Bertolt Brecht: Mutter Courage und ihre Kinder 4

by Bertolt Brecht

  Into the streets swept a flood

  Whose waves were men, and carried

  Our goods away. In the evening

  Only a foul smoke marked the spot

  That was once a city.

  THE BAKER:

  Tell us more.

  TWO CHILDREN:

  And in those cities there were

  Two hundred and fifty thousand children –

  They are no longer. Mighty Lucullus

  Came on us in his iron battle-waggon

  And conquered us all.

  LUCULLUS:

  Yes, I smashed their impertinent cities!

  And took their gold and all kinds of riches

  And I took away their people to be our slaves.

  Because they paid tribute to false gods.

  But I overthrew them

  So that the whole earth might see our gods

  Were greater than all other gods.

  THE COURT CRIER:

  Whereupon the shadowy juryman

  Who was once a baker

  In Marsilia, the city by the sea

  Makes a proposal.

  THE BAKER:

  Then we write to your credit, shadow

  Simply this: Brought gold to Rome.

  THE COURT CRIER:

  You jurymen of the dead

  Consider the testimony of the cities.

  Pause.

  THE JUDGE OF THE DEAD:

  The accused seems tired.

  I declare a recess.

  9

  ROME

  THE COURT CRIER:

  The accused sits down.

  He is exhausted, but he overhears

  Talk behind the door

  Where new shadows have appeared.

  FIRST SHADOW:

  I came to grief through an oxcart.

  LUCULLUS softly:

  Oxcart.

  FIRST SHADOW:

  It brought a load of sand to a building site.

  LUCULLUS softly:

  Building site. Sand.

  SECOND SHADOW:

  Isn’t it meal time now?

  LUCULLUS softly:

  Meal time?

  FIRST SHADOW:

  I had my bread and onions

  With me. I haven’t a room any more.

  The horde of slaves

  They herd in from every spot under heaven

  Has ruined the shoemaking business.

  SECOND SHADOW:

  I too am a slave.

  Say rather, the lucky

  Catch the unlucky’s bad luck.

  LUCULLUS:

  You there, is there wind still up above?

  SECOND SHADOW:

  Hark, someone’s asking a question.

  FIRST SHADOW:

  Whether there’s wind up above? Perhaps.

  There may be in the gardens.

  In the suffocating alleys

  You don’t notice it.

  10

  THE HEARING IS CONTINUED

  THE COURT CRIER:

  Now the shadow that was once a fishwife

  Has a question.

  THE FISHWIFE:

  There was talk of gold.

  I too lived in Rome.

  Yet I never noticed any gold where I lived.

  I’d like to know where it went.

  LUCULLUS:

  What a question!

  Should I and my legions set out

  To capture a new stool for a fishwife?

  THE FISHWIFE:

  Though you brought nothing to us in the fish market

  Still you took something from us in the fish market:

  Our sons.

  Tell me, what happened to you in the two Asias?

  FIRST LEGIONARY:

  I ran away.

  SECOND LEGIONARY:

  And I was wounded.

  FIRST LEGIONARY:

  I dragged him along.

  SECOND LEGIONARY:

  So then he fell too.

  THE FISHWIFE:

  Why did you leave Rome?

  FIRST LEGIONARY:

  I was hungry.

  THE FISHWIFE:

  And what did you get there?

  SECOND LEGIONARY:

  I got nothing.

  THE FISHWIFE:

  You stretch out your hand.

  Is that to greet your general?

  SECOND LEGIONARY:

  It was to show him

  It was still empty.

  LUCULLUS:

  I protest.

  I rewarded the legionaries

  After each campaign.

  THE FISHWIFE:

  But not the dead ones.

  LUCULLUS:

  I protest.

  How can war be judged

  By those who do not understand it?

  THE FISHWIFE:

  I understand it. My son

  Fell in the war.

  I was a fishwife in the market at the Forum.

  One day it was reported that the ships

  Returning from the Asian war

  Had docked. I ran from the market place

  And I stood by the Tiber for many hours

  Where they were being unloaded and in the evening

  All the ships were empty and my son

  Came down none of the gangplanks.

  Since it was chilly by the harbour at night

  I fell into a fever, and in the fever sought my son

  And ever seeking him more deeply

  I grew more chilled, died, came here

  Into the Realm of Shadows, and still sought him.

  Faber, I cried, for that was his name.

  And I ran and ran through shadows

  And from shadow to shadow

  Crying Faber, until a gatekeeper over there

  In the camp of fallen warriors

  Caught me by the sleeve and said:

  Old woman, there are many Fabers here, many

  Mothers’ sons, many, deeply mourned

  But they have forgotten their names

  Which only served to line them up in the army

  And are no longer needed here. And their mothers

  They do not wish to meet again

  Because they let them go to the bloody war.

  Faber, my son, Faber

  Whom I carried, whom I brought up

  My son, Faber!

  And I stood, held by my sleeve

  And my cries died out in my mouth.

  Silently I turned away, for I desired no longer

  To look upon my son’s face.

  THE JUDGE OF THE DEAD:

  The court recognises that the mother of the fallen

  Understands war.

  THE COURT CRIER:

  Jurymen of the dead

  Consider the testimony of the warriors!

  Silence.

  THE JUDGE OF THE DEAD:

  But the jurywoman is moved

  And in her trembling hands

  The scales may tip. To regain her composure

  She needs

  A recess.

  11

  THE HEARING IS CONTINUED

  CHORUS:

  The jurywoman has recovered.

  THE COURT CRIER:

  Accused, step forward!

  THE JUDGE OF THE DEAD:

  Lakalles! Our time runs out. You do not make use of it.

  Anger us no more with your triumphs!

  Have you no witnesses

  To any of your weak points, mortal?

  Your business goes badly. Your virtues Seem to be of little use.

  Perhaps your weaknesses will leave some loopholes

  In the chain of violent deeds.

  I counsel you, shadow

  Recollect your weaknesses.

  THE COURT CRIER:

  And the juryman who was once a baker

  Puts a question.

  THE BAKER:

  Yonder I see a cook with a fish.

  He seems cheerful. Cook

  Tell us how you came to be in the triumphal p
rocession.

  THE COOK:

  Only to show

  That even while waging war

  He found time to discover a recipe for cooking fish.

  I was his cook. Often

  I think of the beautiful meat

  The gamefowl and the black venison

  Which he made me roast.

  And he not only sat at table

  But gave me a word of praise

  Stood over the pots with me

  And himself mixed a dish.

  Lamb à la Lucullus

  Made our kitchen famous.

  From Syria to Pontus

  They spoke of Lucullus’s cook.

  THE COURT CRIER:

  And the juror who was once a teacher says:

  THE TEACHER:

  What is it to us that he liked to eat?

  THE COOK:

  But he let me cook

  To my heart’s content. I thank him for it.

  THE BAKER:

  I understand him, I who was a baker.

  How often I had to mix bran with the dough

  Because my customers were poor. This fellow here

  Could be an artist.

  THE COOK:

  Thanks to him!

  That is why I call him human.

  THE COURT CRIER:

  Jurors of the dead, consider

  The testimony of the cook.

  Silence.

  THE COURT CRIER:

  And the juryman who was once a farmer

  Puts a question.

  THE FARMER:

  Over there, is someone who carries a fruit tree.

  THE TREE BEARER:

  This is a cherry tree.

  We brought it from Asia. In the triumphal procession

  We carried it along. And we planted it

  On the slopes of the Apennines.

  THE FARMER:

  Oh, so it was you, Lakalles, who brought it?

  I once planted it too, but I did not know

  That you introduced it.

  THE COURT CRIER:

  And with a friendly smile

  The juryman who was once a farmer

  Discusses with the shadow

  Who was once a general

  The cherry tree.

  THE FARMER:

  It needs little soil.

  LUCULLUS:

  But it doesn’t like the wind.

  THE FARMER:

  The red cherries have more meat.

  LUCULLUS:

  And the black are sweeter.

  THE FARMER:

  My friends, this of all the detestable souvenirs

  Conquered in bloody battle

  I call the best. For this sapling lives.

  It is a new and friendly companion

  To the vine and the abundant berrybush

  And growing with the growing generations

  Bears fruit for them. And I congratulate you

  Who brought it to us. When all the booty of conquest

  From both Asias has long mouldered away

  This finest of all your trophies

  Renewed each year for the living

  Shall in spring flutter its white-flowered branches

  In the wind from the hills.

  12

  THE JUDGEMENT

  CHORUS:

  Up jumps the jurywoman, formerly a fishwife in the market.

  THE FISHWIFE:

  And did you still find

  A penny in those bloody hands? Does the murderer

  Bribe the court with the booty?

  THE TEACHER:

  A cherry tree! That conquest

  Could have been made

  With just one man

  But he sent eighty thousand down here.

  THE BAKER:

  How much

  Must they pay up there

  For a glass of wine and a bun?

  THE COURTESAN:

  Must they always put their skins

  On sale in order to sleep with a woman?

  THE FISHWIFE:

  Yes, into oblivion with him!

  THE TEACHER:

  Yes, into oblivion with him!

  THE BAKER:

  Yes, into oblivion with him!

  CHORUS:

  And they look at the farmer

  Who praised the cherry tree:

  Farmer, what do you say?

  Silence.

  THE FARMER:

  Eighty thousand for a cherry tree!

  Yes, into oblivion with him!

  THE JUDGE OF THE DEAD:

  Yes, into oblivion with him! For

  With all this violence and conquest Only one realm is extended:

  The Realm of the Shadows.

  THE JURORS:

  And already

  Our grey underworld

  Is full of half-lived lives.

  THE FARMER:

  Yet here

  We have no ploughs for strong arms.

  THE JURORS:

  Nor

  Hungry mouths, when above

  You have so many of both. What except dust

  Can we heap over the

  Slaughtered eighty thousand? And you up there

  Need houses! How often still

  Shall we meet them on our paths which lead nowhere

  And hear their terribly eager questions – what

  Is the summer like this year, and the autumn

  And the winter?

  CHORUS:

  Now hear the report

  Of the Asiatic legions!

  Roman legionaries appear in formation.

  THE LEGIONARIES:

  In the murderer’s tunic

  In the ravager’s plunder gang

  We fell

  The sons of the people.

  Yes, into oblivion with him!

  Like the wolf

  Who breaks into the herd

  And has to be destroyed

  We were destroyed

  In his service.

  Yes, into oblivion with him!

  Had we but

  Left the aggressor’s service!

  Had we but

  Joined with the defenders!

  CHORUS:

  And the slaves who bore the frieze

  Cried out:

  THE SLAVES:

  Yes, into oblivion with him! How long

  Shall he and his kind sit

  Inhumanly above other humans and raise

  Lazy hands and fling peoples

  Against each other in bloody warfare?

  How long shall we

  And our kind endure them?

  ALL:

  Yes, into oblivion with him and into oblivion

  With all like him!

  THE COURT CRIER:

  And from the high bench they rise up

  The spokesmen of the world-to-be

  Of those with many hands, to take

  Of those with many mouths, to eat

  Eagerly gathering

  Avidly living world-to-be.

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