Howard Barker: Plays Nine. Howard Barker
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/ I’m insignificant / and you / you are /
(He seems to suffer embarrassment.)
WARDROBE: (Helpfully.) The opposite? /
SOLDIER: The opposite / yes / you are the opposite / so very / very / opposite / the emperor / so I heard say / refused to let you leave the country / in case you stayed / in Paris / or America / and never came back again /
(He plays with the broken instrument with his foot, a shyness which he overcomes by lifting his eyes directly to WARDROBE.)
Explain / can you / what pleasure a man of great significance discovers in humiliating a man of no significance at all? /
(WARDROBE, immune to criticism, appears to reflect on the paradox. He walks up and down, chewing a finger in his concentration.)
WARDROBE: I think it’s this / I think / I think it’s this /
(His gaze falls on the now-crumpled photographs that festoon BIBLE’s bed. He is bemused, but only briefly distracted.)
That’s Sisi’s arse /
(BIBLE has no opportunity to respond as WARDROBE resumes his meditation.)
I think it’s my /
(He stops again, his gaze drawn back to BIBLE’s bed.)
And Sisi’s arse /
(He stares at BIBLE, bemused.)
Sisi’s cunt / and Sisi’s arse /
(He returns his attention to the SOLDIER.)
It is my love of God / I think / since you ask / a love so great I am compelled to imitate Him / not on so vast a scale / but /
(WARDROBE seems suddenly to lose interest in his own thesis. His hand lifts, hangs, falls, the SOLDIER grimaces, and turns to go.)
I’d love to tell you / one day / I’d love to tell you /
(Again his hand gropes the air.)
Where my rage comes from / and where my pity goes /
(The SOLDIER goes out, encountering on his way an overweight and aged OFFICER, his tunic decrepid but festooned with medals. The SOLDIER snaps to attention. The OFFICER observes the condition of the SOLDIER, without meeting his eyes.)
ENGINE: You’re filthy /
(Suddenly WARDROBE bursts into tears.)
WARDROBE: Si – si / Si – si /
(He sobs.)
Oh / Si – si /
ENGINE: (Cuffing the SOLDIER...) Filthy /
(ENGINE dismisses the SOLDIER with a sneer. WARDROBE suffocates his misery in a handkerchief. He blows his nose.)
Don’t teach him /
WARDROBE: I think I am obliged to /
ENGINE: Not if he’s filthy /
WARDROBE: All right / I won’t /
ENGINE: You cannot play a violin with dirty fingers / the dirt alters the note /
WARDROBE: Yes / yes / it does alter the note /
ENGINE: Don’t teach him / then /
WARDROBE: I won’t /
ENGINE: You are who you are /
WARDROBE: Yes /
ENGINE: Aren’t you? / You are who you are? /
WARDROBE: I think so / yes /
ENGINE: What do you mean / you think so? /
WARDROBE: I mean yes / I am who I am /
ENGINE: And he / who’s he? /
WARDROBE: (With a shrug.) Who he is? /
ENGINE: Exactly / he is who he is / so don’t teach him /
WARDROBE: It isn’t easy / in this atmosphere / what with the dust / what with the wind / to /
ENGINE: (Ignoring this.) Is she all right? /
WARDROBE: All right? / yes / yes / she’s all right / isn’t she? /
(WARDROBE looks to BIBLE for confirmation.)
BIBLE: All right / yes /
ENGINE: (To BIBLE.) And for you? / Is she all right for you? /
BIBLE: (Without conviction.) Yes / yes /
ENGINE: You two / you are not anybody / I know that / and I do my best for you /
WARDROBE: We are grateful /
ENGINE: That’s silly /
WARDROBE: No / no /
ENGINE: If I knew a better woman you would have her /
BIBLE: She does everything we ask her to /
ENGINE: Within the rules I’ve gone as far as it is possible to do / you are who you are / but at the same time /
(He shrugs.)
WARDROBE: You are who you are /
(ENGINE senses WARDROBE’s irony. He is patient.)
ENGINE: And who am I / Mr Wardrobe? /
WARDROBE: You are the individual upon whom the Emperor relies for the execution of his decisions / decisions about which you may or may not have your own opinion / but which / with regard to their effects / you make no attempt to moderate / on the one hand / nor exacerbate / upon the other / an attitude which / I feel sure / more than entitles you to the medals you carry on your chest /
(BIBLE looks to WARDROBE with apprehension. ENGINE seems to contemplate a response, but thinks better of it.)
ENGINE: I must get on /
(Despite his resolution, ENGINE does not move a muscle. WARDROBE, in a condition of wary triumph, watches him.)
I must get on /
(Now ENGINE departs, without haste. Out of the silence, WARDROBE exults.)
WARDROBE: DID YOU FRIG MY MOTHER? / DID YOU? / DID YOU? / DID YOU FRIG MY MOTHER? / YOUR FINGERS SHONE / YOUR SHINING FINGERS / HE SAYS YOU FRIGGED MY MOTHER /
(He laughs insincerely as the boots fly in, causing him to duck his head.)
3
BIBLE leaps off the canvas bed, flinging the photographs aside. The boot storm ceases.
BIBLE: He has a sense of humour / the Emperor /
(WARDROBE, routinely, removes his waistcoat and replacing BIBLE on the bed, covers himself. The wind blows.)
We know he has a sense of humour /
(BIBLE signals the OLD WOMAN. She gets up and goes off.)
We said / rather early on / this sense of humour / more than anything / explains not only why we are here / but the conditions under which we are kept here /
(THRASH returns with BIBLE’s clothes. A soiled jacket, soiled trousers, crushed boots.)
Yet up till now / out of terror that we might / in some way / by appealing to his humour / misjudge it /
(THRASH holds up his clothes. BIBLE steps into them.)
And as a consequence / bring down on ourselves worse punishment /
(He extends a foot. THRASH helps him into a boot and proceeds to tie the laces.)
We have scrupulously refrained from employing the most innocuous remarks in our petitions / they are grave / horribly grave and mirthless / let us try another tack / is he not perhaps / in his typically oblique and arcane manner / inviting us to do precisely this? / I am thinking of Sisi / how / in begging Sisi for a portrait / a portrait no bigger than a postcard / we exposed ourselves to this grotesque riposte / this was