THE JUDGE: Of course not. I wasn’t saying there were. Don’t keep weighing every single word of mine on your scales.
THE SENIOR JUDGE: Why shouldn’t I? I am a judge.
THE JUDGE who is breaking into a sweat: But Fey, if every word uttered by every judge had to be weighed like that! I’m prepared to go over everything in the most careful and conscientious possible way, but I have to be told what kind of a decision will satisfy higher considerations. If I allow the Jew to have stayed inside the shop then I’ll upset the landlord – I mean the partner; I’m getting muddled – and if the provocation came from the unemployed man then it’ll be the landlord who – yes, but von Miehl would rather – Look, they can’t pack me off to the backwoods in Silesia, I’ve got a hernia and I’m not getting embroiled with the SA, Fey, after all I’ve a family. It’s easy for my wife to say I should just find out what actually happened. I’d wake up in hospital if nothing worse. Do I talk about assault? No, I’ll talk about provocation. So what’s wanted? I shan’t condemn the SA of course but only the Jew or the unemployed man, only which of the two should I condemn? How do I decide between unemployed man and Jew or between partner and landlord. Whatever happens I’m not going to Silesia, Fey, I’d rather a concentration camp, the whole thing’s impossible. Don’t look at me like that. I’m not in the dock. I’m prepared to do absolutely anything.
THE SENIOR JUDGE who has got to his feet: Being prepared isn’t enough, my dear fellow.
THE JUDGE: But how am I to make my decision?
THE SENIOR JUDGE: Usually a judge goes by what his conscience tells him, Judge Goll. Let that be your guide. It has been a pleasure.
THE JUDGE: Yes, of course: to the best of my heart and conscience. But here and now; what’s my choice to be, Fey? What?
The senior judge has left. The judge looks wordlessly after him. The telephone rings.
THE JUDGE picks up the receiver: Yes? – Emmy? – What have they put off? Our skittles session? – Who was it rang? – Priesnitz, the one who’s just taken his finals? Where did he get the message? – What I’m talking about? I’ve got a judgement to deliver.
He hangs up. The usher enters. The noise in the corridors becomes obtrusive.
THE USHER: Häberle, Schünt, Gaunitzer, your honour.
THE JUDGE collecting his papers: One moment.
THE USHER: I’ve put the President of the High Court at the press table. He was quite happy about it. But the Chief State Prosecutor refused to take a seat among the witnesses. He wanted to be on the bench, I think. Then you’d have had to preside from the dock, your honour! He laughs foolishly at his own joke.
THE JUDGE: Whatever happens I’m not doing that.
THE USHER: This way out, your honour. But where’s your folder got to with the indictment?
THE JUDGE utterly confused: Oh yes, I’ll need that. Or I won’t know who’s being accused, will I? What the devil are we to do with the Chief State Prosecutor?
THE USHER: But your honour, that’s your address book you’ve picked up. Here’s the file.
He pushes it under the judge’s arm. Wiping the sweat off his face, the judge goes distractedly out.
7
Occupational disease
And as for the physicians
The State gives them positions
And pays them so much a piece.
Their job is to keep mending
The bits the police keep sending
Then send it all back to the police.
Berlin 1934. A ward in the Charité Hospital. A new patient has been brought in. Nurses are busy writing his name on the slate at the head of his bed. Two patients in neighbouring beds are talking.
THE FIRST PATIENT: Know anything about him?
THE SECOND: I saw them bandaging him downstairs. He was on a stretcher quite close to me. He was still conscious then, but when I asked what he’d got he didn’t answer. His whole body’s one big wound.
THE FIRST: No need to ask then, was there?
THE SECOND: I didn’t see till they started bandaging him.
ONE OF THE NURSES: Quiet please, it’s the professor. Followed by a train of assistants and nurses the surgeon enters the ward. He stops by one of the beds and pontificates.
THE SURGEON: Gentlemen, we have here a quite beautiful case showing how essential it is to ask questions and keep on searching for the deeper causes of the disease if medicine is not to degenerate into mere quackery. This patient has all the symptoms of neuralgia and for a considerable time he received the appropriate treatment. In fact however he suffers from Raynaud’s Disease, which he contracted in the course of his job as a worker operating pneumatically powered tools; that is to say, gentlemen, an occupational disease. We have now begun treating him correctly. His case will show you what a mistake it is to treat the patient as a mere component of the clinic instead of asking where he has come from, how did he contract his disease and what he will be going back to once treatment is concluded. There are three things a good doctor has to be able to do. What are they? The first?
THE FIRST ASSISTANT: Ask questions.
THE SURGEON: The second?
THE SECOND ASSISTANT: Ask questions.
THE SURGEON: And the third?
THE THIRD ASSISTANT: Ask questions, sir.
THE SURGEON: Correct. Ask questions. Particularly concerning…?
THE THIRD ASSISTANT: The social conditions, sir.
THE SURGEON: The great thing is never to be shy of looking into the patient’s private life – often a regrettably depressing one. If someone is forced to follow some occupation that is bound in the long run to destroy his body, so that he dies in effect to avoid starving to death, one doesn’t much like hearing about it and consequently doesn’t ask.
He and his followers move on to the new patient.
What has this man got?
The sister whispers in his ear.
Oh, I see.
He gives him a cursory examination with evident reluctance.
Dictates: Contusions on the back and thighs. Open wounds on the abdomen. Further symptoms?
THE SISTER reads out: Blood in his urine.
THE SURGEON: Diagnosis on admission?
THE SISTER: Lesion to left kidney.
THE SURGEON: Get him X-rayed. Starts to turn away.
THE THIRD ASSISTANT who has been taking down his medical history: How was that incurred, sir?
THE SURGEON: What have they put?
THE SISTER: Falling downstairs, it says here.
THE SURGEON dictating: A fall down the stairs. Why are his hands tied that way, Sister?
THE SISTER: The patient has twice torn his dressings off, professor.
THE SURGEON: Why?
THE FIRST PATIENT sotto voce: Where has the patient come from and where is he going back to?
All heads turn in his direction.
THE SURGEON clearing his throat: If this patient seems disturbed give him morphine. Moves on to the next bed: Feeling better now? It won’t be long before you’re fit as a fiddle.
He examines the patient’s neck.
ONE ASSISTANT to another: Worker. Brought in from Oranienburg.
THE OTHER ASSISTANT grinning: Another case of occupational disease, I suppose.
8
The physicists
Enter the local Newtons
Dressed up like bearded Teutons –
Not one of them hook-nosed.
Their science will end up barbarian
For they’ll get an impeccably Aryan
State-certified physics imposed.
Göttingen 1935. Institute for Physics. Two scientists, X and Y. Y has just entered. He has a conspiratorial look.
Y: I’ve got it.
X: What?
Y: The answer to what we asked Mikovsky in Paris.
X: About gravity waves?
Y: Yes.
X: What about it?
Y: Guess who’s written giving just what we wanted.
X: Go on.
&
nbsp; Y takes a scrap of paper, writes a name and passes it to X. As soon as X has read it Y takes it back, tears it into small pieces and throws it into the stove.
Y: Mikovsky passed our questions on to him. This is his answer.
X grabs for it greedily: Give me. He suddenly holds himself back. Just suppose we were caught corresponding with him like this …
Y: We absolutely mustn’t be.
X: Well, without it we’re stuck. Come on, give me.
Y: You won’t be able to read it. I used my own shorthand, it’s safer. I’ll read it out to you.
X: For God’s sake be careful.
Y: Is Rollkopf in the lab today? He points to the right.
X pointing to the left: No, but Reinhardt is. Sit over here.
Y reads: The problem concerns two arbitrary countervariant vectors psi and nu and a countervariant vector t. This is used to form the elements of a mixed tensor of the second degree whose structure can be expressed by
X who has been writing this down, suddenly gives him a sign to shut up: Just a minute.
He gets up and tiptoes over to the wall, left. Having evidently heard nothing suspicious he returns. Y goes on reading aloud, with other similar interruptions. These lead them to inspect the telephone, suddenly open the door etc.
Y: Where matter is passive, incoherent and not acting on itself by means of tensions T = μ will be the only component of the tensional energy depth that differs from o. Hence a static gravitational field is created whose equation, taking into account the constant proportionality factor 8πx will be Δf = 4πxμ. Given a suitable choice of spatial coordinates the degree of variation from c2 dt2 will be very slight …
A door slams somewhere and they try to hide their notes. Then this seems to be unnecessary. From this point on they both become engrossed in the material and apparently oblivious of the danger of what they are doing.
Y reads on: … by comparison however with the passive mass from which the field originates the masses concerned are very small, and the motion of the bodies implicated in the gravitational field is brought within this static field by means of a geodetic world line. As such this satisfies the variational principle δʃds = o where the ends of the relevant portion of the world line remain fixed.
X: But what’s Einstein got to say about …
Y’s look of horror makes X aware of his mistake so that he sits there paralysed with shock. Y snatches the notes which he has been taking down and hides away all the papers.
Y very loudly, in the direction of the left-hand wall: What a 160 Fear and Misery of the Third Reich typical piece of misplaced Jewish ingenuity. Nothing to do with physics.
Relieved, they again bring out their notes and silently resume work, using the utmost caution.
9
The Jewish wife
Over there we can see men coming
Whom He’s forced to relinquish their women
And coupled with blondes in their place.
It’s no good their cursing and praying
For once He catches them racially straying
He’ll whip them back into the Race.
Frankfurt 1935. It is evening. A woman is packing suitcases. She is choosing what to take. Now and again she removes something from her suitcase and returns it to its original place in the room in order to pack another item instead. For a long while she hesitates whether to take a large photograph of her husband that stands on the chest of drawers. Finally she leaves the picture where it is. The packing tires her and for a time she sits on a suitcase leaning her head on her hand. Then she gets to her feet and telephones.
THE WOMAN: This is Judith Keith. Hullo, is that you, doctor? Good evening. I just wanted to ring up and say you’ll have to be looking for another bridge partner; I’m going away. – No, not long, but anyway a few weeks – I want to go to Amsterdam. – Yes, it’s said to be lovely there in spring. – I’ve got friends there. – No, plural, believe it or not. – Who will you get for a fourth? – Come on, we haven’t played for a fortnight. – That’s right, Fritz had a cold too. It’s absurd to go on playing bridge when it’s as cold as this, I always say. – But no, doctor, how could I? – Anyway Thekla had her mother there. – I know. – What put that idea into my head? – No, it was nothing sudden, I kept putting it off, and now I’ve really got to … Right, we’ll have to cancel our cinema date, remember me to Thekla. – Ring him up on a Sunday sometimes, could you perhaps? – Well, au revoir! – Yes, of course I will. – Goodbye.
She hangs up and calls another number.
This is Judith Keith. Can I speak to Frau Schöck? – Lotte? – I just wanted to say goodbye. I’m going away for a bit. – No, nothing’s wrong, it’s just that I want to see some new faces. – I really meant to say that Fritz has got the Professor coming here on Tuesday evening, and I wondered if you could both come too, I’m off tonight as I said. – Tuesday, that’s it. – No, I only wanted to tell you I’m off tonight, there’s no connection, I just thought you might be able to come then. – Well, let’s say even though I shan’t be there, right? – Yes, I know you’re not that sort, but what about it, these are unsettled times and everybody’s being so careful, so you’ll come? – It depends on Max? He’ll manage it, the Professor will be there, tell him. – I must ring off now. – Goodbye then.
She hangs up and called another number.
That you, Gertrud? It’s Judith. I’m so sorry to disturb you. – Thanks, I just wanted to ask if you could see that Fritz is all right, I’m going away for a few months. – Being his sister, I thought you … Why not? – Nobody’d think that, anyway not Fritz. – Well, of course he knows we don’t … get on all that well, but … Then he can simply call you if you prefer it that way. – Yes, I’ll tell him that. – Everything’s fairly straight, of course the flat’s on the big side. – You’d better leave his workroom to Ida to deal with, she knows what’s to be done. – I find her pretty intelligent, and he’s used to her. – And there’s another thing, I hope you don’t mind my saying so, but he doesn’t like talking before meals, can you remember that? I always used to watch myself. – I don’t want to argue about that just now, it’s not long till my train goes and I haven’t finished packing, you know. – Keep an eye on his suits and remind him to go to his tailor, he’s ordered a new overcoat, and do see that his bedroom’s properly heated, he likes sleeping with the window open and it’s too cold. – No, I don’t think he needs to toughen himself up, but I must ring off now. – I’m very grateful to you, Gertrud, and we’ll write to each other, won’t we? – Goodbye.
She hangs up and calls another number.
Anna? It’s Judith; look, I’m just off. – No, there’s no way out, things are getting too difficult. – Too difficult! – Well, no, it isn’t Fritz’s idea, he doesn’t know yet, I simply packed my things. – I don’t think so. – I don’t think he’ll say all that much. It’s all got too difficult for him, just in everyday matters. – That’s something we haven’t arranged. – We just never talked about it, absolutely never. – No, he hasn’t altered, on the contrary. – I’d be glad if you and Kurt could look after him a bit, to start with. – Yes, specially Sundays, and try to make him give up this flat. – It’s too big for him. – I’d like to have come and said goodbye to you, but it’s your porter, you know. – So, goodbye; no, don’t come to the station, it’s a bad idea. – Goodbye, I’ll write. – That’s a promise.
She hangs up without calling again. She has been smoking. Now she sets fire to the small book in which she has been looking up the numbers. She walks up and down two or three times. Then she starts speaking. She is rehearsing the short speech which she proposes to make to her husband. It is evident that he is sitting in a particular chair.
Well, Fritz, I’m off. I suppose I’ve waited too long, I’m awfully sorry, but …
She stands there thinking, then starts in a different way.
Fritz, you must let me go, you can’t keep … I’ll be your downfall, it’s quite clear; I know you
aren’t a coward, you’re not scared of the police, but there are worse things. They won’t put you in a camp, but they’ll ban you from the clinic any day now. You won’t say anything at the time, but it’ll make you ill. I’m not going to watch you sitting around the flat pretending to read magazines, it’s pure selfishness on my part, my leaving, that’s all. Don’t tell me anything …
She again stops. She makes a fresh start.
Don’t tell me you haven’t changed; you have! Only last week you established quite objectively that the proportion of Jewish scientists wasn’t all that high. Objectivity is always the start of it, and why do you keep telling me I’ve never been such a Jewish chauvinist as now? Of course I’m one. Chauvinism is catching. Oh, Fritz, what has happened to us?
She again stops. She makes a fresh start.
I never told you I wanted to go away, have done for a long time, because I can’t talk when I look at you, Fritz. Then it seems to me there’s no point in talkng. It has all been settled already. What’s got into them, d’you think? What do they really want? What am I doing to them? I’ve never had anything to do with politics. Did I vote Communist? But I’m just one of those bourgeois housewives with servants and so on, and now all of a sudden it seems only blondes can be that. I’ve often thought lately about something you told me years back, how some people were more valuable than others, so one lot were given insulin when they got diabetes and the others weren’t. And this was something I understood, idiot that I was. Well, now they’ve drawn a new distinction of the same sort, and this time I’m one of the less valuable ones. Serves me right.
She again stops. She makes a fresh start.
Yes, I’m packing. Don’t pretend you haven’t noticed anything the last few days. Nothing really matters, Fritz, except just one thing: if we spend our last hour together without looking at each other’s eyes. That’s a triumph they can’t be allowed, the liars who force everyone else to lie. Ten years ago when somebody said no one would think I was Jewish, you instantly said yes, they would. And that’s fine. That was straightforward. Why take things in a roundabout way now? I’m packing so they shan’t take away your job as senior physician. And because they’ve stopped saying good morning to you at the clinic, and because you’re not sleeping nowadays. I don’t want you to tell me I mustn’t go. And I’m hurrying because I don’t want to hear you telling me I must. It’s a matter of time. Principles are a matter of time. They don’t last for ever, any more than a glove does. There are good ones which last a long while. But even they only have a certain life. Don’t get the idea that I’m angry. Yes, I am. Why should I always be understanding? What’s wrong with the shape of my nose and the colour of my hair? I’m to leave the town where I was born just so they don’t have to go short of butter. What sort of people are you, yourself included? You work out the quantum theory and the Trendelenburg test, then allow a lot of semi-barbarians to tell you you’re to conquer the world but you can’t have the woman you want. The artificial lung, and the dive-bomber! You are monsters or you pander to monsters. Yes, I know I’m being unreasonable, but what good is reason in a world like this? There you sit watching your wife pack and saying nothing. Walls have ears, is that it? But you people say nothing. One lot listens and the other keeps silent. To hell with that. I’m supposed to keep silent too. If I loved you I’d keep silent. I truly do love you. Give me those underclothes. They’re suggestive. I’ll need them. I’m thirty-six, that isn’t too old, but I can’t do much more experimenting. The next time I settle in a country things can’t be like this. The next man I get must be allowed to keep me. And don’t tell me you’ll send me money; you know you won’t be allowed to. And you aren’t to pretend it’s just a matter of four weeks either. This business is going to last rather more than four weeks. You know that, and so do I. So don’t go telling me ‘After all it’s only for two or three weeks’ as you hand me the fur coat I shan’t need till next winter. And don’t let’s speak about disaster. Let’s speak about disgrace. Oh, Fritz!
Brecht Collected Plays: 4: Round Heads & Pointed Heads; Fear & Misery of the Third Reich; Senora Carrar's Rifles; Trial of Lucullus; Dansen; How Much Is ... and Misery , Carr (World Classics) Page 20