The Infernal Machine and Other Plays

by Jean Cocteau

FALSE GAWAIN. What have I been up to, indeed! I thought I should never get away. It was Gawain here and Gawain there. Everyone shaking my hand, the King kissing me on both cheeks, the Queen blowing her nose, Blandine forgiving me, and the Knight using my room to change in. Phew! Here I am, but it was a job.

  MERLIN. All is lost.

  FALSE GAWAIN. What ìS lost?

  MERLIN. Galahad knows who I am. Who we both are. He has elfin blood and is Launcelot’s son. He has challenged me.

  FALSE GAWAIN. Launcelot’s son. Does Launcelot know this?

  MERLIN. Not yet.

  FALSE GAWAIN. In your expert hands a son like that can be made to give no end of trouble in a certain quarter. Does he know your plans?

  MERLIN. Idiot! What plans? The only thing left is to try and get out of the mess with a whole skin, to set them all at each other’s throats, ruin Launcelot’s image of the Queen and the King’s of Galahad.

  FALSE GAWAIN. Look who’s playing (he pronounces it “plying” ) with fire now.

  MERLIN. When I want your advice, I’ll ask for it.

  He goes to the window.

  The whole lot are in the courtyard. Have the King, the Queen, and Blandine finished saying good-by to them?

  FALSE GAWAIN. What good-bys they were! I’m positively drenched in tears.

  MERLIN. Excellent. They won’t come down again. We shan’t be disturbed. The King has no idea that the Dark Tower belongs to me. We must get there a day ahead of them to get the place ready. Have you got the chalk?

  He taps his foot.

  Goodness. I nearly forgot that damned flower which is listening to us. Galahad came to fetch it but he left it behind and, as I noticed, left it uncovered, hoping to learn as much as possible.

  FALSE GAWAIN. Pretty good for a Pure in Heart.

  MERLIN. He’ll learn nothing. Tear off a leaf and shut the box.

  False Gawain does so.

  We must hurry. Quick, where’s the chalk?

  FALSE GAWAIN. Here it is.

  MERLIN. Draw the circle.

  The False Gawain draws a magic circle on the floor around the Round Table.

  Blindfold me.

  Merlin takes a black bandage from his robe and gives it to Gawain who blindfolds him.

  Clumsy idiot!

  He sets it right. Gawain hastily takes the cover off the flower and then pretends to be fastening the window.

  What are you up to?

  FALSE GAWAIN, nervously. Just shutting the window to keep out the noise. I assume that the window doesn’t have to be open, as we shan’t be going out that way.

  MERLIN. We go by a quicker route than the window. Hurry, for God’s sake, hurry!

  Gawain, humming to himself, moves the flower to the edge of the Table.

  What are you doing now?

  FALSE GAWAIN. I’m blindfolding myself.

  MERLIN. Don’t play the fool with me and stop humming. Take my arm and put me in the proper position.

  FALSE GAWAIN. You’re making me mervous.

  Gawain leads him to the edge of the circle and places him facing the flower.

  MERLIN. Where am I?

  FALSE GAWAIN, in a coaxing voice. On the edge of the circle with your back to the window and the Table. Is that all right?

  MERLIN. Good. Take the chalk with you. Blindfold yourself.

  Gawain sticks out his tongue at Merlin and blindfolds himself with another black bandeau which Merlin draws from his pocket and hands to him.

  FALSE GAWAIN. Now, I can’t see a thing.

  MERLIN. Hop onto my shoulders pickaback, and hold on.

  FALSE GAWAIN. Hold me tight, won’t you? I’ve the impression that we’re going to cross places where a fall would be most uncomfortable.

  MERLIN. Shut up and grip with your legs. Don’t strangle me. Keep your balance.

  FALSE GAWAIN. I can feel an icy wind tickling the hairs on my legs already.

  MERLIN. You should have put on stockings.

  FALSE GAWAIN. Dear oh dear, I would give anything to be standing on solid ground. I find these journeys of yours most disagreeable. Do we go through the walls or up the chimney?

  MERLIN. We’ve wasted too much time already. I’m going to begin. Are you there?

  FALSE GAWAIN. Alas, yes.

  MERLIN. If you play any tricks, I shall throw you off. You know the formula?

  FALSE GAWAIN. Yes. Yes. Yes.

  MERLIN. Well then, grip tightly, off we go.

  FALSE GAWAIN. Mother!

  Merlin spreads his knees apart and stretches his head forward. The False Gawain perches on his shoulders like a monkey. Their recitation of the formula begins slowly but gets steadily faster and faster.

  MERLIN.

  Minus times minus is equal to plus

  Denominate, zero, all things and bear us

  Not over nor under nor round but straight through

  1. 2. 7. 5. 6. 3. 7. 2.

  For up shall be down and left shall be right

  As we gallop — pell-mell — down the sorcerer’s road.

  FALSE GAWAIN.

  By the rat and the bat and the owl of the night,

  By he-goat, by she-goat, by weasel, by toad.

  The light changes. A gale ruffles Merlin’s robe and Ginifer’s hair.

  MERLIN.

  Minus times minus is equal to plus

  Denominate, zero, all things and bear us

  Not over nor under nor round but straight through

  3. 6. Point 1. 9. 8. carry 2.

  For up shall be down and left shall be right

  As we gallop — pell-mell — down the sorcerer’s road.

  FALSE GAWAIN.

  By the rat and the bat and the owl of the night,

  By he-goat, by she-goat, by weasel, by toad.

  MERLIN.

  Minus times minus is equal to plus

  Denominate, zero, all things and bear us

  Not over nor under nor round but straight through

  Point 4. 8. 9. Square 3. minus 2.

  For up shall be down and left shall be right…

  They disappear in the tempest.

  CURTAIN

  ACT TWO

  The scene shows the hall of a ruined castle. When the curtain rises the stage is empty. Suddenly a chair standing against the wall slides slowly across the room and stops behind a table downstage. Chessmen which are lying on the table in a heap take up positions as if a match were in progress. The door, center, opens of itself. Launcelot and Segramor appear. They walk around gingerly inspecting the décor. The door shuts.

  LAUNCELOT. Another door.

  SEGRAMOR. That makes five, not counting the front gates. And every one of them opened by itself.

  LAUNCELOT. Apart from a few squeaking hinges, the magic machinery still works pretty well.

  SEGRAMOR. Both its old name, the Tower of Wonders, and its present one, The Dark Tower, seem apt enough. I suppose Mother has some feminine superstition about it, but it’s a funny sort of place to stop at. After riding for twenty-four hours, a ruin full of disgusting creatures and ghosts is not exactly where I would choose to dismount. Whether it’s fatigue or sleepiness which has got me down, I don’t know, but I hate these doors. I’ve the feeling that invisible servants are opening and shutting them and following us about.

  LAUNCELOT. The doors must date from Klingsor’s time. I agree with you, I wouldn’t care to live here but I don’t mind just having a look at it.

  Segramor jumps.

  SEGRAMOR. What was that?

  LAUNCELOT. Only a rat. Keep cool. We must be the first arrivals.

  SEGRAMOR. I may be a coward but I do wish that Galahad would hurry up with returning the flower and join us again. I wish, too, that Merlin and Gawain would arrive and that we weren’t going to stay here at all.

  LAUNCELOT. There’s never been any question of our staying. It’s only a rendezvous where we can work out exactly what to do.

  SEGRAMOR. All the same, everything about this place is sinister. If Mother could just
see what sort of meeting place she picked for us, she’d have a fit. And I would bet, Launcelot, that, in your heart of hearts, you agree with me and are only putting up a bold front.

  LAUNCELOT. Well, Segramor, your mother’s choice does rather surprise me, I must admit, but, ghosts or no ghosts, the one thing I can think of just now is sleep.

  SEGRAMOR. Sleep! Here!

  LAUNCELOT. Why not? The sort of ghost who politely opens doors isn’t going to disturb a visitor’s sleep. Take my hand and we’ll make a tour of inspection. I’ll prove to you that this ruin is uninhabited. The machinery may still function but its old owner is not still here to work it.

  He takes Segramor’s hand. They walk around the room and suddenly come across the chessboard.

  SEGRAMOR. Chessmen.

  LAUNCELOT. That’s odd.

  SEGRAMOR. And what chessmen! Here, Launcelot, just look at this piece. I’ve never seen such beautiful figures, or such big ones.

  He picks up a queen and shows it to Launcelot.

  LAUNCELOT. Neither have I. But put back that queen or you’ll ruin the game. It looks as if we’d interrupted some players or other in a match.

  SEGRAMOR, noticing the writing desk. A writing desk and ink, even.

  LAUNCELOT. I was wrong. Evidently this ruin is a fake. If I wasn’t ready to drop with sleep, I’d call on our invisible host to introduce himself and challenge him to a game.

  SEGBAMOR. The Quest is starting already. I wonder. Mightn’t the chessboard have been set here on purpose to tempt a passionate chess player like yourself? Please don’t touch them.

  He crosses himself.

  LAUNCELOT. Wouldn’t you like to watch me play a match with the devil?

  SEGRAMOR. It’s no joke. Everyone knows that the devil loves empty castles, that he is a gambler and that on occasion he can even be beaten.

  LAUNCELOT. Cheer up. To beat the devil would be the crown of a knight’s career. Unfortunately, there’s a simpler natural explanation for these chessmen. Probably, Merlin and Gawain got here before we did and have gone out for a walk.

  SEGRAMOR. That won’t hold water, Launcelot. You’ve heard me complain dozens of times that Gawain’s childish tastes and the wild games he invents have made Father give up chess. Gawain hates the game.

  LAUNCELOT. Wait and see. It won’t be long before we know the answer to this riddle.

  He puts one elbow on the table and his chin in his hand, and rests the top half of his body against the table, like a schoolboy at his desk.

  Yawning.

  Oh. I’m awfully sleepy. Am I awake or am I dreaming?

  He becomes motionless.

  SEGRAMOR, walking toward the armchair. We’re not dreaming really but we’re living in a dream. You must think I’m behaving like a baby but I have an excuse. Something happened I didn’t dare tell you before which has thrown me for a loop.

  He sits down in the chair.

  When you went ahead to reconnoiter — we’d not caught sight of the Tower yet — I let go of the reins and dozed off. My falcon, Orilus, was perched on my right shoulder. Suddenly I heard him say in my ear: “Segramor … Segramor … let me go … let me go, Segramor. Take my hood off, Segramor.” So I did. He rose and flew straight as an arrow toward the Tower. He’d barely alighted on one of the highest window sills when he opened his wings and flew back to his old perch. “Well, Orilus,” I said, “What have you brought back with you?” He didn’t answer so I turned to look at him. Blood was running from his beak, his little head drooped and he tumbled off my shoulder. He was dead. Orilus was my lucky mascot, Launcelot, so you can see why I behaved as I did when we got to the Tower.

  He falls asleep.

  LAUNCELOT, awakening. Yawning. Where am I?

  He stretches.

  I’m sorry, Segramor. Funnily enough, I was just dreaming about you. I dreamed that an evil hand in a white glove strangled your falcon as it sat on your shoulder. Poor little Orilus! His beak was bleeding, he was tumbling, tumbling, tumbling — then I woke up.

  He realizes that Segramor is asleep.

  Each in turn.

  In a low voice.

  Sleep well, my dearest son, sleep well, and forget the horrid surroundings.

  He looks at the table.

  Let’s have another look at these lovely chessmen. I wonder what would happen if I went on with the match.

  He moves a pawn. An opposing pawn moves by itself. Launcelot jumps.

  I must be still dreaming.

  He pinches himself.

  But I’m not. What is this new trick? I’m wide awake and I saw the pawn move itself.

  He draws up a chair.

  Very well then. Whoever my invisible opponent may be, I challenge him or her to a match. May my elfin blood stand me in good stead.

  He plays.

  Your move.

  A piece moves itself. This continues until the end of the game. Music.

  This chap doesn’t play so badly … For that matter, I don’t play so badly myself when I choose and I do choose. Check! … Check!… Check! … Check!… Check!

  A piece bangs the board violently

  No, you’re not so good after all… Check!… Check!… Check! …Check! … Check! … Check! … Check! … Check!… Check!… Check!

  At this point all the chessmen are knocked over on the board. The empty chair is upset, the door opens and shuts.

  The noise wakens Segramor with a start. He stretches and yawns.

  SEGRAMOR. What was that?

  LAUNCELOT, rising dumfounded. That was a ghost who hates losing and, incidentally, plays chess damn badly.

  SEGRAMOR. IS that you, Launcelot? Goodness, I must have fallen asleep in the middle of a sentence. I was telling you — now, what was I telling you, actually? Sleep has made my mind fuzzy. I was dreaming about you. You were sitting at that table where you’re sitting now, playing chess on that chessboard. Facing you there was a young gentleman, dressed from head to foot in scarlet. He was the handsomest young man I ‘ve ever seen. You won every move, and every time you said, “Check! ” his face was so convulsed with rage that it became almost ugly. Then, the player suddenly got up and knocked all the chessmen over with his right hand.

  LAUNCELOT. It’s impossible.

  SEGRAMOR. I can only tell you what I dreamed. Then he left the room and banged the door. But the most extraordinary part was that when he knocked the chessmen over, I noticed he was wearing white gloves and the glove on his right hand had a red stain and I was positive, in my dream, that is, I was positive that it was made by the blood of my poor little falcon.

  LAUNCELOT. And at that point you woke up.

  SEGRAMOR. I was waked by the banging of the door; at least, that’s what I thought. What do you think my dream meant?

  LAUNCELOT, pacing back and forth. Segramor … you know, Segramor, I think … I think it’s becoming difficult here to know what is real and what is a dream. I think your handsome player looked like the devil. I notice that our friends have been delayed. I don’t like to see this tower making you jumpy.

  SEGRAMOR. It was only a dream, Launcelot. Now that I’ve had a nap, I feel fine. In your company, I should be ashamed to be afraid of anything that might happen. Naturally, I’m upset by my falcon’s death, but I keep telling myself that he must have had a fit and these chessmen … .

  He looks at them and notices the disorder.

  Well!

  LAUNCELOT. That was my clumsy doing. I dozed off. When I woke up and jumped up to wake you, I must have knocked them over.

  SEGRAMOR. What a pity ….

  He cocks his head.

  Listen! Don’t you hear a horse galloping? It must be one of our friends.

  He runs to the window and leans out.

  LAUNCELOT. Galahad?

  SEGRAMOR. This time I’m not dreaming, which means that I must have gone mad.

  LAUNCELOT. Why?

  SEGRAMOR. Look for yourself.

  LAUNCELOT, leaning out and looking. The Queen!

/>   SEGRAMOR. Mother on her white Arab, in full gallop. But she wouldn’t have had the time to follow us. To be here she would have had to… No. No. It’s impossible. This place is playing another of its ridiculous practical jokes.

  LAUNCELOT. I’m beginning to think so, too.

  SEGRAMOR. Mother is at Camelot with Father and Blandine, not racing after us.

  He stamps his foot.

  This ruin is not going to make a fool of me. I refuse to believe the witness of my own eyes.

  LAUNCELOT. The Queen I In that case, it must be something so serious that —

  SEGRAMOR. It can’t be her.

  LAUNCELOT, at the window. It is, Segramor. It’s incredible, but it is her.

  SEGRAMOR. What can have happened?

  LAUNCELOT. Listen, my child. She’s tying up her horse next to ours. The doors will open of their own accord and lead her here. Now I want you to do me a great favor and let me receive your mother alone. She may have some private matter to tell me, in which case your presence would embarrass her. You’re not angry wth me, are you?

  SEGRAMOR. Dear Launcelot, of course not.

  LAUNCELOT, embracing him. I’m alarmed and bewildered. Now, you must go, quickly, there’s a good boy.

  He leads him to the door, left, which opens of itself.

  Take a stroll around the Tower. If you need help, sound your horn. There’s your mother coming…. I hope that I’m not going to hear bad news.

  Exit Segramor. The door shuts itself.

  FALSE QUEEN, offstage. Hullo! Hullo!What sort of house is this where the doors act as guides? Launcelot! Launcelot! Where are you, love?

  The door at the back opens by itself. The False Queen appears, rather disheveled, in riding habit, riding boots, whip, etc.

  LAUNCELOT, recoiling. Guinevere! It can’t be. Is it really you?

  FALSE QUEEN. What a face (fyce) you’re making (myking).I might have dropped from the moon. What do you find so strange (strynge)? Stop staring at me as if I were a ghost. Yes, it’s me, it’s me all right.

  LAUNCELOT. What’s happening is so far beyond the bounds of possibility that I have a right to doubt my eyes and ears. If you were a ghost, if you had dropped from the moon, I should be no more bewildered than I am at seeing you in this place and at hearing you imitate Gawain’s mistakes in speech. You say: “It’s me, all right!” I can hardly believe it. Fatigue and this tower have played me several tricks already.