Kaspar and Other Plays

by Peter Handke

  L

  The prompters remain silent.

  LI

  It becomes bright. Kaspar is standing in the center of the stage, between the table and the closet. With one hand he is forcibly opening the other hand, which is a fist, finger by finger. The fist resists more and more tenaciously. Finally he wrenches open the hand. It is empty. The stage darkens.

  LII

  It quickly becomes bright. Another Kaspar is sitting on the sofa. Kaspar sees the other Kaspar. The stage darkens.

  LIII

  It becomes bright even more quickly. Kaspar is again alone on the stage, standing in front of the closet, his face to the audience. The stage darkens.

  LIV

  It becomes bright more quickly still. Kaspar looks down at himself. The stage darkens.

  LV

  Kaspar tries to catch himself. First he runs in a wide circle across the stage, then in smaller circles, spiraling in on himself until he turns on the same spot. He reaches for himself but, because he is standing on one spot, only seizes himself with his own arms … whereupon he becomes still and the stage darkens.

  LVI

  It becomes bright more quickly still. Kaspar is standing in front of the closet, his back to the audience. It darkens.

  LVII

  It becomes bright. Kaspar is in the process of closing the closet doors. He presses on them for some time. He steps back. The doors stay shut. The stage darkens.

  LVIII

  It becomes bright. It is very bright. Kaspar leans back against the closet. The stage looks harmonious. A chord. A spotlight is trained on Kaspar. He assumes various poses. He continues to alter the position of his arms and legs. Say, his arms are akimbo, he shoves one leg forward, lets his arms drop, crosses his legs, puts his hands in his pockets, first in his pants pockets, then in his jacket pockets, stands there with his legs apart, finally crosses his hands over his stomach, puts his feet close together, finally his arms are akimbo again. His legs are still close together. He begins to speak:

  I am healthy and strong. I am honest and frugal. I am conscientious. I am industrious, reticent and modest. I am always friendly. I make no great demands. My ways are winning and natural. Everyone likes me. I can deal with everything. I am here for everyone. My love of order and cleanliness has never given reason for complaint. My knowledge is above average. Everything I am asked to do, I do perfectly. Anyone can provide the desired information about me. I am peace-loving and have an untarnished record. I am not one of those who start a big hue and cry over every little thing. I am calm, dutiful, and receptive. I can become enthusiastic about every worthy cause. I would like to get ahead. I would like to learn. I would like to be useful. I have a concept of length, height, and breadth. I know what matters. I treat objects with feeling. I have already become used to everything. I am better. I am well. I am ready to die. My head feels light. I can finally be left alone. I would like to put my best foot forward. I don’t accuse anyone. I laugh a lot. I can make head and tails of everything. I have no unusual characteristics. I don’t show my upper gums when I laugh. I have no scar under the right eye and no birthmark under the left ear. I am no public menace. I would like to be a member. I would like to cooperate. I am proud of what has been achieved so far. I am taken care of for the moment. I am prepared to be interrogated. A new part of my life lies ahead of me. That is my right hand, that is my left hand. If worst comes to worst, I can hide under the furniture. It was always my wish to be with it.

  He pulls away from the closet, takes two or three steps, the closet stays shut:

  At one time I may have felt as though I didn’t even exist; now I feel as though I exist too much, and the objects, of which there were too many at one time, now have become almost too few for me.

  In the meantime he has walked farther forward. The closet stays shut:

  Once plagued by sentences

  I now can’t have enough of sentences.

  Once haunted by words

  I now play with every single letter.

  He remains standing in the same spot:

  At one time I only spoke when asked,

  now I speak of my own accord, but now

  I can wait to speak until I am asked.

  He takes one or two steps more:

  Earlier on, each rational sentence was a burden to me

  and I detested each rational order

  but from now on

  I will be rational.

  He either does or does not take a step:

  Earlier, I threw down one chair, then a second, and then a third:

  now, with the introduction of order, my habits are changing.

  He takes roughly one step:

  I am quiet

  now I do not want

  to be someone else any more

  nothing incites me

  against myself any more.

  Every object

  has become

  accessible

  to me

  and I

  am receptive

  to each object.

  Now I know what I want:

  I want

  to be

  quiet

  and every object

  that I find sinister

  I designate as mine

  so that it stops

  being sinister to me.

  He walks off to the side of the stage but returns after several steps, as though he still had something more to say. He says nothing. He leaves again, taking more steps than the last time, but again steps halfway back onto the stage, as though he had something left to say. He says nothing. He almost leaves, but takes one or two steps back, again as though he had something left to say. He says nothing. Then he departs rapidly. On the now uninhabited stage the closet doors gradually open. When the wide-open closet doors have come to a complete rest, the stage darkens at a stroke, at the same time the auditorium becomes bright. It is intermission. The auditorium doors are opened.

  LIX

  After a few moments the INTERMISSION TEXT is piped through loudspeakers into the auditorium, into the lobbies, and even out onto the street if that is possible. At first these texts are quite low and barely audible. The texts consist of tapes of the prompters’ speeches, sheer noise, actual taped speeches by party leaders, popes, public speakers of every kind, presidents and prime ministers, perhaps even statements by writers and poets speaking at official functions. The sentences should never be complete, but should be complemented and superseded by other mangled sentences. Although the audience should not be kept from entering into well-deserved conversation, its relaxed mood ought to be disturbed now and then by the intermission texts. Some members of the audience might even be able to listen with one ear while devoting themselves to their drinks. The text might be as follows: (Noises, such as the clinking of glasses.) free of all worries of the present, we will have the last word. The surplus is lower than the criterion which has been anticipated. (Louder clinking of glasses.) What once was not an incalculable demand now becomes much too unexpected for many, and much too early. We need more courage if we can’t be saved. A new mass flight south is more important than a murder that never occurred. It is often unjustly forgotten how healthy it is to be a Marine. We want to work to the last man. Don’t think of what your country can do for you but climb up the wall. (The sound of a large truck approaching, then disappearing.) Criticism helps all real progress no matter the deposits in the glands. Animal herds should beware of the clear mountain air. The results exist to be burned without compunction. Without a certain number of dead each week, it neither goes upward nor downward. Hunger helps no one and doesn’t teach anyone manners. (Meanwhile, the blades of a large rotary saw have begun to clatter. This sound becomes increasingly louder.) In recent times the voices have increased that have great difficulty playing with themselves. The sides of the scale of justice lower themselves toward each other at the end although everyone is prepared to make sacrifices. With respect to the rat plague we must reach a mutually satisfacto
ry result. Everyone should finally open his ears and listen to the truth when the brand name is announced. What now matters most is to objectively examine the whole realm of concepts associated with each demand. No one can depend on the fact that dooms the situation. (The saw blades penetrate wood with a screech; however, the noise soon turns into that of a gentle waterfall.) Nothing that comes from the outside is a distorted picture simply for that and no other simple reason. The human element appears quite ineradicable. We always exist under the condition that we refuse to let irresponsible circles rob us of the view of the public nuisance which is the world. Every declaration of war is designed for each case of patience which has been exhausted. Convincing someone in the nicest possible manner does not have to end with a blow of the water level on the head. Everyone is called upon to the extent of calling the thing by its well-deserved name. The police always has a time of it because it must justify itself. None of us is entirely innocent of the time of day. (Whistling, booing, stomping, the sound of waves.) A skeptical stock market gets off best. At least we don’t want the employees to have to pay extra even though many things speak for breaking it off. Impudence itself is no silver star. Of course the refugees have to be helped but running away with bare feet is not one of our problems. We know how to handle the glasses more and more. Uniformed persons know the difficulties when it suddenly becomes dark. The robes of the judges are breathtaking when all that is at stake is the shabby whole. We all want to move with profound seriousness which is what matters. (A swelling football cheer which breaks off with a profound sigh, then a resurgence of it which turns into regularly increasing and decreasing cheers.) Griping is easier than finding oneself a well-deserved apartment. We’ll inflict injuries on the head and chest of anyone who is of the same opinion as we are. The right of hospitality not only cannot be superseded as a concept but one must point to it if necessary with a brain stroke. A screwdriver in the windpipe is appropriate remuneration for someone who never did anything but someone else’s duty. Anyone who considers himself someone loses his nerve when angling. We’ll accept anyone into the bargain who shakes the foundations. (A sharply braking car; simultaneously, a jet of water from a firehose.) The transformation of society into any number of possible mass demonstrations corresponds to a pacifier for a blind man. The war in the sandbox has cost many a live corpse. Anyone who thinks the way he acts only strengthens the neck of the one who thinks differently. No one deserves a fate that makes him level with the ground. Life used to be more worthwhile at one time but now it is no brushfire any more. (Long-drawn-out factory siren or foghorn.) What was said of the property owners matters even less with respect to the flesh wounds. Anyone who kills in blind fury fools himself to an extent that is questionable in the least. Anyone who protests against the delivery of goods must also protest against revisionist thinking. We value the strength of a freely reached decision more than sharks chasing swimmers. Self-assurance contributes a great deal toward continuing useful conversations. Too little has been said so far about the minorities who proudly crawl off into their corners. (The scraping of chairs on a stone floor.) What was once forbidden has now been outlawed. Every outward order enables a peaceful and measured exchange of ideas. We regard the either/or as the mark of a free man. We all have to make an effort to be understanding when a dead man assumes the color of grass. A murder does not necessarily have to be equated with a nose dive. A third-degree burn clogs every gasoline line. (Sounds of horses’ hoofs, together with the sound of seats being turned up, street noises, doors being slammed shut, typewriter noises.) No one is beaten until he is ripe for retirement without good reason. The right to own estates requires no elaborate justification. A loosening-up exercise corresponds to the length of a nightstick between two legs. Whereas every suicide used to be left-handed, the regulation has now become uniform. No lull in the fighting permits time to count the sleeping flies on the ceiling of the cowshed. A single person perched on the church steeple can be equated with an incitement to riot. If one confronts a violent person by oneself, one is oneself a violent person, whereas when one confronts a violent person in the company of six or four men, thereupon the former becomes gentle of his own accord and is gentle. (Even before this last sentence, the sounds have changed and become distorted musical noises, as if a record is being played at inordinately slow speed; a monotonous, rhythmic music should be utilized for this purpose. In between a faucet is gradually turned on to full strength, then the stopper in a bathtub is pulled out; in addition there may be heavy breathing noises, then the sound of whiplashes, sudden bursts of laughter as after a joke, women’s laughter as if at a cocktail party. While all this is going on, the audience should be able to hear, although not quite comprehending, the spoken text. Then follows a short moment of quiet, then noise once again and the reading of texts, then a longer moment of quiet, then something like the following text by itself.) A beautifully laid table. Everything in the best order. You’re in no great hurry. You help your companion take off the coat. The colorful tablecloth delights everyone. The knife lies on the right. The napkin on the left. The plate stands in the middle. The cup stands at the right and to the back. The knife lies in front of the cup. The towel hangs to the right of the knife. Your finger rests on the towel. To the right of the towel is the first-aid kit. The plates are handed from the left. The soup is handed from the right. The drinks are handed from the right. Everything that you serve yourself is handed from the left. The stab comes from the right. You are sitting in the middle. The salt shaker stands on the left. The spoon is lying on the outside to the right of the knife. The spoon lies bottom up. The grip that chokes comes from both sides. Your hand is lying on the table. The edge of the knife is facing left. As seen from your seat, the heart of the person opposite you is on the right. The glass stands to the right of the plate. You drink in small sips. The blow is more effective when it comes from below. The bouquet of flowers is in the center of the table. The fork lies to the left of the plate. You can’t give white flowers to the dying. You sit upright on principle. The older one is on the right. The bouquet does not block your view of the person opposite you. The cooky plate is in the middle of each setting. The coal pile is under the table. You are not resting your head on your arms. You always look for friendly words. The victim of an assassination lies in the middle of each setting. The candelabra stand in the center of the table. A spot on a shirt is an everyday occurrence. It is not unusual for the knife to slip on the plate. Your neighbor’s hand is resting on the knife. You do not swallow the wrong way. You converse to your left and to your right. (Again the inordinately slow music has come on with a crash that is not recognizable as music at first. Houses crumble, bombs crash, but at a great distance; the text is gradually made unintelligible by the noises and finally is entirely suppressed; in between the audience begins to hear the buzzer as well as taped chimes; rattling, gongs, factory sirens as well as the theater buzzer that calls the audience back to the auditorium.)

  LX

  While the lights in the auditorium are slowly dimmed in a theatrical manner, the open stage is only moderately lighted. The objects are in exactly the same position as before the intermission. The closet is open. Two Kaspars are sitting on the sofa, close together. They are silent. The masks now evince an expression of contentment. After a few moments of silence, the prompters begin to recite all over the room:

  LXI

  While giving a beating

  one is

  never as calm as while beating a rug.

  Water dripping regularly

  down on one’s head

  is no reason

  to complain about a lack of order

  a sip of acid in one’s mouth

  or a kick in the guts

  or two sticks

  in the nostrils being wriggled

  about

  or something on that order

  only more pointed

  introduced

  into the ears

  without much ado
<
br />   to needle someone

  and bring him around

  with all means

  at one’s command

  primarily

  without being fussy about the

  means

  is no reason

  to loose any words over the lack of order:

  for

  in the process

  of putting-into-order

  for better or worse

  one makes others sing

  whereas one—

  once everything has been brought

  to order

  and everything that still laughed

  is laughable—

  can sing oneself

  and after giving a beating

  when fists and feet have nothing

  left to

  do

  can beat the rug to ease one’s

  mind.

  A third Kaspar with a small package wrapped in wrapping paper comes out of the wings and sits down next to the other two Kaspars, sits down in an orderly fashion, the package on his knees.

  In the process of putting-into-order

  one is not as calm

  and orderly

  as later on

  when one—

  having been brought into order

  oneself

  by the thrashing one has given to

  others—

  with one’s conscience at ease

  wants to

  and can

  enjoy

  a world made orderly.

  A fourth Kaspar comes on stage with a similar package. Kaspar 3 makes room for him between himself and the other two Kaspars. Kaspar 4 sits down quietly. All four Kaspars are still.