Authors: Alfred Jarry
Ubu Plays, The (17 page)
ALL. Hurrah, hurrah! Let’s all obey. Forward! Off to the prison!
The same.
MA UBU, THE GAOLER.
PISSWEET. Ha! there’s Ma Ubu, using the bars of her cell as a mask. She looked better without the disguise ... ah, what a pretty little girl she was once upon a time.
MA UBU. Vile Pissweet!
GAOLER. No entry here, gentlemen. Who are you, anyway?
Shouts, yells and jostling.
Free Men, are you? On your way, then, go on, move along there!
FIRST FREE MAN. Let’s smash the bars of the cells!
SECOND FREE MAN. No, no, if we did that we’d no longer feel at home once we got in !
THIRD FREE MAN. Let’s break the door down!
ELEUTHERIA. Yes, please do. I’ve been tugging at the bell-rope for hours, but my concierge still hasn’t opened up.
MA UBU (
furiously
)
.
Go on, knock, I’ll open up all right!
She reaches through the bars of her cell window, clutching a stone jug, and bangs
PISSALE
on the head with it, splitting him neatly in half from top to toe.
PISSALE
(both halves in unison).
Don’t be alarmed, dear child. You now have two uncles.
ALL. Aha! Home at last. In we go.
The door gives way, and they all pour in.
THE GAOLER
flees.
MA UBU
emerges. The door slams shut on her ball and chain, trapping her. But
ELEUTHERIA
slips her arm through the prison’s wicket-gate, and cuts the chain with a pair of nail-scissors.
The convoy making its way across Slaveonia.
GUARDS, CONVICTS, PA UBU.
PA UBU. Hornstrumpot, we’re perishing! Mister Boss, Sir, be good enough to continue dragging us along by our chain so as to take some of the weight off our ball. And you, Mister Guard, Sir, pray put our manacles back on, so that we won’t have to go to the trouble of clasping our hands behind our back as is our usual custom when going out for a stroll. And please screw our iron collar tighter round our neck so that we won’t catch cold!
GUARD. Cheer up, Pa Ubu, we’ve nearly reached the port where the galleys are waiting.
PA UBU. We deplore more than ever the fact that the state of our finances still does not permit us to acquire our own private Black Maria. As it is, our iron balls absolutely refuse to walk ahead of us and pull us after them, so we have had to make the entire journey pulling them ourselves by means of our feet, and even then they have insisted on stopping at frequent intervals, presumably to relieve themselves.
The same.
THE GAOLER.
GAOLER
(running
up). All is lost, Pa Ubu!
PA UBU. What, again! Look, I’m not a king any more, you nincompoop!
GAOLER. The Masters have revolted! The Free Men have become slaves, I’ve been thrown out, and Ma Ubu has been abducted from her prison cell. To prove the truth of what I’m saying: look, here’s Ma Ubu’s iron ball ...
The ball is trundled in in a wheelbarrow.
... which she’s been judged unworthy to wear, and which, in any case, broke its chain by itself, refusing to follow her any longer!
PA UBU
(stuffs the ball into his pocket).
Oof! to hell with these watches without watch-chains ! Any heavier and it would have bust my pocket!
GAOLER. The Masters have moved their wives and children into the prisons. They’ve invaded the arsenals and are having a hard time finding enough cannon-balls to rivet to their legs as a badge of slavery. What’s more, they’re planning to get into Soliman’s galleys ahead of you and occupy your seats.
ALL THE GUARDS. I’m joining the rebellion! - Hurrah for slavery! - Yah, we’ve had enough of this! We want to be slaves too, bugger it!
PA UBU
(to
a GUARD). Here, we present you with our own ball, pray don’t bother to thank us. We shall ask you to return it to us after we have had a little rest.
He gives the balls to carry to the
GUARDS
on either side of him.
THE CONVICTS,
giving in to the entreaties of the
GUARDS,
load them with their chains. A confused din can be heard in the distance.
GUARDS
and
CONVICTS. Ohl oh! it’s the rebel Masters! I
PA UBU. Come now, gentlemen! Let’s pluck up our courage by both handles. I see that you are armed and ready to face the enemy valiantly. As for ourself, now that we are once more light-footed, we intend to go quietly on our way without awaiting the arrival of these people who are, we fear, evilly disposed towards us. Luckily for us, it seems from that loud clanking noise I hear that they are heavily loaded with chains.
GAOLER. No, that’s the noise of cannon! They’ve got artillery, Pa Ubu.
PA UBU. Oh! I’m scared to death. Let’s get back to the comfort of prison and carpet-slippers!
Cannons are wheeled on and surround the stage.
The same.
PISSWERT, THE FREE MEN
in Chains.
PISSWEET. Surrender, Pa Ubu! Hand over your iron collar, manacles and chains! Be free! We’re going to strip you stark naked and show the world what you look like without your jewellery!
PA UBU. Oh yes, Mister Pissweet ? Just you try and catch me ... (He runs
off.)
PISSWEET. Load the cannons. Fire on that big barrel of cowardice !
THIRD FREE MAN. Let’s obey. All together now, on the count of three!
FIRST FREE MAN. Hey, Corporal, the cannon-ball didn’t go off.
SECOND FREE MAN. Too true. It’s the third Free Man’s leg that went off!
FIRST FREE MAN. Left foot forward, as usual, the clumsy oaf.
SECOND FREE MAN. There are no cannon-balls left in the battery, Corporal. We used them all up attaching them to our ankles as symbols of our newly-won slavery.
PA UBU
(reappears).
Don’t worry! Here’s Ma Ubu’s ball, it’s been weighing down our pocket and we’re glad to get rid of it.
(He hurls it at
PISSWEET
and scores a direct hit.)
Now try some of this grape-shot! (He
massacres
the FREE MEN by
swinging
a line of
chained GUARDS
at them.)
FREE MEN. Help! Run for your lives!
They run away, dragging their chains behind them and pursued by the now unencumbered
CONVICTS.
From time to time,
PA UBU
grabs hold of the end of the chain, jerking the whole file to a halt.
GAOLER. We’re saved, we’re saved! Look, there are the Turkish galleys!
The rout is halted.
SOLIMAN,
his VIZIER and his retinue appear at the back of the stage.
The headquarters of the Turks.
SOLIMAN,
the
VIZIER.
SOLIMAN. Vizier, have you taken delivery of two hundred slaves ?
VIZIER. Sire, I have signed a receipt for that many slaves, since this was the number stipulated in our agreement with the Free Country, but the convoy in fact consists of more than two thousand heads. I just don’t understand. Most of them are ridiculously festooned with chains and are loudly demanding fetters and leg-irons, which I understand even less, unless this is their way of showing their eagerness to participate in the honour of rowing in Your Majesty’s galleys.
SOLIMAN. How about Pa Ubu?
VIZIER. Pa Ubu claims his balls and chains were stolen from him on the way. He’s in a terrible rage and threatens to stuff everyone in his pocket. At the moment he’s breaking all the oars and smashing the benches while testing their solidity.
SOLIMAN. Enough! Treat him with the greatest respect. It’s not that I’m afraid of his violent nature ... Now that I’ve seen him in person, I realize how far greater he is even than report had it. I was so impressed by his noble air and majestic presence, in fact, that I made some private enquiries which have yielded an additional title to fame for him. - Know then the real identity of this Pa Ubu who has been sent to me as a slave: he is my own long-lost brother, abducted many years ago by French pirates, and kept at hard labour in various convict prisons, whereby he was able to work his way up to the eminent position of King of Aragon and later King of Poland ! Kiss the ground beneath his hands, but do not on any account reveal to him this astonishing news, for if he got an inkling of it he’d immediately install himself here in my empire with his whole family, and he’d be bound to gobble up my fortune in no time at all. Shove him on board a ship, and be quick about it. It doesn’t matter where the ship’s bound for, so long as we get him out of this country. See to it.
VIZIER. Sire, I obey.
PA UBU, MA UBU.
MA UBU. Pa Ubu, these people are herding us on board like cattle.
PA UBU. So much the better. I’ll be able to supervise the bull-pschitt while all the others row.
MA UBU. You’ve not had much of a success as a slave, have you, Pa Ubu? Nobody wants to be your master any longer.
PA UBU. What d’you mean? Things couldn’t be better. Private sources have revealed to me that my Strumpot is huger than the whole world, and therefore worthier of my services. From now on I shall be the slave of my Strumpot.
MA UBU. Ah, you’re so right, as usual, Pa Ubu.
The leading galley.
PA UBU, MA UBU, THE GAOLER,
all the chwacters who have appeared during the play, chained to the benches as
GALLEY-SLAVES.
PA UBU. Look at all that greenery, Ma Ubu! You’d think we were in a cow-pasture.
CONVICTS
(chanting in rhythm as they row). Let’s mow the great meadow with sweeps of our scythes!
PA UBU. Yes, green is the colour of hope. Let us await a happy ending to all our adventures.
MA UBU. What strange music! They’re all singing through their noses: they must have caught cold from the early-morning dew!
GAOLER. Just to please you, sir and madam, I’ve replaced the galley-slaves’ usual muzzles with kazoos.
CONVICTS (
chanting in rhythm). Let’s mow the great meadow with sweeps of our scythes !
GAOLER. Would you care to take command of the ship, Pa Ubu?
PA UBU. Oh no! Even though you’ve chucked me out of this country and are taking me God knows where as a passenger in this galley, I still remain Ubu Enchained, Ubu slave, and I’m not giving any orders ever again. That way people will obey me all the more promptly.
MA UBU. We’re getting farther and farther away from France, Pa Ubu.
PA UBU. Ah, my sweet child, don’t you worry your pretty head about our destination. It will certainly be a country extraordinary enough to be worthy of our presence, since we are being transported there in a trireme equipped with an extra bank of oars - not just three, but four!
Introduction to
Selected Works of Alfred Jarry,
edited by Roger Shattuck and Simon Watson Taylor, Methuen, London, and Grove Press, New York, 1965.
The reader is referred to Roger Shattuck’s long and illuminating essay on Alfred Jarry in his
The Banquet Years,
Doubleday, New York, 1958 and 1961, Faber & Faber, London, 1961. Martin Esslin’s Theatre of the Absurd, Doubleday, New York, 1961, Eyre & Spottiswoode, London, 1962 and (in a revised and enlarged edition) Penguin Books, Harmondsworth, 1968, situates Jarry historically in relation to the developing avant-garde theatre of the present century.
Here again, the reader is referred to
Selected Works of Alfred Jarry,
which contains all of Jarry’s writings on the theatre, as well as an annotated translation of The Exploits and Opinions of Doctor Faustroll, Pataphysician.
Taken from the autographic facsimile edition of
Ubu Roi,
text by Alfred Jarry and music by Claude Terrasae (Mercure de France, 1897).
From Ubu sur la Butte, II
, 1.
Jarry specifies, in
Ubu sur la Butte,
that the Palcontent Gyron is to be played by a Negro. (Editor’s note.)
Stage direction from
Ubu sur la Butte.
chien
a bas de laine: i.e. a tax collector (chien = subordinate employee, bas de laine = a stocking stuffed with coins - see Ubu Rex, III, 7, p. 45). [Editor’s note.]
Th. Ribot:
Maladies de la Mémoire,
p. 93. [Author’s note.]