Brecht Collected Plays: 3: Lindbergh's Flight; The Baden-Baden Lesson on Consent; He Said Yes/He Said No; The Decision; The Mother; The Exception & the ... St Joan of the Stockyards (World Classics)
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That we reap the harvest.
CHORUS OF HORATIANS:
To balk the attack
To avoid the submission and the theft
Of our huts, farmlands and implements
We have determined, O Horatians
To advance with three armies.
We shall fight
Until our opponents are totally overthrown.
1 THE BATTLE OF THE ARCHERS
THE HORATIAN:
Yesterday evening
My opponent reached the position
I had planned for.
I have so planned it
That he must come from behind a mountain
In order to attack me. And so
There is little distance between us
As it has to be on account of my bow.
Now I am waiting for the sun.
It must be to my advantage.
THE CURIATIAN:
I await my opponent
Among mountains that are strange to me
And I do not know how near he may be
However, I have no wind against me
And my bow is good.
I wait for the sun.
BOTH CHORUSES:
The archers have reached their positions.
When it is light, the battle begins.
THE WARRIORS:
It is getting light.
The warriors bend their bows. An actor carries in a spotlight on a stick which represents the sun. He carries it very slowly across the stage. His passage from left to right must last as long as the fight. As the sun rises over the Horatian’s mountain, he is in shadow, his opponent in the light.
THE CURIATIAN:
Oh, the sun blinds me!
I cannot aim and my opponent
Remains in darkness. He is covered
By the shadow of the mountain.
First volley of arrows. The blinded Curiatian shoots too high.
The Horatian hits him in the knee. The Curiatian draws out the arrow.
I am hit and my opponent
Is not hit.
I had forgotten that the sun not only lights up
But blinds as well.
I needed light to aim
But it came from his direction.
My position is bad.
Since my knee is shattered, my opponent
Can keep me in this bad location.
CHORUS OF CURIATIANS:
What have you lost?
The Curiatian shows how many he has lost by taking two little flags from his shoulderframe and throwing them away. The Chorus of Curiatians speaks to their man as they erase two cohorts from the board
You have lost two cohorts
Out of your seven.
But your weapon is good.
As always
Time is in our favour.
Take no risks.
In the end
Better weapons will prevail.
THE HORATIAN:
My bow does not carry far enough.
But my opponent is blinded by the sun
And my arrow
Has at least shattered his knee.
My position is good.
CHORUS OF HORATIANS to their man:
Why have you stopped fighting? A good position
Does not stay good for ever. We shall be worse off
If we do not better ourselves. Inevitably
The sun moves across the heavens. Irrevocably
Morning becomes midday.
THE HORATIAN:
With a volley of arrows I intended to shoot down
The man with the sun in his face.
But I did not kill him with the first arrow
He is only wounded, and now
Has retreated behind his stone
And fights no more. But the sun travels
And my mountain shadow grows shorter
And I have retreated from the enemy
So that my arrow can no longer reach him.
CHORUS OF HORATIANS:
It is too bad
That your bow is a poor one. But we have no better.
Throw it away! Fight with your fists!
You must fight with every means you have.
At least do something!
THE HORATIAN:
I do not agree with you. After all
I have already hindered the enemy
With my bow.
I am an archer, not a prizefighter.
It was already noon
When your message reached me, now
I, too, am in sunlight.
And so I shall shift to a spot
From which I can hit the man
Who is blinded. Now comes
The second volley of arrows.
The sun has now travelled between the two mountains so that both warriors are in sunlight.
THE CURIATIAN:
The sun comes from behind the mountain. The enemy
Has advanced and is now in sunlight. Perhaps
I can hit him now.
THE HORATIAN:
Come out, you robber!
Shoot off your arrow! Oh!
I cannot see! The sun
Blinds me as well.
Second volley of arrows. Both go too high.
THE HORATIAN and THE CURIATIAN each to his own Chorus:
The second volley is over.
We have both failed to hit.
CHORUS OF CURIATIANS to their man:
But you have gained
An advantage.
THE HORATIAN:
Inevitably
The sun travels across the heavens. Irrevocably
Morning becomes midday. Now what shall I do?
If I was blinded when the sun was at high noon
My enemy must also be blinded still.
Then I can advance
As I was advised, and even
Fight with my fists.
He takes a step forward to the left, stops, covering his eyes with his hand. He speaks to his Chorus.
I tried to advance. But now
The sun is already behind the second mountain.
The enemy is in shadow. I
Am wholly in sunlight.
At nightfall I took your advice, forgetting
You gave it at midday.
The sun is now behind the second mountain, so that now the Curiatian with his third arrow can deliver the mortal shot.
THE CURIATIAN:
Victory! My last arrow
Has hit!
In the course of a day my disadvantage
Has become an advantage.
Now that I have the advantage
My better bow prevails.
CHORUS OF CURIATIANS:
Victory! A whole army of our opponents
Is destroyed. Five cohorts of archers
Are now free for the final battle. After a short rest
They shall move to the east
In order to join our other armies.
CHORUS OF HORATIANS:
After its last message, that it did not wish
To engage the enemy again, we have heard nothing
Of our army. We must conclude
That it was destroyed.
It clung to one position
It clung to one weapon
And it clung
To one plan. But inevitably
The sun travelled across the heavens. Irrevocably
Morning became midday and midday became nightfall.
To the Wife of the Horatian:
Woman, no more news
Comes from your husband. But in the city of the enemy
We hear a victory celebration. We conclude
The archer has fallen.
The Wife is dressed in widow’s weeds.
Erase seven brotherhoods from the number of soldiers!
Where they were, they are no more.
The plan, begun with them
Must be carried out by others.
The seven brotherhoods of archers are erased
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The enemy advances into our valleys.
In the track of the army
Travel the overseers.
Those who shed their blood now pay for it.
The fruitful farmland
Now produces no more than a stony waste
For the enemy carries off the corn.
The farmer
Wipes the sweat from his eyes
But he who has the sword
Eats the bread.
2 BATTLE OF THE SPEARMEN
CHORUS OF HORATIANS:
The enemy marches into our mountains.
He travels through ravines
Along a rushing river.
You must stop him, spearman!
THE HORATIAN:
I have seen him press forward. His spear
Is enormous. In open fight
I cannot stop him.
If you agree to it
I shall overpower him
Without running into danger myself. But to do it
I have a long march before me
And I have
But little time.
CHORUS OF HORATIANS:
We are agreed that you should
Spare the army. We have lost
One already.
But stop the enemy!
Seven Conversions of a Spear
By a difficult march over the mountains the Horatian approaches the enemy at a spot where the mountains extend to the edge of the road. As he climbs, he leans on his spear.
THE HORATIAN:
I climb the mountain. The spear
Is my stick. It is my third foot
The foot that never gets hurt
The foot that never grows tired.
One tool has many uses.
He reaches a crevasse in the mountains.
But how shall I go on? Here is a crevasse.
When I was a boy, I hung from an oak limb
And swung over a brook into a garden
Where there were apples. My spear was once
An oak limb.
In this way I shall cross the crevasse.
One tool has many uses.
He lays it over the crevasse and crosses hand over hand
CHORUS OF HORATIANS:
The enemy falls upon our valleys.
Stop the enemy!
FIRST HORATIAN:
But how shall I go on? I have crossed
The crevasse but here is a snowdrift.
How can I tell how deep it is?
My spear shall be my measuring stick.
One tool has many uses.
He measures the depth of the snowdrift.
But how shall I go on? The snowdrift.
Is too deep for me. And the other cliff edge
Is higher than this one.
Again I look at my spear.
I say it shall be my vaulting pole.
One tool has many uses.
He vaults over.
CHORUS OF HORATIANS:
The enemy advances! He drives off
Our herds.
Hasten! Stop the enemy!
THE HORATIAN:
But how can I go on? Here is a ridge.
It is narrower than my foot. All my efforts
Will be in vain if this ridge holds me back.
I shall walk along it. With my spear
I shall keep my balance. Its weight which was often
Too great as I climbed, I now
Make use of and I say
One tool has many uses.
He walks along the ridge, using the spear as a balancing pole.
CHORUS OF HORATIANS:
The enemy approaches
Our minepits.
Stop the enemy!
THE HORATIAN:
I have arrived. I lean
Over the cliff edge. Below me
Runs the road that my enemy shall march over.
I shall crush him beneath rock fragments.
With my spear I can loosen them.
One tool has many uses.
He loosens rock fragments.
My spear is my crowbar.
It holds back the rockpile until my enemy is under it.
With a pressure of my fingers
I shall crush my enemy.
My spear has preserved me.
He prepares a small avalanche.
My enemy is not yet there.
And I am tired from running.
He sits down to wait.
And I lean back, knowing
I dare not sleep. And I am not too exhausted
To act, but I am too exhausted to do nothing.
And I fall asleep.
He sleeps. The Curiatian comes in sight. He marches slowly forward
While the Horatian sleeps, he passes the danger point.
THE HORATIAN:
And I wake up and again
Lean over the cliff edge
And looking down I see
That the enemy has already passed by
The spot where I intended to strike at him.
My hurry that brought me to the goal
Exhausted me. And so
I cannot carry out the plan.
CHORUS OF HORATIANS:
Our spearman has completed a great march
And overcome all obstacles
But exhaustion
Repaid him for all his efforts.
Worse than a lost battle
Is wasted effort.
Arise, spearman
And forget what you have done. Once more
Throw yourself against the enemy
But with less hope.
THE HORATIAN:
I can do no more
I have done my share.
CHORUS OF HORATIANS:
What you have done amounts to nothing.
If you had lain in the grass and counted clouds
Things would have been no worse for us.
You have done much
But you have not stopped the enemy.
THE HORATIAN:
Then was it all wrong?
All that I did?
CHORUS OF HORATIANS:
No. But you have not finished.
Stop the enemy!
You, who devised so much
Think of something new.
You, who expended so much effort
Bestir yourself again.
Stop the enemy!
All that you have accomplished
Will add to your fame if you stop the enemy.
But you shall get no credit
If you do not stop him.
Seven labours amount to nothing
But if you perform the eighth
And stop the enemy
You shall be acclaimed for eight labours.
THE HORATIAN:
I agree.
So I get to my feet once more.
The way I took to get here
I take back.
The fight I thought hopeless
I shall fight.
As the following chorus is recited, the Horatian descends. He moves the rock fragments back. He withdraws his spear, he measures the snowdrift and vaults it, he crosses the crevasse, hand over hand, he climbs down the mountain. A snowstorm overtakes him and in his great hurry he has losses. He loses one little flag in the snowdrift, another on the ridge, another falls into the crevasse.
Now go back the same way!
You have lost time. Lose no more!
You are weakened. Now do twice as much!
Snowfalls and storm
Add to your discouragement.
The man with victory in sight
Overcomes many difficulties, but it is hard
To encounter the old ones afresh
On the way back. Or after a defeat
With redoubled courage to redouble your cleverness
Only to return to the starting point
Of all your efforts.
Each device leads back, each handhold
Only erases a mistake and yet
&n
bsp; Fighting your way back steadily
Is a part
Of the new advance.
THE HORATIAN:
I have succeeded. I have come back
To the starting point. I see only
One chance for me in battle
Since my spear is too short.
The result of my plan is uncertain
To carry it out difficult.
In no other way
Can I stop my foe.
Indeed, for this plan
My spear is too long. Though I cannot
Lengthen it
I can shorten it.
He breaks it in two, throws one half of it away and goes off.
CHORUS OF HORATIANS:
But we erase
Three brotherhoods of archers
Now lying in the snow and crevasses.
And we place our hopes
In the army that has shrunk.
The Ride on the Flood
THE CURIATIAN: I am marching through a river valley. There is a mountain on one side of me and a river on the other. The mountain is insurmountable and the river is impassable since further on there is a mortally dangerous waterfall. And I cannot be attacked from the front because my spear is so long that my enemy cannot reach me.
The Horatian comes down the river on a raft. He is rowing with his spearbutt.
Now I see my enemy on my right hand, coming down the river on a raft. I cannot see that he has any weapons. He is coming down very fast. But I cannot turn my spear around between the rock walls. It is too long. He suddenly raises the raftpole from the water and throws himself upon me.
THE HORATIAN:
And I come travelling down the flood
Toward the great waterfall.
And my spear is my raftpole.
One tool has many uses.
And now, as I reach my enemy
It is a spear again
And I thrust with it.
THE CURIATIAN: And with the full force of the river which he rides like a mighty horse, he thrusts the spearbutt into my body as he glides by. I go down. My opponent is destroyed. The falls must have drowned him. I am badly wounded and lie motionless in the narrow pass. I had forgotten that the river was not impassable but rather passable at the cost of a man’s life and so my position was not unassailable but assailable at the cost of a man’s life. So my enemy has fallen but I am badly wounded.
CHORUS OF CURIATIANS:
What have you lost?
The Curiatian shows how many he has lost as he takes five of his little flags from his shoulderframe and throws them away.
CHORUS OF HORATIANS:
The spearman has fallen.
We erase five brotherhoods from the number of the soldiers.
Where they were, they are no more.
The plan, begun with them
Must be carried out by others.
Five brotherhoods are erased and the Spearman’s Wife is dressed in widow’s weeds.
WIFE OF THE SPEARMAN:
How did he fight?
CHORUS OF HORATIANS:
He stopped the enemy.
He completed two marches
And overcame all obstacles.