THE BIRTH OF THE JONGLEUR
A dramatic
monologue by Dario Fo
translated by Ed
Emery
_________________________________________
For all
queries regarding performance rights, please contact
Agenzia
Tolnay : info [@] tolnayagency.it
For all
queries regarding the text, please contact the translator at:
ed.emery
[@]thefreeuniversity.net
Original
text copyright © Dario Fo
Translation
copyright © Ed Emery
_________________________________________
Introduction
Here
we have a picture (photo 12) of a drunkard, or rather a jongleur who is
playing the part of a drunkard. This fresco dates back to around the year 1100.
It comes from a little Romanesque church in Provence. It may be that he is
acting precisely the piece that I have played tonight. At any rate, this piece
appears in many languages and in different dialects. A version has been found even
as far afield as Bavaria. The fact that jongleurs and their performances were
even depicted on wall-paintings in churches reveals how important they were in
their day.
I
would now like to perform a new piece, which I have only played twice so far.
Yesterday and the day before. I am still a bit nervous about doing it, because
it is an extremely difficult piece to perform. It tells of the Birth of the
Jongleur. The origins of this piece can be traced to Asia Minor, but the
version that we know originates in Sicily. Sicily was linked to the East, not
only by trade and commerce, but also by geographical and political factors, and
thus by her culture. This was especially true in the 13th century, the period
in which the piece which I am about to perform begins to be found in documented
form.
There
is another version in existence, which is rather older, although it is not
possible to date it with precision. This version comes from my own part of the
country (to be precise, from the area of Brescia-Cremona). The text as it was
found was only a series of fragments. I had intended to reconsruct it, but I
didn”t have the courage to take it on. However, last year, I went to Sicily,
and there, in the library at Ragusa, thanks to a comrade who took us there, we
were able to find the entire text, in Sicilian dialect. Extraordinary! The
piece is incredibly violent. I even went so far as to learn it in Sicilian. But
since the language would sound rather archaic and incomprehensible to today’s
ears, I have translated it into Lombard dialect, which you will understand
rather better.
What
does this piece relate? We see a jongleur, explaining how, before he became a
jongleur, he was a peasant, and that it was Christ who changed him into a
jongleur. How did it happen that Christ gave him this new profession? It was
because he used to own land, but a landowner tried to take the land away from
him. I say no more, because there’s not really much that I can add. The piece
speaks for itself. Don’t worry if at first you don’t understand some of what I
say. The sense, the gestures and sounds inolved will help you. By my gestures
and by the sounds of the piece, you will easily grasp the meaning of this.
THE
BIRTH OF THE JONGLEUR
[The
Performance Text]
Kind
people, gather round and listen. The jongleur is here! I am the jongleur. I
leap and pirouette, and make you laugh. I make fun of those in power, and I
show you how puffed up and conceited are the big-shots who go around making
wars in which we are the ones who get slaughtered. I reveal them forwhat they
are. I pull out the plug, and... pssss... they deflate. Gather round,
for now is the time and place that I begin to clown and teach you. I tumble, I
sing and I joke! Look how my tongue whirls, almost like a knife. Remember that.
But I have not always been... Well, I would like to tell you how it was that I
came to be.
I
was not born a jongleur; I didn’t suddenly turn up as I am now, with a sudden
gust from the skies and, hopla, there I was: “Good day... Hello”. No! I am the
result of a miracle! A miracle which was carried out on me. Do you believe me?
This is how it came about! I was born a peasant. A peasant? Yes, a real
countryman. I was happy, I was sad, I had no land. No! I worked as all of us
work in these valleys, wherever I could. And one day I came by a mountain, a
mountain all of rock. It was nobody’s. I found that out. I asked people. “No!
Nobody wants this mountain!”
Well,
I went up to its peak, and I scratched with my nails, and I saw that there was
a little bit of earth there, and I saw that there was a little trickle of water
coming down. So I began to scratch further. I went down to the riverbank, and I
wore my fingers to the bone bringing earth up onto this mountain. And my
children and my wife were there. My wife is sweet, sweet and fair, with two
round breasts, and a gentle way of walking that reminds you of a heifer as she
moves. Oh, she is beautiful! I love her, and it gives me pleasure to speak of
her.
Anyway,
I carried earth up in my own hands, and the grass grew so fast! Pfff... ! It
grew of its own accord. You’ve no idea how beautiful it was! It was like gold
dust! I would stick in my hoe, and pfff... a tree sprang forth. That
earth was a miracle! A marvel! There were poplars, oaks and other trees
everywhere. I sowed them when the moon was right; I knew what had to be done,
and there, sweet, fine, handsome crops grew. There was chicory, thistles,
beans, turnips, there was everything. For me, for us!
Oh,
how happy I was! We used to dance, and then it would rain for days on end, and
then the sun would blaze, and I would come, and go, and the moons were always
right, and there was never too much wind, or too much mist. It was beautiful,
beautiful! It was our land. This set of terrace was really beautiful. Every day
I built another one. It was like the tower of Babel, beautiful, with all these
terraces. It was paradise, paradise on earth! I swear it. And all the peasants
used to pass by, saying:
“That’s
amazing, look what you”ve managed to bring forth out of this pile of rocks! How
stupid that I never thought of that!”
And
they were envious. One day, the lord of the whole valley passed by. He took a
look and said:
“Where
did this tower spring up from? Whose is this land?”
“It’s
mine,” I said. “I made it myself, with these hands. It was nobody’s.”
“Nobody’s?
That ‘Nobody’s’ is a word that doesn’t exist. It’s mine!”
“No!
It’s not yours! I’ve even been to the lawyer, and he told me it was nobody’s. I
asked the priest, and he said it was nobody’s. And I built it up, piece by
piece.”
“It’s
mine, and you have to give it to me.”
“I
cannot give it to you, sir. I cannot go and work for others.”
“I’ll
pay you for it; I’ll give you money. Tell me how much you want.”
“No!
No, I don’t want money, because if you give me money, then I’ll not be able to
buy other land with the money that you give me, and I’ll have to go an work for
others again. No, I don’t want to. I wont.”
“Give
it to me.”
“No!”
Then
he laughed, and went away. The next day the priest came, and he told me:
“The
land belongs to he Lord of the Valley. Be sensible, give it up. Don’t play the
fool. Beware, because he is a powerful, evil lord. Give up this land. In the
name of God, be sensible!”
“No!”
I told him. “I won”t.”
And
I made a rude gesture at im with my hand. Then the lawyer arrived too. He was
sweating, by heaven, when he came up the mountain to find me.
“Be
sensible. There are laws... and you should know that you can’t... that, for
you...”
“No!
No!”
And
I made a rude gesture at him too, and he went away, swearing.
But
the lord didn”t give up. No! He began by coming on hunting expeditions, and he
sent all the hares chasing over my land. With his horses and his friends, he
galloped to and fro across my land, breaking down my hedges. Then one day, he
set fire to all my land. It was summer; a drought. He set fire to the whole of
my mountain, and burned everything, even my animals and my house. But I
wouldn”t leave! I waited, and that night it began to rain. After the rain, I
began to clear up, and put the fence posts back in position, and replace
stones, and bring up fresh earth, and water everything. I was determined, by
heaven, that I wouldn’t move from there! And I did not move!
But
one day he arrived, along with all his soldiers, and he was laughing. We were
in the fields, my children, my wife and I. We were working. He arrived. He got
down from his horse. He undid his breeches. He came over to my wife, grabbed
her, threw her to the ground, ripped off her skirt and... I tried to move, but
the soldiers held me fast. And he leapt upon her, and took her as if she were a
cow. And I and the children had to stand there, with our eyes bursting from our
heads, watching... I moved forward, with a leap. I managed to free myself. I
took a hoe, and I shouted:
“You
bastards!”
“Stop,”
my wife cried. “Don’t do it. That’s all they want, that’s exactly what they are
waiting for. If you raise your stick, then they will kill you. Don’t you
understand? They want to kill you and take away your land. That’s all they
want. He is bond to defend himself. It’s not worth taking your stand against
him. You have no honour to defend. You’re poor, you’re a peasant, a country
person, you cannot go thinking of honour and dignity. That is stuff for rich
people, for lords and nobles They are entitled to get angry if people rape
their wives and daughters. But you’re not! Let it be.”*
And
I began to weep, weeping and looking all around. The children were weeping too.
And the soldiers, with the lord of the valley, suddenly went off, laughing,
happy and satisfied. We wept, how we wept! We could not even look each other in
the eye. And when we went into the village, they began throwing rocks and
stones at us. They shouted:
“Oh
you ox, you who don’t have the strength to defend your honour, because you have
no honour. You are an animal. The lord has mounted your wife, and you stood
there, wihout saying a word, for a handful of earth. You wretch!”
And
when my wife went around the village:
“Whore,
cow!” they shouted after her. And then they ran off. They would not even let
her go into church. Nobody would let her! And the children couldn’t go out in
the village without everyone picking on them. And nobody would even look us in
the eye. My wife ran off! I never saw her again; I don’t know where she ended
up. And my children wouldn’t look at me. They fell ill, and wouldn’t even cry.
They died. I was left alone, alone, with this land. I didn’t know what to do.
One evening, I took a piece of rope, and threw it over a rafter. I put the
noose around my neck, and said to myself:
“Right.
Now I am going to end it all, now!”
I
was just about to do it, just about to hang myself, when I felt a and on my
shoulder. I turned round, and saw a fellow with big eyes and a pale face.
He
says to me: “Could you give me something to drink?”
“I
ask you, in heaven’s name, is this really the moment to come asking somebody
for something to drink, when he’s just about to hang himself?”
I
look at him, and see that he too has the face of a poor wretch. Then I look
further, and see that there are two mor men, and they too have faces full of
suffering.
“Alright,
I’ll give you something to drink. And then I’ll hang myself.”
So
I go to get them something to drink, and I take a good look at them:
“Instead
of something to drink, you people look as if you could do with something to
eat! It’s been days and days since I last cooked anything to eat... But anyway,
if you want, there is food.”
I
took a pan and put it on the fire to heat up some broad beans. I gave them
some, one bowl apiece, and how they ate! I, personally, wasn’t very hungry.
“I’ll wait till they’ve finshed eating,” I thought, “and then I’ll hang
myself.” Anyway, while they were eating, the one with the biggest eyes, who
looked like a right poor devil, began to smile. He said:
“That’s
a terrible story, that you’re going to hang yourself. I know why you want to do
it, though. You have lost everything, your wife, your children, and all you are
left with is your land. Yes, I know how it is! But if I were you, I wouldn’t do
it.”
And
he carried on eating. How he ate! Then, in the end, he laid aside the utensils,
and said:
“Do
you know who I am?”
“No,
but I”ve got an idea that you might be Jesus Christ.”
“Well
done! You’ve guessed correctly. And this is St Peter, and that over there is St
Mark.”
“Pleased
to meet you! And what are you doing in these parts?”
“My
friend, you’ve given me something to eat, and now I’m going to give you
something to say.”
“Something
to say? What is this ‘something’?”
“You
poor fellow! It’s right that you have held onto your land; it is right that you
don’t want bosses over you; it is right that you have had the strength not to
give in; it”s right... I like you. You’re a good man, a strong man. But you’re
missing something which is also right, and which you should have: here and
here. (He points to his forehead and to his mouth) You shouldn”t remain
here stuck to your land. You should move around the country, and when people
throw stones at you, you should tell them, and help them to understand, and
deflate that great bladder of a landlord. You should deflate him with the
sharpness of your tongue, and drain him of all his poison and his stinking
bile. You must crush these nobles, these priests, and all those who surround
them: notaries, lawyers, etc. Not only for your own good, for your own land,
but also for those like yourself who don”t have land, who have nothing, and
whose only right is the right to suffer, and who have no dignity to boast of.
Teach them to survive with their brains, not just with their hands!”
“But
don’t you understand? I am not able. I have a tongue which refuses to budge. I
stumble over every word. I have no education, and my brain is weak and useless.
How am I supposed to do he things you suggest, and go about speaking to other
people?”
“Don’t
worry. You will now see a miracle.”
He
took my head in his hands, and drew me to him. Then he said:
“I
am Jesus Christ. I have come to give you the power of speech. And this tongue
of yours will lash, and will slash like a sword, deflating inflated balloons
all over the land. You will speak out against bosses, nd crush them, so that
others can understand and learn, so that others can laugh at them and make fun
of them, because it is only with laughter that the bosses will be destroyed.
When you laugh at the rulers, the ruler goes from being a mountain, to being a
little molehill, and then a nothingness. Here, I shall give you a kiss, and
that will enable you to speak.” He kissed me on the mouth. He kissed me for a
long time. And suddenly I felt my tongue dart about inside my head, and my
brain began to move, and my legs began to move with a mind of their own, and I
went out in the streets of the village, and began to shout:
“Gather
round, people! Gather round! hear ye! The jongleur is here! I am going to play
a satire for you. I am going to joust with the lord of the land, for he is a
great balloon, and I am going to burst him with the sharpness of my tongue. I
shall tell you everything, how things come and go, and how it is not God who
steals! It is those who steal and go unpunished... it is those who make big
books of laws... They are the ones... And we must speak out, speak out. Listen,
people – these rulers must be broken, they must be crushed...!
[Ends]
_________________________________________
All rights
reserved. This text shall not by way of trade or otherwise be copied,
reproduced or recorded in a retrieval system. Nor shall it be lent, resold,
hired out or otherwise circulated without the owners' specific written consent.
Please be
aware that this translation can only be performed with explicit permission in
writing from the agency representing Dario Fo and Franca Rame, the Danesi-Tolnay
agency in Rome.
Last
updated: 3.viii.2012
Universitas
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