[BFA 24, pp. 226–7. May also have been intended for the Malik publication, which was interrupted in 1938/39.]
NOTES TO ‘FEAR AND MISERY OF THE THIRD REICH’
‘Fear and Misery of the Third Reich’ derives from eyewitness accounts and press reports. Collaborator: Margarete Steffin.
The Malik-Verlag had these scenes printed in Prague in 1938, but distribution was prevented by Hitler’s invasion.
A stage version for America was performed in New York and San Francisco under the title ‘The Private Life of the Master Race’. This comprises:
in Part I, scenes 1, 3, 4, 13 and 14
in Part II, scenes 8, 9, 6 and 10
in Part III, scenes 15, 19, 17, 11, 18, 16, 20 and 24.
The basic constituent of the set is the classic armoured troop-carrier of the Nazi army. This appears four times, at the beginning, between the parts and at the end. The individual scenes are separated by a voice and by the rumbling of the troop-carrier. This rumbling also becomes audible during the scenes, at the onset of the terror which the carrier’s crew bring with them.
For instance:
Part I. To the sound of a barbaric military march a large signpost looms out of the darkness bearing the inscription ‘TO POLAND’ and with the troop-carrier beside it. This is manned by 12–16 soldiers with rifles between their knees, steel helmets and chalk-white faces. Thereupon:
CHORUS: Now that the Führer …
… by his steely hand.
The scene grows dark again. The dull rumble of the waggon continues for a few seconds. Then the lights go up and a landing is seen. Over the stage are suspended big black letters: ‘BRESLAU, SCHUSTERGASSE 2’. This is followed by scene 1. Thereupon:
VOICE: That’s how neighbour …
… taken on to our waggon.
CHORUS IN THE ARMOURED TROOP-CARRIER
Before Part I:
Now that the Führer has created order
In his own country with his steely hand
He’s made us take up arms and drive across the border
To do the same in every neighbouring land.
So we set out as told by our superiors
With all our might – it was a summer day
And launched a blitzkrieg on those German-peopled areas
Whose ancient towns were under Polish sway.
Scarlet with blood, our tanks rolled ever faster
Right from the Seine to Volga’s ice strand.
Thanks to the Führer the world must acknowledge us a Master
Race, forged for ever by his steely hand.
Before Part II:
Treason and discord split the world we live in
And all the time our tank accelerates:
Their discord hoists white flags to show they give in
Their treason now will help us force the gates.
They saw our tank roll on its sacred mission
To Denmark’s shores through fields of blue-green flax.
Those peoples who deny the Führer’s vision
Will soon be crushed beneath our rumbling tracks.
For what he’s done for our own German nation
He’s going to do for Europe as a whole
Iceland to Italy will be one vast plantation
Of our New Order’s swastika symbol.
Before Part III:
You see, our tank was made by Krupp von Bohlen
And three old bankers played a useful part
And then von Thyssen made it tracks to roll on
Twelve landed Junkers gave it a good start.
After Part III:
But after two more winters making war
We found our tanks began to show the strain
Until we got cold feet because we’d come too far
And felt we’d never see our home again.
We pressed on east across each conquered land till
Fresh snow clogged up the crown our Führer wore
And then at last our tanks came to a total standstill
Once we had reached the country of the poor.
Thus we went forth to impose the chains that bind us
And, violated, turned to violence.
Now we see death in front and death behind us.
Our homes are far away, the cold intense.
THE VOICE
After scene 1:
That’s how neighbour betrayed his neighbour
How the little people ripped one another apart
And enmity grew in tenements and city districts
And we strode in confidently
And took on to our battle waggon
All who had not been beaten to death:
This whole people of betrayers and betrayed
Was taken on to our waggon.
After scene 3:
From factories and kitchens and labour exchanges
We collected a crew for our waggon.
Pauper dragged pauper to our waggon.
With the kiss of Judas we took him on our waggon
With a friendly pat on the shoulder
We took them on our battle waggon.
After scene 4:
The people’s disunity gave us our greatness.
Our prisoners still fought each other in the concentration camps
Then they all ended up on our waggon.
The prisoners came on our waggon
Tormentors and tormented
The whole lot came on our battle waggon.
After scene 13:
We covered the good worker with approval
And heaped him high with menaces.
We put flower boxes round the sweatshop he worked in
And SS men at the exit.
With salvoes of applause and salvoes of rifle fire
We loaded him on our battle waggon.
Before scene 8:
Pressing their children closer
Mothers in Brittany stand and humbly search
The skies for the inventions of our learned men.
For there are learned men too on our waggon
Pupils of the notorious Einstein
First given an iron schooling by the Führer
And taught what Aryan science is.
Before scene 9:
A doctor too is on our waggon
He decides which Polish miners’ wives
Shall be sent off to the brothel in Krakow
And he does this well and without any fuss
In memory of the loss of his wife
Who was Jewish and got sent away
Because a member of the Master Race has to be carefully coupled
And the Führer decides who he is to lie with.
Before scene 6:
And there are also judges on our waggon
Adept at taking hostages, picked from a hundred victims
Accused of being Frenchmen
And found guilty of loving their country
For our judges are well versed in German law
And know what is demanded of them.
Before scene 10:
And there is a teacher too on our waggon
A captain now, with a hat of steel
Who delivers his lessons
To Norway’s fishermen and the wine-growers of Champagne
For there was a day seven years ago
Now faded but never forgotten
When in the bosom of his own family he learned
Hatred of spies.
And whenever we arrived we incited father against son
And friend against friend.
And the mischief we made in foreign countries was no different from
The mischief we made in our own.
Before scene 19:
And there is no other business but ours
And nobody knows how long we shall keep it.
Before scene 17:
Here we come as hungry as locusts
And eat out entire countries in a single week
For we were given guns instead o
f butter
And we have long mixed bran with our daily bread.
Before scene 11:
And whenever we arrive no mother is safe, and no child
For we did not spare
Our own children.
Before scene 18:
And the corn in the barn is not safe from us
Nor the cattle in the byre
For our cattle were taken away from us.
Before scene 16:
And we take away their sons and their daughters
And toss them potatoes in the goodness of our hearts
And tell them to shout ‘Heil Hitler’ like our own mothers
As if they were skewered.
Before scene 20:
And there is no god
But Adolf Hitler.
Before scene 24:
And we subjugated foreign peoples
As we have subjugated our own.
[BFA 24, pp. 227–32. These notes document the stage version, The Private Life of the Master Race (first published by New Directions: New York, 1944), performed in June 1945 in Berkeley (directed by Henry Schnitzler) and New York (directed by Berthold Viertel). A version of the chorus appeared in English (a different translation by Eric Bentley) in the New York (1944) edition. This German text was published the following year (Aurora: New York, 1945). Scene 1 in this version was ‘A case of betrayal’.]
SIX ADDITIONAL SCENES
Ersatz feelings
Family of Gnauer the bookbinder. Gnauer is sitting in his SA uniform. It is eight in the evening. The doctor is examining the bookbinder’s sick sister in the next room.
THE SON standing indecisively by the radio: I wonder if we ought to have the radio just now. Aunt Frieda’s so feeble. It might just get her worked up.
THE FATHER: She’s always been keen on our national resurgence. She lives for that. Which is more than can be said of you. Put it on.
THE SON: I was thinking, what with the doctor being in there. It’ll give him the wrong idea.
THE FATHER: That’s a phony excuse. In other words, un-German. Frieda would never let us miss anything on her account. I’d say Germany’s food position was an important enough matter.
THE MOTHER: You’re to put it on.
VOICE ON THE RADIO: Professor Dr Seifner of the Health Advisory Council will now give a talk on ‘The Scientist’s view of the Four-Year Plan with particular regard to the availability of edible fats’.
ANOTHER VOICE: It is a regrettable if all too familiar fact that mankind is not always aware what is in its own best interest and what not. Certain of our national comrades have been known to judge the comprehensive measures which the government takes in the interests of the whole people, according to the degree of sacrifice demanded of the individual judging. This is of course a very human characteristic. Looked at closely, however, this presumed sacrifice often turns out to be no sacrifice but an act of kindness. Thus suppose we take nutrition in the context of the Four-Year Plan: a certain amount of petty grumbling might be heard to the effect that there are slight shortages of milk here and of fat there. Those concerned will be surprised to learn from science that such a shortage of fat for instance may constitute a positive act of kindness to their body. Recently a committee of scientific experts conducted a thorough investigation of the way in which the human body reacts to a low-fat diet. Let us consider the conclusions that this committee of top academics came to.
Drying his hands, the doctor enters from the next room. The father makes a sign to his son, who turns off the radio.
THE FATHER: What’s the verdict, doctor?
THE DOCTOR: Not good. She’ll have to have an operation.
THE MOTHER: That’s dreadful.
THE DOCTOR: Yes, it’s a serious business at her age.
THE MOTHER: We thought it would be all right if she was properly looked after. That’s why we got a nurse in. She isn’t cheap.
THE DOCTOR: But now an operation’s unavoidable. The tumour’s practically blocked the entrance to her stomach. She’ll die if she’s not operated.
THE FATHER: That’s a major operation, I suppose.
THE DOCTOR: It is.
THE FATHER: Expensive?
THE DOCTOR: You’d have to reckon somewhere between two and three thousand marks.
THE FATHER: That’s rather more than we could manage, you know.
THE MOTHER: Poor Frieda.
THE FATHER: So I must ask you for an absolutely straight answer, doctor. Will this operation cure my sister?
THE DOCTOR: There’s a good chance.
THE FATHER: What do you mean, a good chance? In other words it’s not even certain she’ll be cured?
THE DOCTOR: I mean that we shall remove the tumour and hope it doesn’t return. In other words there’s a good chance of a cure and at least she’ll gain time.
THE MOTHER: I wonder if that kind of time is much gain. When she’s suffering.
THE DOCTOR: Starving to death isn’t pleasant either, Mrs Gnauer. If we leave her as she is she’ll starve.
THE FATHER: But the tumour might return?
THE DOCTOR: It might.
THE FATHER: So it isn’t even certain the operation will cure her.
THE DOCTOR: No, but it’s certain she’d die without it.
THE FATHER: Of course.
THE DOCTOR: Yes, of course. Think it over, but don’t take too long.
Good night.
THE FATHER: Good night, doctor.
The doctor leaves.
THE FATHER: Well, there we are.
THE SON: Poor Aunt Frieda.
The daughter stands up, goes to the mirror and prepares to go out.
THE FATHER: Where are you off to?
THE DAUGHTER: We’ve a lecture. ‘Race and Home’.
THE FATHER: You’ll have to stay here a moment. I’m due over at the SA myself. But first of all there’s a decision to be taken, and I want you all to be present.
THE DAUGHTER pouting: What am I supposed to decide?
The nurse enters from the next room.
THE NURSE: Miss Gnauer is asking if Mrs Gnauer would come in for a minute.
THE MOTHER: Yes, I’ll come.
The nurse goes back; the mother remains seated.
THE SON: What is there to decide? She’s got to be operated.
THE FATHER: Don’t be so smart. An operation is no joke.
THE MOTHER: At her age.
THE FATHER: Didn’t you hear what the doctor said? About that?
THE SON: He also said she’d die without it.
THE FATHER: And that she might die if she has it.
THE MOTHER: I never realised she was in such a bad way.
THE SON: A very bad way, if you ask me.
THE FATHER suspiciously: What d’you mean by that?
THE DAUGHTER: Just another of his mean remarks.
THE MOTHER: Stop quarrelling, you two.
THE FATHER: Any sauce from you and you needn’t bother to ask for your next pocket-money.
THE SON: Then I won’t be able to cycle to school. My inner tubes are past mending now. And I can’t get new ones of real rubber. Just ersatz rubber. Same way school nowadays is ersatz school. And this family’s an ersatz family.
THE MOTHER: Hans!
THE FATHER: Right. No more pocket-money. And as for the other thing, I wonder if that quack really knows his business. He isn’t exactly brilliant. Or he’d charge more than three marks for a visit.
THE MOTHER: His coat is all coming away at the seams and his shoes are patched.
THE FATHER: Anyway there are better doctors than him. I don’t go by what he says.
THE SON: Consult a more expensive one, then.
THE MOTHER: Don’t talk to your father like that. A more expensive one wouldn’t necessarily be better. Not that the nurse isn’t dear enough.
THE FATHER: Even the best of them will never give an unbiased verdict, because he gets part of the surgeon’s fee. It’s the usual practice with surgeons.
> THE SON: The doctor seemed straight, I thought.
THE FATHER: You thought. I didn’t think so at all. And however straight they are, people act in their own interests. I’ve yet to come across a man who doesn’t put his own interests first. What he says may sound all very humanitarian and idealistic, but what he actually thinks is another kettle of fish.
THE MOTHER: So you think the operation mayn’t be at all necessary?
THE FATHER: Who can tell?
The nurse again appears at the door.
THE NURSE: Couldn’t you come, Mrs Gnauer? My patient’s worried on account of the doctor being there.
THE MOTHER: Right, I’m just coming. We’ve a small matter to discuss. Tell her I’ll come at once.
The nurse goes back.
THE FATHER: Take the paper in to her.
The son takes a paper and is about to leave.
THE FATHER: When’ll you learn not to give her today’s paper before I’ve read it?
THE MOTHER: But that’s yesterday’s. Why do you think I put it on the music stand?
THE SON: But cancer’s not infectious.
THE FATHER: It is for me, given that the possibility’s not ruled out.
THE MOTHER: The news will be the same anyway. Give her last month’s and it’ll hardly be any different.
THE SON: Ersatz newspapers. All the same the nurse might notice.
THE FATHER: I’m not paying her to read papers.
The son takes the previous day’s newspaper into the next room.
THE FATHER: All I want to say is that it’s a great deal of money.
THE MOTHER: What with there being no certainty of a cure.
THE FATHER: Exactly. Pause. What she’s got in the bank would cover it, but there’d be very little over. Three thousand.
THE MOTHER: It’d be a crime to waste all that money on an uncertain operation. Poor Frieda earned every bit of it penny by penny working as a maidservant.
The son returns.
THE SON: She’s pretty scared.
THE FATHER: Did the doctor tell her there was question of an operation?
THE SON: No.
THE FATHER: I wouldn’t have put it beyond him to upset her like that.
Bertolt Brecht: Mutter Courage und ihre Kinder 4 Page 36
