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An Opera By Alfred Jarry
Author of Ubu Roi
Translated and Adapted by
By Frank J. Morlock
C 1986
Characters:
Jane of Eggs, Pope under the name of John the Eighth
The Grand Mustard Maker
John of Eggs, the English Ambassador
The Privy Chamber Maid
The Grand Teamster
Strong Arm de Costo, Colonel of the Papal Zouaves
The Belgian Ambassador
The Concierge
The Grand Stationer
Captain Cooks
Ambassadors, Cardinals, Tourists, Scots Guards (Highlanders), Swiss
Guards, Little Mustard Makers, Wise Virgins, Foolish Virgins.
Scene: Rome
of throne. The Privy Chamber Maid is dressing him The Grand Mustard
Maker, The Grand Teamster, The Grand Stationer, and other
dignitaries
are present.
Chorus:
O Rome, receive in your bosom
John the Eighth—Our Holy Father—
Who, having all that is needed to be a saint,
Has what is needful to be a father.
Mustard Maker
I am the Mustard Maker,
Who carries his head high,
Grand Master of Ceremonies,
Seasoner of Ceremonies.
I cling
To all the infinite etiquettes.
I watch all protocol.
I am the Mustard Maker who holds his head high.
I impose silence on the babbling crowd,
And the minute I say that He must dress without delay,
Little Mustard Makers, I tell you truly,
That they dress His Holiness.
Dignitary
From the treasures of Saint Peter
Comes the true crown.
Grand Stationer
You are Peter.
On this rock rest the keys of Heaven.
One, two—two, not ten.
Misere, de profundis,
The keys of the apostle Saint Peter.
Grand Teamster
Here, according to the ritual,
The slipper that hides the foot,
The foot when it is clothed
Must be shod comfortably,
Foot that must be kissed.
Slipper, shake your bells,
Dance to the tune of the ritual,
Dance with the foot in the slipper.
Chorus
You cannot go
By Foot.
Although, Saint Peter, your two slippers
Make a pretty pair.
The walk would be too much.
Oh, no—not too much.
Tinkle, bell,
For the purpose of galloping is
To shake the bells.
(End of the Slipper Dance.)
Chamber Maid
It was very gracefully danced.
This young Pope is wonderful.
Mustard Maker
The Pope knows how to do everything perfectly.
It's his job.
He's infallible.
Chamber Maid
Everything! I don't think His Holiness is permitted to do
everything!
(sighing) It isn't like his predecessors for the Grand Chamber
Maid.
His flesh is strong. But yet, our Pope is charming. And a woman
couldn't display more grace and lightness of foot.
(sings)
If he was a She-Pope
Then he wouldn't be Pope!
I really have to confess
That I had three Popes
Die on me.
This one,
Virginal and cold,
Rosy cheeked and beardless chin
And decorously modest.
Can he be Pope or
Is it a She-Pope?
Mustard Maker
Child, you merit excommunication.
But, happily for you,
You don't know what you're talking of.
A woman cannot enter
The conclave of Cardinals.
And, it's really too much to tolerate
A chambermaid here.
A lot of water has flowed
Over the dam
Since the time of the
Legends of She Popes.
In our century of progress
The Ceremony which we are preparing
Is really superfluous.
Chamber Maid
Ah, yes—
The Chair.
Mustard Maker
I say superfluous,
But as Grand Mustard Maker,
That is to say,
As Grand Master of Ceremonies,
I must insist that all Ceremonies
Are scrupulously observed,
Even superfluous ceremonies.
Chorus
The Chair
Is not unpleasant.
It is situated,
The seat of the trial,
The Holy Seat
Under the auspices of
The Sacred College of Cardinals.
When the Pope seats himself,
It's a sort of halo—a golden one
Which puts its hat on in reverse,
Riding in high school,
Thus to pierce the hoop.
I tell you, without malice,
It is—in short, a chaise percee
Curbstone of the well of truth
Where we will see
If Saint Peter
Has all that is needful to be a—
Antichorus
Peter!
Mustard Maker
Papa.
Don't be offended.
(The Chorus takes up the refrain. Everyone leaves except the
Mustard
Maker and the Pope.)
Mustard Maker
Ouf! That was tedious
But this outfit makes you ravishing,
And you've been perfectly charming
In this charade.
Jane
You think so?
Me, I think it's too hot.
Now where can I put all this?
Mustard Maker
You wore a corset?
That's very imprudent.
A corset is very imprudent.
Nothing escapes the critic's eye.
A corset worn by a pope!
A corset is unprecedented.
Jane (sitting on the Mustard Maker's knees)
It's that devil of a chair which is imprudent. There. Do re me fa
sol.
It's not my corset they'll see.
Mustard Maker
Pooh! I'll think of something at the last moment.
Jane
Your inventions are super. When you run off with an English woman,
and
a married one at that—to hide her under the robes of a Pope—well,
it
seems a funny idea at first. I've begun to think it very chic. This
proves you're very well connected.
Mustard Maker
One does what one can.
Jane
And then, you know, you have nothing to say. I named you my Grand
Mustard Maker. At once you are transformed into my leading
Dignitary,
and always at my beck and call.
Mustard Maker
My darling—what an honor!
Jane
Tell me. Can you suppress the ceremony of the chair? It bores me.
Mustard Maker
Thank you for the kind word. (embracing her)
Jane
Then the chair is ceased?
Mustard Maker
That—never! I would be lacking in my duty.
Jane
Your duty! Your duty, sir, is to be my love, and to be at my beck
and
call. So, as for the chair, you're not concerned? (pause) Then, put
a
cover over it.
Mustard Maker
That's forbidden. And then, what do you want? I'm the only one who
looks.
Jane
You alone?
Mustard Maker (aside)
Better be sure of that. (to Jane) Me alone!
Jane
That's not so bad.
Mustard Maker (rising, furious)
Without a doubt, you would prefer others!
Jane
I didn't say: many others.
Mustard Maker
Think, Madame, that I alone am enough. To say I had been obliged,
from
fear of mischance, not to permit an officer of the male sex to be
around you (a sex to which I appertain and belong). That would have
been pretty. If the Pope had peopled the Vatican with children she
had
mothered! No, Madame, no one will see you but me.
Jane
Fine. Don't get irritated.
Mustard Maker (irritated)
I'm not irritated.
Jane
Come hold me!
Mustard Maker (embracing her)
There—it's more fun to hold the Pope than holding her slippers.
You
make a better Pope than an English lady.
Jane
My dear.
(Together, singing)
Jane Mustard Maker
All we think of is our love, All we think of is our love,
Our perpetual delight. Our perpetual delight.
It seems we have only It seems we have only
A single day A single day
And the purple Cardinalcy. And the purple Cardinalcy.
You give the air less majesty, You give the air less majesty,
My dear, than My dear, than
That yellow canary. That yellow canary.
My dear. My dear.
Pope Jennie, my Papacy Dear Jenny, your Papacy
Reigns mistress of the world. Reigns mistress of the world.
As does my beauty. As does your beauty.
The gold of my blonde hair The gold of your blonde hair
I had for the disguise. You had for the disguise.
A taste which is A taste which is
Not disappointed. Not disappointed.
You remember I recall
When under the beams When under the beams
In the ship's cabin In the ship's cabin
I walked in my raincoat. You walked in your raincoat.
You remember my delight. I recall your delight.
You remember the green veil I recall the green veil
That hid me from the open sky. That hid you from the open sky.
Shady Lady or Saint Peter, Shady Lady or Saint Peter,
You who are Roman, You who are English,
I who am English, I who am Roman,
The love which burns The love which burns
In my breast. In your breast.
I tell you I tell you
Before the chair. Before the chair.
Let us laugh at Let us laugh at
What they'll see; What they'll see;
It's not love that changes. It's not love that changes.
Mustard Maker
All this is charming, but what always disturbs me is your husband.
Has
he come to Rome?
Jane
He won't recognize me any more than the others! And besides, he can
never come. He's English. He said to me: “Jane, I love you.” What
an
imbecile! The English stay in England on the other side of the
water.
Mustard Maker
No. All roads lead to Rome—that explains the affluence here.
Besides,
the feasts and ceremonies, your Ceremony, attract tourists from all
nations. Furnished hotels are priceless. There are more English
tourists than tourists from any other country. These are the
statistics, Madame, there are 999 English tourists in every 1000
strangers, and 1000 chances in every 999, that one of these English
will be your husband. (aside) I believe I am deceived, but that's
the
impression.
Jane
You're right. He is in Rome! I saw a man in the procession under my
dais, a man in complete armor, with red side-whiskers, who looked
at
me. I recognized his glasses. It's him!
Mustard Maker
Ah, you exaggerate! (aside) She'll make herself sick. It's not the
right moment. (aloud) Let's protect ourselves from him. Let's take
precautions!
Jane
Ah, yes!
Mustard Maker
I have an idea.
Jane
That's astonishing.
Mustard Maker
What?
Jane
I said that's not too soon.
Mustard Maker
I am going to close—
Jane
The Holy Trial.
Mustard Maker
No. I repeat to you—that is forbidden. I am going to close all the
doors to the Vatican. No one will enter here.
Jane
No one?
Mustard Maker
No one.
Jane
And the dairy-man and the housemaids? The Ambassadors and the
little
red birds called Cardinals? And all the tradesmen?
Mustard Maker
Only the tradesmen and the Ambassadors of foreign powers. And to
keep
the traffic down, they'll have to pay to get in. They'll come in
through the turnkey.
Jane
Tell me, are your Teamsters, Mustard Makers and Stations returning
soon?
Mustard Maker
In six minutes. I am going to telephone the provisional orders
without
waiting for the entry of the Ambassadors.
Jane
That's fine! Don't let them through the turnstile without paying.
At
my court, that wouldn't be kosher.
Mustard Maker (after having telephoned in the corner)
Now, get dressed, the Ambassadors are coming.
Jane
Ah, shoot!
(While the Mustard Maker helps her dress, they sing the last
couplet
as a duet. The Dignitaries return, then the Ambassadors.)
Chorus
O Rome, receive in your bosom
John the Eighth—Our Holy Father—
Who, having all that is needed to be a saint,
Has what is needful to be a father.
Swiss Guardsman
Their excellencies the Ambassadors and Diplomats of Foreign Powers!
(They scuffle in the door in a grotesque way.)
Mustard Maker (stopping them)
Gentlemen, pay attention; don't all talk at once.
First Ambassador
But, verdamm—who is to sprich furst?
Second Ambassador
Whoever it is, it won't be you.
Third Ambassador
I will be furst. I will mach a sprich.
Mustard Maker
Shut up, Guillaume! The first shall be last as in the Gospel.
First Ambassador
Listen! In vat order is it, eh?
Mustard Maker
Attention. It's in very simple order. From Alpha to Omega. In
alphabetical order.
First Ambassador
This is a farz.
German Ambassador
And inzolent. And the alphabet in vat language, himmel!
Mustard Maker
In French—the diplomatic language.
Swiss Guard
In alphabetical order. The letter A. His Excellency, the Ambassador
d'Angleterre is admitted to kiss the Pope's slipper.
Jane (pinching the Mustard Maker)
A mistake—a bad mistake.
(The Ambassadors enter on all fours—followed by the Scots
Guards.)
Chamber Maid
What handsome men.
Chorus of Scots Guardsmen
We are the Scots Guard,
Covered in plaids,
Scotch plaids.
True patriots,
We lack boots
And almost resemble
A unisex force
Of valiant and disciplined
French sans culottes.
And if fighting is necessary,
It's better to fight on all fours
Than risk exposing one's rear.
Such are the chances of war:
The enemy in the rear
And friends up front.
Breeches on our knees
Wouldn't have any pleats
And that would be more polite.
(The English Ambassador advances on all fours to the foot of Saint
Peter's throne.)
Jane (fainting and falling backward)
Oh! My husband.
(The English Ambassador remains prostrated.)
Teamster (low, sustained by cannons)
Saint Peter's ill,
Loosen his dress.
He's too hot.
Get him some water.
Mustard Maker
Animal!
Saint Peter's fine,
Nothing is wrong.
He's taken cold.
Take the water away,
Save it for another time
And put his clothes back on.
Teamster
Chafe his hand,
Very strongly.
Again.
There's hope.
Bathe his face.
Where's the basin?
Mustard Maker
No, better just place
A key on his back.
That remedy never fails
Someone in society.
Has someone a key ready?
Here's one—that's fine.
And the Pope will soon be fine.
Actually, here's two,
Which is even finer.
All
Saint Peter's getting better.
(The Mustard Maker has seized one of the pontifical keys; the
Grand
Teamster holds the second key.)
Mustard Maker (low to the Teamster, pointing to the Ambassador's
head)
Let it fall on his head.
Teamster
What's that you say?
Mustard Maker
Imbecile!
(The Mustard Maker pushes the Teamster. The key falls but misses
the
English Ambassador.)
Jane (returning to herself)
He hasn't recognized me.
Mustard Maker
Well, Monsieur Ambassadeur,
Kiss the slipper and explain your business.
John of Eggs (kissing the slipper and remaining on his knees)
Jane! Jane!
We crept in England.
Happy days.
Short, too short.
Jane! Jane!
When free and easy,
She ran away from me.
A prelate,
A very brutish rival,
A Cardinal,
Seduced her.
This one here
Or that one there.
Oh, she treated me so inhumanely.
Jane! Jane!
Chorus
He's troubled in his heart.
It's our chorus.
Understand us, sir,
Is it pronounced Sir or Cr?
Either give us pleasure.
Who is this Jane?
Where is this Jane?
John of Eggs
Great Saint Peter, have you seen her?
Jane (aside)
No, he hasn't recognized me.
Mustard Maker
We are desolated,
Very desolated at what has
Happened to you.
But tell us who Jane is.
We've never seen her.
John of Eggs (getting to his feet, little by little)
She had little tiny feet.
Small, tiny—how to put it:
Like Cinderella.
To find a pair—
Tiny, tiny—hey, but Saint Peter
May His Holiness excuse me for
Taking the liberty—
Successor to the Apostles,
Tiny, tiny feet—like yours.
She trussed up her satin skirt
With a little touch of her roguish finger.
Who would've taken her for an adulteress?
With a little touch of her finger,
Saint Peter.
May His Holiness excuse me,
For the very great liberty,
Successor to the Apostles,
With a little finger—like yours.
Her waist was slim as a shrub.
Her waist could be grasped like a kingly scepter.
Her girdle was like a necklace
Which dissolves straightaway, straightaway.
Hey, but Saint Peter,
May His Holiness excuse me
For the very great liberty,
Successor to the Apostles,
Straight, straight—like yours.
If I see her pretty eyes,
If I strain myself up to them,
Somber, naughty, mysterious,
Like a lair of criminals,
If I see them, Saint Peter!
May His Holiness excuse me
For the very great liberty
And my carelessness,
(pointing to the Pope)
But it's you, Jane.
Chorus of Dignitaries
Raving lunatic!
Death is not enough!
Sacrilege! Madness!
But prison is for those who fear nothing.
Hurl the blasphemer in its depth in peace.
Chorus of Scots Guardsmen
Treason, treason,
Manners, duty,
Are not in season.
Vengeance! Vengeance! Vengeance!
(very fast)
If the Pope is infallible,
The Ambassador is inviolable.
Like the Bible,
Inviolable,
Like the law of the
Twelve tables.
If the Pope is not a Pope,
Yes, if the Pope is an impostor—
Privy Chamber Maid and Chorus (together)
Is it a Pope?
Is it a She-Pope?
Scots Guard
If he isn't infallible,
Vengeance will be terrible,
For if the Pope's infallible,
The Ambassador's inviolable.
Mustard Maker
Silence! Silence! Silence!
May your worries cease!
This evening, the Sacred College
To dissipate all misconceptions,
To unmask any sacrilege,
May Heaven protect us,
Thwarting frauds and snares,
Will hold the Holy Trial.
Tonight at six o'clock,
The best proof will be given!
Calm yourselves, Highlanders.
See you at the Chaise.
All
At the Chaise.
CURTAIN
back. Jane and the Mustard Maker in gallant undress.
Mustard Maker
Now, what shall we do with this Englishman?
Jane
Now? Oh, nothing at all! You are too stupid! Isn't it enough for
you
to have taken an honest woman from her husband? Now you want to
steal
an honest husband from his wife? It's disgusting.
Mustard Maker
Saint Peter!
Jane
You shouldn't cross someone like him in his conjugal rights. This
man
believes that I was his wife. He brazened it out. That proves he
has
memory and perspicacity. And that's always pleasing to a woman.
Mustard Maker
So, Saint Peter, my little Jennie.
Jane
And then, you know, you are not English, right? He said “Jane.”
That's
the modern style. You say “Jennie,” like donkey. It's vulgar! Who
do
you think I am—Joan of Arc?
Mustard Maker
That's right! I should never have let that Englishman in the door.
In
short, he should've paid his money at the turnstile! And then—if
he
was here he could make comparisons—and I would indeed have a
complaint against that islander.
Jane
Say something!
Mustard Maker
What?
Jane
He hasn't left?
Mustard Maker
He's still around the Vatican, at the hotel Nain Jaune.
Jane
Go find him!
Mustard Maker
What?
Jane
I have a plan.
Mustard Maker
I am doubtful.
Jane
Are you?
Mustard Maker
I am referring to your infallibility.
Jane
Rest assured. I will mystify him.
Mustard Maker
Ah!
Jane
Darling, whatever I do is only to please you. When my husband is
here,
you will leave us together.
Mustard Maker
What?
Jane
I say: alone. But we will not be alone, because we will be
together.
That will reassure your jealousy.
Mustard Maker
But he's your husband.
Jane
Pooh! Who worries about a thing like that? Remember, my husband
threw
himself at my feet because he really loves me.
Mustard Maker
He may throw himself on you!
Jane
Oh, there's no danger. I will put on my slippers. And if he hurts
me—
Mustard Maker
What if he hurts you?
Jane
Oh, if he hurts me, I will dance the slipper dance and you will
come
out of your hiding place and we will arrest him for the crime of
lese-
papacy.
Mustard Maker
But is there a hiding place here?
Jane
For sure.
Duo
Mustard Maker Jane
The hiding place I know of Go hide yourself—and shut up.
Is a good place to hide. For I have a niche for you,
An observatory It's twice the size of a cupboard;
From which one can spring out Where one puts a lover on the
shelf,
Like a Jack-in-the-box. To hide him without suspicion
From this hole And can sleep while he's waiting
One can pounce on an adversary Or says “Be wise, indeed, my
dear.”
Or, if necessary, And where he can
Wait for the danger to pass. Laugh at your husband.
Mustard Maker
Very well.
Jane
Then you will stay in the hiding place. You must not budge till you
hear the bells from my slippers. At that signal, you will leap
forth.
Mustard Maker
I will leap like an angry lion.
Jane
Eh! Be careful. He might be here to kill me.
Mustard Maker
To kill us both. That's what he always said he would do.
Jane
I will have courage for both of us. I will demonstrate to him that
the
Pope is a real man!
Mustard Maker
Now you relieve my mind.
Jane
Then, quickly, go get my husband. (aside) Oh, I am dying. Ah, my
dear.
Mustard Maker (running to the door)
Maid, go get that Englishman.
Chamber Maid
What Englishman?
Mustard Maker
The English Ambassador.
Chamber Maid
But they are holed up in the Embassy.
Jane
Go get that gorgeous man!
Chamber Maid
I am going.
Mustard Maker
That gorgeous man! What a cry from the heart.
Jane
Oh, well, so what! If he hadn't been gorgeous, would I have married
him?
Mustard Maker
So then, I am not a gorgeous man? And yet, it seems to me, Madame,
that you preferred me to this child of perfidious Albion who is
your
husband.
Jane
You! Ah, give me rest from gorgeous men. Who does the best, who
does
the least. Besides, I love variety more than anything. You are not
like my husband. He's athletic, you know, my husband. He boxes like
all the English—he can fell an ox with a single punch.
Mustard Maker
Barbarous sport.
Jane
He stopped a wounded horse that wouldn't halt that way.
Mustard Maker
Ho, ho.
Jane
Are you afraid?
Mustard Maker
Me? Never. But to charm our spare time and to argue a bit, I am
going
to find Colonel Strong Arm.
Jane
Coward—go.
Mustard Maker
I wish to talk to our friend, Colonel Strong Arm do Costo of the
Pontifical Zouaves. (aside) He understands English boxing. (crying
out
the window) Have Colonel Strong Arm de Costo come up.
Jane (aside)
Oh, I am going to see dear old John again. Ah—my dear. It's been a
long time.
(The Pope hides behind the curtain and doesn't show her head.)
Colonel (entering, dressed in Scots kilts)
They came to find
Strong Arm.
Strong Arm replied:
Present.
Strong Arm is here.
AT EASE!
Is there someone
To be shown out?
My two hands are
Two vices.
I am Colonel
Strong Arm de Costo.
I am strong
Like a tower.
My chest is a drum.
Hear the war cry.
Superior, supreme.
Charge! Yahoo!
Trio Bouffe
Jane/Mustard Maker Colonel
You have your armor, Two, four, six, eight. Complete.
But what about My outfit is ready. Still,
Your drawers? It's a little simplified and
plain.
His uniform is complete. The protocol demands that
Still, it's a little simple. The visitors wear the uniform
In honor of the Scots Guard. In honor of the Scots Guard.
So they come in a line, So they come in a line,
A little naked. A little naked.
He is at his ease if his hanger I am at my ease if my hanger
Is a little naked. Is a little naked.
He is always in uniform. I am always in uniform.
Colonel (to the Pope, always hidden behind her screen, we only see
her
head)
Saint Peter,
I went fishing with a line,
Like Saint Peter himself,
In the Vatican gardens,
Like a simple Saint Peter
On the lake of Tiberias.
It appears that
They don't bite better
On the lake of Tiberias.
Then the enthusiasts of maggots
Are made colonels,
Otherwise called fishermen.
Mustard Maker
It isn't a bad job.
Colonel
And there, Saint Peter, I caught this little red fish. Do me the
honor of accepting it! It has the color of blood, which suggests
the
image of war, and glory, and combat, yet without any need to
tremble.
Charge! Yahoo!
Jane
My old darling. Hurry! Hurry! Accompany our Grand Mustard Maker
into
this little hiding place.
Colonel
What little hiding place?
Jane (still behind her curtain)
There, to the left, my old sweetheart. Push on the button. The
Mustard
Maker will explain your mission. Go in, and don't come out except
when
I call. Lock yourselves in.
Colonel
It's a hidden cellar.
Mustard Maker
A wine cellar.
Colonel
Filled with wine.
March! Yahoo!
Bottles and Battles,
Battles and Bottles.
Mustard Maker
It's not a battle,
Only a bottle.
Jane
Will you get in?
Colonel
No more battles,
Here are bottles.
Many shapes
Promising marvels.
(they go in)
But each of our conquests is
Embellished in etiquette.
Let's go in
And pick grapes.
Two words:
Benediction,
Benedictine,
Grenadine.
Mustard Maker
Speak lower.
Mustard Maker and Colonel (closing the door)
Yahoo!
Jane (leaving her curtain)
Ouf!
Be careful.
Pssh!
Shut them with a double lock.
Tow precautions are better than one.
(locking them in)
They'll come out when I want them.
And they will wait for the noise of bells,
Which will fool them.
They won't hear a thing.
Oh, John!
Ah, John.
I'm waiting for you
And I'm getting ready.
(Taking a little mirror and powder puff, Jane disappears. From the
other side, the English Ambassador enters with the Grand Chamber
Maid.)
Maid
He's not the Pope,
The infamous impostor.
Sir John
I believe he's my wife.
Maid
And I am sure of the imposture.
Together
We are sure she's a fake.
Maid
In my career
As Grand Chamber Maid,
I've buried three Popes
I know exactly what
Popes like.
Sir John
Three, three Popes! Three.
This woman is an original.
A maid to Popes, I see.
Pontifical slut.
Thus, I love you.
Word of honor.
On my oath.
Shake hands!
Maid
Shake hands.
Sir John
Is this her chamber?
Maid
Yes. (simpering) I am already jealous of her.
Sir John (aside)
What an intoxicating woman!
Maid
You will see, o handsome islander.
Sir John
Whenever you wish,
O divine aspirant
To the papal tiara.
Maid
I will leave you. The Popess is coming.
Sir John
Farewell.
(Chamber Maid leaves, they blow kisses as she exits. Enter Jane in
gallant dishabille; she hurls herself into the room.)
Jane
And you, dear husband,
My dear.
How are you?
I want to say:
How do you do?
But don't make a fuss!
Sir John
Jane! Jane!
Yes, Saint Peter had your eyes.
The Holy Father had your hair.
Well, my cheri, my dear—
How are you?
I mean to say:
Jane, I love you.
Jane
But you won't make a fuss?
Sir John
No, no, no.
Together
We took it easy
In England.
Happy days,
Too short, too short.
Sir John
Jane! Jane!
Together
Jane Sir John
When without care, When without care,
You took me there, I took you there,
A prelate, A prelate,
A Cardinal, A Cardinal
A popinjay, A popinjay,
Your rival. My rival.
It's all the same to me. It's all the same to me.
I was seduced. You were seduced.
It's this one here It's this one here
Or that one there. Or that one there.
Oh, I was torn from you, Oh, you were torn from me,
It's inhumane. It's inhumane.
Jane
No, I am not inhumane.
Sir Jane
Jane, Jane.
Together
I love you, I love you.
Jane
Will you kiss me?
Kiss, kiss, kiss.
I mean to say:
John, I love you.
Together
I love you.
Sir John
The Holy Father had your hair.
The Holy Father had your pretty eyes.
Here's the divine grace.
Here's the image of God
Divine! Divine!
Jane (protesting weakly)
No, no, no.
Mustard Maker and Colonel (in the closet)
Benedictine
And Grenadine.
Jane
No, smile for mommy.
Mustard Maker and Colonel
And Anisette.
Perfect love,
We are conquered!
Jane
I love you.
Mustard Maker and Colonel
Creme de Cocoa and de cuckolds.
Sir John (fainting)
I love you.
Jane (suddenly leaping forward and opening the closet)
Arrest this street Arab.
He tried to kill me,
Our person,
Our Holiness.
But our goodness pardons him
And only demands that he be arrested.
(Enter the Colonel, the Mustard Maker, then the Chamber Maid and
all
the Dignitaries. Jane hastily puts on her pontifical robes.)
Mustard Maker and Colonel
He made an attempt
To assassinate
The person of
His Holiness.
Seize him.
Sir John (to Colonel)
Cowardly drunk.
Chamber Maid
What?
How's that?
He tried
To assassinate
The person—
But since he only attempted,
Our goodness pardons him?
Sir John
Truly,
Women are creatures
That it is wise to dread,
That it is wise to respect.
Yes, woman is indeed
A creature
That it is wise to respect.
Chorus
Let him be seized.
But our goodness
Pardons him and
Only demands that he be arrested.
Jane (recitative)
There's a somber pit
Where one throws,
One throws everything.
That's where it is.
A dungeon
And all is sewage.
Our goodness pardons him
So he may be forgotten.
Colonel (drunk)
Let him be forgotten,
But first give him a trouncing!
Chamber Maid
Don't forget to forget him,
Nor the benefit of trouncing him,
Or I will tear up my apron
And go home.
General chorus
There's a somber pit, etc.
Finale
Let him be forgotten.
(They leave, taking Sir John, who cries lamentably.)
Sir John
Jane, Jane.
(Only Jane, the Mustard Maker and the Colonel remain.)
Colonel
Grenadine!
Cream de cuckolds.
Anisette
Parfait Amour!
Mustard Maker
He is drunk.
Jane
After a fashion.
Mustard Maker
It's very irritating!
According to tradition
He has to protect
Your chair in the ceremony.
Colonel
Grenadine,
Amaretto,
Anisette,
Pernod,
Mixed nuts.
Jane
He has to protect my chair!
Mustard Maker
Alas.
Jane
Well, then, since he's drunk,
We are saved.
Mustard Maker
Saved?
Jane
Yes, you will see.
(They lead off the Colonel. The curtain opens on a great hall.)
right of the audience and not far from the street, the Chair,
elevated
on three steps and surmounted by a dais held up by four columns, to
which are attached folded curtains. Before the Chair there is an
open
trap with a ramp so disposed that one can pass under the street.
The
cortege begins. Enter the personages in the procession, the Mustard
Maker, Jane, and the crowd.
Teamsters
We are the Teamsters.
Proud men.
We don't regulate price instability.
If we went on foot,
Like simple firemen,
The mules would still be in the stable.
Bull Carriers
Vanity of vanities.
All is vanity.
To blow up a Bull,
That's to build on sand.
True, but already
It's almost a dirigible.
Poverty, calamity,
Vanity of vanities.
All is vanity.
One follows another
Like Antigone
Follows Oedipus.
It's done with a titter
Like fritters.
Leaders of the Bar
We are the fast livers.
We are sixteen.
We bear them.
Our fate is envied
For we lead a life,
A rollicking life.
We are the fast livers.
Gondoliers (carrying a gondola)
We bring gaiety wherever we go,
By mountains and by valleys.
Never in water,
It wouldn't be funny.
We shake with laughter,
Happy and familiar
Because we're Gondoliers.
Gondolier (detaching from the group)
I believe something will happen
That will be hilarious.
The very thought
Makes me shake with laughter.
(He falls into convulsions and the others carry him off.)
Zouaves
We are the Papal Zouaves,
That's us.
We wear suave uniforms,
Our hats are handsome
With red poppies.
They cram us with radishes and beans.
We are made slaves
To dusky Ethiopians.
We guard the conclaves
Of the Cardinals.
The Comptrollers (trembling little old men with green eyeshades)
We are the Comptrollers.
We dispute tastes and colors gropingly.
We are the Comptrollers,
Who will watch right now
Who will watch under the Chair.
We have penetrating eyes,
We have magnifying glasses
And optical instruments.
And we don't put up for an instant
With Physiology.
(Enter Jane, escorted by the Mustard Maker and the Colonel
hiccuping,
and the Ambassadors.)
Mustard Maker
Now is the appointed hour. (aside) O woman, be undulating and
serpentine! How the devil is she going to do it?
Jane (aside to the Mustard Maker)
Have the Colonel accompany me to the Chair. You see, you are not
the
only one who must look.
Mustard Maker (piteously)
Indeed, I believe I am not to be the only one.
Jane
Obey!
Mustard Maker
Colonel Strong Arm, in accordance with the ritual will accompany
His
Holiness up to the Holy Seat. Draw the curtain and observe! You
represent the sword and the temporal power.
Colonel (hiccuping a little and caressing a bottle which he is
hiding
in his pocket)
Forward march. Yahoo!
(Colonel directs himself and the Pope towards the Seat which they
ascend by steps. They close three of the four curtains, but neglect
to
close that which gives on the public so that the public see what is
happening on the Chair when the parties think themselves isolated.)
Mustard Maker
And you, Comptrollers, perform your office. You are the spiritual
observers. (aside) God help us!
Chorus (of seven Comptrollers who move slowly towards the trap)
March pitti-pat,
This gate is a little low.
Shall we see everything clearly?
Do we have
Everything we need?
Do we know all
We need to see?
Comptroller (exhibiting an enormous lens)
Well? Does that lens finish you off?
Second Comptroller
To observe under this pedestal,
I have my monocle.
Third Comptroller
A monocle?
That's nothing.
Even irreverent.
I have an improvement.
It's a bifocal.
Fourth Comptroller
If the Pope's without fear of reproach,
He won't fear the approach
Of my telescope.
(extending the telescope)
Closer, closer, closer, closer.
(Trumpets blare.)
Chorus
Have we done all
So we can see all?
Have we done all
So we can peer?
It's getting dark.
Let's not forget
To walk pitti-pat.
This gate is
A little low.
Let's not forget
To take our flashlight.
(They light flashlights, then disappear. A circle of light
projects
around the chair, near which the Colonel is polishing off his
bottle,
while Jane ceaselessly encourages him to drink.)
Mustard Maker (aside)
O woman, woman, be serpentine and undulating. What's going to
happen?
Comptrollers (speaking through their noses under the platform)
Holy Peter,
Take your seat,
So we can see your—
Antichorus
Peter!
Jane (to the Colonel who ceaselessly puts the bottle to his mouth)
Colonel, one drinks better sitting than standing. Take the trouble
to
seat yourself. Drink.
Colonel (drunk)
After you.
Jane (taking him by the shoulders and seating him)
Thus! Thus!
(While the Colonel sits down and continues to drink, Jane draws
the
last curtain shut. Several voices at first, then a shout.)
Chorus
It's a Pope!
Holy Peter!
Mustard Maker
I don't understand a thing!
Chorus
O Rome, take to your bosom
John the Eighth, our Saint Peter.
For to be a Saint,
He has to have a Peter.
Be proud!
O Rome,
That he proves a man.
Glory to Saint Peter
Glory to the Holy Man.
(During this last chorus, Jane has lifted the curtain facing the
public, and pushed the hiccuping Colonel from under the Chair. Jane
sits on her throne and in this moment the crowd precipitates itself
and raises the other curtains. The Comptrollers come out of the
trap
with admiring gestures.)
Chorus
Glory to Saint Peter.
APOTHEOSIS
CURTAIN
The Gardens of the Vatican. Venetian lanterns. It is evening.
ballet.
Cardinals (seated at a table stirring their absinthe)
Mea culpa, mea culpa, mea culpa.
Let's beat our cups
And let the wind trouble them.
Don't bother us.
We are four
Who wish to fight
The battle with care.
Trouble them, don't bother us.
You're read in the papers
That it was the four Cardinal points
Drinking their Grenadine.
But at the present, we're ahead.
The position has advantages.
Four against four we fight.
We want to fight four on four,
To make it worth the trouble.
The glimmer of hope
In the green liqueur,
From this glimmer hope springs forth
To make it worth the trouble.
The colors
Under which we fight,
Which rise and flutter,
All in red,
Trouble them, don't bother us.
Mea culpa, mea culpa, mea culpa.
Mea maxima culpa.
Maxim—that's a gun,
Rata tat tat.
It's the holy liqueur.
Let's fight our absinthe.
Trouble them, don't bother us.
Mea culpa, mea culpa, mea culpa.
(Divertissement. Enter dancing Chamber Maids.)
Half Chorus (of singing Chamber Maids and Foolish Virgins)
Yes, the Pope had ravished us.
The Pope of Rome,
Who's demonstrated he's Pope
In emulation.
And like a man alone,
The Pope for life,
From whose eyes nothing escapes.
By a little trap,
He is established Pope.
That Chair is made for sitting.
His Holiness
Is a mirror
Of Verities.
Second Half Chorus (of Wise Virgins)
Oh, if the Chair
Serves its purpose,
We are very happy.
We, the Wise Virgins.
You Foolish Virgins,
Go dance your fandangos.
We, the Wise Virgins,
Incline our heads
And our busts
To other inclinations.
Wiser ones!
Chorus of Indignant Apothecaries
The Chair is not what
The silly people think.
It has only a hole.
But in recompense,
According to the testimony
Of wise men,
There are two customs.
It reminds the sovereign Pontiff
That his power is not absolute.
That glory clashes with life.
Memento, homo, quia pulvis est.
One must digest it or perish.
All returns to nothingness.
Et in pulveria revertis!
And when Paradise opened to Peter's keys,
The azure sky,
The abode of pure hearts,
Where liberty is pure and complete.
Foolish Virgins (interrupting)
But—Shh!
Shh! Shh!
Shh! Shh!
It's a secret.
Apothecaries and Virgins
Mystery.
Clyster.
Clyster.
Mystery.
Apothecaries (taking out syringes)
Here are the keys of Paradise,
Perfected by Saint Peter
To enter this place
Is a resort,
Provided it gets in.
It's a charming instrument
Which goes juice, juicy, juicy.
Hail, Saint Peter,
Prince of Pharmacists.
But—Shh!
Shh! Shh!
Shh! Shh!
And juice, juice, juice, juicy.
All the Virgins
If you believe all the ads
For laxatives,
Stomach soothers,
Infamous.
Still, it's not the Jews,
Good souls
Who deceive you.
We are thinking of the health,
That's all
Of your souls.
For heretics are
Constipated persons.
You, the faithful,
Go in peace.
Chorus of Constipated Believers (entering)
We hurry on stretched wings
To demand the kiss of peace.
We are believers.
Constipated—alas—
Very constipated.
We mention it only on the sly
And we wait in the shadows
For the salvation of our guts.
We hope that our little mite
Will, perhaps, do us honor.
Our fasts,
Our heavy fasting,
Are prayers for the
Repose of souls.
Drying our skin,
Not filing our plates.
Virgins
These good people haven't seen
The Pope at all.
Good people, you are now
Going to see the test
By which something happens.
An apotheosis
From weeds to roses.
Believers
Sitting on this august stool,
We feel at our ease.
The terror and emotion
Reach us like a cooling drink.
The Pope has the keys to the mystery.
Rendering ashes to ashes.
God makes Grace.
May the power of Saint Peter
Urge a purge.
Purgatory.
Urge the Consistory be purged.
When our sins are purged
And we feel ourselves lighter,
We, the believers,
Will no longer
Be constipated.
General Chorus
But—Shh!
Shh! Shh!
Shh! Shh!
(Burlesque exit of Apothecaries and Believers. Fandango of Wise
and
Foolish Virgins.)
First Cardinal
Now we have a Pope.
Second Cardinal
It's been difficult.
Third Cardinal
It seemed after the ceremony
That this is a prodigious Pope.
First Cardinal
Who would've thought it,
Looking at his callow face.
Fourth Cardinal
Appearances are sometimes deceptive.
Isn't that your opinion, Colonel?
Colonel
To tell the truth,
I was almost asleep
During the ceremony.
I was on duty.
German Ambassador (to Belgian Ambassador, drinking)
He vas zipped!
Belgian Ambassador
These Italians don't know
How to drink like us.
First Cardinal
Then, Colonel,
You didn't see anything?
Colonel
We soldiers are forbidden
To think of politics.
But I believe I was at my post.
Charge! Yahoo!
Belgian Ambassador
What a bull shitter!
(Noise of cannonade. General panic.)
First Cardinal
What's troubling our innocent amusements?
Belgian Ambassador
They won't let us drink quietly here.
(Enter Concierge, then Highlanders, Pickpockets and English
Tourists,
then Salvation Army.)
Concierge (breathlessly)
M'lord, Colonel—the followers of the English Ambassador are at the
garden gates. They have gathered a mob of tourists and are
screaming
for their master. They have killed the Grand Teamster.
Colonel
We'll teach them manners. How many are there?
Concierge
Ten thousand strong.
Colonel
Call in the Zouaves!
(Zouaves rush in.)
Colonel
Fall in!
Proper alignment.
One, two.
Fix bayonets!
(The Zouaves line up, bayonets pointed in the direction from which
the
English must appear. The Ambassadors and Cardinals hide behind
tables
and chairs.)
Belgian Ambassador (to Colonel)
You know, Colonel, that diplomats are inviolable. Save us!
German Ambassador (drawing his sword)
Just let somebody even touch my mustache.
Cardinal
Solemn moment.
(An instant of profound silence. The Zouaves summon the guard to
them.
Enter, dancing and cartwheeling, five ridiculous Highlanders
playing
bagpipes and other enormous instruments which they press to their
chests; the goatskin bags are in the shape of breasts.)
Colonel (shouting in a tone of defiance)
Bagpipes are the only tits one ever sees in England.
(Tourists enter in carnival costumes, guided by Captain Cook.)
Chorus of Tourists (reading their Baedekers which they hold in
their
hands)
Baedeker,
Robert Macaire!
In the Vatican, the collection
Of antiquities of the
First in the world
And the most authentic.
It is not yet finished.
The largest part
Has been dispersed
In little souvenirs
Given to foreign tourists.
(The Tourists parade around the statues, the Cardinals and the
Zouaves, surreptitiously detaching fragments from the statutes.)
Chorus of Pickpockets
Flouting all danger,
Walking with hands in our pockets,
Pretending to do nothing
In the pockets of our neighbors.
Nothing happens without a hitch.
That gives a certain style
That has to be kept up.
(The Pickpockets amuse themselves by stealing bayonets from the
Zouaves.)
Tourists
Baedeker.
Pickpockets
Robert Macaire!
(The Zouaves' trumpet sounds “Guards to us.” Great uproar by both
parties broken by the arrival of a large caisson of the Salvation
Army. The Colonel utters his war cry, but nobody pays the least
attention. The Highlanders blow themselves out of breath. Enter
Jane
and the Mustard Maker. Jane appears on the steps. Silence follows.
Jane makes the grand gesture dismissing the combatants—who leave,
accompanied by doleful music, sad enough to make bears weep. Jane
descends the steps, leaning on the arm of the Mustard Maker.)
Mustard Maker
What are you thinking about, Saint Peter? You have a melancholy
air.
Are you not satisfied to be Pope, now that the world has been told
you
have all it takes to be a Pope?
Jane
If you think it's fun to pass for a man! that diverts amateurs.
Mustard Maker
That's what has to be done.
Jane
And yet, there's something troubling me. I think of my poor husband
shivering all alone in a dungeon.
Mustard Maker
Your husband! You think too much, Saint Peter. Me, I think things
are
fine just the way they are.
Jane
Oh, as for him, it's all the same to me. Only there are always
those
idiots who walk in the flower beds and ruin everything we've built
up.
Still, it's funny to speak of my husband—it makes me think of
remarrying.
Mustard Maker
You remarry! Go back to that imbecile!??
Jane
Oh, him or someone else! To remarry—an idea like that. With the
first
imbecile to come along.
Mustard Maker
Chose me. Speak.
Jane, Mustard Maker (duo)
What's the papacy
As a prize for beauty?
By our will
The veil's removed.
Trumpets, kisses, fanfares.
Love declares itself.
Our hearts are great lords—
Better than the tiara.
I offer my wealth
To your image.
Take away the incense, magicians.
If a man has honors,
Woman has homage.
Thus, the veil is removed.
Mustard Maker
But, imbeciles that we are:
We haven't considered.
You can't marry me.
You're already married.
Marriage is sacred,
Indissoluble.
You would be a bigamist.
Jane
Pooh!
Mustard Maker
And besides, you're Pope.
Jane
Pope. But it's our business.
I ought to get something out of this.
You're going to see.
Call everybody.
Mustard Maker
Even your husband?
Jane
Especially my husband.
Fish him out of his dungeon.
Mustard Maker
To fish him out,
I am going to call
Colonel Strong Arm
Who loves to dip
His oar in troubled waters.
(shouting)
Colonel!
Colonel (entering)
I fish precisely, Saint Peter.
I have my trident like Neptune.
(Colonel presents arms with his trident.)
Mustard Maker
Then, continue.
Show your catch.
(Mustard Maker raises the lid of the dungeon.)
Colonel
Charge!
Yahoo!
(Colonel rushes to the hole. He thrusts his trident in. Sir John
climbs the long handle like a monkey and appears, sopping wet.)
Sir John
Hoo, hoo, hoo.
A dungeon
Is a rheumatic hole
Under a floor.
Very bad.
A dungeon smiles
Like a wolf-trap.
Rendez vous.
On short rations
Of crumbs, of suet,
Of water, of powder,
Of old nails
And everything people throw out,
Of all the sewage
That's under all dustbins.
That's ugly.
Hoo, hoo, hoo.
I was in the condition of a monkey
That needed to change his clothes.
By the round hole—only star in my heaven,
I saw a glimmer of light,
For the astronomers, the most superficial.
It was plugged up.
A night with no moon.
Ah, how much better to have been
The sixteenth man
Under your stool.
Hoo, hoo, hoo!
Jane
Well, old friend, don't give us cause to put you back where you
were
before.
Sir John (aside)
Be careful.
Oh, Saint Peter—gracious!
To return to that hole.
What must I do to earn your pardon?
Jane
Really, it's simple. You see where marriage leads. That's what you
get
for chasing after a woman.
Sir John
Even one's own.
Jane
Especially one's own! But the Pope is here to safeguard morality.
Have
you kept your marriage contract?
(One of the valets comes forward with a white satin cushion; Sir
John
places his marriage contract on it, and the valet returns it to
Jane.)
Jane
Why didn't you give your contract to a vestryman before splashing
around in the dungeon? It's disgusting. (to valet) Bring tongs.
Sir John (aside)
She's got balls! No wonder she passed the stool test. What did they
see, goddam, what did they see?
Jane
Mustard Maker—take it in your right hand. You have no gloves. Use
those tongs. (giving him the tongs) And you, Sir John, watch yours!
They're black enough. And put it in your left! Good. (she has the
contract carried by the valets between the two men) Each take one
side
and pull. One, two, three. (the contract tears and Sir John and the
Mustard Maker fall down) And that's how the Pope breaks a marriage.
(to Sir John) Now, you are free. (Sir John starts to leave) Don't
go.
It's not over. To maker sure you will leave your wife in peace the
Pope is going to give you another, and well chosen, it doesn't
matter
who.
Chamber Maid (advancing timidly)
Saint Peter.
(Jane seizes the Chamber Maid's hand and puts it precipitously
into
the hand of Sir John.)
Jane
Go, go, my children.
Have many others.
Chamber Maid
We are united.
Blessed.
It's over.
It's a bit fictitious.
It's a little hasty,
But definitive.
Oh, my blonde milord whom I love,
You are my fourth.
But I don't remember the other three.
I don't even regret them.
We have a Pope,
My blond milord.
For he's a true Pope.
One cannot escape
What happened today.
God alone has in his hand
The Pope of the future.
Yes, you are my fourth,
Yes, my handsome Englishman,
I love you.
We are united.
Blessed.
It's all over.
Or rather, our love immense
Only from today will commence.
Jane
You are happy then? Thank the Pope. And as the Pope wants to be
happy,
too, I am going to wed.
Chorus
What?
The Pope marry?
That's phantasmagoric!
Shall we laugh?
Shall we cry?
What is this strange dream?
What troubles the Holy Father?
If to this wish one complies,
The Holy Father will be a papa.
But then he won't be Holy.
O Rome, reject from your bosom
This Holy Father.
Jane
Oh, yes! I am going to marry.
Chorus
Why? Why?
Jane
Because a woman is changeable and I am a woman.
Chorus
You are a woman?
Jane Mustard Maker, Sir John,
Chamber Maid
The wife is me. The wife is you.
The woman is me. The woman is you.
Mustard Maker
As for me, The Mustard Maker, I say
That everything is revealed.
In truth,
His Holiness,
In reverse of the custom,
Dances in a lady's slipper.
Jane
Shoot, let's remove the disguise.
It's not too soon.
I hide nothing any further.
Chorus
It's a broad revelation.
It's a woman.
The proof's compelling,
This Pope wears a corset.
Jane
Nothing is hidden
In the slipper dance
Except a prudent corset.
Chorus
Quite unprecedented.
Comptrollers (in quavering voices)
But what is this antiphony?
What unforeseen spectacle?
The Pope we just saw
Had no corset.
Not the one we saw.
We weren't drunk.
We saw the Pope.
The true Pope of Rome,
The Holy Father,
The Saintly man,
The Pope we saw,
The Pope we just saw,
Was the Pope we saw.
(The chorus chirp the last verse endlessly.)
Jane
Take the tiara
To the treasury.
I abdicate.
The tiara is not authentic.
Chorus
The tiara is not authentic?
Comptrollers (without stopping)
We saw the Pope.
Jane
This Pope swears to your astonished eyes. I swear to you on my
eternal
soul, people, the Pope, it was the Colonel.
All
The Colonel!
Colonel (spoken)
What a flash of light!
Jane
It's your business, go. I'm an expert.
Chorus
The Colonel
Jane
I'm an expert.
Comptrollers
We saw the Pope, we saw.
Chorus
O Rome, receive in your bosom
The Colonel. Our Saint Peter.
Who, if he has nothing of the Saint
About him, at least has—
Antichorus
A Peter!
Chorus
Be proud, O Rome,
That he proves a man.
O Rome, receive in your bosom
Saint Peter.
Glory to Saint Peter.
Glory to the Holy Man.
Jane Mustard Maker, Sir John,
Chamber Maid
The wife is me. The wife is you.
The woman is me. The woman is you.
FINALE
Jane
Beware. The human eye is subject to error and can be deceived by
the
simplest trick under the stool—wonderful test. A photographic
display. But one must cover it—because one cannot change the
subject
while holding the pose.
Chorus
Beware.
The human eye is subject
To error and can be deceived
By the simplest trick
Under the stool—
Wonderful test.
A photographic display.
But one must cover it—
Because one cannot change
The subject while holding the pose.
CURTAIN