Berliner Ensemble Adaptations

by Bertolt Brecht

  Mrs. von Berg Avez-vous déjà fait votre tour de France?

  Hasty Non, madame … Oui, madame …

  Mrs. von Berg Vous devez donc savoir, qu’en France on ne baise pas les mains, mon cher …

  Maid (enters) Count Vermouth.

  Mrs. von Berg One of my daughter’s suitors …

  (Count Vermouth enters. After a few silent bows he sits down on the sofa)

  Count Vermouth Has your ladyship seen the new dancing master who just arrived from Dresden? A marchese from Florence, by the name of … In all my travels I have only seen two who might have been compared to him.

  Mrs. von Berg Only two? You do arouse my curiosity. I know what exquisite taste Count Vermouth has.

  Hasty Pintinello …, isn’t it? I saw him dance at the theater in Leipzig. With no great distinction …

  Count Vermouth He dances—on ne peut pas mieux.—As I was saying, your ladyship, in Petersburg I saw Beluzzi, who may have been better. But this one has a nimbleness in his feet, there’s something so free, so divinely negligent about his stance, his arms, his turns—

  Hasty Last time he appeared at Koch’s Theater, they booed him.

  Mrs. von Berg Be advised, my friend, that domestics do not intervene in conversations between persons of quality. Go to your room. Who asked your opinion?

  (Hasty goes toward the door)

  Count Vermouth The new tutor, I presume?

  Mrs. von Berg Fresh from the university.—Off with you! Don’t you hear you’re being talked about? All the less reason to stand there listening.

  (Hasty goes out. Mrs. von Berg and Count Vermouth take their chocolate)

  Mrs. von Berg It’s intolerable that one can no longer get the right kind of person for one’s money. Think of it. Five hundred ducats a year! Isn’t it dreadful?

  Count Vermouth As I was saying, this Pintinello dances like a god. My passion for the dance has cost me some thirty thousand ducats, but I’d gladly pay twice as much if … (He sighs) How is Mademoiselle Gussie?

  Mrs. von Berg So, so, la la. She’s been looking a bit pale these last few days.

  4

  At the skating rink.

  Miss Cotton, Miss Gosling, and Miss Miller, skating. To one side Hasty is giving Leopold a skating lesson.

  Miss Miller I love listening to Pastor Detzer. Those passages in his sermons.

  Miss Cotton About sinning in secret!

  Miss Miller He’s a thunderer, but only by allusion. (Imitating him) “You think no one sees it, no one is present, it can never come to light. But I say unto you, the devil lies in wait for those that eat of the fruit in secret.”

  Miss Gosling There’s the new one. He’s doing figure eights!

  (Hasty skates past)

  Miss Miller You mean him? He’s the new tutor at Major Berg’s. Don’t stare!

  Miss Cotton He’s wondering whether to greet us.

  Miss Gosling He’s a fine, upstanding fellow.

  Miss Miller So they say.

  Miss Cotton Who says? Don’t be oracular, Miller.

  Miss Miller All right, go over to him, let him greet you. I say no more.

  Miss Gosling Shall we skate past him or …

  Miss Cotton I’m for it. (They skate past Hasty)

  Miss Gosling (nose in the air) Methinks there’s a whiff of snow in the air.

  Miss Cotton (bursts out laughing) Why not ask your tutor when it’s going to thaw?

  Miss Miller That’s enough now. Don’t be childish. I don’t want him to join us. Before long he’ll be as notorious as a yellow dog.

  Miss Cotton How so?

  Miss Miller Last Sunday he tried to make up to that Beck girl. But she didn’t let him, and she’s not choosy, far from it, the hussy! (They whisper together)

  Miss Gosling But what is he to do if no decent girl will go near him?

  Miss Cotton If one of us were seen with him, everyone would know it wasn’t just for fun.

  Miss Miller When you go with Hans next door, no one says a word. He may be a whoremaster, but he’s not a stranger. But a stranger—why on earth would you want to go with him? Just drinking a cup of chocolate with somebody like that would ruin your reputation in Insterburg for the rest of your life.

  Miss Cotton Here he comes.

  (Hasty, without Leopold, has followed them and now doffs his hat. They stand stiffly without acknowledging his salutation)

  Miss Miller There. Now he knows where he stands.

  Miss Cotton ’Tis a pity. There aren’t many like him in these parts.

  (Hasty has angrily skated back to Leopold who pulls him to the ground by his clumsiness. The young ladies laugh)

  5

  Hasty’s room.

  Hasty, writing “agricola” on the blackboard. Leopold at his desk.

  Leopold (reads, with incorrect stress) —cola.

  Hasty (loathingly correcting the stress) Agricola. (The major walks in)

  The Major (reads, with wrong stress) Agricola. That’s fine, that’s the way I like it. Busy, busy—and if the rascal doesn’t get it, Mr. Hasty, just hit him on the head with the book till he forgets how to get up. Look at him now—making faces again. So touchy when your father speaks to you. I’ll make a man of you yet, if I have to whip you till your guts split open, you little sneak! And you, sir, keep after him. I demand it. This essay about the Hero-King that I’ve been reading is rather sloppy, I should say. The list of his enemies is incomplete. He defied not only the Saxons, the Austrians, the French, and the Russians, he also addressed the British in no uncertain terms. If you leave them out, it’s not clear that he was on the brink of disaster—and then the glory doesn’t come through.

  Hasty I beg your pardon, major. I am at fault. I didn’t paint the picture black enough.

  Major Are you pulling my leg? Or shielding this little sneak?

  —Let’s see if he knows his Cornelio. Back straight, boy! Chin up! (He straightens him) Egad, get your head out of your shoulders or I’ll break every bone in your body.

  Hasty Beg your pardon, major, but he hardly knows any Latin.

  Major What? Has the little rascal forgotten it all? The last tutor told me his Latin was perfect, perfect … I’ll beat the stuffing out of you (boxes him on the ear)—and now you’re doubled up again like a question mark. He simply never listens—go away, out of my sight, leave the room! I’ll teach you to shake a leg. Out, I say! (He stamps his foot, Leopold goes out. The major sits down on Leopold’s chair. To Hasty) Sit down, Mr. Hasty. I wanted a word with you, that’s why I sent the boy away. Sit down, all the way! Egad, you’ll break the chair if you keep teetering on the edge … A chair is for sitting on. Don’t you even know that after all your travels?—Now, listen. I regard you as a clean-cut, decent young man, Godfearing and obedient. Otherwise I wouldn’t do what I’m doing for you. I promised you a hundred and forty ducats, did I not?

  Hasty A hundred and fifty, major.

  Major A hundred and forty.

  Hasty But with your gracious permission, major, her ladyship promised me a hundred and fifty ducats.

  Major Pshaw! What do women know? A hundred and forty ducats, that would come to three—let’s see now—three times a hundred and forty, how much is that?

  Hasty Four hundred and twenty.

  Major Are you sure? Really, as much as that? Very well, to round it out, I’m setting your salary at four hundred Prussian thalers. Egad, that’s more than I get from my land. Four hundred thalers.

  Hasty But a hundred and fifty ducats equal exactly four hundred and fifty thalers, and those were the terms I agreed to.

  Major Four hundred thalers, monsieur. In good conscience you really can’t ask for more. Your predecessor was as happy as a lark with two hundred and fifty. And, upon my soul, he was a learned man. You have a long way to go before you can hold a candle to him. I’m only doing this out of friendship for your father, and for your own sake too, of course, if you work hard.—Now, listen: I have a daughter. She knows her Christianity inside ou
t, but you see she’s coming up for communion soon, and you know what our pastors are like, so I want you to do a bit of Christianity with her every morning.

  Hasty Yes, major.

  Major I’m paying you four hundred, and that includes religion for my daughter. An hour every morning; you’ll go to her room.

  Hasty Yes, major.

  Major Properly dressed, if you please; not like the young swine we once had here who insisted on coming to table in his dressing-gown. None of that, eh? Do we understand each other?

  Hasty Major, would it be too bold of me to make a most humble request—in connection with your last proposition and in view of the fact that it’s difficult for me to meet people and make friends in Insterburg and that living in a big city has become almost a habit with me, because city people are not so standoffish toward strangers …

  Major Come to the point!

  Hasty If once every three months, no more, I might be granted the use of a horse to ride to Königsberg for two or three days? …

  Major Hm. That might be considered.

  Hasty (jumps up and makes several bows) Oh, most gracious major—

  Major Anyhow it can’t be until spring. It’s an impossible ride in this winter weather.—Can you draw too?

  Hasty A little, your worship.—May I show you a few things?

  Major (inspecting them) Charming, charming!—Very nice. This one’s quite good. You shall teach my daughter drawing too. My resources don’t allow me to keep a whole battalion of sinfully expensive tutors on my payroll. But see here, Mr. Hasty, for heaven’s sake, don’t be hard on her. The little girl is different from the boy. She’s my only solace. And she’s been rather droopy lately, if you know what I mean. I see the child wasting away, losing her health, her beauty, and so on, and there’s nothing I can do about it. It breaks my heart.—I’m telling you this because I want you to be gentle with her.

  Act Two

  6

  Halle in Saxony.

  Fritz von Berg, Squint in shirtsleeves, sitting at the table. Buttress lying on the bed, Mrs. Blitz.

  Buttress Three months in Halle and I still haven’t spoken to a girl!

  Fritz After all we have certain ties back home.

  Squint You’ve got a girl there?

  Buttress Hic Rhodus, hic salta! The gentleman from Insterburg seems to be forgetting his physiology. A man doesn’t go to bed with a girl because he loves her, he loves her because he wants to go to bed. You just wait till March!

  Squint You must be getting the glooms without a girl. Why not move in with us, that will cheer you up. What’s the sense in staying with that pastor? That’s no place for you.

  Fritz How much do you pay here?

  Squint We pay—what do we pay, Buttress?

  Buttress Nothing.

  Squint Honest to goodness, brother, I don’t know. Mrs. Blitz writes it all down, the rent, the coffee, the tobacco, whatever we ask for. We pay the bill once a year when our allowance comes.

  Fritz Do you owe her much right now?

  Squint We paid up last week.

  Buttress His allowance is due.

  Squint It will all be yours when it comes. If it ever does, Brother Buttress!

  Fritz You help each other out? That’s very decent of you.

  Squint We go halves. I couldn’t afford it myself. This time they’ve cleaned me out. I had to fork over my whole allowance, didn’t I, Buttress? And my coat that I hocked last July is still at the pawnshop. Heaven knows when I’ll be able to redeem it.

  Fritz How do you manage in the meantime?

  Squint Me?—I’m sick. This morning I received an invitation from Councillor Hamster’s wife, and I went straight to bed.

  Fritz But how can you sit home all the time, in this lovely winter weather?

  Buttress Why not? He reads his favorite philosopher, Immanuel Kant.

  Fritz What does he do about his girl? We mustn’t neglect our physiology.

  Buttress With girls it’s not our coats that count, it’s …

  Squint Our heads, Berg. In my case it doesn’t really matter, because my girl doesn’t know me.

  Fritz You mean it’s all imagination?

  Buttress He dreams about her. And his bed sheet gets it all. What I say is: Tell me the girl you dreamed about and I’ll tell you the girl you didn’t sleep with. But now we’ve invited Insterburg for coffee. Where in blazes is the coffee? (He stamps his foot) Mrs. Blitz! Damn it, Mrs. Blitz, we paid you, didn’t we?

  (Mrs. Blitz comes in with a serving of coffee)

  Buttress Where on earth have you been, ma? Mr. Squint has been waiting for an hour.

  Mrs. Blitz (to Squint) What? You good-for-nothing tramp, you alley-cat! What are you hollering about? I’ll take the coffee away this minute, I’ll—

  Buttress Biscuits.

  Mrs. Blitz There aren’t any. (Referring to Squint) Do you think I have nothing else to do than give that bald-headed lout his biscuits every afternoon?

  Buttress Why him? I need biscuits! You know I never touch coffee without biscuits—what am I paying you for?

  Mrs. Blitz (hands him biscuits out of her apron) Now are you satisfied, you trombone? Mr. Buttress has a voice like a whole regiment. (To Squint) Put your books away, they’re no good anyway. All those beautiful, expensive books and you still don’t know which way is up! Well, is the coffee all right? Is it? Tell me this minute or I’ll tear the last hair out of your bald head.

  Squint (drinks) Incomparable! Really, I never had better in all my life.

  Mrs. Blitz You see, you young rascal. If Ma Blitz didn’t take care of you and give you food and drink you’d starve by the wayside. Just look at him, Mr. von Berg, the way he goes around, without a coat to his name and his dressing-gown looking as if he’d been hanged in it and fallen off the gallows. This is the fourth year he’s failed in philosophy. Why? Because he just can’t get that stuff into his head. I feel sorry for his mother. She’s a widow too. And now all the widows’ and orphans’ pensions have been reduced because of the glorious war. But you seem to be a nice, well-bred gentleman, I don’t see how you can be friends with that lout. Well, I suppose it’s coming from the same district that makes for a kind of family feeling. That’s why I keep saying that Mr. von Berg should move in here. Then we might make something of you. That’s what I say. (Goes out)

  Squint You mightn’t think so, Berg, but she’s really a good soul.

  Fritz What’s this about your failing all the time, Squint?

  Squint I’m studying under Professor Wolffen. He detests Mr. Kant of Königsberg. And Kant is my man.

  Buttress Your Mr. Kant is a muddlehead. Listen to this—(he picks up a book)—“When peace is concluded after a war, it might not be amiss for a nation to let the thanksgiving celebrations be followed by a day of repentance, on which day the people, in the name of the state, would implore heaven’s forgiveness for the great sin which mankind persists in committing—the utilization of the barbaric instrument that is war.”—Imagine teaching stuff like that at a German university.

  Fritz It doesn’t seem so wrong to me.

  Buttress Altogether wrong. Take the title: “Eternal Peace.” If we stopped fighting old Blitz for one day, her coffee would be pure barley. For four years now our friend here has been reeling off Mr. Kant’s absurdities in Wolffen’s classroom. Naturally he flunks. Repeat after me: Mr. Kant is an idiot.

  Fritz Couldn’t you say it just to get your degree?

  Squint (has carved something on the table top with his pocket knife) Here, read what I’ve carved.

  Fritz “No.”

  Squint I’ll say it a fifth time if I have to. And my “No” applies equally to every aspect of German servility. As long as Germans find their only happiness in obeying orders, they will go on serving, preferably as soldiers, and sacrificing themselves to some supreme leader.

  Buttress I call it strength of character. You appall me. Squint, the upright! Squint, the fearless!

  Squint Who is Wol
ffen anyway? He hates Kant’s writing on freedom as the capon hates the cock’s crow.

  Fritz I take it, Mr. Buttress, that you’re not interested in these battles of minds.

  Buttress No. I’m going to be a tutor, I’ll be shut up in some god-forsaken hole. In the meantime I’ve got to get in a lifetime of loving.