Bertolt Brecht: Mutter Courage und ihre Kinder 4

by Bertolt Brecht

  SOLDIER: Hoorah for Iberin!

  FAT WOMAN to her shopowner, Madame Cornamontis: Have you heard? They’re going to lower the rents!

  SOLDIER: Yes, that’s right.

  CORNAMONTIS: My dear, I’m told they’re going to raise them.

  SOLDIER: Yes, that’s true too.

  FAT WOMAN: That can’t be true. Maybe they’re just putting up the rent for Ziks. Whatever, I shan’t be in too much of a hurry to pay.

  CORNAMONTIS: Oh yes you will, Mrs Tomaso, you will! And a higher rent at that! To the Iberin soldier: These simple folk have no idea about politics.

  FAT WOMAN: Even higher rents?

  SOLDIER interrupts: The big thing today is the Zik pogroms. He reads out from the newspaper: Iberin has announced, our only goal is: To flush out the Ziks, wherever they’re hiding!

  The marching troops get louder. Singing.

  SOLDIER: Stand to attention now! The Iberin Chorale! Everybody sing along! Spontaneously mind!

  They all sing, led by the Iberin soldier:

  HYMN, YAHOO AWAKES

  1

  Bid Señor Iberin grant us a big rent reduction!

  At the same time

  He should allow rents to climb

  Lest landlords suffer destruction!

  2

  May he grant farmers a corn price which rises up steeply!

  At the same time

  Townsfolk believe it a crime

  If they can’t have their bread cheaply!

  3

  May he relieve the small traders from debts that oppress them!

  At the same time

  For those who don’t have a dime

  Help the cut-price stores and bless them!

  4

  Praise to the Leader who’s rallied our glorious nation!

  Roused from our sleep

  We stand in line just like sheep

  Hoping he’ll bring us salvation!

  CORNAMONTIS to the Iberin soldier: Come along, let’s go and watch our glorious warriors, they’ll soon root out those clodhoppers and their Sickle!

  She and the Iberin soldier exit.

  FAT WOMAN and PALMOSA together: I can’t leave my shop. What if a customer came by?

  They go back into their shops.

  NANNA CALLAS comes out of Madame Cornamontis’s coffeehouse with a letter: Just a moment ago Señor de Guzman came down the street. He’s going for his little walk before lunch, he’ll be back any minute. I must have a word with him. My mother has written to me about my father, he’s a tenant farmer and he’s got in with a bad crowd because he can’t pay the dues. He’s joined the Sickle League and they’re planning a violent uprising of all the peasants. I’d better ask Señor de Guzman if we can have a rent rebate! With a bit of luck he still feels enough for me at least to listen to my request. It’s been three years now since he had something with me. He was the first man I went with, and really the only reason why I, a simple peasant’s daughter, came to the prosperous house of Madame Cornamontis. He was very good to my family then. I don’t like having to ask him for another favour now. But at least it’s quickly over. She sings:

  NANNA’S SONG

  There was I, with sixteen summers

  Prenticed to the trade of love

  Ready to take on all comers.

  Nasty things occurred

  Frequently, I’d heard

  Even so I found it rather rough.

  (After all, I’m not an animal, you know.)

  Thank the Lord the whole thing’s quickly over

  All the loving and the sorrow, my dear.

  Where are the teardrops you wept last evening?

  Where are the snows of yesteryear?

  Certainly the passing summers

  Simplify the trade of love

  Let you take increasing numbers:

  First it may feel nice

  But you turn to ice

  If you don’t withhold yourself enough.

  (After all, stocks can’t last for ever, can they?)

  Thank the Lord the whole thing’s quickly over

  All the loving and the sorrow, my dear.

  Where are the teardrops you wept last evening?

  Where are the snows of yesteryear?

  Even once you’ve got the measure

  Of the ways how love is sold

  Making money out of pleasure

  Isn’t all that fun.

  Well, it has been done

  But it can’t prevent you getting old.

  (After all, you don’t go on being sixteen always, do you?)

  Thank the Lord the whole thing’s quickly over

  All the loving and the sorrow, my dear.

  Where are the teardrops you wept last evening?

  Where are the snows of yesteryear?

  NANNA: Here he comes now. But there are three other men with him, including that rich Señor Peruiner. How can I talk to him now? She beckons to Señor de Guzman, and he comes over. His three friends stand waiting.

  DE GUZMAN: Good morning, Nanna.

  NANNA: I must have a word with you. Step into this doorway here. They do so. My father has written again to say he can’t pay the rent.

  DE GUZMAN: Well, this time he must, I’m afraid. My sister is entering the Convent of San Barabas and she needs her novice’s dowry.

  NANNA: Surely you don’t want my parents to starve because of that.

  DE GUZMAN: My dear Nanna, my sister is about to dedicate herself to a life of virtue and renunciation with the Needy Sisters of San Barabas. You have to respect that. Even if it is not necessary for all girls to live chaste lives, at least you should think more highly of those who do.

  NANNA: If you’d just offer the poor girl a lover for a husband, instead of some landed gent, it wouldn’t cross her mind to enter a nunnery. But your sort doesn’t marry people, you marry property.

  DE GUZMAN: You seem to have changed, Nanna, much for the worse, I hardly recognise you.

  NANNA: So it’s no use telling you that my folks can’t pay the rent any more, and they’ve simply got to get a horse. The village is too far from the railway station.

  DE GUZMAN: They can borrow a horse from the estate.

  NANNA: But that costs money.

  DE GUZMAN: That’s the way of the world. I have to pay for my horses too.

  NANNA: Don’t you love me any more, Emanuele!

  DE GUZMAN: It has nothing to do with us. I’ll come and visit you this very afternoon. Then you’ll see how fond of you I still am.

  NANNA: Wait a moment. Here are some people who might pick on you for being a Zik.

  The three Hatsos come back down the street.

  FIRST HATSO: A while back, wherever we went we kept treading on them. And now, far and wide, not a Zik to be seen.

  SECOND HATSO: Never give up hope, that’s what I say!

  NANNA: You know, Emanuele, when I think about it, you always treated me like a dog. Perhaps you’d like to think it over, and repay me for the liberties you’ve taken!

  DE GUZMAN: For Christ’s sake, keep quiet!

  NANNA: So you won’t pay, is that it?

  THIRD HATSO: I think I hear something.

  NANNA: If I were to appeal to these gentlemen here, I’m sure they’d side with me. I’m only asking what’s my due.

  FIRST HATSO: There’s someone talking.

  NANNA: Gentlemen, what do you say, can’t a poor girl expect the man who’s led her astray at least to show his appreciation a bit? Or is that too much to ask?

  DE GUZMAN: I must say, I’m astonished at you, Nanna!

  NANNA: That’s your problem.

  The three Hatsos approach.

  FIRST HATSO: Now here’s a pretty specimen, and what a fine outfit!

  SECOND HATSO: Oh, I do like your hat, sir! I’d love to have one like that. Go on, show me the inside so I can see the maker’s name.

  He knocks off the hat and points at de Guzman’s pointed head. The three Hatsos shriek and bay.

  THE THREE HA
TSOS: A Zik!

  FIRST HATSO: Thump him on his pointy head! Mind he doesn’t get away!

  SEÑOR SAZ: We must intervene. Our friend de Guzman is in trouble.

  SEÑOR PERUINER holds him back: Don’t let’s attract attention, I’m a Zik myself!

  The three landowners hurry away.

  THIRD HATSO: I thought as much, all along I thought I could smell a Zik.

  SECOND HATSO: A Zik! Let’s take him to the tribunal!

  Two Hatsos drag off de Guzman. The third stays at Nanna’s side.

  THIRD HATSO: Didn’t you say something about money he owes you, miss?

  NANNA sulkily: That’s right, he won’t pay.

  THIRD HATSO: They’re like that, these Ziks!

  The third Hatso leaves. Nanna goes slowly back into Madame Cornamontis’s coffeeshop. Hearing the noise, Landlord Callamassi has appeared at the window, and the fat woman has come to the door of her shop. The tobacconist reappears at his shopdoor.

  CALLAMASSI: What’s all the commotion?

  FAT WOMAN: They’ve just rounded up a very wealthy-looking Zik gentleman who was talking to one of the waitresses at Madame Cornamontis’s.

  PALMOSA: Well now, is that illegal?

  FAT WOMAN: They say the girl was a Zak. But the gentleman, it seems, was one of the Big Five.

  CALLAMASSI: You don’t say!

  PALMOSA going back into his shop: Inspector! They’ve just assaulted one of the Big Five and dragged him off!

  INSPECTOR walks off with the clerk: That’s no business for the police.

  FAT WOMAN: The rich are getting their come-uppance now!

  CALLAMASSI: You think so?

  PALMOSA: The landowners won’t have much to celebrate!

  CALLAMASSI: But they’re starting a campaign against the farmers who won’t pay their rent too!

  PALMOSA: In the newspaper this morning it said: Today is the beginning of a new age!

  INTERLUDE

  A street in the Old Town, painted on a large sheet of cardboard. The Iberin soldiers come running with pots and pails of whitewash. With long-handled brushes and short-handled brushes they paint over the cracks and crevices in the houses.

  WHITEWASH SONG

  When the rot sets in, when walls and roof start dripping

  Something must be done at any price.

  Now the mortar’s crumbling, bricks are slipping.

  If somebody comes it won’t be nice.

  But whitewash will do it, fresh whitewash will do it.

  When the place caves in ’twill be too late.

  Give us whitewash, boys, then we’ll go to it

  With our brushes till we fix things up first-rate.

  Now, here’s a fresh disaster

  This damp patch on the plaster!

  That isn’t nice. (No, not nice.)

  Look, the chimney’s falling!

  Really, it’s appalling!

  Something must be done at any price.

  Oh, if only things would look up!

  This abominable fuck-up

  Isn’t nice. (No, not nice.)

  But whitewash will do it, lots of white will do it.

  When the place caves in ’twill be too late.

  Give us whitewash, boys, then we’ll go to it

  And we’ll whitewash till we’ve got it all first-rate.

  Here’s the whitewash, let’s not get upset!

  Day and night we’ve got the stuff on hand.

  This old shack will be a palace yet.

  You’ll get your new age, just as planned.

  3

  AT A VILLAGE WELL

  Coming fishing?

  Said the fisherman to the worm.

  The round-headed Farmer Callas, his wife and children, and the pointed-headed Farmer Lopez, his wife and children, are drawing water.

  FARMERS CALLAS and LOPEZ:

  We sweat and we slave under feudal rule.

  Our master won’t give us horses to work

  So we have to be our own pack-mule.

  MRS LOPEZ: Do you hear that noise? It’s people from our village going over to join the Sickle.

  The clatter of many wooden clogs. A round-headed farmer enters with two shotguns under his arm.

  THIRD FARMER: In these terrible circumstances, which we have suffered ever since the corn prices collapsed, we, the tenant farmers of Yahoo – clog-wearers one and all – have come together, at first in secret and now in open assembly, and are resolved to take up arms and to fight under the banner of the Sickle, rather than to go on paying our rents and dues. The time has come, Callas, Lopez, here are your guns. He hands over the shotguns and exits.

  LOPEZ: You were going to wait, weren’t you, Callas, in case you heard better news from your daughter in the city.

  CALLAS: But help never comes. I’m ready to fight alongside you.

  LOPEZ: Give me your hand, Callas, and you too, take each other’s hands, children too! Today, the eleventh of September, is a day to remember. For today we farmers have taken up arms, prepared to fight to shake off the yoke of oppression – or else to die.

  They all take hands and sing the Song of the Sickle.

  THE SONG OF THE SICKLE

  Peasants arise!

  Open your eyes!

  Don’t let life pass you by

  One day you all must die.

  Your chains will only be broken

  When you yourselves have spoken.

  Open your eyes!

  Peasants arise!

  EVERYONE: The Sickle! Hurrah!

  The bells start to ring out.

  MRS LOPEZ: Listen. What are those bells?

  MRS CALLAS calls out towards backstage: What’s up, Paolo?

  VOICE FROM OFFSTAGE: We’ve just heard the news from the city: a new People’s Government has come to power.

  MRS CALLAS: I’ll go and find out what’s really going on.

  She exits. The others wait. The radio broadcasts the ‘Proclamation of the new Governor to the People of the Land’.

  VOICE OF IBERIN:

  My Zakkish countrymen! For many a year

  Yahoo has been beset and ravaged by

  A foreign spirit alien to our blood:

  A ghost of greed which threatens rich and poor.

  My Zakkish countrymen, who live in fear,

  Oppressed, exploited and in misery,

  A fearsome foe lurks in our pleasant land,

  Silently working his evil ways: the Zik!

  ’Tis he who bears the blame for all our ills.

  ’Tis he whom you must fight with all your strength.

  I hear you ask how you may recognise

  The fiend. His head! His pointed head betrays him!

  So I, Angelo Iberin, hereby

  Decree: the people shall henceforth be split

  In two: the Round Heads and the Pointed Heads.

  And all that’s Zakkish shall unite against

  The threat of all that’s Zikkish! Henceforth Zaks

  Shall know no rivalry! All Zaks unite

  And stand together ’gainst your pointed foe

  Beneath Iberin’s proud white fluttering flag!

  During the proclamation the listening farmers have, more or less openly, been feeling their heads. The round-headed children point grinning at the Pointed Heads.

  LOPEZ: It’s just talk again! They’re always coming up with something new. What I want to know is, what are they going to do about the landlords.

  CALLAS: That’s right.

  Mrs Callas has returned. She doesn’t look at Lopez, and she gathers her children closer around her.

  LOPEZ: Good news, Mrs Callas?

  MRS CALLAS: They’ve arrested our landlord Señor de Guzman.

  LOPEZ: Why?

  CALLAS: Lopez, I hardly think we need ask why. It’s clear. He’s been arrested for rack-renting.

  MRS LOPEZ: Mrs Callas, then we’re saved.

  CALLAS: That’s better, eh Lopez? Children, our days of misery are at an end! He leans his gun agai
nst the well.

  MRS LOPEZ: This is a great day!

  MRS CALLAS: Don’t get too excited, Mrs Lopez! I’m afraid the news isn’t quite so good for you. Angelo Iberin has taken over the government, and you’re Ziks! They say that in the capital Luma there have already been great pogroms against the Ziks. Señor de Guzman himself was arrested because he’s a Zik.

  LOPEZ: This is bad news, and a great misfortune.

  CALLAS: I don’t know, it’s not that much of a misfortune, at least not for everybody. It’s no misfortune for us.

  MRS CALLAS: No, only for you!

  CALLAS: For us Zaks you could even say it’s rather good news.

  MRS CALLAS: In this hour, Mr Lopez, we are inspired by a hope which you can’t grasp. Perhaps you’re just a different sort of human being, I’m not saying an inferior sort, necessarily.

  LOPEZ: Up to now, Callas, my head has never been too sharp for you.

  Callas is silent. The two families have drawn apart, on the one side stand the Pointed Heads, on the other the Round Heads.

  LOPEZ: We always paid the same dues. And only five minutes ago you wanted to fight with us under the banner of the Sickle, to abolish rents; and you were right, force is the only way. Here, wife, take up his gun.

  Mrs Lopez hesitatingly takes the gun.

  CALLAS: But the prospect is so grim! If there were a hope of success, of course that would be best. But there is no hope.

  LOPEZ: Why talk about the grim prospects if it’s the only way?

  CALLAS: Maybe for me it isn’t the only way.

  MRS CALLAS: Of course, we reckon we’ll be let off the rent now.

  LOPEZ: I understand, you’ll clutch at any straw. But you’ll be disappointed, believe me. Whoever heard of any of these people handing out free gifts just on account of the shape of someone’s head.

  CALLAS: That’s enough, Lopez. I have no reason to doubt the integrity of this government. They’ve only been in power five hours, and my landlord is already under arrest.

  MRS CALLAS: They’re saying in the village that there’s no point joining the Sickle now.

  Five farmers, including Farmer Parr, enter in some excitement. They are all Round Heads. One of them is carrying a flag bearing the Sickle, all of them carry shotguns.

  FARMER PARR: What are you going to do? We were going to join the Sickle this evening, as we’d all agreed. But then we heard the Proclamation and the news of the arrest of the landlords. Should we still fight?