JOSÉ: She’ll be back in a second.
THE WORKER: We’ll put the rifles outside the window. I can pick them up later.
Hurriedly they take the rifles from a wooden box. A small tattered flag in which they were wrapped falls to the floor.
JOSÉ: And there’s the little flag from the old days. How could you sit still so long when it’s so urgent?
THE WORKER: I had to have them.
Both are testing the rifles. José suddenly pulls a cap – the cap of the militia – from his pocket and puts it on triumphantly.
THE WORKER: Where the hell did you get that?
JOSÉ: Swapped it. With a furtive glance at the door he puts it back in his pocket.
THE MOTHER has come in again: Put those rifles back! Is that what you came for?
THE WORKER: Yes, we need them, Teresa. We can’t stop the generals with our bare hands.
JOSÉ: Now you’ve heard from Father Francisco himself how things really are.
THE MOTHER: If you came just to get the rifles you needn’t wait any longer. And if you people don’t leave us in peace, I’ll take my children and clear out.
THE WORKER: Teresa, have you ever looked at our country on a map? We’re living on a broken platter. Where the break is there’s water, around the edge there are guns. And above us are the bombers. Where will you go? Straight into the guns?
She goes up to him, takes the rifles from his hands and carries them off in her arms.
THE MOTHER: Your lot can’t have the rifles, Pedro.
JOSÉ: You’ve got to let him have them, Mother. Here they’ll only rot away.
THE MOTHER: You shut up, José! What do you know about these things?
THE WORKER has calmly sat down on his chair again and lights a cigarette: Teresa, you have no right to hold back Carlos’s rifles.
THE MOTHER packing the rifles in the box: Right or no right: you can’t have them. You can’t just rip up my floor and take things out of my house against my will.
THE WORKER: These things aren’t exactly part of the house. I won’t tell you what I think of you in front of your boy and we won’t argue about what your husband would think of you. He fought. I suppose it’s worry about your boys that’s affected your mind. But of course we can’t let that influence us.
THE MOTHER: What do you mean?
THE WORKER: I mean that I’m not leaving without the rifles. That’s definite.
THE MOTHER: You’ll have to knock me down first.
THE WORKER: That I won’t do. I’m not General Franco. But I’ll talk to Juan. That way I’ll get them.
THE MOTHER quickly: Juan won’t be back.
JOSÉ: But you called him yourself!
THE MOTHER: I did not call him. I don’t want him to see you, Pedro.
THE WORKER: I thought as much. But I have a voice too. I can go down to the shore and call him. Two, three words will do it, Teresa, I know Juan. He’s no coward. You can’t hold him back.
JOSÉ: I’ll go with you.
THE MOTHER very calmly: Leave my children alone, Pedro. I told them I’d hang myself if they went. I know it’s a great sin before God and gets you eternal damnation. But there’s nothing else for me to do. When Carlos died – died the way he did – I went to see Father Francisco or I’d have hanged myself then. I know perfectly well that I was partly to blame, though he was the worst of the lot with his hot temper and his violent ways. We aren’t all that well off, and it isn’t an easy life to bear. But guns won’t help. I realised that when they brought him in and laid him out on the floor. I’m not for the generals and it’s disgraceful to say I am. But if I keep quiet and watch my temper, maybe they’ll leave us in peace. It’s a very simple calculation. I’m not asking much. I don’t want to see this flag any more. We’re unhappy enough as it is.
She calmly walks over to the little flag, picks it up and rips it apart. At once she stoops down, collects the tatters and puts them in her pocket.
THE WORKER: It would be better if you hanged yourself, Teresa.
Knocking at the door. Mrs Pérez, an old woman in black, comes in.
JOSÉ to the worker: That’s old Mrs Pérez.
THE WORKER under his breath: What kind of people are they?
JOSÉ: Good people. The ones with the radio. Her daughter was killed at the front last week.
OLD MRS PÉREZ: I waited until I saw the Father leave. I thought I ought to drop in, on account of my family. I wanted to tell you I don’t think it’s right of them to make trouble for you because of your opinions. The mother is silent.
OLD MRS PÉREZ who has sat down: You’re worried about your children, Mrs Carrar. People always forget how hard it is to bring up children in times like these. I had seven. She half turns to the worker to whom she has not been introduced. There aren’t many left now that Inez has been killed. I lost two before they were six. Those were the lean years of ninety-eight and ninety-nine. I don’t even know where Andrés is. He last wrote from Rio. That’s in South America. Mariana, as you know, is in Madrid. She has had a hard time too. She never was very strong. It always seems to us old people as if the younger folk had turned out kind of sickly.
THE MOTHER: But you still have Fernando.
OLD MRS PÉREZ: Yes.
THE MOTHER confused: I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you.
OLD MRS PÉREZ calmly: No need to apologise. I know you didn’t.
JOSÉ softly to the worker: He’s with Franco.
OLD MRS PÉREZ quietly: We don’t talk about Fernando any more. After a short pause: You know, you can’t really understand my family unless you keep in mind that we’re all in great sorrow over Inez’s death.
THE MOTHER: We were always very fond of Inez. To the worker: She taught Juan to read.
JOSÉ: Me too.
OLD MRS PÉREZ: Some people think you’re for the other side. But I always contradict them. Our kind knows the difference between rich and poor.
THE MOTHER: I don’t want my boys to be soldiers. They’re not cattle to be slaughtered.
OLD MRS PÉREZ: You know, Mrs Carrar, I always say there’s no life insurance for the poor. I mean they get it either way. The ones who get it all the time are the ones we call the poor people. No amount of foresight can save the poor, Mrs Carrar. Our Inez was always the most timid of the children. You can’t imagine how my husband had to coax her before she got up the courage to swim.
THE MOTHER: What I mean is that she could still be living.
OLD MRS PÉREZ: But how would she be living?
THE MOTHER: Why did your daughter, a teacher, have to take up a gun and fight the generals?
THE WORKER: Who are being financed by the Holy Father, no less.
OLD MRS PÉREZ: She said she wanted to go on being a teacher.
THE MOTHER: Couldn’t she have done just that at her school in Málaga, generals or no generals?
OLD MRS PÉREZ: We discussed that with her. Her father gave up smoking for seven years and her brothers and sisters never got a drop of milk in all that time so she could become a schoolteacher. But then Inez said she couldn’t teach children that twice two is five and that General Franco was sent by God.
THE MOTHER: If Juan were to come and tell me he wouldn’t be able to fish any more I’d let him have a piece of my mind. Do you think the speculators would give up trying to skin us if we got rid of the generals?
THE WORKER: I think it will be slightly harder for them when we have the guns.
THE MOTHER: Guns again, always guns! The shooting will never stop.
THE WORKER: That’s not the point. If sharks attack you, are you the one that’s using force? Did we march on Madrid or did General Mola come down over the mountains? For two years there was a little light, a very feeble light, not really a dawn, but now it’s to be night again. And that’s not the whole of it. It’s not just that teachers won’t be allowed to tell children that twice two is four, they’re to be exterminated if they ever said so in the past. Didn’t you hear him spell out ton
ight that we’re to be wiped off the face of the earth?
THE MOTHER: Only those who have taken up arms. Don’t hammer at me like this all the time. I can’t argue with all of you. My sons look at me as if I were a policeman. When the flour chest is empty, I can see in their faces that I’m to blame. When the planes appear, they look away as if I had sent them. Why does Father Francisco keep silent when he ought to speak out? You all think I’m out of my mind because I believe the generals are human beings too, very wicked, yes, but not an earthquake you can’t argue with. Why do you sit down in my room, Mrs Pérez, and keep telling me these things? Do you really think I don’t know everything you’re saying? Your daughter’s been killed; now it’s to be the turn of my boys. Is that what you want? You haunt my house like bloody tax collectors, but I’ve already paid.
OLD MRS PÉREZ getting up: Mrs Carrar, I didn’t mean to make you angry. I don’t agree with my husband that you should be forced to do anything. We thought a lot of your husband, and I only wanted to apologise if my family is bothering you. She leaves, nodding to the worker and José. Pause.
THE MOTHER: The worst of it is, the way they keep on at me they goad me into saying things I don’t mean at all. I’m not against Inez.
THE WORKER furious: Yes, you are against Inez. By not helping her you were against her. You keep on saying you’re not for the generals. And that’s not true either, whether you know it or not. If you don’t help us against them, you’re for them. You can’t stay neutral, Teresa.
JOSÉ suddenly walking up to her: Come on, Mother, you haven’t got a chance. To the worker: She’s gone and sat on the box to keep us from getting them. Come on, Mother, let’s have them.
THE MOTHER: Best wipe the snot off your nose, José.
JOSÉ: Mother, I want to go with Uncle Pedro. I’m not waiting here till they slaughter us like pigs. You can’t stop me fighting like you stopped me smoking. There’s Felipe who can’t sling a stone half as straight as me, and he’s at the front already, and Andrés is a year younger than me and he’s been killed. I won’t have the whole village laughing at me.
THE MOTHER: Yes, I know. Little Pablo promised a truck driver his dead mole if he’d take him to the front. That’s ridiculous.
THE WORKER: It’s not ridiculous.
JOSÉ: Tell Ernesto Turillo he can have my little boat. – Let’s go, Uncle Pedro. He intends to leave.
THE MOTHER: You stay right here!
JOSÉ: No, I’m going. You can say you need Juan, but if he’s here you don’t need me too.
THE MOTHER: I’m not keeping Juan just to fish for me. And I won’t let you go either. She rushes to him and embraces him. You can smoke if you like, and if you want to go fishing by yourself, I won’t say a word, even in Father’s boat once in a while.
JOSÉ: Let go of me!
THE MOTHER: No, you’re staying here.
JOSÉ trying to free himself: No, I’m going. – Quick, take the rifles, Uncle!
THE MOTHER: Oh!
She releases José and limps away, putting one foot down gingerly.
JOSÉ: What’s wrong?
THE MOTHER: A fat lot you mind. Just go. You’ve got the better of your mother.
JOSÉ suspiciously: I wasn’t rough. You can’t be hurt.
THE MOTHER massaging her foot: Of course not. Run along.
THE WORKER: Want me to set it for you?
THE MOTHER: No, I want you to go. Out of my house! How dare you incite my children to assault me.
JOSÉ furiously: Me assault her! White with rage he goes to the rear.
THE MOTHER: You’ll finish up a criminal. Why not take the last loaf of bread from the oven too? Yes, you could tie me to the chair with a rope. After all there are two of you.
THE WORKER: Stop playing games.
THE MOTHER: Juan is another madman, but he’d never use force against his mother. He’ll give you what for when he gets back. Juan. She suddenly gets up, struck by an idea, and rushes to the window. She forgets to limp and José indignantly points at her feet.
JOSÉ: All of a sudden her foot’s all right.
THE MOTHER looks out; suddenly: I don’t know, I can’t see Juan’s lantern any longer.
JOSÉ sulkily: Don’t tell me it just vanished.
THE MOTHER: No, it’s really gone.
José goes to the window, looks out.
JOSÉ with a strange voice to the worker: Yes, it’s gone! Last time he was way out at the Cape. I’m running down. He runs out quickly.
THE WORKER: He may be on his way back.
THE MOTHER: We’d still see his light.
THE WORKER: What could have happened?
THE MOTHER: I know what’s happened. She’s rowed out to meet him.
THE WORKER: Who? The girl? Not her!
THE MOTHER: I’m sure they went out to get him. With mounting agitation: It was a plot. They planned it beforehand. They went on sending one visitor after another all evening so I wouldn’t be able to keep watch. They’re murderers! The whole lot of them!
THE WORKER half joking, half angry: Don’t tell me they sent the priest.
THE MOTHER: They won’t stop till they’ve dragged everyone in.
THE WORKER: You mean he’s made off for the front?
THE MOTHER: They’re his murderers, but he’s no better than they are. Sneaking off at night. I never want to see him again.
THE WORKER: I just don’t understand you any more, Teresa. Can’t you see there’s nothing worse you can do to him now than hold him back from fighting? He won’t thank you for it.
THE MOTHER absently: It wasn’t for my sake I told him not to fight.
THE WORKER: You can’t call it not fighting, Teresa; when he’s not fighting on our side, he’s fighting for the generals.
THE MOTHER: If he has done this to me and joined the militia I’m going to curse him. Let them hit him with their bombs! Let them crush him with their tanks! To show him that you can’t make a mockery of God. And that a poor man can’t beat the generals. I didn’t bring him into the world to ambush his fellow men behind a machine gun. Maybe there has to be injustice in this world, but I didn’t teach him to take part in it. When he comes back telling me he’s defeated the generals, it’s not going to make me open the door to him. I’ll tell him from behind the door that I won’t have a man in my house who has stained himself with blood. I’ll cut him off like a bad leg. I will. I’ve already had one brought back to me. He too thought luck would be on his side. But there’s no luck for us. Maybe that will dawn on you all before the generals are through with us. They that take the sword shall perish with the sword.
Murmuring is heard outside the door, then the door opens and three women come in, hands folded over their breasts, murmuring an Ave Maria. They line up along the wall. Through the open door two fishermen carry the dead body of Juan Carrar on a blood-soaked sailcloth. José, deadly pale, walks behind. He is holding his brother’s cap in his hand. The fishermen set the body on the floor. One of them holds Juan’s lantern. While the mother sits there petrified and the women pray louder, the fishermen explain to the worker with subdued voices what happened.
FIRST FISHERMAN: It was one of their fishing cutters with machine-guns. They gunned him down as they passed him.
THE MOTHER: It can’t be! There must be a mistake! He only went fishing!
The fishermen are silent. The mother sinks to the floor, the worker picks her up.
THE WORKER: He won’t have felt anything.
The mother kneels down beside the dead body.
THE MOTHER: Juan.
For a while only the murmur of the praying women and the muffled roar of the cannon in the distance are heard.
THE MOTHER: Could you life him up on the chest?
The worker and the fishermen lift the body, carry it to the rear and place it on the chest. The sailcloth remains on the floor. The prayers of the women grow louder and rise in pitch. The mother takes José by the hand and leads him to the body.
THE WORKER
in front again, to the fishermen: Was he on his own? No other boats out with him?
FIRST FISHERMAN: No. But he was close to the shore. He points at the second fisherman.
SECOND FISHERMAN: They didn’t even question him. They just flicked their searchlight over him, and then his lantern fell into the boat.
THE WORKER: They must have seen he was only fishing.
SECOND FISHERMAN: Yes, they must have seen that.
THE WORKER: He didn’t call out to them?
SECOND FISHERMAN: I’d have heard.
The mother comes forward, holding Juan’s cap which José had brought in.
THE MOTHER simply: Blame it on his cap.
FIRST FISHERMAN: What do you mean?
THE MOTHER: It’s shabby. Not like a gentleman’s.
FIRST FISHERMAN: But they can’t just loose off at everybody with a shabby cap.
THE MOTHER: Yes they can. They’re not human. They’re a canker and they’ve got to be burned out like a canker. To the praying women, politely: I’d like you to leave now. I have a few things to do and, as you see, my brother is with me.
The people leave.
FIRST FISHERMAN: We’ve made his boat fast down below.
When they are alone the mother picks up the sailcloth and gazes at it.
THE MOTHER: A minute ago I tore up a flag. Now they’ve brought me a new one.
She drags the sailcloth to the rear and covers the body with it. At this moment the distant thunder of the guns changes. Suddenly it is coming closer.
JOSÉ listlessly: What’s that?
THE WORKER suddenly looking harassed: They’ve broken through! I’ve got to go!
THE MOTHER going to the oven in front, loudly: Take the guns! Get ready, José! The bread’s done too.
While the worker takes the rifles from the box she looks after the bread. She takes it out of the oven, wraps it in a cloth and goes over to the men. She reaches for one of the rifles.
JOSÉ: What, you coming too?
THE MOTHER: Yes, for Juan.
They go to the door.
Dansen
Translators: ROSE and MARTIN KASTNER
Characters:
DANSEN
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 27