Than join with you, and beg for gruel.
When you became a Round Head, when you shut
The door on us and chased us from your hut,
Hung your gun away behind the door
To seek advantage in their courts of law,
You swallowed all their myths that racial health
Would solve the inequalities of wealth.
You stole two horses from your landlord’s fief,
Behaving like a common thief.
You thought you’d solve your problems all alone,
At least you’d keep an eye out for your own.
A while they even let you keep the horses,
But only till they’d smashed our Sickle forces.
For you, a Zak, you thought Iberin would provide,
But that turned out an idle wish:
Here Round and Pointed Heads hang side by side,
While there they eat together from one dish.
The old division rears its ugly head:
There’s poor, there’s rich. And though you said
You’d be a fisherman – you’re just the fish.
During Farmer Lopez’s speech Callas and Nanna have stopped eating their soup. They stand up. The farmers under the gallows 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!
THE TENANT FARMERS: Long live the Sickle!
The drumbeat has got louder, now it drowns out everything else. Callas has thrown down his and Nanna’s soup, he lays his steel helmet and coat on the ground.
CALLAS shouting: Lopez, Lopez, I wish it could be the eleventh of September a second time!
Exit Callas and Nanna. A rosy dawn floods into the palace, at the Viceroy’s table round- and pointed-headed landowners dine together, while at the foot of his gallows pointed- and round-headed farmers are prepared for execution.
VICEROY:
It but remains, dear Iberin, that I
Assure you of our heartfelt satisfaction.
For you have managed, by your doctrine
Of round and pointed heads, to save the state
From mortal peril, and to resurrect
The precious order that we know and love.
IBERIN:
My lord, I think we may be sure this Sickle,
Once emblem of rebellion and unrest,
Is now for ever banished from your land
And from your capital.
VICEROY smilingly wagging a finger at him:
Quite right, my friend
So no more Zik and Zak!
IBERIN:
Sire, as you wish.
MISSENA stands up:
And yet there’s much that has been learnt from this:
We’ve learnt to live and feel and breathe as Zaks!
From this day forwards let our maxim be:
Peace and peace again, and once more peace.
And if we must we’ll even take up arms
And fight for a muscular and Zakkish peace!
If any man resist our peace, may he
Be broken as the Sickle once was broken
And smashed as they, with God’s help, once were smashed.
During his speech a giant gun barrel has been lowered over the banqueting table.
VICEROY lifting his glass:
Drink, friends, drink! The status quo, I say!
The landowners smoke their cigars and rock together as they sing this round.
CHORUS OF LANDED GENTRY
Perhaps the years to come will just slip by us
And all those nasty dreams start disappearing.
Perhaps the rumours we’re so sick of hearing
Were never true, but only sent to try us.
Perhaps men will forget us, as, if able
We’d all forget the names of those that harm us.
Then we perhaps can once more join the table.
Perhaps they’ll let us even die in our pyjamas?
Perhaps they’ll cease to curse our names and make them bywords?
Perhaps the dark will humanise our faces?
Perhaps our moon will now stay full, with no more phases?
Perhaps in future rain will start falling skywards …
When the song is over, the Hatso takes down a wooden frame that has been leaning against a wall in the courtyard. He needs it for the executions. Behind it, on the newly whitewashed wall, a huge red Sickle is revealed. They all see it, and freeze. The farmers, muted under their hoods, 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!
Fear and Misery of the Third Reich
24 scenes
Collaborator: M. STEFFIN
Translator: JOHN WILLETT
Characters:
1 TWO SS OFFICERS
2 MAN
WOMAN
3 SA MAN
COOK
MAIDSERVANT
CHAUFFEUR
WORKER
4 BRÜHL
DIEVENBACH
LOHMANN
JEHOVAH’S WITNESS
SS MAN
5 SS MAN
DETAINEE
SS OFFICER
6 JUDGE
INSPECTOR
PROSECUTOR
USHER
MAIDSERVANT
SENIOR JUDGE
7 TWO PATIENTS
SURGEON
SISTER
THREE ASSISTANTS
NURSES
8 X AND Y, SCIENTISTS
9 WOMAN
HUSBAND
10 MAIDSERVANT
MAN
WIFE
BOY
11 DAUGHTER
MOTHER
12 STUDENT
YOUNG WORKER
GROUP LEADER
13 ANNOUNCER
TWO MALE WORKERS
WOMAN WORKER
GENTLEMAN
SA MAN
14 WOMAN
SA MEN
CHILD
WORKER
YOUNG WOMAN
15 MAN
WIFE
RELEASED MAN
16 OLD WOMAN
YOUNG WOMAN
TWO SA MEN
17 TWO BAKERS
18 FARMER
FARMER’S WIFE
19 PETIT-BOURGEOIS
TWO WOMEN
YOUNG FELLOW
DAIRYWOMAN
BUTCHER’S WIFE
20 DYING MAN
WIFE
SON
PASTOR
21 FIVE BOYS
SCHARFÜHRER
22 TWO BOYS
23 NEIGHBOUR
MAN
WIFE
24 WOMAN
TWO WORKERS
THE GERMAN MARCH-PAST
When He had ruled five years, and they informed us
That He who claimed to have been sent by God
Was ready for His promised war, the steelworks
Had forged tank, gun and warship, and there waited
Within His hangers aircraft in so great a number
That they, leaving the earth at His command
Would darken all the heavens, then we became determined
To see what sort of nation, formed from what sort of people
In what condition, what sort of thoughts thinking
He would be calling to His colours. We staged a marchpast.
See, now they come towards us
A motley sight
rewards us
Their banners go before.
To show how straight their course is
They carry crooked crosses
Which double-cross the poor.
Some march along like dummies
Others crawl on their tummies
Towards the war He’s planned.
One hears no lamentation
No murmurs of vexation
One only hears the band.
With wives and kids arriving
Five years they’ve been surviving.
Five more is more than they’ll last.
A ramshackle collection
They parade for our inspection
As they come marching past.
1
One big family
First the SS approaches.
Blown up with beer and speeches
They’re in a kind of daze.
Their aim is a People imperious
Respected and powerful and serious –
Above all, one that obeys.
The night of January 30th, 1933. Two SS officers lurching down the street.
THE FIRST: Top dogs, that’s us. That torchlight procession, impressive, what? Broke one moment, next day running the government. Rags to riches in a single day.
They make water.
THE SECOND: And now it’ll be a united nation. I’m expecting the German people to have an unprecedented moral revival.
THE FIRST: Wait till we’ve coaxed German Man out from among all those filthy subhumans. Hey, what part of Berlin is this? Not a flag showing.
THE SECOND: We’ve come the wrong way.
THE FIRST: A horrible sight.
THE SECOND: Lot of crooks round here.
THE FIRST: Think it could be dangerous?
THE SECOND: Decent comrades don’t live in such slums.
THE FIRST: Not a light to be seen either.
THE SECOND: Nobody at home.
THE FIRST: That lot are. Catch them coming along to watch the birth of the Third Reich. We’d best cover our rear.
Staggering, they set off again, the first following the second.
THE FIRST: Isn’t this the bit by the canal?
THE SECOND: Don’t ask me.
THE FIRST: Over by the corner’s where we cleaned up a bunch of Marxists. Afterwards they said it was a Catholic youth club. Pack of lies. Not one of them was wearing a collar.
THE SECOND: Think he’ll really make us a united nation?
THE FIRST: He’ll make anything.
He stops, freezes and listens. Somewhere a window has been opened.
THE SECOND: Wozzat?
He pushes forward the safety catch on his revolver. An old man in a nightshirt leans out of the window and is heard softly calling ‘Emma, are you there?’
THE SECOND: That’s them!
He rushes round like a maniac, and starts shooting in every direction.
THE FIRST bellows: Help!
Behind a window opposite the one where the old man is still standing a terrible cry is heard. Someone has been hit.
2
A case of betrayal
The next to appear are the traitors
Who’ve given away their neighbours.
They know that people know.
If only the street would forget them!
They could sleep if their conscience would let them
But there’s so far still to go.
Breslau 1933. Lower-middle-class flat. A man and a woman are standing by the door listening. They are very pale.
THE WOMAN: They’ve got to the ground floor.
THE MAN: Not quite.
THE WOMAN: They’ve smashed the banisters. He’d already passed out when they dragged him out of his flat.
THE MAN: I simply said the sound of foreign broadcasts didn’t come from here.
THE WOMAN: That wasn’t all you said.
THE MAN: I said nothing more than that.
THE WOMAN: Don’t look at me that way. If you said nothing more, then you said nothing more.
THE MAN: That’s the point.
THE WOMAN: Why not go round to the police and make a statement saying nobody called there on Saturday?
Pause.
THE MAN: Catch me going to the police. It was inhuman, the way they were treating him.
THE WOMAN: He asked for it. What’s he want to meddle in politics for?
THE MAN: They didn’t have to rip his jacket though. Our sort isn’t that well off for clothes.
THE WOMAN: What’s a jacket more or less?
THE MAN: They didn’t have to rip it.
3
The chalk cross
Here come the brown storm troopers
That keen-eyed squad of snoopers
To check where each man stands
Their job’s to put the boot in
Then hang around saluting
With bloodstained empty hands.
Berlin 1933. Kitchen of a gentleman’s house. The SA man, the cook, the maidservant, the chauffeur.
THE MAIDSERVANT: Did they really only give you half an hour off?
THE SA MAN: Night exercise.
THE COOK: What are all these exercises about?
THE SA MAN: That’s an official secret.
THE COOK: Is there a raid on?
THE SA MAN: Like to know, wouldn’t you? None of you is going to find out from me. Wild horses wouldn’t drag it from me.
THE MAIDSERVANT: So you got to go all the way out to Reinickendorf?
THE SA MAN: Reinickendorf or Rummelsburg or might be Lichtenfelde, why not eh?
THE MAIDSERVANT somewhat confused: Won’t you have a bit to eat before going off?
THE SA MAN: If you twist my arm. Bring on the field kitchen.
The cook brings in a tray.
No, you don’t catch us talking. Always take the enemy by surprise. Zoom in from an unexpected direction. Look at the way the Führer prepares one of his coups. Like trying to see through a brick wall. No way of telling beforehand. For all I know he can’t even tell himself. And then wham! – like that. It’s amazing what happens. That’s what makes people so frightened of us. He has tucked in his napkin. With knife and fork poised he enquires: How about if the gentry suddenly pop in, Anna? Me sitting here with a mouth full of sauce. Exaggerating as though his mouth was full: Heil Hitler!
THE MAIDSERVANT: Oh, they’ll ring for the car first, won’t they, Mr Francke?
THE CHAUFFEUR: What d’you say? Oh, of course.
Pacified, the SA man starts turning his attention to the tray.
THE MAIDSERVANT sitting down beside him: Don’t you feel tired?
THE SA MAN: Bet your life.
THE MAIDSERVANT: But you’ve got Friday off, haven’t you?
THE SA MAN nods: If nothing crops up.
THE MAIDSERVANT: Listen. Getting your watch mended was four marks fifty.
THE SA MAN: A bloody scandal.
THE MAIDSERVANT: The watch itself only cost 12 marks.
THE SA MAN: Is that assistant at the hardware shop still as saucy as ever?
THE MAIDSERVANT: Christ alive.
THE SA MAN: You only got to tell me.
THE MAIDSERVANT: I tell you everything anyway. Wearing your new boots are you?
THE SA MAN not interested: Yes, what about it?
THE MAIDSERVANT: Minna, you seen Theo’s new boots yet?
THE COOK: No.
THE MAIDSERVANT: Let’s have a look, then. That’s what they’re giving them now.
The SA man, his mouth full, stretches out his leg to be inspected.
Lovely, aren’t they?
The SA man looks around, seeking something.
THE COOK: Something missing?
THE SA MAN: Bit dry here.
THE MAIDSERVANT: Like some beer, love? I’ll get it.
She hurries out.
THE COOK: She’d run her legs off for you, Herr Theo.
THE SA MAN: Yeh, I always do okay. Wham, like that.
THE COOK: You men t
ake a lot for granted, don’t you?
THE SA MAN: That’s what women want. Seeing the cook lift a heavy pot. What are you breaking your back for? Don’t you bother, that’s my job. He carries the pot for her.
THE COOK: That’s real good of you. You’re always finding things to do for me. Pity other people aren’t so considerate.
With a look at the chauffeur.
THE SA MAN: Don’t have to make a song and dance of it. We’re glad to help.
There’s a knock at the kitchen door.
THE COOK: That’ll be my brother. He’s bringing a valve for the wireless. She admits her brother, a worker. My brother.
THE SA MAN and THE CHAUFFEUR: Heil Hitler!
The worker mumbles something that could be taken for ‘Heil Hitler’ at a pinch.
THE COOK: Got the valve, have you?
THE WORKER: Yes.
THE COOK: Want to put it in right away?
The two go out.
THE SA MAN: What’s that fellow do?
THE CHAUFFEUR: Out of a job.
THE SA MAN: Come here often?
THE CHAUFFEUR shrugging his shoulders: I’m not here that much.
THE SA MAN: Anyhow the old girl’s a hundred per cent for Germany.
THE CHAUFFEUR: You bet.
THE SA MAN: But that wouldn’t stop her brother being something quite different.
THE CHAUFFEUR: Got any definite reason to suspect him?
THE SA MAN: Me? No. Never. I never suspect anyone. You suspect somebody, see, and it’s the same as being sure, almost. And then the fur will fly.
THE CHAUFFEUR murmurs: Wham, like that.
THE SA MAN: That’s right. Leaning back, with one eye shut: Could you understand what he was mumbling? He imitates the worker’s greeting: Might have been ‘Heil Hitler’. Might not. Me and that lot’s old pals.
He gives a resounding laugh. The cook and the worker return. She sets food before him.
THE COOK: My brother’s that clever with the wireless. And yet he doesn’t care a bit about listening to it. If I’d the time I’d always be putting it on. To the worker: And you’ve got more time than you know what to do with, Franz.
THE SA MAN: What’s that? Got a wireless and never puts the thing on?
THE WORKER: Bit of music sometimes.
THE COOK: And to think he made himself that smashing set out of twice nothing.
THE SA MAN: How many valves you got then?
THE WORKER with a challenging stare: Four.
THE SA MAN: Well, well, no accounting for taste. To chauffeur: Is there?
Maidservant comes back with the beer.
THE MAIDSERVANT: Ice cold.
THE SA MAN putting his hand on hers in a friendly way: You’re puffed, girl. No call to rush like that, I wouldn’t have minded waiting.
Bertolt Brecht: Mutter Courage und ihre Kinder 4 Page 16
