Brecht Collected Plays: 1: Baal; Drums in the Night; In the Jungle of Cities; Life of Edward II of England; & 5 One Act Plays: Baal , Drums in the Night , In the Jungle of Ci (World Classics)

by Bertolt Brecht

  GARGA in the bedroom: That dog Shlink. ‘In my dreams I call him my infernal bridegroom.6 We are parted from bed and board, he has no room any more. His little bride smokes stogies, and tucks money away in her stocking.’ That’s me! Laughs.

  MANKY in the bar behind the glass partition: Life is strange. I knew a man who was really tops, but he loved a woman. Her family was starving. He had two thousand dollars, but he let them starve before his eyes. Because with those two thousand dollars he loved the woman, without them he couldn’t get her. That was infamous, but he can’t be held responsible.

  GARGA: ‘Behold, I am a sinner. I loved deserts, burnt orchards, run-down shops, and hot drinks.7 You are mistaken. I am a little man.’ I’m through with Mr Shlink from Yokohama.

  BABOON: Take that lumber dealer. He never had any heart. But one day a passion made him wreck his whole lumber business. And now he’s hauling coal down there. He had the whole neighbourhood by the throat.

  WORM: We took him in the way you might take in an exhausted pedigree dog. But now by some stroke of luck his lost bone has turned up again, and if he won’t let it go our patience will be at an end.

  GARGA: ‘One day I’ll be his widow. That day, I know, has already been marked on the calendar. And I in clean underwear shall walk behind his corpse, swinging my legs lustily in the warm sun.’8

  MARY enters with a lunch basket: George.

  GARGA: Who’s that? Recognizing her. Good God! You look like a soiled rag!

  MARY: I know.

  WORM in the direction of the bar: He’s dead drunk. And now his sister has come to see him. He’s told her that she’s soiled. Where’s the old man?

  BABOON: He’s coming today. I’ve brought Jane. For bait, I suppose. There won’t be any punches pulled in this fight.

  JANE shakes her head: I don’t understand you. Give me a drink. Gin.

  MARY: I’m glad to see you had a better opinion of me. Or you wouldn’t be surprised to see me here now. Besides, I remind you of the days when you were the pride of women, dancing the shimmy and ragtime with a crease in your pants on Saturday night, when your only vices were tobacco, whisky and the love of women, the legitimate vices of men. I wish you’d think of that, George. Pause. How do you live?

  GARGA lightly: It gets cold here at night. Do you need anything? Are you hungry?

  MARY lightly, shaking her head and looking at him: Oh, George, we’ve had vultures over our heads for some time now.

  GARGA lightly: When were you home last? Mary is silent. I heard you were spending your time around here.

  MARY: Is that so? I wonder who’s looking after them at home.

  GARGA coldly: You needn’t worry. I’ve heard that somebody’s taking care of them. And I know what you’ve been doing. And I know something about a certain Chinese hotel too.

  MARY: Does it make you feel good to be so cold-hearted, George?

  Garga looks at her.

  MARY: Don’t look at me like that. I know you expect a confession.

  GARGA: Go ahead!

  MARY: I love him. Why don’t you say something?

  GARGA: Go ahead and love him. That will weaken him.

  MARY: For God’s sake, stop looking at the ceiling. I can’t win him.

  GARGA: That’s disgraceful.

  MARY: I know. – Oh, George, I’m torn in two. Because I can’t win him. I tremble under my dress when I see him and I say the wrong thing.

  GARGA: I can’t tell you the right thing. A rejected woman! I had one once who wasn’t worth a bottle of rum, but she knew how to attract men. She got paid for it too. And she knew her power.

  MARY: You say such biting things. They swim in my head like gin. But are they good? You ought to know if they’re good. But I understand you now.

  Shlink enters the hall.

  WORM: I can tell you from experience: humanity has fallen fists over callouses for a lot of paper dreams. And nothing is so much like paper as real life. Mary Garga turns round and bumps into Shlink.

  SHLINK: You here, Miss Garga?

  MARY: It’s considered wrong for a woman to tell a man she loves him. But I’d like to tell you that my love for you doesn’t prove a thing. I don’t want anything from you. It’s not easy for me to tell you that. Maybe you knew it all along.

  GARGA comes out of the bedroom: Stay here, Mary. We’ve got the prairies written on our faces, and here we’ve been tossed into the city. Don’t hold back. Do what you want to do.

  MARY: Yes, George.

  GARGA: He works like a horse, and I lie lazily in a pool of absinthe.

  SHLINK: The men who conquer the world like to lie on their backs.

  GARGA: And those who own it work.

  SHLINK: Are you worried?

  GARGA to Shlink: Every time I look at you, you’re sizing me up. Have you backed the wrong horse? Your face has grown old.

  SHLINK: Thank you for not forgetting me. I was beginning to think you had gone south. Forgive me. I have taken the liberty of supporting your unfortunate family with the work of my hands.

  GARGA: Is that true, Mary? I didn’t know that. You’ve wormed your way in? You’re vile enough to support my family, and you enjoy it? You hand me a laugh. Goes left into the bedroom, lies down, and laughs.

  SHLINK follows him: Go ahead and laugh, I like to hear you laugh. Your laughter is my sunshine, it was misery here. It’s been dismal without you. It’s been three weeks, Garga.

  GARGA: I’ve been satisfied, all in all.

  SHLINK: Of course. You’ve been rolling in clover.

  GARGA: Only my back is getting thin as a rail from lying on it.

  SHLINK: How pitiful life is! You’re rolling in clover and the clover’s not sweet enough.

  GARGA: I expect more out of life than to wear my shoes out kicking you.

  SHLINK: Kindly take no notice of my insignificant person or my intentions. But I’m still here. If you have to quit, you won’t leave the ring in innocence.

  GARGA: I’m quitting, though. I’m going on strike. I throw in the towel. Have I sunk my teeth so deep into you? You’re a small hard betel nut, I ought to spit it out, I know it’s harder than my teeth and that it’s only a shell.

  SHLINK pleased: I’m doing my best to give you all the light you need. I show myself in every possible light, Mr Garga. Goes under the lamp.

  GARGA: You want to auction off your pock-marked soul?

  Are you hardened to all suffering? Utterly callous?

  SHLINK: Crack the nut.

  GARGA: You’re withdrawing into my corner. You’re staging a metaphysical fight, but leaving a slaughterhouse behind you.

  SHLINK: You mean this business with your sister? I haven’t butchered anything your hands protected.

  GARGA: I have only two hands. Whatever is human to me you devour like a chunk of meat. You open my eyes to possible sources of help by choking them off. You use my family to help yourself. You live on my reserves. I’m getting thinner and thinner. I’m getting metaphysical. And on top of everything, you vomit all this in my face.

  MARY: Please, George, can’t I go now? She retreats towards the rear.

  GARGA pulling her forward: No, certainly not! We’ve just started talking about you. I’ve just noticed you.

  SHLINK: It’s my misfortune to tread on delicate ground. I’ll retreat. You’re never aware of your affections until their objects are in the morgue, and I feel the need of acquainting you with your affections. But please proceed, I understand you perfectly.

  GARGA: But I am making sacrifices. Have I refused?

  MARY: Let me go. I’m afraid.

  GARGA: This way, sir. Runs into the hall. Let’s start a family!

  MARY: George!

  GARGA: Stay here! In the direction of the bedroom. I demand a little human involvement on your part, sir.

  SHLINK: I wouldn’t say no for a minute.

  GARGA: You love this man? And he’s indifferent? Mary weeps.

  SHLINK: I hope you’re not overestimating your power.
Runs back to the bedroom.

  GARGA: Don’t worry. This will be a step forward. Let’s see now, this is Thursday night. This is the Chinese hotel and this is my sister, Mary Garga. Runs out. Come here, Mary. My sister. This is Mr Shlink from Yokohama. He has something to tell you.

  MARY: George!

  GARGA goes out to get drinks: ‘I fled into the outskirts of the city, where women with crooked orange mouths cower white in glowing thorn bushes.’

  MARY: It’s dark in the window and I want to go home now.

  SHLINK: I’ll go with you if you like.

  GARGA: ‘Their hair was black-lacquered shells, ever so thin, their eyes were dulled by the winds of debauch in the drunken night and by sacrifices in the open fields.’

  MARY softly: Please don’t ask me that.

  GARGA: ‘Their thin dresses, like iridescent snake skins drenched with never-ending rain slapped against their for ever excited limbs.’

  SHLINK: I meant it when I asked you. I have no secrets from anyone.

  GARGA: ‘They cover their legs to the very toenails, which are incrusted with molten copper; the madonna in the clouds turns pale at the sight of her sisters.’ Comes back, hands Shlink a glass. Won’t you drink? I find it necessary.

  SHLINK: Why do you drink? Drinkers lie.9

  GARGA: It’s fun talking with you. When I drink, half my thoughts float downward. I guide them to the ground and then they seem lighter. Drink!

  SHLINK: I’d rather not. But if you insist.

  GARGA: I’m inviting you to drink with me and you refuse.

  SHLINK: I don’t refuse, but my brain is all I’ve got.

  GARGA after a moment: Forgive me, let’s go halves: You’ll turn off your brain. When you’ve drunk, you’ll make love.

  SHLINK drinks as in a ritual: When I have drunk, I’ll make love.

  GARGA calls from the bedroom: Won’t you have a drink, Mary? No? Why don’t you sit down?

  BABOON: Shut up. I could hear them talking before. Now they’re not saying anything.

  GARGA to Mary: This is the Black Pit. Forty years are passing. I don’t say no. The ground is giving way, the water of the sewers rises to the surface, but the tide of their lusts is too weak. For four hundred years I have dreamed of mornings on the ocean, I had the salt wind in my eyes. How smooth it was! He drinks.

  SHLINK submissively: I ask you for your hand, Miss Garga. Shall I throw myself humbly at your feet? Please come with me. I love you.

  MARY runs into the bar: Help! They’re selling me!

  MANKY: Here I am, beautiful!

  MARY: I knew you’d be wherever I am.

  GARGA: ‘Like at the opera, a breeze opens gaps in the partitions.’10

  SHLINK bellowing: Will you kindly come out of the bar, Mary Garga! Mary comes out of the bar. I beg you, don’t throw yourself away, Miss Garga.

  MARY: All I want is a little room with nothing in it. I’ve stopped wanting very much, Pat, I promise you that I never will again.

  GARGA: Fight for your chance, Shlink.

  SHLINK: Think of the years that won’t pass, Mary Garga, and think how sleepy you are.

  MANKY: Come with me, I’ve got four hundred pounds, that means a roof in the winter and no more ghosts except in the morgues.

  SHLINK: I implore you, Mary Garga, come with me. I shall treat you like my wife and wait on you and hang myself without any fuss if ever I hurt you.

  GARGA: He’s not lying. I promise you that. That’s what you’ll get if you go with him. Down to the last cent. Goes into the bar.

  MARY: Tell me, Pat, even if I don’t love you, do you love me?

  MANKY: I think so, beautiful. And it’s not written anywhere between heaven and earth that you don’t love me.

  GARGA: Is that you, Jane? Polishing off the cocktails? You don’t look exactly yourself. Have you sold everything?

  JANE: Get rid of him, Baboon. I can’t stand his face. He’s molesting me. Even if I’m not living in milk and honey these days, I don’t have to put up with ridicule.

  BABOON: I’ll crack the nose of any man who says you’re an old shoe.

  GARGA: Did they feed you too? Your face looks like a lemon ice that’s been left standing. Damn it all, you used to wear glad rags like an opera singer, and now you look as if they’d sprinkled you with black powder. But I’ll say this much: you didn’t come of your own accord when only the flies made spots on you, my drunken chick.

  MARY: Let’s go, then. I’d have gladly obliged you, Shlink, but I can’t. It’s not pride.

  SHLINK: Stay if you like. I won’t repeat my offer if it displeases you. But don’t let the pit swallow you up. There are many places to get away from a man.

  GARGA: Not for a woman. Forget it, Shlink. Don’t you see what she’s driving at? If you’d preferred a roof in the winter, Jane, you’d still be sewing shirts.

  SHLINK: Drink before you make love, Mary Garga.

  MARY: Come, Pat. This isn’t a good place. Is this your woman, George? Is she? I’m glad I had a chance to see her. Out with Manky.

  SHLINK calls after her: I won’t forsake you. Come back when you’ve found out.

  BABOON: An old shoe, gentlemen, well worn. He laughs.

  GARGA shining a candle in Shlink’s face: Your face is in good shape. But where does your good will get me?

  SHLINK: The sacrifices on both sides have been considerable. How many ships do you need to get to Tahiti? Do you want me to hoist my shirt for a sail, or your sister’s? I hold you responsible for your sister’s fate. You showed her that men would always treat her as an object. I haven’t spoiled anything for you, I hope. I almost got her as a virgin, but you wanted me to have left-overs. And don’t forget your family that you’re abandoning. Now you’ve seen what you are sacrificing.

  GARGA: I want to slaughter them all now. I know that. I think I’ll get the jump on you. And now I understand why you’ve fattened them on what you earn hauling coal. I won’t let you do me out of my fun. And now I’m taking delivery of this little animal that you’ve been keeping for me.

  JANE: I refuse to be insulted. I stand on my own feet, I support myself.

  GARGA: And now I request you to hand over the money you made selling that lumber twice. I hope you’ve been keeping it for me. The time has come.

  Shlink takes out the money and gives it to Garga.

  GARGA: I’m dead drunk. But drunk or sober, I’ve got a good idea, Shlink, a very good idea. Goes out with Jane.

  BABOON: That was your last money, sir. And where did it come from? They’ll be asking you about it. Broost & Co. have demanded delivery of the lumber they paid for.

  SHLINK not listening to him: A chair. They have occupied the chairs and do not stand up. My rice and water.

  WORM: There’s no more rice for you, sir. Your account is overdrawn.

  6

  Lake Michigan

  The end of September

  Woods: Shlink and Mary.

  MARY: The trees look draped in human dung, the sky is close enough to touch, but what is it to me? I’m cold. I’m like a half-frozen quail. I can’t help myself.

  SHLINK: If it will do you any good, I love you.

  MARY: I’ve thrown myself away. Why has my love turned to bitter fruit? Others have their summer when they love, but I’m withering away and tormenting myself. My body is soiled.

  SHLINK: Tell me how low you feel. It will relieve you.

  MARY: I lay in bed with a man who was like an animal. My whole body was numb, but I gave myself to him, many times, and I couldn’t get warm. He smoked stogies in between, a seaman. I loved you every hour I spent between those papered walls, I was so obsessed that he thought it was love and wanted to stop me. I slept into the black darkness. I don’t owe you anything, but my conscience cries out to me that I’ve soiled my body, which is yours even if you scorned it.

  SHLINK: I’m sorry you’re cold. I thought the air was warm and dark. I don’t know what the men of this country say to the women they love. If it will do
you any good: I love you.

  MARY: I’m such a coward, my courage has gone with my innocence.

  SHLINK: You’ll wash yourself clean.

  MARY: Maybe I ought to go down to the water, but I can’t. I’m not ready yet. Oh, this despair! This heart that won’t be appeased! I’m never anything more than half, I can’t even love, it’s only vanity. I hear what you say, I have ears and I’m not deaf, but what does it mean? Maybe I’m asleep, they’ll come and wake me, and maybe it’s just that I’d do the most shameful things to get a roof over my head, that I lie to myself and close my eyes.

  SHLINK: Come, it’s getting cold.

  MARY: But the leaves are warm and shelter us from the sky that’s too close. They go out.

  MANKY enters: Her tracks point this way. You need a good sense of humour in a September like this. The crayfish are mating, the rutting cry of the deer is heard in the thicket, and the badger season is open. But my flippers are cold and I’ve wrapped my black stumps in newspaper. Where can she be living? That’s the worst of it. If she’s lying around like a fishbone in that greasy saloon, she’ll never have a clean petticoat again. Only stains. Oh, Pat Mankyboddle, I’m going to court-martial you. Too weak to defend myself, I’d better attack. I’ll devour the no-good with skin and bones, I’ll speed up my digestion with prayers, the vultures will be shot at sunrise and hung up in the Mankyboddle Museum. Brrr! Words! Toothless phrases! He takes a revolver from his pocket. This is the coldest answer! Stalk through the jungle looking for a woman, will you, you old swine! Down on all fours! Damn, this underbrush is suicide. Watch yourself, Paddy. Where can a woman go when it’s all up with her? Let her go, Paddy boy, have a smoke, take a bite to eat, put that thing away. Forward, march! Goes out.

  MARY coming back with Shlink: It’s loathsome before God and man. I won’t go with you.

  SHLINK: Mouldy sentiments. Air out your soul.

  MARY: I can’t. You’re making a sacrifice of me.

  SHLINK: You’ve always got to have your head in some man’s armpits, no matter whose.

  MARY: I’m nothing to you.

  SHLINK: You can’t live alone.

  MARY: You took me so quickly, as if you were afraid I’d get away. Like a sacrifice.