THE SLAUGHTER
OF THE INNOCENTS
[ “La strage
degli innocenti” ]
by Dario Fo
translated by Ed Emery
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Original text copyright © Dario Fo
Translation copyright © Ed Emery
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
THE SLAUGHTER
OF THE INNOCENTS
by Dario Fo
translated by Ed Emery
Introduction:
A few years ago, an extraordinary
exhibition was held in the Abbey of Chiaravalle in Milan. It was an exhibition
of theatrical machines. These were magnificent statues, whose limbs were
articulated so that they moved just like puppets or dolls. The movement was
controlled by a series of levers and hooks which were operated by a puppeteer
concealed in the rear of the statue (only the front of the statue was
figuratively portrayed). One of the exhibits was a magnificent Madonna and Child,
dating from the twelfth century, where both the figures were mobile. Their
arms, torso, elbow joints and even their eyes moved, by a mechanism which
functioned on the désequilibre principle invented by Flemish puppeteers.
For example, there was a balance mechanism in the forearm, whereby the hand was
articulated, and any movement, however slight, would cause the hand to rotate
at the wrist, before then coming to a stop. The slightest impulse would make
the hands, or some other part of the body, move with an extraordinary grace.
And this really did give the impression of an object come to life.
The same principle underlies the
construction of another famous statue, the Christ of Aquileia. The mechanism
cannot be seen, because clothing covers the statue's whole body; but when the
garment is removed, you can see that the whole body is articulated, from the
head on downwards.
Now, why was it that the people, when they
put their plays on, decided to use these machines in order to represent the
godhead. Were they perhaps worried about being blasphemous, scared of
encroaching on the sacredness of the divine person? No! Not at all. It was done
because the actor, the player, wanted his audience to focus their attention not
on the divine presence, but on the man. If an actor had been seen to come on stage
wearing a costume depicting Jesus Christ, he would have drawn everyone's
attention to himself. On the other hand, the statue could be present as
something purely indicative and symbolic, and the player had space to develop
and emphasise the dramatic content of the human condition: desperation, hunger
and pain.
I have gone into the question of
theatrical machines because the piece which I am now going to perform now does
in fact require the use of a machine portraying the Madonna with the Child in
her arms. In this piece another woman also figures, a crazy woman, who holds a
lamb in her arms - and this is why I mentioned previously that Flemish picture,
in which you see a woman with a lamb in her arms. This woman's baby had been
killed during the Slaughter of the Innocents, and she found a lamb in a
sheep-pen; she took it in her arms and went around telling everybody that this
was her own baby. The allegory behind this is clear: the lamb is the agnus
dei, the Lamb of God, the Son of God, and so this woman is also the
Madonna.
This double-play of the Woman/Madonna
figure is extremely ancient. In fact, it comes from the Greeks. The Woman is in
a position to say things which a real Madonna, an actress playing the Madonna
(or rather, an actor, as was the custom in those days) would never have been
able to say. This woman goes so far as to curse God, with an incredible
violence. With her lamb in her arms, she begins to shout: '...Why didn't you
keep your son with you, if you knew that he was going to cause us so much
suffering, so much pain! Your turn will come, to understand the suffering of
mankind, you who tried to enact this exchange to your advantage... For one
little cup of blood you have caused a river of blood to flow... A thousand
babies killedfor your one single child. Why didn't you keep your child with
you, if you knew he was going to cost us so much suffering, so much pain! You
will come to see pain too, the pain, the desperation of mankind, on theday when
you too will see your son die - on the Cross. On that day, you will understand
the tremendous suffering you have imposed on mankind, for a sin and by an
error! No father on earth, however ill-meaning, would ever have thought to
impose this on his own son. No matter how evil that father was!'
This is certainly an outrageous blasphemy!
It is like saying: 'Eternal father, you are the scum of all scum! No
father on earth could ever be as evil as you.' And why should the people feel
such a deep-seated hatred towards the Eternal Father? We have already seen why.
Because the Eternal Father represents the impositions which rulers have forced
upon the people; it is he who introduced divisions among the people, who gave
land, power and privilege to certain groups of people, and handed out
suffering, desperation, subjection, humiliation and mortification to the rest.
This is why God is hated, because he represents the rulers; it is he who hands
out thrones and privileges. On the one hand, Jesus Christ is loved, because it
is he who came to earth seeking to give people back their Spring. Above all
else, he represents dignity, and in these folk traditions the question of
dignity is raised over and over again, with an incredible persistence.
Dignity...
Now let us move on to the piece
representing the Slaughter of the Innocents.
Before I start, I would like to draw your
attention to one thing, the dialect (or rather the language) of the piece. It
is a 13/15th century Lombard dialect, but reworked by an actor who, in the
course of a week, might find himself moving from one village to another, from
one town to the next. One day he might be in Brescia, the next in Verona, and
then in Bergamo, etc etc. So, he would find himself having to play the piece in
dialects that were quite different from each other. There were hundreds of
dialects in those days, with considerable differences between them, even
between neighbouring cities. Thus, the jongleur would need to know hundreds of
dialects. So what did he do? He invented one of his own, a language formed from
many dialects, and containing the possibility of substituting key words. Should
he find himself in a moment of difficulty, not knowing which precise word to
choose in order to convey his meaning, you would find him giving three, maybe
four, even five synonyms.
There is a striking example of this: a jongleur
from Bologna tells the tale of a girl who came to kiss a man whom she loved.
But suddenly she was afraid. She wanted to make love with him, but when it came
to the delicate moment, she suddenly pushed him away, and said: Non me
toccar a mi, che mi a son zovina, son fiola, tosa son e garsonetta. In
other words, she said: 'I am a girl, I am a girl, I am a girl, I am a girl'.
All the words he used mean simply 'girl'. And his audience could simply pick
out the word that they understood best.
In the piece that follows, in the original
text, you will find many of these reiterations. But they are also used with
another purpose in mind: in order to increase the poetic content of the moment,
and, particularly, to expand its dramatic content. This is something quite
unique to the art of the jongleur, to the theatre of the people - the ability
to choose and select words and sounds that are best fitted to the momet. This
is why you hear, for example, croz, cros, crosge, etc, all
of which mean croce or 'cross', and each of which is taken from different
dialects in order to give the best feeling to what is being enacted on the
stage. The piece is performed by only one player, and afterwards I shall
explain the reason. This is not a matter of exhibitionism, but has an important
underlying rationale. There will also be a moving statue onstage, as I explained,
as well as the chorus of flagellants which opens the piece. At a certain point,
as you will see, a soldier is killed on stage, and the flagellants' chorus
sings a funeral dirge.
THE SLAUGHTER OF THE INNOCENTS
CHORUS OF FLAGELLANTS:
Ahiii! Beat yourselves. Beat yourselves!
Ahiiiiah!
With pain and lamentation
For the slaughter of the innocents,
A thousand innocent children.
They killed them like lambs.
From their fear-stricken mothers
King Herod plucked them.
Ahiiii! Beat yourselves. Beat yourselves!
Ahiiiiah!
WOMAN: Pig, murderer, don't touch my baby.
SOLDIER: Let it go, let go of that baby, or I'll cut your
hands off... I'll kick you in the belly... Let go...
WOMAN: Nooo! Kill me instead... (The SOLDIER
snatches her baby and kills it) Ahiiii, ahiiii, you've killed him! Dead!
SOLDIER: Hey, here comes another one. Stop where you are,
Woman, or I shall run both of you through, you and your baby!
WOMAN: Run us both through, I would rather you did...
SOLDIER: Don't be crazy... You're still young, you have time
enough to have a dozen more children... Give me that one... Don't make a fuss!
WOMAN: No! Get your dirty hands off him.
SOLDIER: Ouch! Bite me, would you? So, take that! And drop
that bundle.
WOMAN: Have pity, I pray you... Don't kill him. I'll give
you all that I have.
The SOLDIER seizes her bundle and finds that it's a
lamb.
SOLDIER: What's this, eh? An animal, a lamb?
WOMAN: Oh yes! It's not a baby... It's a lamb... I don't
have any children... I can't have children... Oh, Soldier, I pray you, don't
kill my lamb... Because it's not yet Easter, and you would commit a great sin
if you kill him!
SOLDIER: Look, woman, are you trying to play a joke on me...
Or are you crazy, perhaps?
WOMAN: Me, crazy? No, I am not crazy!
Another SOLDIER joins in.
SOLDIER II: Come on, leave her lamb alone... The poor woman is
out of her mind with grief because we've killed her son. What's the matter with
you? Come on, there's still a lot more to be killed.
SOLDIER I: Wait, I think I'm going to be sick...
SOLDIER II: What do you expect! You eat like a pig - onions,
salted mutton, stuff like that, and afterwards... Come over here, there's a
tavern on the corner. I'll buy you a nice stiff drink.
SOLDIER I: No. It's not because of what I've eaten... It's
because of this butchery, this slaughter of the children that we've been doing.
That's what's turned my stomach.
SOLDIER II: If you knew you were such a delicate soul, you
shouldn't have joined up as a soldier in the first place.
SOLDIER I: I joined up in order to kill enemies, to kill
men...
SOLDIER II: And presumably to send a few women tumbling in the
hay as well, eh?
SOLDIER I: Yes, maybe... But only if they were enemy women!
SOLDIER II: And butcher their cattle...
SOLDIER I: Only enemy cattle.
SOLDIER II: And burn their houses... And kill their old people,
their chickens, their children... Enemy children, of course!
SOLDIER I: Yes, babies too. But only in war! There is no shame
and dishonour in war; the trumpets sound, the drums roll, and there are hymns of
war, and the captains' fine speeches at the end!
SOLDIER II: Oh, you'll get captains' fine speeches at the end
of this slaughter too...
SOLDIER I: But here we're killing innocents.
SOLDIER II: What do you mean! Aren't people innocent in wars
too? What have those people ever done to you? Have they ever done anything to
you, those poor souls whom you kill and maim, to the sound of your trumpets?
A machine representing the MADONNA AND CHILD passes across the
back of the stage.
SOLDIER II: Well, blind my eyes if that's not the Virgin Mary
with her Child, the one we're looking for. Let's grab her before she can get
away... Get a move on... This time we'll get that big reward that's been
posted.
SOLDIER I: I don't want the dirty, stinking reward.
SOLDIER II: Alright, then, I'll have it all for myself.
SOLDIER I: No, you're not taking it either!
He bars his way.
SOLDIER II: But have you gone mad? Let me pass. We've got
orders to kill the Virgin's child!
SOLDIER II: I shit on those orders. Don't move from there, or
I'll cut you down!
SOLDIER II: Wretch, don't you understand that if this child
lives, he will become King of Galilee in place of Herod? That was what the
prophecy said!
SOLDIER I: I shit on Herod and on the prophecy!
SOLDIER II: Alright, so you need to take a shit... Go and do it
in a field somewhere, since you've got no stomach for this. Let me pass,
because I don't want to lose that reward!
SOLDIER I: No! I've had enough of seeing babies killed!
SOLDIER II: Alright then, so much the worse for you!
He runs him through with his sword.
SOLDIER I: Ahiiii... You've killed me... Wretch... You've run
me through!
SOLDIER II: I'm sorry... You were being really stupid... I
didn't want to...
SOLDIER I: My blood's pissing out all over... Oh mamma,
mamma... Where are you, mother...? It's getting dark... I'm cold, mother...
Mamma.
He dies.
SOLDIER II: I never killed him. That one was a corpse from the
moment that he began to have pity. As the proverb says: 'A soldier who feels
pity is already as good as dead'. And now he's made me lose my chance of
capturing the Virgin and her Child.
The FLAGELLANTS sing a funeral dirge. Exit the SOLDIER,
dragging away his companion's body. Enter the MADONNA, or rather the
model of the Madonna. Behind her, MAD WOMAN enters.
WOMAN: Don't run away, Madonna... Don't be scared, I'm not
a soldier... I'm a woman... a mother, too. I've got a baby too. Hide yourself
here and rest, because the soldiers have gone away... Sit down, you poor
woman... You look as if you've been running... Let's see your baby. Oh how
pretty he is. What a bonny colour! How old is he? Pretty, pretty... Look how
happy he is, he's smiling... Pretty, pretty... He must be just the same age as
mine.
What's his name? Jesus? Oh, that's a
lovely name: Jesus... Pretty, pretty... little Jesus. Oh, and he's got two
little teeth... Oh, how lovely. Mine hasn't yet got all his teeth... He's been
a little poorly, over the last month, but he's better now... Here he is, look,
sleeping like a little angel... (She calls him by name) Mark! He's
called Mark, you know. Look how he's sleeping. Oh, my pretty little one! You're
pretty too, my little Mark... You know, it's true what they say - we mothers always
think that our own babies are the prettiest of all.. They might have some
little defect, but we never see it.
You know, I love this little creature so
much that if they were to take him away from me, I would go crazy! When I think
of the terrible fright that I had this morning, when I went to the cradle and
found it empty, full of blood, and my baby nowhere in sight... Luckily, though,
it wasn't true... It was only a dream. I knew it was a dream, because a little
later I woke up, and I was still under the influence of the dream, and I was so
desperate that I almost went out of my mind! I went out into the courtyard, and
I begn to curse God: 'God, awesome in your heartlessness,' I shouted,
'You ordered this slaughter... you wanted this sacrifice in exchange for
sending down your Son: a thousand babies killed for the sake of one of yours: a
river of blood for a cup! You should have kept him with you, this Son of yours,
if he was going to cost us poor souls such a mighty sacrifice. Ah, but in the
end you too will see what it means to die of heartbreak, the day when your own son
dies! In the end, you too will understand what a mighty and awesome affliction
you have visited on mankind for all eternity. No father on earth, no matter how
wicked, would ever have had the heartlessness to impose such a thing on his own
son.'
There I was in the yard, shouting these
curses, as I say, when suddenly I looked round, and there, in the sheep pen, in
aong all the sheep, I discovered my baby, crying... I recognised him instantly,
and took him in my arms, and began to cry, along with him. 'I ask your pardon,
merciful Lord, for those bad words I shouted... I didn’t mean them... It was
the Devil, yes, it was the Devil who put them into my mouth! You, Lord, who are
so good, you saved my son...! And you have made it so that everyone takes him
for a little lamb; and even the soldiers don't realise it, and they let me go.
I shall have to be careful when Easter comes, though, because then everybody starts
killing lambs the way they've been killing babies today. The butchers will come
to me looking for him, but I shall put a bonnet on his head, with all ribbons
in it, and everyone will think that he is a baby. But right now I must make sure
that nobody recognises him as a baby... In fact I shall take him out to
pasture, and I shall make him eat grass, so that everyone thinks that he really
is a sheep... And anyway, it will be easier for my son to get by as a sheep
than as a man in this wretched world!'
Oh, he's woken up. Look, Madonna, my
little Mark... Isn't he pretty... The little flower! (The WOMAN draws
her shawl aside and shows the MADONNA the lamb. The MADONNA shudders)
Oh, Madonna, do you feel ill? Cheer up, don't cry, because the worst is
over, and everything will turn out alright, you'll see... Just have faith in Providence,
which helps us all!
CHORUS: Lord, who art so full of pity that you make crazy
those who are not capable of escaping from their grief...
WOMAN: (Cradling the lamb and singing)
Hushabye, lullaby,
Mummy's pretty baby.
The Madonna cradled
While the angels sang,
Saint Joseph slept standing,
And Baby Jesus laughed,
And Herod cursed,
A thousand babies flew to heaven.
Ends