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