by Jean Cocteau
OEDIPUS, snatching the belt. So this is your last card; a plan to turn Jocasta’s mind and heart away from me. You have already worked it out. A fine story it makes: a previous promise of marriage … a girl bent on revenge … a scandalous scene in the temple … and the belt as a pledge of love …
TIRESIAS. I am merely bringing a message.
OEDIPUS. Unwise and unsuccessful. Now hurry away with the bad news to Prince Creon. I’m not frightened — it isn’t that easy. On the contrary, I frighten you, Tiresias, admit it. Although you are an old man and I am a boy, Tiresias, I frighten you!
He kneels on the animal skin. Tiresias stands like a statue. The thunder rolls.
TIRESIAS. Yes, I am frightened.
He retreats backward. His voice rings out.
Oedipus, Oedipus, hear me! You are seeking classic glory. But there is another kind of glory. Infamy … the last refuge of the arrogant who defy the stars.
Exit.
Oedipus is still staring at the belt. Enter Jocasta in a nightdress. He stuffs the belt under the animal skin.
JOCASTA. Well, what did the old ogre have to say? He probably suggested you are too young for me …
OEDIPUS. Jocasta, you are beautiful.
JOCASTA. Or that I’m too old for you.
OEDIPUS. No , he suggested that I was in love with your pearls and diadem.
JOCASTA. Always spoiling everything.
OEDIPUS. He didn’t frighten me; I frightened him. He admitted it.
JOCASTA. To accuse you of being in love with my pearls and diadem.
OEDIPUS. That’s how I always want to see you, without your jewels — white, young, and beautiful.
JOCASTA. Young! Oedipus, you mustn’t lie to me.
OEDIPUS. To me the face of a young girl is as empty as a blank page. It doesn’t compare with the magnificent, sacred beauty of your face — matured and mellowed by fate, yet as tender as — Jocasta, you’re weeping. What’s the matter? What did I say?
JOCASTA. Am I so old, then … so very old?
OEDIPUS. My darling, you’re the one who keeps saying…
JOCASTA. Women say these things hoping to be contradicted, hoping they’re not true.
OEDIPUS. How stupid of me. Don’t cry, my darling. Kiss me! I only meant…
JOCASTA. It doesn’t matter. I’m being silly.
She dries her eyes.
OEDIPUS. It was my fault.
JOCASTA. No , it wasn’t. There now, the black is running into my eyes.
Oedipus fusses over her.
It’s better now.
OEDIPUS. You’re almost smiling again.
There is a distant rumble of thunder.
Listen to that.
JOCASTA. Yes, the weather, it makes me nervous.
OEDIPUS. Look at the sky. It’s clear and filled with stars.
JOCASTA. Yes, but whenever the fountain murmurs silently and my shoulder begins to ache, it means a storm and summer lightning.
She leans against the window. Flashes of summer lightning.
Oedipus, come here quickly.
OEDIPUS. What is it?
JOCASTA. The sentry. Lean forward a little! To the right. He’s asleep. Isn’t he handsome, that boy, lying there with his mouth open?
OEDIPUS. I’ll throw some water in it.
JOCASTA. Oedipus!
OEDIPUS. I’ll teach him to sleep when he’s guarding his Queen.
JOCASTA. Let him sleep peacefully. The Sphinx is dead and you’re alive. Let the whole city sleep peacefully!
OEDIPUS. He’s lucky.
JOCASTA. Oedipus, it’s not that I want to make you jealous, but this boy …
OEDIPUS. What about him?
JOCASTA. That historic night when you met the Sphinx, I went to the ramparts with Tiresias. A soldier had reported seeing the ghost of Laius. And that’s the same young soldier.
OEDIPUS. And, of course, there was no sign of the ghost of Laius?
JOCASTA. None at all, unfortunately. Poor boy. I touched his arms, and I said to Zizi: “You touch him! Go on — touch him!” I was all confused because he reminded me of you. And, it’s true, he is like you, Oedipus.
OEDIPUS. How could he have reminded you of me? You hadn’t met me then.
JOCASTA. Yes … it must have been because my son would be about his age. Yes, I am confused. You know, you’re very handsome. I love you!
Pause.
Oedipus!
OEDIPUS. Yes?
JOCASTA. I think you were right not to tell the story of your victory to Creon, Tiresias, or anybody else —
She puts her arms around his neck.
Except me … You should tell me.
OEDIPUS, freeing himself. You promised not to mention it again.
JOCASTA. That was yesterday. Today, I have the right to share your experiences.
OEDIPUS. Certainly.
JOCASTA. Do you remember how you kept saying: “No no, Jocasta, I’ll tell you later, when we are alone”? And now, here we are.
OEDIPUS. You always get what you want. Very well, then, be still. I’ll tell you.
JOCASTA. Oh, Oedipus, I’ll be perfectly still.
She lies down, closes her eyes, and remains still. Oedipus begins hesitantly to lie and invent. The storm persists outside.
OEDIPUS. Now then. I was getting close to Thebes, following the goat track round the hill to the south of the city. I was thinking about the future and about you. I imagined you less beautiful than you are, but still very beautiful … painted and perfumed and sitting on a throne, surrounded by ladies-in-waiting. Suppose I do kill the Sphinx, I was thinking to myself, would I, Oedipus, dare to ask for the promised reward? Would I dare to approach the Queen? And I walked on, dreaming about it. Till suddenly I heard something. My heart was beating wildly. It was a kind of — singing; the voice was inhuman. Could it be the Sphinx? In my bag was a knife, I slipped it inside my tunic. Then I crawled forward. You know those ruins of a little temple on the hill, the other side of the hill?
Silence.
Jocasta! Are you asleep?
JOCASTA, waking with a start. Eh? What? Oedipus!
OEDIPUS. You fell asleep.
JOCASTA. I didn’t.
OEDIPUS. You did! You ask me for a story and then you fall asleep.
JOCASTA. I heard everything. You were talking about a goat track.
OEDEPUS. I was a long way past that.
JOCASTA. Don’t be cross with me, dear.
OEDIPUS. I? Cross with you?
JOCASTA. Yes, you are, and you’re right. I’m ashamed of myself. That’s what happens as we get older.
OEDIPUS. I’ll begin the story again, but first, we must sleep a little to shake off this drowsiness. The first one awake wakes the other. Promise?
JOCASTA. I promise. Queens know how to snatch a little sleep between appointments. Give me your hand. Tiresias was right: I am too old.
OEDIPUS. Perhaps so, here in Thebes, where girls are ready for marriage at thirteen. But what about me — I’m just as sleepy — am I too old?
JOCASTA. It’s different with you. It’s the sandman, as children say. But there’s no excuse for me. I finally get you to tell me the most wonderful story in the world, and as soon as you begin, I drift off like an old mother in front of the fire. Was I talking in my sleep?
OEDIPUS. No. I thought you were listening; you were so quiet. Why? Have you any secrets you’re afraid of giving away?
JOCASTA. No; I was only afraid of those silly things we sometimes say in our sleep.
OEDIPUS. You were still, like a picture. Good night, till soon, my queen.
JOCASTA. Till very soon, my king, my love.
They sleep side by side, hand in hand. Murmuring of the fountain. Distant, intermittent thunder. A flash of very bright dream lightning. The animal skin is pushed up by the head of Anubis. On the end of his arm is Oedipus’ belt. Oedipus tosses uneasily.
ANUBIS, slowly, mockingly. I’m more intelligent and better educated than any of the r
abble in Thebes. This simple monster doesn’t expect to be confronted by the pupil of the finest scholars in Corinth. If this is a trick, I’ll drag you by the hair and crush the blood out of your body.
His voice rises like the howl of a dog.
Crush the blood out of your body … out of you … oo … oo…
JOCASTA, mumbling in her sleep. No, no, not that pulp, not that sticky pulp …
OEDIPUS, in a heavy, distant voice. I’ll count up to fifty: One, two, three, four, eight, ten, eleven, fourteen, fifteen, fifteen, fifteen, three, four ….
ANUBIS. And Anubis would spring and open his wolf jaws!
He disappears through the trap door, replacing the animal skin above him.
OEDIPUS. Help! Here! Come here! Anybody! Help me!
JOCASTA. What is it, my darling? Oedipus, I was fast sleep.
She shakes him.
Wake up!
OEDIPUS. No ! Oh, no! Please! Mercy!
JOCASTA. It’s all right, my darling. It was a dream.
OEDIPUS. No, no!
He wakes.
Oh! Where was I? Jocasta? It’s you. What a terrible nightmare!
JOCASTA. There! It’s all over. You’re in our room … in my arms.
OEDIPUS. Didn’t you see anything? … The animal skin. What did I say?
JOCASTA. You were shouting: “No, no! Mercy!” Who was torturing you?
OEDIPUS. I don’t remember.
JOCASTA. You’re soaked with perspiration. It’s my fault; I let you fall asleep with all those heavy clothes on, those gold ornaments and clasps and those sandals that cut into your feet.
She tries to raise him: He falls back.
Come now. What a big child! I can’t leave you lying here soaked to the skin. Don’t make yourself so heavy. Help me!
She takes off his tunic and rubs him down.
OEDIPUS, vaguely. Yes, mother.
JOCASTA. Yes, mother! What a child! Taking me for your mother!
OEDIPUS. Forgive me, Jocasta. I’m still half-asleep. I was far away, with my mother, and she’s always worried that I may be too cold or too warm. You’re not angry?
JOCASTA. As soon as I’ve seen to you, you can go right to sleep again. You are a well-brought-up young man, you know. You must have had a very fine mother. I’m not jealous. I have good reason to love her, too, for bringing you up for me — for us.
OEDIPUS. You’re very sweet.
JOCASTA. Now for your sandals. Your left leg … and your right.
Taking off his sandals, she utters a cry of horror.
OEDIPUS. Did you hurt yourself?
JOCASTA. No … no!
She recoils, staring at his feet like a mad woman.
OEDIPUS. Oh, my scars. I didn’t realize they were so ugly. My poor darling, did they frighten you?
JOCASTA. How did that happen? … Those holes.
OEDIPUS. My nurse was carrying me through the woods, when a wild boar came out of the undergrowth. She was terrified and let me fall out of her arms. As the animal was attacking me with its tusks, a woodcutter killed it. I should have warned you.
JOCASTA. It’s nothing.
OEDEPUS. We’re exhausted and half-asleep; that’s why everything frightens us. You’ve just come out of a bad dream, and … Jocasta, you’re white as a ghost.
JOCASTA. Those scars, Oedipus, they remind me of something I am always trying to forget.
OEDEPUS. What?
JOCASTA. Oedipus …
OEDEPUS. What?
JOCASTA. My — linen maid. When she and I were eighteen, we were both expecting a child. She worshiped her husband and wanted to bear him a son. But the oracles foretold so terrifying a future for the child that, after giving birth to a boy, she hadn’t the courage to let it live.
OEDIPUS. What do you mean?
JOCASTA. Imagine the will power it takes for a woman to destroy the life that has come from her own body, the child she wants to bring up as her ideal on earth.
OEDIPUS. And what did she do?
JOCASTA. She pierced the baby’s feet, tied them together, and secretly carried it up to the mountainside where it was left at the mercy of the wolves and bears.
She hides her face.
OEDIPUS. And her husband?
JOCASTA. Everybody believed the child had died a natural death and that the mother had buried it with her own hands.
OEDIPUS. Is she still alive?
JOCASTA. No.
OEDIPUS. So much the better for her. Otherwise, I’d have put her to death.
JOCASTA. The oracles were clear. Against them, an ordinary woman feels weak and lost.
OEDIPUS. To kill, to destroy the flesh of one’s own flesh … to break the line deliberately ….
JOCASTA. Oedipus, let’s speak about something else.
OEDIPUS. Yes, we had better speak about something else. I couldn’t love you, if you tried to defend her.
JOCASTA. But Oedipus, try and feel as that girl must have felt… helpless, intimidated by the priests …
OEDIPUS. She was a linen maid! That’s her sole excuse. Would you have done it?
JOCASTA, with a gesture. No, of course I wouldn’t.
OEDIPUS. It doesn’t take the determination of a Hercules to defy the oracles. I could boast about my miraculous deeds, but all I did to counter the prophecy was to turn away from my family, my inheritance, and my city. And the further I came from my city — and the nearer I came to yours — the more I felt I was coming home.
JOCASTA. Oedipus, please kiss me.
OEDIPUS. Yes, my love.
JOCASTA, tenderly. You’re a child.
OEDIPUS. I’m not a child.
JOCASTA. Oedipus, let me just close the grille gate. I don’t like it left open at night.
OEDIPUS. Let me.
JOCASTA. You stay here. While I’m up, I’ll take a look in the mirror. After all this excitement, heaven knows what I must look like. Don’t watch me. Turn the other way.
OEDIPUS. I’m turning now.
He lies across the bed, with his head on the cradle.
Now I’m closing my eyes. I no longer exist.
JOCASTA, going over to the window. That young soldier is still asleep. He is half-naked. It’s not warm, tonight, either. Poor boy!
She goes to the mirror, then stops, listening. A drunk appears on the square, talking very loudly.
DRUNK. Politics! Politics! Don’t talk to me about politics! It’s a dirty business… enough to drive a man to drink. What’s this? A corpse? … oh, no! Excuse me! It’s a soldier. I salute the army! I salute the sleeping army!
Jocasta tries to see what is happening.
Politics! It’s a disgrace … a disgrace!
JOCASTA. Oedipus!
OEDIPUS, half-asleep. Uh?
JOCASTA. There’s a drunk out here and the sentry’s asleep. I’m afraid of drunks. Send him away and wake the soldier up. Oedipus, please.
She shakes him.
OEDIPUS. I secrete my thread; I pay it out, spin it back and wind it in …
JOCASTA. What is he saying? He’s so sound asleep. I could die and he would never know.
DRUNK. Politics!
He laughs coarsely and sings.
Jocasta lays Oedipus’ head back on the cradle and goes to the center of the room, listening.
Your Majesty the Queen,
What does this marriage mean?
Your husband is too young for you,
Too young and far too green.
JOCASTA, softly. How they hate me!
She tiptoes to the window and back again, and watches Oedipus, glancing toward the window now and then. The Drunk’s voice is punctuated by the fountain’s hum and the crowing of cocks. She rocks the cradle lightly.
DRUNK, singing again.
Your Majesty the Queen,
What does this marriage mean? …
If I was a politician, I’d say to the Queen: Your Majesty, this young upstart is not the man for you. What you need is a solid, sober citizen like myself.
YOUNG SOLDIER. Hey! Move on!
DRUNK. I salute the awakened army!
YOUNG SOLDIER. Move on! And quick!
DRUNK. Ask me nicely.
YOUNG SOLDIER. Want me to lock you up?
DRUNK. Politics all the time! What a business!
He sings.
Your Majesty the Queen ..
YOUNG SOLDIER. Be good. It’s late. Please.
DRUNK. Certainly, certainly. You asked me nicely.
Jocasta cannot see herself in the mirror because of the dawn and moonlight conflicting. She takes the mirror legs and frame, leaving the mirror itself attached to the scenery, and brings them forward to confront the audience so that she is staring at them through the empty frame.
The Drunk sings again, now far off.
Your husband is too young for you,
Too young and far too green.
Oedipus is snoring gently, rhythmically. Jocasta faces the empty frame, massaging her cheeks up and up again. The sentry walks to and fro, the cock crows, and a distant trumpet wails.
CURTAIN
THE VOICE
Seventeen years go by swiftly. The great plague of Thebes looks like the first setback in Oedipus’ astonishing run of luck. For the gods have designed their infernal machine so that misfortune shall be disguised as good fortune. After false happiness the King shall know true unhappiness, the true consecration. And this King of Spades, who has been manipulated by the cruel gods, will be made, in the end, into a man.
ACT FOUR: THE KING
The red drapes of the bedroom are removed into the flies, leaving the platform surrounded by walls, which grow until there is a kind of courtyard and well. The outside of Jocasta’s room is seen as a balcony overlooking the yard and accessible to it through an open doorway in the center, below. Lighting suggests the plague.
Oedipus, looking older and wearing a small beard, is standing near the doorway. Tiresias and Creon are to the right and left. Center, right, a boy, the messenger from Corinth, is kneeling.
OEDIPUS. What have I done now, Tiresias, that will provoke a scandal?
TIRESIAS. As usual, Your Majesty, you are exaggerating. I said, and I say again, that a man should receive the news of his father’s death with less joy.
OEDIPUS. Indeed?