Bertolt Brecht: Mutter Courage und ihre Kinder 6

by Bertolt Brecht

  His smiling confidence. Now Dogsborough

  Is dead. He left a will which you’re all free

  To read. In simple words therein he calls me

  His son. And thanks me fervently for all

  I’ve done since I responded to his appeal.

  Today the trade in vegetables –

  Be they kohlrabi, onions, carrots or what

  Have you – is amply protected in Chicago.

  Thanks, I make bold to say, to resolute

  Action on my part. When another civic

  Leader, Ignatius Dullfeet, to my surprise

  Approached me with the same request, this time

  Concerning Cicero, I consented

  To take that city under my protection.

  But one condition I stipulated, namely:

  The dealers had to want me. I would come

  Only pursuant to their free decision

  Freely arrived at. Cicero, I told

  My men, in no uncertain terms, must not be

  Subjected to coercion or constraint.

  The city has to elect me in full freedom.

  I want no grudging ‘Why not?’, no teeth-gnashing

  ‘We might as well’. Half-hearted acquiescence

  Is poison in my books. What I demand

  Is one unanimous and joyful ‘Yes’

  Succinct and, men of Cicero, expressive.

  And since I want this and everything else I want

  To be complete, I turn again to you

  Men of Chicago, who, because you know

  Me better, hold me, I have reason to believe

  In true esteem, and ask you: Who is for me?

  And just in passing let me add: If anyone’s

  Not for me he’s against me and has only

  Himself to blame for anything that happens.

  Now you may vote.

  GIVOLA: But first a word from Mrs

  Dullfeet, the widow, known to all of you, of

  A man beloved by all.

  BETTY: Dear friends

  Your faithful friend and my beloved husband

  Ignatius Dullfeet is no longer with us to …

  GIVOLA: God rest his soul!

  BETTY: … sustain and help you. I

  Advise you all to put your trust in Mr

  Ui, as I do now that in these grievous days

  I’ve come to know him better.

  GIVOLA: Time to vote!

  GIRI: All those in favour of Arturo Ui

  Raise your right hands!

  Some raise their hands.

  A CICERONIAN: Is it permissible to leave?

  GIVOLA: Each man

  Is free to do exactly as he pleases.

  Hesitantly the Ciceronian goes out. Two bodyguards follow him.

  A shot is heard.

  GIRI: All right, friends, Let’s have your free decision!

  All raise both hands.

  GIVOLA: They’ve finished voting, boss. With deep emotion

  Teeth chattering for joy, the greengoods dealers

  Of Cicero and Chicago thank you

  For your benevolent protection.

  UI: With

  Pride I accept your thanks. Some fifteen years

  Ago, when I was only a humble, unemployed

  Son of the Bronx; when following the call

  Of destiny I sallied forth with only

  Seven staunch men to brave the Windy City

  I was inspired by an iron will

  To create peace in the vegetable trade.

  We were a handful then, who humbly but

  Fanatically strove for this ideal

  Of peace! Today we are a multitude.

  Peace in Chicago’s vegetable trade

  Has ceased to be a dream. Today it is

  Unvarnished reality. And to secure

  This peace I have put in an order

  For more machine-guns, rubber truncheons

  Etcetera. For Chicago and Cicero

  Are not alone in clamouring for protection.

  There are other cities: Washington and Milwaukee!

  Detroit! Toledo! Pittsburgh! Cincinnati!

  And other towns where vegetables are traded!

  Philadelphia! Columbus! Charleston! And New York!

  They all demand protection! And no ‘Phooey!’

  No ‘That’s not nice!’ will stop Arturo Ui!

  Amid drums and fanfares the curtain falls.

  A sign appears.

  Epilogue

  Therefore learn how to see and not to gape.

  To act instead of talking all day long.

  The world was almost won by such an ape!

  The nations put him where his kind belong.

  But don’t rejoice too soon at your escape –

  The womb he crawled from still is going strong.

  Chronological Table

  1. 1929–1932. Germany is hard hit by the world crisis. At the height of the crisis a number of Prussian Junkers try to obtain government loans, for a long time without success. The big industrialists in the Ruhr dream of expansion.

  2. By way of winning President Hindenburg’s sympathy for their cause, the Junkers make him a present of a landed estate.

  3. In the autumn of 1932, Adolf Hitler’s party and private army are threatened with bankruptcy and disintegration. To save the situation Hitler tries desperately to have himself appointed Chancellor, but for a long time Hindenburg refuses to see him.

  4. In January 1933 Hindenburg appoints Hitler Chancellor in return for a promise to prevent the exposure of the Osthilfe(East Aid) scandal, in which Hindenburg himself is implicated.

  5. After coming to power legally, Hitler surprises his high patrons by extremely violent measures, but keeps his promises.

  6. The gang leader quickly transforms himself into a statesman. He is believed to have taken lessons in declamation and bearing from one, Basil, a provincial actor.

  7. February 1933, the Reichstag fire. Hitler accuses his enemies of instigating the fire and gives the signal for the Night of the Long Knives.

  8. The Supreme Court in Leipzig condemns an unemployed worker to death for causing the fire. The real incendiaries get off scot-free.

  9. and 10. The impending death of the aged Hindenburg provokes bitter struggles in the Nazi camp. The Junkers and industrialists demand Röhm’s removal. The occupation of Austria is planned.

  11. On the night of 30 June 1934 Hitler overpowers his friend Rohm at an inn where Rohm has been waiting for him. Up to the last moment Rohm thinks that Hitler is coming to arrange for a joint strike against Hindenburg and Goring.

  12. Under compulsion the Austrian Chancellor Engelbert Dollfuss agrees to stop the attacks on Hitler that have been appearing in the Austrian press.

  13. Dollfuss is murdered at Hitler’s instigation, but Hitler goes on negotiating with Austrian rightist circles.

  15. On 11 March 1938 Hitler marches into Austria. An election under the Nazi terror results in a 98% vote for Hitler.

  Mr Puntila and his Man Matti

  A people’s play

  After stories and

  a draft play

  by Hella Wuolijoki

  Translator: JOHN WILLETT

  Characters

  PUNTILA, landowner

  EVA PUNTILA, his daughter

  MATTI, his chauffeur

  THE WAITER

  THE JUDGE

  THE ATTACHÉ

  THE VET

  SLY-GROG EMMA

  THE CHEMIST’S ASSISTANT

  THE MILKMAID

  THE TELEPHONIST

  A FAT MAN

  A LABOURER

  THE RED-HEADED MAN

  THE WEEDY MAN

  RED SURKKALA

  HIS FOUR CHILDREN

  LAINA, the cook

  FINA, the parlourmaid

  THE LAYWER

  THE PARSON

  THE PARSON’S WIFE

  WOODCUTTERS

  Music by PAUL DESSAU

  Red Surkkala
’s song at the end of Scene 9 was translated by NAOMI REPLANSKY

  Proper names of three syllables are accented on the first syllable, e.g. Púntila, Kúrgela, etc.

  Prologue

  Spoken by the actress playing the milkmaid

  Ladies and gentleman, the times are tough.

  Let’s hope the future’s made of better stuff.

  But gloomy faces cannot set things right

  So we present a comedy tonight

  In which you’ll find the elements of fun

  Will not be doled out meanly, one by one

  But thunderingly in hundredweights, like spuds

  That tumble from the sack with earthy thuds.

  Though we shan’t hesitate to use the chopper

  If characters get larger than is proper.

  You’ll see us re-creating on this stage

  A monster from a prehistoric age –

  Estatium possessor, owner of big estates –

  A useless beast who idly ruminates

  And still clings to dear life for all he’s worth

  A stubborn blot disfiguring our good earth.

  Here you may watch him graze without restraint

  Across the loveliest landscapes we can paint.

  And if our settings leave you unimpressed

  We think the words ought to supply the rest:

  Convey the clank of churns beneath birch trees

  A midnight sun above quiet inland seas

  Red-tinted villages awake before cockcrow

  Smoke rising up from shingle roofs below.

  Such are the pleasures which we hope now are

  Awaiting you in our play Puntila.

  1

  Puntila discovers a human being

  Back room in the Park Hotel, Tavasthus. Landowner Puntila, Judge, Waiter. Judge slips drunkenly off his chair.

  PUNTILA: Waiter, how long we been here?

  WAITER: Two days, Mr Puntila.

  PUNTILA, reproachfully, to judge: Mere couple of days, you hear what the man said? And there you are already packing up and acting tired. Just as I was looking forward to an aquavit and a bit of a chat about me and how lonely I get and what I think of our government. But you lot crumple at the least little effort, for the spirit is willing but the flesh is weak. Where’s that doctor who was ready to take on all comers only yesterday? The stationmaster watched them cart him out; must have been around seven when he too went down after an heroic struggle, very incoherent he was; the chemist was still on his feet then, as I recollect; where is he now? And these claim to be the leading personalities round here; people are going to feel let down and turn their backs on them, and [addressing the slumbering Judge] what kind of a bad example to the locals is that, when a judge can’t even stand up to a casual call at a wayside inn; didn’t that ever occur to you? If one of-my men was as slack ploughing as you are drinking, I’d sack him out of hand. ‘I’ll teach you to scamp your duties, you bugger’, I’d say. Don’t you realise, Fredrik, how much all of us expect of you: an educated man whom everyone looks to to set an example and have some stamina and show a sense of responsibility? Why can’t you pull yourself together and sit up properly and talk to me, you weakling? To the Waiter: What day’s today then?

  WAITER: Saturday, Mr Puntila.

  PUNTILA: You amaze me. In my book it says Friday.

  WAITER: I’m sorry, but it’s Saturday.

  PUNTILA: That’s not what you said just now. Fine waiter, I don’t think. Trying to drive away the customers by acting surly to them. Now, waiter, I’m ordering another aquavit; listen carefully and don’t muddle it up this time, one aquavit and one Friday. Got it?

  WAITER: Right, Mr Puntila. He hurries off.

  PUNTILA, to Judge: Wake up, weakling! You can’t abandon me like this. Knuckling under to a few bottles of aquavit! Why, you’ve barely had a sniff of them. There you were, skulking under the thwarts as I rowed you across the aquavit, I hadn’t the gumption to look over the gunwale even; ought to be ashamed of yourself. Now watch, I step out on to the calm surface [he acts it] sauntering over the aquavit, and do I go under? He sees Matti, his chauffeur, who has been standing in the doorway for some moments. Who are you?

  MATTI: I’m your chauffeur, Mr Puntila.

  PUNTILA, suspiciously: What did you say you were?

  MATTI: I’m your driver.

  PUNTILA: Anyone can say that. I don’t know you.

  MATTI: Maybe you never had a proper look at me; I only been with you five weeks.

  PUNTILA: And where have you sprung from?

  MATTI: Outside. Been waiting in the car two days.

  PUNTILA: What car?

  MATTI: Yours. The Studebaker.

  PUNTILA: Sounds fishy to me. Can you prove it?

  MATTI: And I’ve had just about enough of waiting for you out there, let me tell you. I’m fed up to the bloody teeth. You can’t treat human beings like that.

  PUNTILA: What d’you mean human beings? You a human being? Moment ago you said you were a driver. Caught you contradicting yourself, haven’t I?

  MATTI: You’ll see I’m a human being all right, Mr Puntila. ‘Cause I’m not going to be treated like one of your cattle and left sitting in the road waiting till you are so good as to graciously condescend to come out.

  PUNTILA: Moment ago you said you wouldn’t stand for it.

  MATTI: Too right. Pay me up to date, 175 marks, and I’ll call for my reference back at Puntila’s.

  PUNTILA: I recognise that voice of yours. He walks round him, observing his points like an animal’s. Sounds almost human, it does. Sit down, have an aquavit, we ought to get to know each other.

  WAITER, entering with a bottle: Your aquavit, Mr Puntila, and today is Friday.

  PUNTILA: Good. Indicating Matti: This is a friend of mine.

  WAITER: Yes, your driver, Mr Puntila.

  PUNTILA: So you’re a driver, are you? I always say what interesting people one meets on the road. Help yourself.

  MATTI: I’d like to know what you’re after. I’m not sure I care to drink your grog.

  PUNTILA: You’re a suspicious fellow, I see. I get the point. Never sit at table with people one doesn’t know. And for why? Because when you nod off they might rob you. I’m Puntila the landowner from Lammi and a man of honour, I got ninety cows. You’re all right drinking with me, brother.

  MATTI: Good. I’m Matti Altonen and pleased to meet you. He drinks to him.

  PUNTILA: I’ve got a kind heart and I’m not ashamed of it. Once I picked up a stagbeetle in the road and put it in the bushes so it wouldn’t get run over, that’s how far I’d go. I let it clamber up a twig. You’ve a kind heart too, I can see. I hate it when people keep talking about ‘I, I’ all the time. Should have it flogged out of them with a horsewhip. There are farmers round here’d snatch the food from their men’s mouths. I’d sooner give my hands nothing but a good roast. After all they’re human beings and want a decent bit of meat just like me, so why not? Eh?

  MATTI: Absolutely.

  PUNTILA: Did I really leave you sitting out in the road? I don’t think much of that, it’s very bad of me, and I’ll ask you next time I do it to take the jack handle and belt me one. Matti, you my friend?

  MATTI: No.

  PUNTILA: Thank you. I knew you were. Matti, look at me. What do you see?

  MATTI: I’d say a fat slob, pissed as arseholes.

  PUNTILA: That shows the deceptiveness of appearances. I’m not like that at all. Matti, I’m a sick man.

  MATTI: Very sick.

  PUNTILA: I’m glad to hear you say so. Not everybody realises. You’d never think it to look at me. Tragically, with a sharp glance at Matti: I get attacks.

  MATTI: You don’t say.

  PUNTILA: It’s no laughing matter, my friend. It comes over me every three months or so. I wake up, and all of a sudden I’m stone cold sober. How about that?

  MATTI: And these fits of sobriety, do they attack you regularly?

  PUNTILA: Absolutely. It
’s this way: all the rest of the time I’m perfectly normal, just as you see me now. In full possession of my faculties, master of my feelings. Then comes the attack. It starts with something going wrong with my eyesight. Instead of seeing two forks [he raises a fork] I only see one.

  MATTI, appalled: Mean to say you’re half blind?

  PUNTILA: I only see one half of the entire world. Worse still, when I get these attacks of total senseless sobriety I sink to the level of the beasts. I have absolutely no inhibitions. Brother, you’d never believe the sort of things I get up to in that state. Not even if you’re full of compassion and realise I’m a sick man. With horror in his voice: I become fully responsible for my actions. D’you realise what that means, brother, fully responsible for one’s actions? A fully responsible person can be expected to do absolutely anything. He’s no longer competent to look after his children’s interests, he’s lost all feelings of friendship; trample over his own dead body, he would. That’s because he’s fully responsible for his actions, as the law puts it.

  MATTI: Can’t you do anything to stop these attacks?

  PUNTILA: I do all that’s humanly possible, brother. He grips his glass. Here you are, my one medicine. I knock it back unflinching, and not just a baby’s dose, believe you me. If there’s one thing I can say for myself it’s that I tackle these bouts of senseless sobriety like a man. But what’s the use? Sobriety keeps getting the upper hand. Look at the lack of consideration I’ve shown you, such a splendid fellow. Here, have some of this beef. I’d like to know what good wind brought you my way. What made you come to me?

  MATTI: Losing my last job by no fault of my own.

  PUNTILA: How was that?

  MATTI: I kept seeing ghosts.

  PUNTILA: Real ones?

  MATTI, shrugging his shoulders: They couldn’t understand. There hadn’t been any ghosts on Mr Pappmann’s estate before I came. If you ask me I think it was the food. You see, when people have a lot of heavy dough lying on their stomachs they’re apt to have heavy dreams, nightmares quite often. Bad cooking disagrees with me particularly. I thought about packing it in, but I hadn’t any other job to go to and felt a bit depressed, so I made a few scary remarks in the kitchen and it wasn’t long before the girls started seeing babies’ heads on the fences at night and giving their notice. Or there was a grey ball which came rolling out of the cowshed like a head, so as soon as the stable girl heard my description she was took queer. And the parlourmaid left after I’d seen a dark man one night around eleven walking past the bath hut with his head tucked under his arm asking me for a light. Mr Pappmann started bawling me out, saying it was all my fault and I was scaring the staff into leaving and there were no ghosts on his place. But when I told him how I twice saw a ghost climbing out of the maid’s window and into his own when the missis was in hospital having her baby there wasn’t much he could say. Still, he sacked me all the same. Last thing before going I told him I thought if he could get the cooking improved the ghosts on the estate might lay off, ‘cause they’re supposed not to abide the smell of meat.