FIRST ACT.
(The Square of Cluny in the XIV Century. Centre of Square, under the
traditional plane tree, a bench. We perceive the front of the abbey
with a statue of the virgin over the door. It is the first day of the
month of Marie, a market day. Girls and boys dance. The sellers are at
their places.)
(Citizens and their ladies, Knights, clerks, peasants and their women,
and common people go and come: sellers and their wives at their stalls.)
The Crowd.
For our lady of Heaven
Dance the shepherd step,
Oh Pierrot, oh Pierrette.
Here is gracious May,
Dance the shepherd step
And for the dauphin Jesus
Go on doing more.
Sellers and Their Wives.
Leeks, turnips and prunes of Tours,
And fresh strawberries.
Cream cheese, white cabbage.
Green sauce, buy the good green sauce.
A Crier Monk.
Indulgences are at the great altar.
(In the distance an air of the lute getting nearer.)
Various Voices.
Silence, do you hear: It is the sound of a lute.
All.
A juggler, a juggler.
Diverse Voices.
Like a grasshopper
Jumps the lively refrain--he comes,
a juggler!
Praise be, ‘tis a juggler.
He will give us some new song
Or turn us some new trick.
Or pull us some new face.
All.
He's here, make room, make room!
Jean
(Enters juggling; stops).
All.
Room for the king of jugglers.
(Jean appears poor, frayed with well-worn apparatus.)
(Crowd murmurs with disappointment.)
All.
The king is not handsome,
A king of piteous means.
Man of the Crowd.
His Majesty, King of Famine.
(A few laughs.)
Jean.
Attention! Come forward... go
back... attention!
Listen all, knights and villains.
Young and old, beasts and men.
Ladies of the gentle smile,
Learned clerks who know to read,
Lame men, humpbacks, drunkards,
thieves.
List to Jean, king of jugglers!
(All sing and dance.)
Pretty King, choose your Queen,
Lanturli virelonlaine
Choose your queen, good king,
Lanturli lon la...
(Interrupting the dance.)
Attention!
But first in my cup
My gentle friends, a little grist.
(To one who gives.)
Jesus return it to you, lord.
(Sadly, looking at cup.)
An old coin, worth nothing.
(Continuing his juggling.)
Attention!
Would you have a turn at jugglery.
Or else of sorcery.
No one lives on earth
More dextrous at juggling the stick
Or cups and balls.
(Laughs of scorn.)
I can draw eggs from a hat.
All.
‘Tis childish... old game... go milk chickens!
Jean.
I know the hoop dance.
(He dances heavily.)
All.
What a lithesome grace.
(The boys and girls make the juggler dance with them.)
All.
Choose your queen, fine king.
Lanturli lon la.
Jean.
(After getting away).
Peace you fool boys and girls!
(Continuing his merrymaking.)
My lords to please you I'll sing a fine Love's Salvation.
The Sellers.
Leeks, turnips!
(Laughter.)
Other Sellers.
Prunes from Tours!
Jean
(Who begins to despair).
Well then! Song of battle
Oliphant, drum and trump,
Neighings under the spur,
Give and take.
All.
No, no.
Jean.
I know Roland.
Sellers.
Cream cheese, white cabbage.
(Laughter.)
Jean.
I know Bertha of the big feet.
Several Voices.
No, no, too old a story.
(Dance goes on.)
Jean.
(Trying to dominate the noise).
Renaud de Montauban.
All.
No, no.
Jean.
Charlemagne.
All.
No, no.
Jean.
Pepin.
Man in the Crowd.
(Imitating street vendor's cry).
Rabbit Skin!
(Laughter, tumult.)
All.
(In groups).
Give us, rather, a drinking song.
All.
Very good! Hurrah! Very good.
A Drunkard.
In vino veritas. [In wine truth.]
A Group.
Give us the Credo of the Drunkard.
A Knight.
The Te Deum of the Hypocras.
All.
The Gloria of Rouge-Trogne.
Jean
(Proposing timidly).
The Hallelujah of Wine!
All.
(With Joy).
The Hallelujah of Wine!
Jean
(Turning and joining hands
to the Virgin).
Forgive holy Virgin Mary,
And you, Jesus, gentle child.
I will sing a sacrilege song;
But I've got to earn my bread.
Hunger in my entrails gnaws,
And if my hear is Christian,
Why is my belly pagan?
All.
(Calling for song).
The Hallelujah of Wine!
Jean
(Preluding on his instrument).
Pater Noster--Wine the gods do
richly cherish
When from Heaven they descend,
Clad in joyful raiment
All the length of my neck
When I drain my glass.
All.
Hallelujah!
Jean.
Hallelujah! Sing the Hallelujah of
Wine.
All.
Hallelujah!
Jean.
Ave. Venus to the gallant says:
"Good fellow,
The night even more than the day.
Drink the old wine, philtre of love;
One's heart is as hot as an oven,
When one drains one's glass."
All.
Hallelujah!
Jean.
Hallelujah! Sing the hallelujah of
Wine!
All.
Hallelujah!
Jean
Credo. Drink no water, a damaging
drink--
To drinkers of water the eternal
abyss!
But that to my nose triumphant
Heaven shall say: "Enter, cardinal!"
Let's drain one more glass!
All.
Hallelujah!
(The door of the abbey opens violently. The Prior appears on the steps).
The Prior.
Out of this, infamous rabble.
(All escape excepting Jean, amazed. To Jean.)
And thou, vile songster, to better
damn thy soul,
Com'st thou to insult even in this
abbey
Our mother Mary and her Child
divine!
Jean (on his knees).
Mercy, oh father, mercy!
The Prior.
Detestable and cursed race!
Jean.
Oh! my father, mercy!
The Prior
See'st thou not Satan
Whose green fist brandishes the
scarlet trident?
He will pierce and carry thee away.
Jean.
Mercy!
The Prior.
To engulf thee, here, flames and
iron
Tears and crunchings--here opens
the gate
Of formidable Hell!
Jean.
Pity!
The Prior.
Tremble!
Jean.
Pity!
The Prior.
Hell!
Jean.
Mercy!
The Prior.
Hell!
Jean. (as if thunderstruck,
on the ground).
Ah, I am burning! Ah, I die!
(On his knees).
Ah, my father pardon...
(Dragging himself toward the Virgin.)
Pardon, pardon, Mary,
Witness my tears.
(He sobs.)
The Prior (aside).
He weeps... A little faith, in this withered heart,
Pale rose of winter, will it bloom again?
(To Jean.)
Thy name?
Jean.
Jean!
The Prior.
‘Tis the name of a saint dear to the virgin.
(Pointing to the virgin.)
This pardon of Mary it may be
conquered.
Thou'lt be pardoned if, burning as a
taper and perfumed as a censer,
They heart at her altar without fail,
from this night,
Abjures this filthy trade.
If with fervent repentance,
And shaking at the sill the dust of
the world
Thou becomest, from to-night, my
brother in this abbey.
Jean
(hands joined to the Virgin).
Lady of Heaven,
you well know, and Jesus knows it
too,
With what love tender and
devotional
Jean, the poor juggler, adores you...
The Prior.
Well then?
Jean.
But renounce, when I am still
young,
Renounce to follow thee, oh
Liberty, beloved
Careless fay with clear golden
smile!...
‘Tis she my heart for mistress has
chosen;
Hair in the wind laughing, She
takes my hand,
She drags me on chance of the hour
and the road.
The silver of the waters, the gold of
the blond harvest,
The diamonds of the nights,
through Her are mine!
I have space through Her, and Love
and the World,
The villain, through Her, becomes
king!
By her divine charm, all smiles on
me, all enchants,
And, to accompany the flight of my
song,
The concert of the birds snaps in
the green bush.
Gracious mistress and sister I have
chosen,
Must I now lose you, oh my royal
treasure.
Oh Liberty, my beloved,
Careless fay of the golden smile!
The Prior.
Fine mistress,
Forsooth!
Fear, poor fellow, the mortal caress
Of her deceitful beauty.
Jean.
Spring smiles in her train.
The Prior.
Dost not see Winter, the Storm and the Snow?
Jean.
Her youth is in flower.
The Prior.
But soon will be old, her lover, the juggler.
Jean
(looking at his juggler's outfit).
And you, balls, hoops, old friends
full of zeal,
Shall he throw you away, your
unfaithful master?
(Addressing his instrument).
Those whose docile soul, sang
under my hand...
The Prior.
Keep them and go. Go die of
hunger.
Without confession, in a ditch,
infamous ragster;
Why the abbey ‘twas the saving
of thy soul,
The saving of thy body.
(Smiling).
In Lent, no doubt, beans and salt
herring;
But, on chimed holidays,
Ah! The happy days!
Come, look rather.
(Boniface appears mounted on a donkey that a lay brother holds by the
bridle. The donkey also carries two baskets, one containing flowers, the
other victuals and bottles.)
Cook without equal,
Brother Boniface coming from his
quest,
Glorious, smiling, bringing for the
feast
A load of good things.
Boniface
(Taking one after another from the
baskets, flowers and provisions).
For the Virgin first, here are the
flowers she loves:
Carnations, lilacs, forget-me-nots,
Violet, woodbine and lily,
Rose anemones, heliotrope,
And here is the pervense, too--
The silver sprig and bleeding heart,
For the Virgin first, here are the
flowers she loves.
And for the servants of Madame
Marie,
Here are spring onions,
And green leeks,
Here is cress from the stream,
Velvety cabbage, flowery sage
For the servants of Madame Marie.
Holy Virgin, the beautiful capon!
My father, if you please, weigh this
ham...
Chitterlings, a quarter boar,
Cervelas, sausage, blood pudding,
Here is a fine salted piece;
Nothing so good to put in wine!
Wine, we have some, and how
delectable.
See how it sparkles through the
flask's crystal.
Gentle Jesus, it is old Macon!
For the Virgin
Here are flowers
And this handsome taper.
And this is for her humble servants.
(The breakfast bell rings from interior of the abbey; then the voices of
the monks in the refectory reciting the Benedicite.)
(Voices of the Monks.)
A Voice.
Nos et ea quoe sumus sumpturi benedicat dexteroe Christi.
All.
Amen!
A Voice.
In nomine Patris et Filii et Spiritus
Sancti.
All.
Amen!
Boniface.
The Benedicite, my father. To the
table; to the table;
And that a good breakfast
(Showing his provisions.)
Shall prepare for us a good dinner.
The Prior
(to Jean, inviting him).
To the table!
Jean
(in ecstasy, hands
beatifically joined).
To the table!
All Three
(With varying gestures).
To the table!
(The Prior, Boniface, the lay brother with donkey go toward entrance of
abbey. Jean follows them, still hesitating, as if attracted by the smell
of the victuals. At the sill he comes back to get his outfit of
jugglery, that he carries secretly. Before entering he makes humble
genuflection to the Virgin.)
translation © 1998 Jeffrey A. Klingfuss