At the last he rode on the river and added
The great strength of the river
To his small strength.
But the river that flung him at his enemy
Flung him away again. For a long time
We saw him rowing. As far as the waterfall
He struggled to reach the shore. Then the waterfall
Drowned him at last. He did not kill his enemy
But he left a weakened foe
For his comrades in the fight.
CHORUS OF CURIATIANS as they erase five cohorts from the board:
Five cohorts out of seven have fallen.
But we are certain to win. Unconquerable
Our army presses forward. Our opponent
Has been seized by despair. He runs
To meet our arrows and throws himself into the water.
The booty is immense. Cease your quarrelling
Over the ownership of the land and the new minepits, Curiatians
By tomorrow the final battle will take place
In which we shall have three armies
Against our enemy’s one.
HORATIAN WOMEN:
Our men fall like slaughtered cattle.
When the butcher reaches them, they fall.
One made good plans but fell. The other
Showed courage and fell. And we
We are glad of the plans and the courage and weep.
We were content that they fought.
If we weep, it is because they fell
Not because they fought. Alas, he
Who returns is the victor
And when there is no victory, none return.
CHORUS OF HORATIANS:
The robbers come!
The fight still rages and already
They carry off ore from the minepits.
With the cries of their warriors
Stricken to death, are mixed
The commands of the overseers.
3 THE BATTLE OF THE SWORDSMEN
THE HORATIAN: For two days I have been holding my opponent in check. As he is too heavily armoured, I am waiting until the archer and the spearman can reach me.
The Curiatian throws the broken spearbutt of the second warrior and the bow of the first at his feet.
THE CURIATIAN:
Your brothers are destroyed. Surrender!
THE HORATIAN: I know the spear and I know the bow. My comrades in battle must have been destroyed as the Curiatian says. Then I must attack quickly in spite of his armour or he will be joined by his archer and his spearman.
THE CURIATIAN:
I thought to frighten him out of attacking with the news.
But now I see I have provoked him to attack.
THE HORATIAN:
I will fall upon his flank.
He steps to one side and sees the other two armies, hitherto hidden behind the Curiatian. They are marching up, the Spearman decked with victory wreaths, the Archer decked with victory wreaths and laden with booty, both of them now armed with swords.
It is too late. They are almost here.
THE CURIATIAN SWORDSMAN shouts to the Spearman:
Draw your sword and hasten! The battle begins!
THE CURIATIAN SPEARMAN:
Marching along a river
In a narrow pass, I drowned my enemy.
Seven brotherhoods were overthrown. In spite of my losses
And the disorder of my supply train
I hurry in to the final battle.
He shouts behind him:
The battle begins. Hasten, archer!
THE CURIATIAN ARCHER:
I am coming.
Between two mountains
In unknown territory
At the third volley
I overthrew my enemy.
Before nightfall, his last army
Will be defeated.
THE CURIATIAN SWORDSMAN:
I am stronger than my opponent by seven cohorts.
THE HORATIAN SWORDSMAN:
I cannot attack. I am too heavily outnumbered.
He asks the Chorus:
What shall I do?
CHORUS OF HORATIANS:
In spite of the bravery of our armies
Our knowledge of the battleground
And our employment of all means of defence
We have lost two battles. Two armies
Are destroyed. Two out of three women
In our city
Wear widow’s weeds.
Your brotherhoods, swordsman
Are our last reserves:
You have waited for reinforcement.
Wait no longer. None will come.
In your hands
Are our farmlands, herds and workshops.
Between us and the robbers
There is no one but you.
THE HORATIAN:
They are moving up
With their superior numbers
They will utterly destroy me.
They come against me with three swords
A threefold sword arm.
And how shall I stand my ground?
My shield is poor.
CHORUS OF HORATIANS:
Don’t give a foot of ground!
Your weapons
Cannot be helped. Now
Use them. The number of the enemy
Cannot be reduced. Stand firm.
Throw yourself upon them. Destroy ...
Alas, what are you doing?
The Horatian has begun to run away.
CHORUS OF CURIATIANS:
Victory! The enemy
Has taken to his heels.
Pursue him, Curiatians!
THE CURIATIAN SWORDSMAN:
After him! At the sight of our superior numbers
The enemy has taken to his heels.
After him or he will escape us!
CHORUS OF HORATIANS:
Make a stand! He does not hear us!
Our last man
Has given up the fight. Our best defender
Has been corrupted by the enemy.
The Horatian Swordsman tries to reassure them with a motion of his arm as he runs.
Don’t deny it! Why are you running away?
CHORUS OF CURIATIANS:
Surrender! Hand over the keys of your city!
Don’t let him escape, Curiatians.
THE CURIATIAN SPEARMAN to the Swordsman:
Don’t let him escape!
You can still run!
The three Curiatian armies begin the chase but they cannot all move forward with the same speed. The badly wounded Spearman lags behind. The slightly wounded Archer passes him but still lags.
CHORUS OF CURIATIANS:
How fast he runs!
He cannot save himself but he turns his defeat
Into disgrace.
He has not even enough courage
To merit an elegy
Sung by his own people.
THE HORATIAN SWORDSMAN:
I am glad my shield is light.
I can run better.
CHORUS OF HORATIANS:
He mocks us!
THE CURIATIAN SWORDSMAN:
I am running
As fast as I can. My shield
Is heavy.
THE HORATIAN SWORDSMAN:
And I can run
As fast as you can.
Run faster!
Or I shall escape you!
CHORUS OF HORATIANS:
Erase his brotherhoods of men!
Where they were, they are no more.
The plan, that depended on them . . .
As the number of swordsmen is half erased, he turns in a little half circle and comes back at the Curiatian. During the chase the pursuers have been separated.
Wait! He has turned around. He is coming back!
He attacks!
CHORUS OF CURIATIANS:
He attacks!
And our swordsman
Is out of breath. His shield
Was h
eavy. And our archer
Could not catch up!
CHORUS OF HORATIANS:
Our archer shattered his knee.
And he is hindered by his boots, his helmet and his knapsack.
CHORUS OF CURIATIANS:
And our spearman also lags behind!
CHORUS OF HORATIANS:
Our spearman has torn his side.
The Horatian Swordsman beats the untried Curiatian Swordsman after a short fight. Then he runs back at the Archer.
CHORUS OF CURIATIANS:
The swordsman has fallen.
Erase twelve cohorts
From the number of soldiers
Where they were . . .
The Horatian has reached the Archer, beaten his sword out of his hand and cut him down. Then he runs on.
The archer has fallen as well. And the enemy
Rushes on. The pursuit
Has separated the pursuers. The flight
Was an attack. Only the spearman
Remains, he’s badly wounded.
The Horatian has reached the Spearman and brings him down without trouble.
Erase nineteen cohorts! Where they were
They are no more. The plan, that depended on them
Now no one can carry out.
The three Curiatian Wives are then dressed in widows’ weeds. The nineteen cohorts are erased
CHORUS OF HORATIANS:
Victory! Your stratagem, swordsman
Divided the enemy and your strength
Overthrew them.
THE HORATIAN SWORDSMAN:
I saw the archer marching along
Laden with booty and the spearman marching along
Without booty. And I saw that the swordsman had no victory wreath.
I knew, too, that they would throw themselves upon me.
And I saw the swordsman look behind him
Seeing one with a victory wreath, the other laden with booty.
Then I knew that what came upon me like one army
Had once been three divisions and could again
Be cut in three. And I saw
How one was strong, one limped
And the third crawled. And I thought
Three can still fight
But only one can run.
CHORUS OF HORATIANS:
The robbers have been beaten back.
Our archer employed unsuccessfully
The great machine of nature
Which is always moving. But our spearman
With the river and the flood and his spearbutt made himself
Into a great projectile.
And our swordsman saw
How a unity can be split up when it is in motion.
His stratagem divided the enemy
And his strength overthrew him.
Our archer weakened his enemy.
Our spearman wounded him badly.
And our swordsman completed the victory.
Saint Joan of the Stockyards
Collaborators: H. BORCHARDT, E. BURRI, E. HAUPTMANN
Translated by RALPH MANHEIM
Characters
JOAN DARK, lieutenant in the Black Straw Hats
PIERPONT MAULER, meat king
CRIDLE/GRAHAM/LENNOX/MEYERS, meat packers
SLIFT, a broker
MRS LUCKERNIDDLE
GLOOMB, a worker
PAUL SNYDER, major in the Black Straw Hats
MARTHA, a Black Straw Hat
JACKSON, a lieutenant in the Black Straw Hats
MULBERRY, a landlord
A WAITER
Meat Packers
Wholesalers
Stockbreeders
Brokers
Speculators
Black Straw Hats
Workers
Labour Leaders
The Poor
Detectives
Newspapermen
Newsboys
Soldiers
Passers-by
1
THE MEAT KING PIERPONT MAULER RECEIVES A LETTER FROM HIS FRIENDS IN NEW YORK
Chicago, Stockyards.
MAULER (reading a letter): ‘It has come to our attention, dear Pierpont, that the meat market has been severely depressed of late. And the tariff barriers in the south have withstood all our attacks. It therefore seems advisable, dear Pierpont, for you to drop the meat business’. This tip has just come to me from my dear friends in New York. But here’s my partner.
He hides the letter.
CRIDLE: Why so gloomy, dear Pierpont?
MAULER:
Remember, Cridle, how the other evening
As we were walking through the stockyards
We stopped to look at our new processing machine.
Remember, Cridle, that big blond steer
Looking so dumbly skyward as the blow
Descended. I felt as if that blow had fallen on me.
Oh, Cridle. Oh, what a bloody business we are in.
CRIDLE:
The same old weakness? I find it hard to believe
That you, a giant among meat packers
King of the stockyards, before whom butchers tremble
Should faint with anguish over a big blond steer.
Don’t mention this to anyone, I beg you.
MAULER:
O faithful Cridle!
I shouldn’t have gone down to that slaughterhouse.
For seven years I’d kept away, ever since
I went into business. I can’t bear
It any longer. I’m giving up
This bloody business before the day is out.
You take my share. I’ll sell it to you cheap.
I’d soonest sell it to you, for no one else
Is so much part and parcel of the business.
CRIDLE:
How cheap?
MAULER:
Old friends like us won’t haggle
Over a little thing like that.
Suppose we say ten million.
CRIDLE:
That wouldn’t be too much if it weren’t for Lennox
Who battles us for every can of meat
Who spoils the market with his bargain prices
And will sink us if he doesn’t go down first.
Until he falls – and you alone can fell him –
I won’t accept your offer. Until then
You’ll have to keep your crafty brain at work.
MAULER:
No, Cridle, the groaning of that steer
Will live forever in my heart. This Lennox
Must be destroyed at once, for I’m determined
To give up butchering and live in virtue.
Come, Cridle, and I’ll tell you how to hasten
Lennox’s fall. But then you’ll have
To take this hateful business off my hands.
CRIDLE:
If Lennox falls.
They go out.
2
a
THE COLLAPSE OF THE BIG PACKING PLANTS
Outside the Lennox plant.
THE WORKERS:
We, the seventy thousand workers at the Lennox packing plants
Can’t live a single day more on our wretched wages.
Yesterday we took another big pay cut
And today again they’ve posted a notice, saying:
Anyone who isn’t satisfied with
The wages here can leave.
Okay, let’s leave, the whole lot of us, and fuck
Their daily shrinking wages.
Silence.
This work has long filled us with loathing
This plant has been a hell to us and only
The cold terrors of Chicago
Have kept us here. But now
A twelve-hour day no longer
Gets us a plate of hash or
The cheapest pair of pants. So
We might as well walk out and
Kick the bucket right away.
Silence.
Who do they think we are? Do they expect
us
To stand out here like cattle, ready
For anything? Do they
Take us for blockheads? We’d sooner starve. Come on, we’re
Getting out of here.
Silence.
Say, it’s six o’clock gone by.
Why don’t you open up, you bloodsuckers? Your
Cattle are here, you butchers, open up!
They knock.
Maybe we’ve been forgotten.
Laughter.
Open up! We
Want to get into
Your stinkholes, your filthy kitchens
To cook your greasy
Meat for the dinners of the rich.
Silence.
We demand at least
Our same old wage, low as it is, at least
A ten-hour day, at least . . .
A MAN (passing):
What are you waiting for? Don’t you know
That Lennox has shut down?
Some newsboys run across the stage.
THE NEWSBOYS: Meat king Lennox forced to shut down! Seventy thousand workers high and dry! M. L. Lennox crushed by cut-throat competition of Pierpont Mauler the meat king and philanthropist.
THE WORKERS:
Christ!
Hell itself
Has closed its gate in our face!
We are lost. The ruthless Mauler
Has grabbed our exploiter by the throat and
We are choking!
b
P. MAULER
Street.
THE NEWSBOYS: Chicago Tribune. Extra! P. Mauler, meat king and philanthropist, attends opening of P. Mauler Hospital, biggest and most expensive in the world. Mauler passes with two men.
A PASSER-BY (to another): That’s P. Mauler. Who are those men with him?
THE OTHER: Detectives. They’re guarding him in case somebody tries to strike him dead.
c
TO ASSUAGE THE MISERY OF THE STOCKYARDS, THE BLACK STRAW HATS SALLY FORTH FROM THEIR MISSION HOUSE: JOAN’S FIRST DESCENT INTO THE DEPTHS.
Outside the headquarters of the Black Straw Hats.
JOAN (at the head of a shock troop of Black Straw Hats)
In a dark time of cruel confusion
Of ordained disorder
Of systematic lawlessness
Of dehumanized humanity
When in our cities the turmoil never ceases:
Into such a world, resembling a slaughterhouse
Summoned by rumours of impending violence
Hoping to stop the brute force of the short-sighted workers
From smashing their tools and
Destroying their livelihood
We propose to bring back
God.
Diminished in glory
Almost despised
No longer admitted
To the places where real life is lived –
Yet the sole salvation of the lowliest!
We have therefore decided
To beat the drum for Him
To get Him a foothold in the slums
Brecht Collected Plays: 3: Lindbergh's Flight; The Baden-Baden Lesson on Consent; He Said Yes/He Said No; The Decision; The Mother; The Exception & the ... St Joan of the Stockyards (World Classics) Page 21