE. Do you mean to a monastery?

  CARDINAL. It is the only place of refuge over which I have control. He will no longer be in danger there. He can wait there until hatred dies down and other crimes turn public attention from him. The people are quick-tempered, but their memory is short. The victim of one day becomes the hero of the next.

  CHRISTINE. And … if Hans signs the paper … he would then go out of our house free?

  CARDINAL. I shall soothe the mob. I shall say a Mass. I shall see to it that truth triumphs.

  CHRISTINE. I don’t know what to answer, Your Eminence. I ask nothing better than to take the horse to the water, but I cannot make him drink.

  CARDINAL. He will. Women have irresistible arguments.

  Silence.

  CHRISTINE. I shall obey you.

  CARDINAL. I hope so. I do not care to think of this window as a theater box, a box from which we might watch a hideous scene.

  CHRISTINE. How vile!

  CARDINAL. Yes, it would be vile. And it is in order to avoid this vile show that I am pleading with you and that you will promise me to play your part.

  CHRISTINE. I have already promised Your Lordship that I will obey you.

  CARDINAL. I want to make sure that you will.

  CHRISTINE. If it is the only way of saving Hans —

  CARDINAL. The only one.

  CHRISTINE. If it is the only way of saving Hans, I shall work for it with my whole strength.

  CARDINAL. Our hope lies in you.

  Silence.

  CHRISTINE. Does my father know of your plan?

  CARDINAL. Do not let us speak of the Duke. He is a father. His heart makes him blind. It is for one of your spiritual Fathers to see in his place.

  Christine curtsys.

  I shall go upstairs to the Duke to draft the document. Our signatures will suffice. I shall send you this young Bacchus who gives us such a tangled skein to unravel.

  He touches her on the forehead with his thumb.

  Exit Cardinal through the small door. Christine goes to the window, lifts the curtain and looks at the square searchingly. Then she comes back to the table, lets herself sink into a chair, her elbows on its arms, and buries her face in her hands. Enter Hans, in peasant’s costume. He goes up to Christine and puts his hand on her shoulder. She turns around, startled.

  CHRISTINE. Hans! Why are you wearing that costume?

  HANS. It is the only suitable one now and it’s the first one you knew me in.

  CHRISTINE. Hans … it’s frightful…

  HANS. What’s frightful?

  CHRISTINE. This town, this hate, this waiting.

  HANS. It had to come.

  CHRISTINE. I didn’t think that it would come to this.

  HANS. I told you that a free man couldn’t stay free.

  CHRISTINE. There is some difference between a prison…

  She points to the window.

  … and the stake.

  HANS. They will not dare.

  CHRISTINE. They will dare.

  HANS. I’m sorry I dragged you into this tragedy.

  CHRISTINE. Don’t turn the tables on me. I brought this tragedy on you. It is my fault. I loved you when I saw you in the country and out of selfishness I brought you here.

  HANS. You loved a poor harmless animal. As soon as he showed his real nature, you fought him.

  CHRISTINE. Very little. You soon made me see what a fool I was.

  HANS.
I love you, Christine. Don’t be afraid. There’ll be a miracle.

  CHRISTINE. Miracles only happen to those who are worthy of them.

  HANS. You are worthy of them.

  CHRISTINE. You don’t believe in them … but you are worthy of them. I’m not worthy of any miracle. Love has killed all my spirit. Now I am ashamed of being a weak woman. Where is the strength which made me use my whip on those who laughed at your innocence? Where is the strength which made me eager to avenge Ulrich? Where is the strength which made me drag you into town, clothe you, present you before the judges and convince them? Where is the strength which made me resist you, insult you, and fight with you?

  Silence.

  HANS. What did the Cardinal say to you?

  CHRISTINE. He amazed me. I really think that except for Lothar and Father, he is the only human being in the town.

  HANS. In Rome they are more broad-minded than here. Italians love love. Does he guess anything?

  CHRISTINE. Yes, Hans. He let me know that he did.

  HANS. And the Duke?

  CHRISTINE. He suspects nothing. In spite of his justice and goodness, his real nature is so severe, so rigid, so stern —

  HANS. So Protestant.

  CHRISTINE. Be quiet, Hans. You must not even think such things.

  HANS. It is because I protest against everything that they are going to burn me.

  CHRISTINE. They will not burn you. The Provost Marshal and the Syndic are rotten to the core. They are all pretending to protect you from the crowd. The Bishop will close his eyes. But the Cardinal is sincere. He will save you.

  HANS. How? What can robes do against armor?

  CHRISTINE. He has devised a way.

  HANS. Tell me.

  CHRISTINE. Hans, it is the only way. The only one. Don’t ride your high horse at the very mention of it. Don’t shut your mind to it; welcome it, Hans.

  HANS. Tell me about it first.

  CHRISTINE. All that you need to do is to sign a paper.

  HANS. A paper?

  CHRISTINE. Yes, that’s all. A document prepared by the Cardinal, in which you will declare that you have gone beyond the limits of the masquerade, that you have tried to stir up the people, and that you do not believe the sacriligeous things you said. In exchange you will be free.

  HANS. And after this recantation? …

  CHRISTINE. Only for form. The Cardinal knows quite well that a man does not change in a minute.

  HANS. And after this recantation? …

  CHRISTINE. You will be hidden in a monastery.

  HANS. Retract… Hide … It’s impossible.

  CHRISTINE. If you love me, you’ll be willing.

  HANS. I was willing to play the fool to escape from being tortured, but I refuse to play a part which would make me unworthy to live in order to avoid torture. I should be tortured then from within.

  CHRISTINE. Our love must come before everything.

  HANS. My poor Christine, would you love a man who was exiled, jeered at, a laughingstock?

  CHRISTINE. You’ll escape from the monastery. I shall join you and you’ll be able to do things once more. Luther is in hiding and I shall hide you. I shall interest powerful people who will help you and I shall uphold you in your work.

  HANS. What work? My only work was love and I have reaped nothing but hatred.

  CHRISTINE. One would think that my love meant nothing to you.

  HANS. It does, Christine. But because I love you, I will not let you share my failure. If I am burned, I win. If I escape, I lose.

  CHRISTINE. What do you win?

  HANS. From free man to free man, from burning stake to burning stake, God will in the end conquer the devil who disguises himself as a hermit.

  CHRISTINE. Don’t be so foolishly obstinate. We love each other and must live together somehow or other. But now there is only one way out. Accept it for love of me.

  HANS, after a moment’s silence. Listen to me carefully, Christine. The Abbé Knopf buried some gold. It came from the Reformers. It was a matter of implicating a very high-up person who is against them. They intended to make him imagine that they could make gold which he’s short of and then to compromise him in a trial for witchcraft. The Church learned about this. This gold was the real reason for arresting Knopf. He denied all knowledge of it even at the stake. The Reformers dare not try to find the gold. But I know where it is. You will get it and as soon as I can leave my hiding place I shall join you. Then we shall cross over to Switzerland and from there to France.

  CHRISTINE, clinging to him. Hans!

  HANS. I cannot let you go.

  CHRISTINE. If you had refused, I would have shouted the truth to everyone and we would have burned together.

  HANS. With this gold we shall be able to get away to a country where love counts more than politics.

  CHRISTINE. Don’t tell anyone about this gold. I love you.

  HANS. I loathe myself.

  CHRISTINE. If you loathe yourself for signing, then refuse. I shall declare before all that I am your mistress. You know quite well the consequences of such an admission even if my lover had not been you.

  HANS. You would do it, I know, that’s why I give in.

  CHRISTINE. Hans, that’s not what I am asking you to do. I only wanted to be sure of your love.

  Enter Lothar by the low door.

  CHRISTINE. Quick, Lothar. The Cardinal offers Hans a purely formal recantation. It is the only way to save him.

  LOTHAR. And does Hans cheerfully intend to do something as low as that?

  CHRISTINE. I do not see anything low in it.

  LOTHAR. Naturally, you are a woman, and in order to keep your man you would persuade him to do anything.

  CHRISTINE. You don’t think of his mother. He has one.

  LOTHAR. How good, how very good of you to think of her for him. Women who live at home are astonishing. They think of everything.

  CHRISTINE. As for you, you think of nothing. You would like to see him being burned.

  LOTHAR. Hans and I have a pact.

  CHRISTINE. What pact?

  HANS. Forget about it, Lothar. It is only a piece of childishness, Christine.

  CHRISTINE. I want to know about this pact.

  LOTHAR. It concerns no one but ourselves. It’s a secret between us.

  CHRISTINE. Hans cannot have a secret from me.

  LOTHAR. So you’re jealous of his friends. Is that the latest?

  CHRISTINE. I’m not jealous, but I hate your incurable flippancy. You are always playing some theatrical part. But this time it is no play and you are driving Hans to his death.

  LOTHAR. Hans is old enough to decide for himself.

  CHRISTINE. He will sign.

  HANS. Lothar is right, Christine, I will not sign.

  CHRISTINE. So you are refusing to sign because this young cub is stopping you from doing so and you have a pact with him.

  HANS. I refuse to sign because I cannot betray a cause.

  CHRISTINE. What cause?

  LOTHAR. His cause.

  CHRISTINE. You make me laugh. Did he go on with his preachings?

  LOTHAR. You distracted him from them.

  CHRISTINE. Nothing turns a man away from his faith, if he has one.

  HANS. That’s enough, Lothar. Mind your own business.

  CHRISTINE. He only minds other people’s business.

  LOTHAR. Hans’ ideas are my business.

  CHRISTINE. Hans’ ideas! You make me laugh. If Hans had any ideas he would have followers, and he has no one but me. I am his only follower.

  LOTHAR. And I!

  CHRISTINE. Let him find some others.

  LOTHAR. Then, if Hans has no ideas, what interests you in him?

  CHRISTINE. Lothar!

  LOTHAR, shouting, I know, I know what interests her. I know and I’ll tell you.

  HANS. Be quiet, I tell you.

  LOTHAR. She loved you better as an idiot, when you followed her about like a dog.

  HANS. Will you be q
uiet?

  He grabs Lothar and throws him into a chair

  LOTHAR. I’m saying nothing. You both make me sick.

  Lothar slumps down and puts his arms and his head on the table.

  HANS. Come on, Lothar … Come on … Be a man.

  CHRISTINE. Don’t ask him to be a man. Let him cry like a girl. His weakness disgusts me with my own. Let’s fight without him, Hans. I demand that you sign this paper. I demand it.

  HANS. No, Christine, no.

  CHRISTINE. You’re unreliable creatures. Both of you. And as you are both unreliable creatures —

  HANS, catching hold of her arm. Be quiet, they are coming down.

  Enter the Cardinal and the Duke through the low door. The Cardinal is holding a document.

  CARDINAL. You only have to sign there.

  HANS. May I read it?

  CARDINAL. Please do. Do not be surprised at some of the elaborate phrases. The formula is always the same. I have to use these words.

  Hans reads.

  DUKE. We have a quarter of an hour left. Don’t be too long.

  HANS. I should like to know what my signature will involve.

  CARDINAL. What do you mean?

  HANS. I want to know whether once I sign it I shall be free.

  CARDINAL. Free… But let us be frank. You will have to disappear into a monastery and obey its rules.

  HANS. And then?

  CARDINAL. Come, Hans, be reasonable. A monastery is not a fortress. Our monks will welcome you without asking who you are. You would have to keep your own council and obey.

  HANS. And … to take the habit.

  CARDINAL. Not all at once. You would be a novice. It would only be if you felt that the cloisters suited you, and if you, or rather, your superiors, decided that you were worthy of taking vows.

  HANS. And if they don’t think me worthy?

  CARDINAL. You would go to another monastery and other Reverend Fathers would take your instruction in hand.

  HANS, after a moment’s silence. A remarkable theologian … A monk such as we lack …

  CHRISTINE. Your Eminence will no doubt forgive me for saying that I did not know that Hans would have to take orders.

  CARDINAL. That was understood. We cannot hide a man. We can only welcome him into the bosom of our family.

  CHRISTINE. Hans cannot take orders.

  CARDINAL. And why not?