Bertolt Brecht: Mutter Courage und ihre Kinder 1

by Bertolt Brecht

  GARGA: Get the gun!

  SHLINK steps forward: I ask you again, will you sell?

  GARGA noticing Jane: No!

  JANE: George, is this your shop? Why are you staring at me? I was just going for a little walk with this gentleman.

  GARGA: Keep walking.

  BABOON: Say, let’s not get rough. Don’t you trust her? If I get excited, this book will end up in a thousand pieces. You still don’t trust her?

  MAYNES: I’ll fire you if you won’t trust her. My books are being ruined.

  GARGA: Go home, Jane, please. You’re drunk.

  JANE: What’s wrong with you, George? These gentlemen are being nice to me. She drinks out of Baboon’s bottle. They’ve bought me drinks. It’s hot today – 94. You know, George, it rips through you like lightning.

  GARGA: Go on home now. I’ll come tonight.

  JANE: You haven’t shown up for three weeks. I’m not going home any more. I’m fed up sitting around with those shirts.

  BABOON pulling Jane on to his lap: That’s all over now.

  JANE: Oh, you’re tickling me. Stop that! George doesn’t like it.

  BABOON: In brief, she’s got a body that’s worth a few bucks. Can you afford it, sir? It’s a question of love and a question of drinks.

  WORM: Maybe you’d like to keep her a virgin? What do you want her to do? Scrub floors? Wash clothes?

  SKINNY: You expect a nice little pigeon like her to be an angel?

  GARGA to Shlink: Are you trying to turn this place into the Wild West? Knives? Guns? Cocktails?

  WORM: Hold on! You can’t leave your job here. Maybe somebody will fall by the wayside. Sell!

  GARGA: Strange. Everybody knows what’s going on except me. – Jane!

  BABOON: Tell him!

  JANE: Don’t look at me that way, George! This may be my only chance. Can you buy me drinks? Oh, it’s not for the drinks! It’s like this, George: every morning I look in the mirror. It’s been two years now. You always go off and work for four weeks. When you were sick of it and needed liquor, you thought of me. I can’t take it any more! The nights, George! That doesn’t make me bad, not me. Don’t look at me that way, it’s not fair!

  BABOON: That’s smart. Have another drink and you’ll be even smarter.

  GARGA: Whisky’s rotting your brain. Can you hear what I’m saying? Let’s go away! Together! To Frisco! Anywhere you want. I don’t know if a man can love for ever, but I can tell you this much: I’ll stick by you.

  JANE: You can’t, Georgie.

  GARGA: I can do anything. I can even make money if that’s it. I’ve got a special feeling for you. There are no words for it! But we’ll get together again. I’ll come tonight. This very evening!

  JANE: I hear every word; you don’t need to shout and you don’t need to tell these gentlemen here you didn’t love me. You’re only saying the bitterest things you know, and naturally I’ve got to listen. You know it as well as I do.

  WORM: Cut the comedy! Just tell him you were in bed with this gentleman from nine to ten-thirty.

  JANE: That might not be so good. But now at least you know, George, it’s not the whisky or the heat!

  SHLINK: Sell! I’ll double the price again. This is so unpleasant.

  GARGA: That doesn’t count. What’s nine to eleven against two years?

  SHLINK: I assure you two hundred dollars means nothing to me. I hardly dare make such an offer.

  GARGA: Would you be kind enough to send your friends away.

  SHLINK: As you wish. Consider the ways of this planet and sell.

  MAYNES: You’re a fool and a dishrag and a lazy coolie; just think of …

  SKINNY: Your innocent careworn parents!

  WORM: Your sister!

  BABOON: Your sweetheart! This lovely young girl.

  GARGA: No, no, no!

  SHLINK: Tahiti!

  GARGA: I refuse.

  MAYNES: You’re fired!

  SHLINK: Your economic existence! The ground you stand on! It’s shaking!

  GARGA: This is freedom! Here, take my coat! Takes it off. Give it away! Takes a book from the shelf and reads: ‘Idolatry! Lies! Lechery! I’m a beast, a black. But I can be saved. You’re phony niggers, maniacs, savages, misers! Merchant, you are a black and, Judge, you are a black, Emperor, you old leper, you’re a nigger, you drink untaxed liquor from Satan’s still. This people inspired by fever and cancer!’ Drinks. ‘I’m unversed in metaphysics. I understand no laws. I have no moral sense, I’m a brute; you are mistaken!’2 Shlink, Skinny, Worm, and Baboon have gathered round Garga and applaud as at a theatrical performance.

  SHLINK smoking: Why get so excited? Nobody’s doing anything to you.

  JANE her arms round his neck: Is it that bad, George?

  GARGA: Here are my shoes! Are you smoking your little black cigar, sir? It might make you dribble. Here, my handkerchief. Yes, yes, I’ll auction off this woman! I’m throwing these papers in your face. I want the tobacco fields of Virginia and a ticket to the Islands. I want, I want my freedom. He runs out in his trousers and shirt.

  SHLINK calls after him: My name’s Shlink, Shlink the lumber-dealer ! Six Mulberry Street!

  SKINNY: He’ll toe the line …What’s all this paper cost?

  WORM: You’re really going to pay?

  MAYNES: The books are worth ten dollars.

  SKINNY: Here’s twenty.

  BABOON to Jane, who is crying: Aha, now comes the awakening! Go weep in the gutter.

  WORM: You’ve got to look life straight in the eye.

  SHLINK: How much is this stuff?

  MAYNES: The clothes? Jacket? Tie? Shoes? They’re not really for sale. Ten dollars.

  SKINNY: We finally drove him out of his skin. Let’s take it with us.

  Shlink goes out slowly towards the back, Skinny follows him with the bundle of clothes.

  2

  Chicago. The Office of C. Shlink, lumber dealer

  22 August, shortly before 7 p.m.

  Shlink at his little table.

  SKINNY voice from left rear: Seven carloads of Kentucky.

  WORM in the rear: Right.

  SKINNY: Two carloads of stripped logs.

  WORM: There’s a man asking to see Mr Shlink.

  SHLINK: Send him in.

  WORM: Here’s Mr Shlink!

  Garga enters.

  SHLINK please: So here you are! Here are your clothes. Put them on.

  GARGA: You’ve been waiting for me? You’ve brought my clothes here? Filthy rags. Kicks the bundle of clothes away.

  Shlink strikes a small gong.

  MARY enters: George!

  GARGA: You here, Mary?

  MARY: Where’ve you been, George? They were worried about you. And the way you look!

  GARGA: Just what are you doing here?

  MARY: I take care of the linen. We can live on that. Why are you looking at me like that? You look as if you’d been having a hard time. I’m doing fine here. They said they’d fired you.

  GARGA: Mary, pack your things and go home. Pacing around. I don’t know what they want of me. They’ve harpooned me and pulled me in. I can feel the ropes. I’ll have to depend on you, sir. But leave my sister out of it!

  SHLINK: As you wish. To Mary: But first get him a clean shirt, and a suit. If you don’t mind.

  MARY: I can’t understand my brother. He wants me to leave you.

  K

  SHLINK: And when you’ve finished, please go home too. I don’t know anything about linen.

  Mary leaves.

  SHLINK: Have you been drinking?

  GARGA: Kindly tell me if that doesn’t fit in with your plans.

  SHLINK: I only have saki. But I’ll get you anything you like. You prefer cocktails?

  GARGA: I do everything in one fell swoop. I’m in the habit of doing nothing for weeks but drink, make love, and smoke, all at the same time.

  SHLINK: And leaf through the Britannica …

  GARGA: You know everything.

  SHLIN
K: When I heard about your habits, I thought to myself: There’s a good fighter.

  GARGA: What’s the hold-up with those clothes?

  SHLINK: Excuse me … He stands up and strikes the little gong.

  MARY enters: Here’s your linen, George, and your suit.

  GARGA: Wait and we’ll leave together. He changes clothes behind a screen.

  MARY: I have to say good-bye, Mr Shlink. I couldn’t quite finish the linen. Thanks for letting me stay at your house.

  GARGA from behind the screen: This suit has no pockets.

  Shlink whistles.

  GARGA coming out: Who are you whistling for? In the last few weeks you’ve got left, I want you to stop whistling for people.

  SHLINK: I accept your orders.

  GARGA: You opened up this western. I’ll accept the challenge. You skinned me alive for the fun of it. You won’t make amends by giving me a new skin. I’m going to wipe you out. Pulls a gun. An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth.

  SHLINK: Then the fight’s on?

  GARGA: Yes! Without obligation, of course.

  SHLINK: And no question why?

  GARGA: No question why. I don’t want to know why you need a fight. If you’ve got a reason, I’m sure it’s rotten. For me it’s enough that you think you’re the better man.

  SHLINK: Well, let’s think it over. Owning a house and a lumber business, for instance, puts me in a position to sick the dogs on you. Money is everything. Right? But my house is yours now, and so is the lumber business. From now on, Mr Garga, my fate’s in your hands. I don’t know you! From now on I’m going to be your slave. Every look that comes into your eyes will trouble me. Every one of your wishes, known or unknown, will find me willing. Your cares will be my cares, my strength will be yours. My feelings will be dedicated to you alone, and you will be an evil master.

  GARGA: I accept your challenge. I hope you’ll have nothing to laugh about.

  Baboon, Skinny, and Worm enter silently. Garga notices with a grin that their suits are the same as his.

  SHLINK: This house and this lumber business, carried on the Chicago Register of Deeds as the property of Shlink, are being transferred this day to Mr George Garga of Chicago.

  GARGA to Shlink: That’s me. All right. How many stripped logs have you in stock?

  SHLINK: Maybe four hundred. I don’t know exactly.

  SKINNY: They belong to Broost and Company of Virginia.

  GARGA: Who sold them?

  WORM: I, known as Worm, owner of the Chinese Hotel in the coal district.

  GARGA: Sell them again.

  WORM: Sell them twice! That’s fraud.

  GARGA: Right.

  WORM: And who’ll be responsible for this order?

  GARGA: Sell those logs in Frisco under the name of Shlink. Turn the money over to Mr Shlink, who’ll hold it for me until I ask him for it. Any objections, Mr Shlink?

  Shlink shakes his head.

  WORM: That’s barefaced fraud. We’ll have the law on us in no time.

  GARGA: How soon?

  SHLINK: Six months at the most. He brings Garga the ledger.

  BABOON: This is a bog.

  GARGA: Storks thrive on bogs.

  BABOON: It’s better to work with a switchblade than with phony papers. Can you forget that Chicago is cold?

  GARGA: You meant your actual lumber business, didn’t you, Shlink? The house, the logs, the whole inventory?

  SHLINK: Of course. Here’s the ledger.

  GARGA: Pour ink over the ledger. You!

  SKINNY: Me?

  Shlink hands him a bottle of ink.

  SKINNY over the ledger: All these entries! All our transactions!

  GARGA: Go ahead, pour!

  Skinny pours carefully.

  BABOON: That’s that.

  WORM: What an ending after twenty years! Some joke! I don’t get it. This used to be a lumber business.

  GARGA: And now turn off the saws and that will be the end of this lumber business.

  BABOON: Anything you say, boss! Goes out.

  The sound of the saws outside stops. Shlink’s cronies put on their coats and stand against the wall. Garga laughs loudly.

  MARY: What are you doing, George?

  GARGA: Shut up! Fire that man, Mr Shlink!

  SHLINK: You may leave.

  SKINNY: Leave? After working in this place for twenty years come April?

  SHLINK: You’re fired.

  MARY: I don’t think you’re doing right, George.

  GARGA: I want you to go home, Mary.

  MARY: And I want you to come with me. You’ll only come to grief around here. Let him go, Mr Shlink.

  SHLINK: Give me your orders, Garga.

  GARGA: Certainly. As long as there’s nothing left for you to do around here, my orders are to set up a little poker game with your former staff.

  Shlink and his cronies sit down to play poker.

  MARY: You’re coming home with me, George. This whole thing is a joke, can’t you see that?

  GARGA: We grew up on the prairies, Mary. Here we’re being sold out.

  MARY: We? What do they want of us?

  GARGA: You’re of no consequence in all this. They’re only trying to rope you in. Two weeks ago a man spat a small cherry pit into my eye. I come to see him. With a gun in my pocket. And he only bows and scrapes and offers me his lumber business. I don’t understand a thing, but I accept. I’m alone on the prairie, and, Mary, I can’t help you.

  WORM addressing Garga and Mary from behind: He plays like a paper god. I swear he cheats.

  GARGA to Shlink: I don’t understand a thing, sir, I’m like a nigger in all this. I came with a white flag, but now I’m attacking. Give me the papers that are your fortune and hand over your personal assets. I’ll put them in my pocket.

  SHLINK: Paltry things, I beg you not to despise them.

  Shlink and Garga go out.

  SKINNY: Things were bad around here and the rain came in on us, but being fired is always an injustice.

  WORM: Don’t talk like a fool. Mocking him. He thinks we’ve been talking about the mildew in the floor.

  SKINNY: I love you, lady. You have a way of holding out your hand…

  WORM: Christ! He’s lost his bed, and he wants a woman to share it.

  SKINNY: Come with me. I’ll work for you. Come with me.

  BABOON also comes forward: Pitiful! There are all sorts of women, black and golden yellow and white like apples! Black women. Straight as a die from hip to foot! Full thighs, by God, not chicken legs like this! Oh Papua! Forty dollars for Papua!

  SHLINK appears in the doorway and turns to call offstage: Yes, that’s all.

  WORM to the Baboon: You’re a barbarian. Ungrateful! The lady’s innocent. Does she smoke a pipe? She’s inexperienced, but who’s to say she has no fire? Forty dollars, and all for the lady.

  SKINNY: As much as you want for her!

  BABOON: Without make-up, naturally, uncooked, the naked flesh. Ah, the tropics! Seventy dollars for the chick!

  MARY: Protect me, Mr Shlink.

  SHLINK: I’m ready to protect you.

  MARY: Do you think I should go with him?

  SHLINK: Here nobody loves you. He loves you.

  GARGA has entered: Do you like being for sale? There’s a lot of lumber here, and now they’ve put a few pounds of flesh up for auction! And isn’t jiu-jitsu known as the gay and easy art?

  SHLINK walks up to Garga, troubled: But aren’t you making things too easy for yourself?

  MARY to Garga: You should have helped me. Come with me, George, this minute. Something terrible has happened. Even if I go away now, this thing may not be over. You must be blind not to see that you’re losing.

  In the background, the sound of two guitars and a drum. Salvation Army girls sing: ‘Christ receiveth sinful men.’

  GARGA: I can see you’re ready to lose yourself. It’s the bog that’s sucking you in. Here’s something for you, Mary. The Salvation Army! Marching in here for you. He
gets up from the table and goes to the rear. Hey! Salvation Army! This way!

  WORM to Mary: A river has drained off here, and at night the place is haunted by the ghosts of drowned rats. Go home to your parents!

  GARGA coming back: Clean this joint up. Get rid of that whisky! Shlink starts to do so, but Mary does it for him. Come in, you people.

  Shlink, bowing low, opens the wooden gate. A young Salvation Army preacher enters, followed by two girls with guitars and an old sinner with a drum.

  PREACHER: Did you want me?

  WORM: Hallelujah! The Salvation Army!

  GARGA: I don’t think much of what you people are doing. You could use a house though. Here, take this one.

  PREACHER: The Lord will bless you.

  GARGA: Maybe. To Shlink: Did you inherit this house and these papers?

  SHLINK: No.

  GARGA: You worked forty years for them?

  SHLINK: Worked my fingers to the bone. I never slept more than four hours.

  GARGA: Were you poor when you came over?

  SHLINK: I was seven. I’ve worked ever since.

  GARGA: You don’t own anything else?

  SHLINK: Not a thing.

  GARGA to the preacher: I’ll give you this man’s property on one condition. For the sake of the orphans and drunks whose shelter this will be, you must let me spit in your insufferable face.

  PREACHER: I’m a man of God.

  GARGA: Then take the consequences.

  PREACHER: I have no right.

  GARGA: Snow falls on the orphans, the drunks die like flies, and you take care of your face.

  PREACHER: I’m ready. I’ve kept my face clean; I’m twenty-one. You must have your reasons I beg you to understand me: please ask the lady to turn around.

  MARY: I’ll despise you if you accept.

  PREACHER: I expect that. There are better faces than mine. But none too good for this.

  GARGA: Spit in his face, Shlink, if you please.

  MARY: This isn’t right, George. I don’t like it.

  GARGA: A tooth for a tooth, if you please.

  Shlink steps coolly up to the Preacher and spits in his face. Worm bleats like a goat. The reformed sinner plays a drum roll.

  PREACHER shaking his fists, in tears: Excuse me.

  GARGA throws the papers at him: Here is the deed of gift. For the Salvation Army. And this is for you. Gives him his gun. Now get out, you swine!

  PREACHER: I thank you in the name of my mission. He leaves, bowing awkwardly. The hymn singing fades with striking speed.