CAST OF CHARACTERS
The PARISH PRIEST (Le Curé)
MARGOT (Margot)
[At least five Mendicant Friars: two Dominicans (Jacobins), a Franciscan (Cordelier), an Augustinian, and a Carmelite]
[A number of extra penitents of any sex or gender]
[A Bishop]
PRODUCTION NOTES
La Confession Margot à deux personnaiges, c’est assavoir Le Curé et Margot appears as #21 in the RBM, the edition that, for the most part, I follow in ATF, 1: 372–79 (again, paginated but without verse numbers; above, “ABT,” § “Editions”). There is also a close copy at the Biblioteca Capitular Colombina in Seville, Spain. In 167 rhyming octosyllabic couplets, the anonymous Blue Confessions has been edited by Tissier as #37 of RF, 6: 367–422; and by Martin in SFQS (https://sottiesetfarces.wordpress.com/category/confession-margot/); plus, Tissier translated it into modern French (FFMA, 2: 289–96). It was summarized by Faivre in Répertoire (111) but not by Petit de Julleville, who excluded it as a fabliau dialogué that was “not really dramatic” (RTC, 5).
Most interesting of all: there is an earlier version that Tissier reproduces side by side in RF and which attests to the play’s popularity. At 141 verses, it was published undated in Lyon by the celebrated Barnabé Chaussard and, while it is highly similar to its RBM successor, the differences are fascinating (RF, 6: 370–76). For one thing, it has a distinctly Parisian vibe; for another, it is, paradoxically, both more marked for performance and more graphic (below, § “Sets and Staging”). Whence, my composite edition for which new diacriticals are required. Both versions of Blue are housed in the British Museum; so, to avoid confusion with our usual RBM plays edited by Montaiglon in ATF, I’ve gone with “RBM-a” for the earlier version (a variation on Tissier’s “Bma”). My interpolations from RBM-a are indicated by angle brackets and, inside and outside those brackets, you will find the usual square brackets, curly brackets, and italics for my own interpolations of text or stage directions (“ABT,” § “Critical Apparatus”).
Plot
Imagine, if you will, the scene in A League of Their Own where a priest is hearing the confession of Madonna’s “All-the-Way Mae.” He keeps dropping his Bible and, when Mae is finally done, he emerges red-faced to ascertain the identity of the penitent. Now, make way for the promiscuous Margot.
The plot is straightforward enough: her sex-laden confession to an aroused curé leads to absolution and penance—to the extent, that is, that lending a literal hand to brothers in need is a tough assignment. It is well worth recalling, moreover, that many of the theological terms for sin, faults, forgiveness, redemption, and penance (meschief, penitence, dommaige, quitte) have legal ramifications of acquittal and exoneration (as befits a bunch of Basochiens). Margot requests absolution—J’en requier absolution (1: 372; later, 377)—and, in RBM-a, the Priest absolves her “truly” and “for all to see” (pour voir) with the proper, performative je vous absoulbz (RF, 6: 410, vv. 89–94). But, in the ATF version, he jumps straight to the in secula seculorum [sic], clinched by her amen (1: 379). Farce hardly says amen to that.
For Margot, you see, absolution can’t come soon enough because, as my mother used to say, it’s like Grand Central Station in there. She has been a very busy girl with brothers, monks, and hermits galore (freres, moynes, ermites). Indeed, representatives of the four great medieval mendicant orders are on hand: a steady stream of Dominicans (Jacobins), Franciscans (Cordeliers), Carmelites or Benedictines (Carmes), and Augustinians. Thanks to what I believe to be an apt pun, there’s even a Capuchin friar (another order associated with the Franciscans; below, note 14). But how, oh how, to tell them apart? Was sweet Robin a Jacobin, Cordelier, Augustin ou Carme (1: 372–73)? Margot’s not too sure and—guess what? From time to time, neither are we, especially when RBM-a drops the Augustinian to double down on the Dominican: “Jacobin, / Frere mineur, prescheur ou Carme” (RF, 6: 394, vv. 17–18; my emphasis). The thing is: Jacobins are Brothers Preachers (frères Prescheurs). Or maybe the missing Augustinian is covered by another reference to the Brothers Minor, or maybe a later hermit in the woods is an Augustinian. Or maybe it’s nothing but issues of versification. In any event, silent though Tissier, Faivre, and Martin are on the subject of why a given brother might incline toward a given sex act, that’s clearly part of the theological punch packed by Blue. Margot has left all those mendicants begging for mercy.
Blue Confessions is a stunningly self-reflexive play that moseys on into the great debate from the Roman de la Rose about the nature of euphemism (above, “Introd.,” § “Euphemism and ‘Comedification’ ”). Around midway through our play’s journey through masturbation, coitus, and ejaculate, it’s Jupiter’s castration of Saturn all over again—les coilles cum se fussent andoilles (Rose, 5537–38)–when Margot comes upon a hermit who is fiddling about with his “sausage.” No Lady Reason she, Margot opts for sausages and bells (andoilles and cloches) as the petulant Priest demands cock and balls (une coille, des coilles), uttering the play’s single most important line (not present in RBM-a): Il ne fault point parler par glose (1: 375). No speaking with veiled references, no talking in riddles, and, as I’ve translated it with a homonymic pun: in this “cock ’n balls” story, “no euphemisms allowed/aloud.” Au contraire in the ATF edition, where Montaiglon or Viollet-le-Duc elided the original couille as “c.… . .” (RBM, iii; ATF, 1: 375). Margot’s literal-minded confessor would doubtless have called that some kind of editorial balls.
Then again, sometimes a sausage is just a sausage, all the more so when you put it in your mouth and eat it. Much as the Rose spawned a fifteenth-century epistolary donnybrook between Christine de Pisan, Jean Gerson, and Pierre Col, so now do we find dueling versions of Blue waging their own debate about le mot ou la chose (Koopmans and Verhuyck, “Les Mots ou la Chose”). Which word should denote which thing, it asks, and which gesture, which thingy? As we shall see, our play transmutes a theological and linguistic issue of representation into a bona fide dramaturgical crisis. And it’s a damn good thing the play is so funny because, failing that, it would pass for either a sinister how-to manual for perverted priests or a piece of pornography.
Characters and Character Development
Consistent with the play’s central question, we do well to ask of the titular female lead: “What’s in a name?” A “Margot” is an easy woman who is sweet, docile, “easy to handle,” and “blessed,” as in Margot la Bénigne. A Betty? Plus, any medievalist thinks immediately of “Fat Margot” (la grosse Margot) of François Villon’s Testament (Poems, 127–29), such that the actress—or actor in drag—could be hyperbolically well-endowed. (A marguet is also a dick.) But, since “Margot” is also a diminutive for “Marguerite,” it seems more than coincidental that there was a storied Marguerite whose life and literary tastes ran to the farcical: one Marguerite de Navarre (1492–1549), the sister of Francis I, the author of the Heptameron, and France’s answer to Boccaccio. Who, then, is our Margot? I prefer to leave the more salient details to her; but she is wont to invoke adjectives of distress, anxiety, horror, shock, and awe (espoventee, troublee, esperdue, esbahy). Nor do I regard her as Tissier’s naive ingenue to whom perversity is unknown (RF, 6: 386). Otherwise, what would she be confessing to? Think of her instead as a consummate actress with a permanent, Monty-Pythonesque “wink, wink, nudge, nudge” to the audience. In the ATF version, she is trying to sound as innocent as possible; in RBM-a, she is trying not to. It’s almost as if the later Margot is offering up sausages, bells, thingies, and thighs to correct her vulgar predecessor’s predilection for the virile member (membre). But, in the end, both Margots use euphemisms for “penis” or “vagina.” (Not so, by the way, for the Priest, who’s all about dicks, pricks, cocks, and balls [des couilles].) I’ve therefore incorporated the tonal and lexical idiosyncrasies into a single, complex Margot, and if you’re worried about the verisimilitude of a simultaneously proper and improper character, don’t be. Farce gives us such bipolarity all the time, often to highlight women’s subtle intelligence with a marked change of stylistic register (e.g., FF, 103, 117, 395; HD, 116, etc.). Or have a look at comedian Wendy Liebman’s signature clarifying afterthoughts (“When I quit my job … and got fired”).1 That’s how I hear the back-and-forth between the two Margots: in reverse chronological order here with the RBM-a obscenity correcting and clarifying the more euphemistic RBM (my base text). To my ear, this is no binary choice between a dumb broad putting an andouille between her legs and a crafty nymphomaniac comfortable with her sexuality. Margot is an actress heaven-bent on getting a literal and metaphorical rise out of the Priest.
The unnamed Parish Priest (Le Curé) is operating in his capacity as a Father Confessor; and I strongly suspect that le bon père (1: 372) is a Dominican for the following reasons: (1) he appears educated enough to be a Rose reader, thereby reinforcing the overall cognoscente vibe; (2) poverty-observing Dominicans were authorized to hear confessions and would praise charitable good works (1: 378); (3) the RBM woodcut (Figure 1) pictures a dog, who could be the domini canis or “hound of the lord” (above, “ABT, § “Oh, Brother”); and (4) he twice designates the Dominicans as especially deserving of Margot’s ministrations: “les frères de nostre ordre / Comme les frères de la Corde, / Prescheurs, Carmes et Jacobins” (1: 378, my emphasis; above, § “Plot”). It’s conceivable that he’s another farcical Franciscan frère de la Corde; but, if Margot likes it doggy-style, there is a logic to reading him as a Dominican, particularly in the Parisian setting of RBM-a. Remember that the Dominicans owed their “Jacobin” nickname to their habitat on the rue Saint-Jacques (Jacques> Jacobins) right near the Sorbonne—and that that habitat was one of the stops on the pilgrimage route of Saint Jacques de Compostelle (RF, 6: 395n; above, “ABT,” § “Oh, Brother”). No wonder Margot has access to so many pilgrims hanging around. And there’s something else about the good father. However steadfastly he repudiates euphemism in favor of the proper anatomical term, he’s slower on the uptake for the female anatomy. Yes, it’s coille on his lips for both “penis” and “balls.” But, when it comes to “sticking it in,” he goes with la mistes vous en vostre ventre? (ATF, 1: 376). Ventre, the Middle French “tummy” and the Latinate “uterus,” is both a euphemism and not one. The perfect gestational metaphor for the communion being advocated when sweet Margot spills.
Figure 1. Frontispiece, La Confession Margot. RBM, #21.
But wait, there’s more! There is a virtual cast of characters just begging to be staged: all those mendicants. I’ve thus made room for at least five extras: two Dominicans, one Franciscan, one Augustinian hermit, one Carmelite, and a Bishop. And, since it’s quite the procession of wayward brothers, I’ve done so in a way wholly consonant with medieval musical, theological, and theatrical practice: a processional (below, § “Sets and Staging”).2 The costumed presence of these flesh-and-blood characters—okay, mostly flesh—will also enhance the satire of the four orders.
Finally, casting is huge and anything but transparent, as I learned when workshopping what amounted to four different plays (two men, two women, cross-cast, and “straight”). As you read, try to envision the homosocial, cis-gender, latent, blatant, or unclassifiable gender trouble wrought by actors who might be, for instance, men, women, drag queens, trans, or gender nonbinary.
Language
As in Con-Man (#1), the Priest is mostly sire, which I tend to translate as “Father.” The occasional messire or monsignor pops up too—“monsignor,” “milord,” or “sir,” depending on the level of formality. And, for the Priest, Margot is m’amye: usually “my daughter” but, sometimes, “my dear” or even “baby.” In RBM-a, he also favors Dame or Donne (sometimes a woman of ill repute [RF, 6: 415n]) to the fille of ATF. I won’t flag these each time but, for simplicity’s sake, if you see a Madame, it’s from RBM-a.
Beyond that, two specific linguistic items deserve our attention: the verb fatrouiller and the use of the past tense, both related to daunting dramaturgical challenges. At the play’s climax, Margot describes her activities with a masturbating hermit as fatrouiller (ATF, 1: 377; RBM, fol. iv), a Rabelaisian synonym for coitus that connoted “fucking with no chance of getting the clap” (RF, 6: 411n; SFQS, note 34). But we’re just a tongue twister away—or, in Tissier, a typo away (RF, 6: 410)—from fratrouiller, which would make for some fabulous wordplay for a cheating trickster brother (frater) who is messing around, mistreating, whacking (off), and hitting below the [Franciscan] belt (rouiller, roeillier, faire rouler). No messing around when roundly mocking the frātrēs (rouillés) who are “played” (roulés) by Margot. Speaking of which:
Props to Tissier for having zeroed in on a subtle point of grammar that may well tell the whole story. Right after Margot cites chapter and verse of her encounter with a sausage-wielding hermit, the Priest’s emission contains a Freudian slip (either his or the author’s): Vous avez grand devotion / D’eschauffer celle povre beste (ATF, 1: 377). We expect him to mean: “You were most charitable to have warmed up that poor creature.” But, instead of using the imperfect verb tense—vous aviez grand devotion—the Priest praises her in the present: “How charitable you are to be [in the act of] warming up that poor creature [right now as we speak.]” Impossible to tell whether it’s an error; but Tissier hints that Margot has taken another thingy in hand—her own: “Doesn’t the Priest think that she is in the process of warming up another ‘animal’ ” (RF, 6: 413n). For myself, I find it equally plausible that he is thanking her for warming up his animal, his beste, “creature” or “manhood.” So does Faivre, opining ever so elegantly that Margot might be masturbating the Priest as she reenacts the same “manipulations with which she had gratified the hermit’s ‘sausage’ ” (Répertoire, 111). Nor is that the only time such linguistic ambiguity obtains. When promising absolution in RBM-a, the Priest employs an infinitive to similar effect. Margot will have earned her pardon, not for having lodged a pilgrim but for lodging him (de heberger le pelerin) (RF, 6: 404, vv. 75–79). What can I say? The main thrust is that it all depends on what the meaning of is is.
Sets and Staging
Per RBM-a, we are explicitly in a Paris that is teeming with such local landmarks as the church at Saint Germain-des-Prés and the eight statues of its foyer-like entryway (la porche), which were destroyed in 1793 (RF, 6: 370–711, 421n). Margot’s confession could be heard in the open air, of course, but I’ve set it center stage in a confessional booth in a church that is as elaborate or as pared down as one wishes. But, before anything happens, it is crucial to bring legibility to the disorderly procession of brothers she describes, here, with two or more Dominicans and one each from the Franciscans, the Carmelites, and the Augustinians, sporting their characteristic vestments (below, § “Costumes and Props”). Margot’s tableaux vivants are likely too prurient to stage; but try installing a choir stall upstage, visible to the audience at all times and, perhaps, a second choir stall behind the last rows of the theater (so that the audience can be conscripted into a religious or antireligious community). As the theater morphs into a pseudosacred space, add a Bishop to the proceedings to exemplify the coercive power of the Church: in ninth-century France, for example, he was empowered to flog people into accepting Christ.3 The brothers might enter from the back of the house, begging as they go until they reach the upstage choir stall. Later, during Margot’s actual confession, each time a monastic affiliation comes up, the corresponding brother will rise with the mention of his name and then quickly be seated. That piece of staging can be played for further laughs with the overdetermined Dominicans: Will the real Jacobin please stand up? And, when the Augustinian isn’t mentioned the second time around, he might look as confused as did presidential candidate Ben Carson when he didn’t hear his name during one of the Republican debates (6 February 2016). For twenty-first-century attendees, a theme song for each order would help too. For the Jacobin, you could go with “Dominique” of “singing nun” fame: its refrain of “Dominique-nique, nique” yields nique! nique!, the grammatical imperative for “Fuck! Fuck!” For the snow-white Carmelite, why not “Who’s that yonder dressed in white?”—unless he’s wearing the earlier striped mantle that was discarded in 1287. In that, case, make it “Jailhouse Rock.” And so on, and so on. Let those brethren come. This is foreplay. Plus, at the afterplay, it’s the ideal opportunity to align their mendicancy with the actors’ convention of asking for financial contributions.
The ATF version features a number of stage directions, including the text’s first words: MARGOT se met à genoux devant le curé et dit en plourant (Margot kneels before the priest and, in tears, begins to speak [ATF, 1: 372]). But the graphic RBM-a practically dares to be mounted, with Petit de Julleville ruling out that very prospect. It was too licentious, he averred, and no closing envoi (RTC, 5). Not so for RBM-a, counters Tissier, where such an envoi “establishes to a near certainty that the dialogue was not read and recited but ‘played’ on stage” (RF, 6: 377; SFQS, note 44). But how to play it? Was an audience of one enough? As Margot paints picture after picture, the Priest is clearly aroused or excité (FFMA, 2: 295; Répertoire, 111). How clearly? And what about the corresponding actions? Does Blue’s preoccupation with naming vs. euphemism extend to staging vs. euphemism? Farce has long been hard at work breaking down any semblance of a fourth wall (or a comically anachronistic confessional partition) between priest and penitent. How far is it willing to go in its breach of the confessional wall of silence?
Now comes the hard part for an audience of peeping Toms; and do bear in mind that not seeing something concealed behind a door or a curtain can be even more obscene than seeing it. Did the dramaturgical imagination supply a material meatstick for the living sausage (endoille toute vive) (ATF, 1: 375)? Was the privacy lattice of Blue’s confessional easily removable, such that various items could be passed back and forth? Maybe the Priest is feeling around to ascertain whether the penitent is a man or a woman. Maybe he sticks a comestible sausage through the passageway—we hope it’s just a sausage—only to draw back a chicken neck. And there’s no reason why a props master couldn’t have filled an animal bladder with milk, the crème de la crème, for a gestural euphemism. No reason, that is, other than to avoid out-and-out pornography or, at least, the utterly convincing appearance thereof: the ultimate Baudrillardian confusion between simulation and reality (above, “Introd.,” § “Pornography”). So, that’s right: I’m suggesting that the latticed opening of the confessional might function as a glory hole. Thy kingdom come, thy will be done. Glory hole-a-lujah. Whence, the unanticipated relevance of Penley’s work on the 1920s stag film, Getting His Goat.
Anyone with twenty seconds to spare can watch its plot unfold on the Internet. A trio of beautiful women is skinny-dipping at the beach when a geeky voyeur steals their clothes. When he demands sex in exchange for their outfits, the women seemingly consent; but, in true farcical form, the nasty trickster is tricked. They playfully take their revenge by substituting a different sexual partner whom they back up against a hole in a fence, which satisfies the blackmailer to no end: “the best girl I ever had in all my life.” His partner was—wait for it—a goat. No kidding. The butt of the joke is the butt of the goat. I’m no veterinarian, but the specter of sodomy is surely as comical as it was in the allegedly accidental honeymoon sodomy of The Farce of the Fart (FF, 82). In Blue, the whole makes for a spirited, not meanspirited, practical joke on foolish men.4 Has the question of pornography by accident vs. by mistake thus morphed into one of bestiality by accident vs. by mistake? (above, “Introd.,” § “Pornography”). One thing is for sure: when you make your decisions about staging, you can’t be on the fence.
Costumes and Props
Long ample robes are eminently serviceable for hiding a world of evil: everything from erections to … you’ll see. Margot might enter in a cloak with a hood (capuchin); and the Priest shall be dressed in accordance with whatever brotherhood you assign. He should have his surplice and stole, as in the fabliau “Estula”;5 and, if wearing the now familiar collar, he’s definitely hot under it. The extra Brothers of the processional are clad in their signature regalia as laid out in “Oh, Brother” (above, “ABT”): the Dominicans in their black cloaks over white habits; the Franciscan “Greyfriar” in gray with his telltale rope cincture, and the Augustinian in his outdoor black garb with its long, pointed hood. If that’s still not enough, give him a copy of Augustine’s Confessions in one hand and a Germanic sausage in the other. The Carmelite shall emerge last: barefoot in either a white or striped mantle. In honor of the expression bander comme un Carme (“to get as hard as a Carmelite” [SFQS, note 8]), you could give him a huge codpiece. Stiff competition for the Franciscan.
Scholarly References to Copyrighted Materials (in order of appearance and indicated by © within the text)
· “Dominique.” By Soeur Sourire, aka Jeannine Deckers. ASCAP Work ID: 340100063.
· “Jailhouse Rock.” By Jerry Leiber and Mike Stoller. BMI Work #757227.
· “Poor Jerusalem.” By Andrew Lloyd-Webber and Timothy Rice. ASCAP Work ID: 460132212.
· “Someone to Lay Down Beside Me.” By Karla Bonoff. BMI Work #1376250.
· “Jacob’s Ladder.” Spiritual.
· “Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door.” By Bob Dylan. SESAC Work Number: 514919.
· “Goin’ Down.” By Suketu Khandwala, Taylor Momsen, and Benjamin Phillips. BMI Work #11639290.
· “Hodie Christus Natus Est.” From Ceremony of Carols. By Benjamin Britten (1942).
· “Trouble.” By Lenka Kripac and Thomas Salter. ASCAP Work ID: 505224635.
· “Let’s Hear It for the Boy.” By Dean Pitchford and Thomas Snow. BMI Work #858383.
· “Papa Don’t Preach.” By Brian Elliot. ASCAP Work ID: 460257114.
· “Amen.” By Jerry Goldsmith. BMI Work #34271.
[At first, only the dimly lit choir stalls are visible upstage. As music plays,6 a processional begins from behind the spectators. Members of each mendicant order walk toward the choir stalls, begging for contributions along the way. Once the brothers are seated, the lights come up on a confessional center stage. The Parish Priest might hastily be dispensing with a long line of penitents.]
MARGOT kneels before the priest and, in tears, begins to speak.
Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. Why, only just today, I came to the aid of a brother in need: great need.7 I did so in joy and gladness because he was so backed up he didn’t know what to do with himself. ⟨And, since he was kind of a looker,〉 I succored him as best I could. Which is why, Father … I don’t know: 〈Is there anything standing between me and my salvation?〉 If I’ve sinned, I [humbly beg forgiveness and] ask for absolution.
THE PARISH PRIEST
Tell me what’s on your mind, my daughter, 〈I’m all ears. Let it all hang out. I’ll gladly tender absolution.〉 Let’s have the whole list of your sins.
MARGOT
Whatever you say, Father:〉 I want very much for you to know them, so, 〈sure: I’ll spill.〉 I won’t leave out a [blessed] thing. Three or four times, he did me, Sweet Robin, in one fell swoop. Didn’t even dismount.
[Each mendicant brother in the choir stalls will rise briefly upon the mention of his name.]
I don’t know if he was—[with a thick French accent]—how you say? A Jacobin, a Cordelier, an Augustin, a Carmelite? [A Dominican, a Franciscan, an Augustinian, a Carmelite? It’s all French to me.] 〈A Brother Minor, [a major brother,] a Brother Preacher,〉 [a major preacher], a lay brother, [a brother laid …] But—boy, oh boy and, oh, brother!—that was one holy order! He did it with great gusto too, I swear, 〈super eager to minister to my needs.〉
THE PARISH PRIEST
You have committed no sin. Blessed is he who does a good turn to men of the cloth for, in sure and certain hope, Paradise is his: 〈and the power and the glory, forever and ever and ever.© [Thy Kingdom come, thy will be done!]
MARGOT
But, Father, uh-oh! That’s just what I’m so ashamed of because … our parish priest … knocked me up … with a daughter … that I gave to my husband.8
THE PARISH PRIEST
Madame, just keep up the good works for the parish priest, and ye shall receive salvation in the sweet hereafter. [Blessed is he who cometh in the name of the Lord.]〉
MARGOT
A monk came to bed with me too in the best room in the house. It was just the other night, maybe seven times or more, he put his knees between my legs and—. I don’t know: am I damned for all eternity? Anything to say about a case like that?
[The Priest is silent but not inactive.]
I say, Father, oh no! In my bedroom! I’m pretty sure that was a monk layin’ butt-naked with me. Spread my legs and stuck his dick right in! Seven minutes in heaven. Just last night. [Thy rod and thy staff comfort me!] I don’t know whether I’m burnin’ in hell for it or what. What’s your take? Did I transgress or anything? My brother.〉
THE PARISH PRIEST
Of course not. That’s not how I see it at all.〉 Bless my soul! I hold you to be a very good girl—very good—to have made such a glorious offering unto him. In the name of all the cardinals of Rome—〈and all the cardinals up the Rhône too, up the papal way by Avignon〉—I shall grant you absolution. [Just like last time.]9
MARGOT
But wait, Father, there’s more!〉 I’m not finished. 〈Lemme give you the whole scoop.〉 I also come to the aid of my next-door neighbor in need. A lot. First chance I get to be of service, I hightail it over there when my husband is asleep. And that one’s really pricking my conscience. I don’t know.… Is that remorse I’m feeling? Do I repent or what?
THE PARISH PRIEST
Now, why would you want to go and do a thing like that, 〈Madame〉? It makes no sense at all to repent for doing good. [Love thy neighbor as thyself.] From fire and brimstone, from the torments of hell, from the pains of Purgatory, 〈for lending a helping hand to a neighbor in need, I shall absolve you. You’ve got a full pardon coming your way, for sure: absolute absolution. Absolution-ly.〉10
MARGOT
But, Father, wait till you hear about the pilgrim sallying forth the other day on his merry way. He needed a place to stay and, this I must tell you: I was deeply moved by his plight. So, long story short, in Christian charity, I had him lodge in my chambers. I gave him plenty to eat and drink—a real feast—and, after … well.… Naturally, I had the bed made up and the sheets turned down and I had him lay down beside me.© And then, let’s just say we both went to a whole lot of trouble. We practically ran out of breath. Such a joyful noise we were making [unto the Lord], that that bed of ours fell over! The whole house was shaking. The earth moved. [The angels wept.] Whence I was much astonished.
Now, on that one, I’m not sure what I’ve got to say for myself or whether I ought to be repenting. But I must admit—and it’s no lie—I felt really bad about the whole thing. I wasn’t exactly at my best. And don’t you be thinking I’m lying. I’m telling the truth, I swear. [There is no verbal response.]
I say, Father: did you hear the one about the pilgrim? Spoke softly and carried a great big stick? Asks me in the name o’ God: “Is there any room at the inn?” So, I take pity on him, right? and I’m a good sport about the whole thing. I take him in, lay out a whole spread—anything he wants—I have him come to bed with me, and—[Jesus! Joy of man’s desiring!]—he takes me up on it. Again and again. And again. [I’m givin’ it to you straight here, Father …] All of which leaves me in fear and trembling … and with a great load … on my conscience because … Three times, that holy roller climbed on top of my ass—[and the cock crowed!]—banging so hard we damn near broke the bed! Down go the covers, down we go onto the floor, smack on our asses and—wham, bam, thank you ma’am!—we fucked like there was no tomorrow!
And then, oh so sweetly, my lord lifts me up.
Now for that sin, I’m sure I’ve got a penance comin’. Can you help me out?
THE PARISH PRIEST
There’s no sin in that; and you’ll get no penance from me. You’ve earned yourself a full pardon—and paradise in the end—for lodging a wayward pilgrim.〉11 You’ve been a woman of great constancy, my dear, taking him in like that. You were most kind to squeeze Mr. Pilgrim in at your place.
MARGOT, weeping.
Father, there’s another matter that I really need to get off my chest. But I don’t know if I dare say.
THE PARISH PRIEST
Why not?
MARGOT
Woe is me! It’s the worst sin I ever committed in my life!
THE PARISH PRIEST
All the more reason to speak up and name it or the confession doesn’t count.
MARGOT
Father, then I shall tell you, that all my sins might be washed away and that I be purged. The other day, off the main road in the woods, I came upon a hermit who had his hands full of a thing of great beauty. His fingers were all wrapped around it and he seemed to be making a fist.12
THE PARISH PRIEST
No euphemisms allowed. What was it?
MARGOT
I do believe it was some kind of living sausage.
THE PARISH PRIEST
Or could it be … a cock?13 Spit it out! Cock or balls? What was it?
MARGOT
[She might stick a hand through the latticed opening.] Bless my soul, Father, it was like a little tonsured mini-Monk. In front, it was all red and it had a bald head with, like, a crown and a hood to protect it from the wind.14 It was—[O magnum mysterium et admirable!]—well fashioned: big, fat, bulging, and beautiful to behold, ready to take on all comers, hard as a rock, stiff as a board the whole time. And, at the base, two beautiful … bells: so beautiful, such pretty little things that, ding-dong-ding, those bells were ringing! As soon as I saw it, [I just sensed something was up.] I knew in my heart of hearts that I had to move in for a closer look.
THE PARISH PRIEST
[Ever more excitedly] And then?
MARGOT
To tell you the truth, something tells me this beautiful thing was really cold—that’s what he said—which is why, I suppose, he was rubbing it in his hands.
THE PARISH PRIEST
And then? Come on baby, [you’re getting warm]. Out with it! What next?
MARGOT
I took it by the head and, believing it to be some sort of creature of the fields, I put it between my both thighs to warm it up. [And yea, I saw the ram butting westward, northward, and southward, and he did as he pleased and magnified himself.]15
THE PARISH PRIEST
[And Jesus wept!] These are grave errors. Did you take one in the gut? In your womb, for God’s sake! [Benedictus est fructus ventris?] Did you stick it in?
MARGOT
It went in all by itself and, then, it kind of jumps up. And, then, it comes in so sweetly that—[in and out, and in and out, and hide the sausage]—it was awesome.
THE PARISH PRIEST
[Talk about your second coming!] There’s no harm in that. I’m thinking it’s all good.
MARGOT
And then, when he was all finished messing around down there and he wanted to take the thing back out, it was all … Friar-Tuck-ered out.16 ’Twas but a piteous thing: so tiny, so soft, so tender. It was pathetic: barely half the size it was in the beginning and—O lacrimoso!—oh, so gently weeping, on account of which—alas! wretch that I am!—I was beside myself when I saw it shrink into nothing like that: flying at half-staff, spoiled rotten from my misdeeds because … after, when he wanted to play with it again like before, he just couldn’t do it because … I swear, it was all droopy: bent in the middle, all petered out. And, for this, I humbly beg God’s forgiveness and your absolution. [I am sorry for these and all my sins.]
THE PARISH PRIEST
[Oh God, oh, the devotion!] Warming up that poor creature!17 [Praise the Lord, sing glory hole-a-lujah!]
[But what did I just tell you about euphemisms? Keep your eye on the ball. {He shouts.} No euphemisms aloud!]
MARGOT
Yeah, yeah, yeah, daddy, fine. Did you hear the one about the hermit who was fisting a big hard cock? He sticks it way the hell up my snatch and comes so hard, it looks like a goddamn Hollandaise. I’m thinkin’ I musta been some kinda major slut ’cause, when that hermit pulls his cock back out, he’s got nothin’. Soft as a baby’s goddamn bottom. So, there you have it. I confess. I repent. Whatever.18
THE PARISH PRIEST
Again, Madame, [no harm, no foul.] You were most reasonable and sensible—the soul of patience, full of the milk of human kindness—to let that hermit have his way with you as he deemed fit. I’m absolving you of the whole thing, sure as shootin’.〉
MARGOT
[I’m not outta the woods yet, Father.] I rubbed its head too hard. There’s the harm. There’s the root of all evil. Ecce homo!
THE PARISH PRIEST
You meant well. He was in high spirits when he left, yes? Anything else?
MARGOT
Father, I’ve told you all I’ve done: [in word and deed, known and unknown.] At least as far as I can recall. 〈I don’t know what else to tell you but, as God is my witness, that’s the low-down—and the down-low—on my conduct.〉
THE PARISH PRIEST
Then, Madame, ma-donna, Madonna, here it is straight up:〉 you’re a “woman” of good conscience and you’ve lived like a saint. 〈Absolution shall be yours and, instead of penance, here’s what you’re gonna do right away. Again and again. In perpetuity. Doctor’s orders.〉
[A Bishop, probably a Dominican, suddenly stands, initially seen only by the Priest. So too do the various brothers when they hear their orders mentioned.]
[What I mean to say is:] for your penance: I hereby decree that you shall … Get thee to my brethren, 〈my brothers of the cloth everywhere!〉: like the brothers of the belt, the Brothers Preachers, the Carmelites, and the Jacobins. Go visit those places where you’re sure to find them congregating. Help my buddies out: every morning, every evening, [at matins, at vespers], for as long as you shall be in the full flower of youth.
[The brethren begin to congregate around the confessional.]
[That’s right! Come out, come out, wherever you are!] 〈The Franciscans—oh yeah!—with those long, dangling … cords. [Cordeliers are well hung, but watch out you don’t wind up with a bloody sphincter! I mean cincture.]
And my Brothers Preachers, the Jacobins, [just a stone’s throw away:] Go see about them too, every morning. Consecrate thy body to their service. Climb the hell up Jacob’s ladder!©〉19
As for your friendly neighborhood priest, should he have need of thy service, don’t be a tease. He who does a good turn for the poor father shall have Heaven on earth as his … her … his-and-her reward. Plus, it’ll do that poor little [mini-]monk a world o’ good. 〈So, be ye crazy merciful to your parish priest, the one who governs you, instructs you, confesses you, and gives you communion. Don’t be a stranger. [Commune like hell with him.]
And, while we’re at it, same goes for all the folks from these here parts. I’m talkin’ be a good neighbor! Commune with them too. [Be neighborly as hell.] Bend ye to their will, attend to them, delight them. Offer your body as a living sacrifice, wholly pleasing unto God. [He holds up the Eucharist.] May all partake of the sacred body at will. And that’s what we call doin’ penance!20
As for that wayward pilgrim, one good turn deserves another: you’ll do plenty unto him too.〉 In the weeks to come, should one pop up, knock, knock, knockin’ on heaven’s door,© take him into thy chamber, have him lay down beside you,© and [lodge the hell out of him.]
And let’s not forget good old Herman’s hermit in the woods. [The more, the merrier!] Go to him three times a day, bringing tidings of comfort and joy. And a bottle of good wine.
Likewise for the poor monk who aims to please: he’ll do anything for you, sun up or sun down, whether you go to him or he comes to you. [Your body as a living and holy sacrifice, I say!—the kind he will find acceptable.] Don’t hold back—[fingering his Bible and perhaps something else]—and don’t you be lookin’ too closely at the fine print.〉
[You hear what I said?] I’m ordering you to do your duty by that hermit. Visit him early and often. [The Lord is thy shepherd; thou shalt not want. He maketh thee lay down in green pastures.] So, into the woods with you! Under the trees! Be a good girl now and [Austin-fry ’im!] Bring a picnic. [Eat, drink, and, whatever you do, do it all for the glory of God! Thy cup runneth over. With the good stuff, oh yeah!] And don’t forget the ham because everybody loves a good pork!
Ham it up, I say! Leave ’em beggin’ for mercy! Have yourself a ho-down. Ladies and gentlemen, have yourselves a bro-down!
And God shall have mercy on your soul. As soon He gets a minute. Unless something comes up.
[The Bishop makes his presence known to all, upon which the brothers rapidly disperse and resume their previous positions in the choir stalls.]
He [the Priest] lays his hand upon her head and says
And verily you shall be forgiven and your sins shall be effaced. Forever and ever. [Give thanks to the Lord for He is good.] In saecula saeculorum.
But—my, my, my!—Would you look at the time! I’ve just about had my fill o’ you for now and it’s time to be off.
[To the audience] No, not you, not yet!
[He glares at the brethren in the choir stalls and, with a nod of the head, indicates that it’s time for them to circulate among the spectators to solicit financial contributions. All rise and move toward the audience except one.]
[To Margot] As for you, [my daughter:] Come the morrow, as fervently as hell, you shall get your zealous ass straight over to Saint Germain-des-Prés [and have yourself a real field day because there’s plenty o’ sermons to be preached on that mount.] You’ll “prostate” yourself at that big ol’ statue and, by way of salutation, you’ll go: “Get thee behind me, Satan!” Stick your head through the portal, stick your ass in the air, and, verily, Paradise shall be thy reward. [Holy is as holy does!]
[He might give a kick in the ass to the one mendicant brother remaining onstage.] [But don’t be an asshole! Keep the acting in bounds. Don’t be a drag and don’t be a drag queen, or you’re really gonna get it in the end!]
Believe you me, that much I know: We hope that you enjoyed the show,〉 because that, ladies and gentlemen—and all you lady-gentlemen—is how make your way into Heaven. Ass backwards! Now give thanks to your lord, for he is good. Real good. In saecula saeculorum. In suck-you-là! suck-yooh-la-la!21
MARGOT
Amen.
[The Priest might whip the audience into a singing frenzy.]22
Here ends Margot’s Confession 〈recently published [and hot off the presses]⟩
The END