Brecht Collected Plays: 6: Good Person of Szechwan; The Resistible Rise of Arturo Ui; Mr Puntila and his Man Matti (World Classics)

by Bertolt Brecht

  PUNTILA: So the only reason you lost your job was that they were scamping on the staff’s food. I shan’t hold it against you if you like eating well, so long as you drive my tractor properly and know your place and render unto Puntila the things that are Puntila’s. There’s plenty for all, nobody goes short of wood in a forest, do they? We can all get along together, everyone can get along with Puntila. He sings:

  ‘Dear child, why sue me when you said

  We always felt so close in bed?’

  Ah, how Puntila would love to be chopping down the birch trees with you, and digging the stones out of the fields and driving the tractor. But will they let him? Right at the start they stuck me in a stiff collar, and so far it’s worn down two of my chins. It’s not done for daddy to plough; it’s not done for daddy to goose the maids; it’s not done for daddy to have his coffee with the men. But now I’m doing away with ‘not done’, and I’m driving over to Kurgela to get my daughter hitched to the Attache, and after that I’ll take my meals in my shirtsleeves with nobody to watch over me, because old Klinckmann will shut up, I’ll fuck her and that’ll be an end of it. And I’ll raise wages all round, for the world is a big place and I shan’t give up my forest and there’ll be enough for you all and enough for the master of Puntila Hall too.

  MATTI, after laughing long and loud: Right you are, just you calm down and we’ll wake his honour the judge. Careful though, or he’ll get such a fright he’ll sentence us to a hundred years.

  PUNTILA: I want to be sure there’s no gulf between us any longer. Tell me there’s no gulf.

  MATTI: I take that as an order, Mr Puntila: there’s no gulf.

  PUNTILA: We have to talk about money, brother.

  MATTI: Absolutely.

  PUNTILA: But talking about money is sordid.

  MATTI: Then we won’t talk about money.

  PUNTILA: Wrong. For why shouldn’t we talk about money, I ask you. Aren’t we free individuals?

  MATTI: No.

  PUNTILA: There you are. And as free individuals we’re free to do what we want, and what we want at the moment is to be sordid. Because what we got to do is drum up a dowry for my only child; and that’s a problem to be looked at without flinching – cool, calm, and drunk. I see two choices: sell my forest or sell myself. Which would you say?

  MATTI: I’d never dream of selling myself if I could sell a forest.

  PUNTILA: What, sell that forest? You’re a profound disappointment to me, brother. Don’t you know what a forest is? Is a forest simply ten thousand cords of wood? Or is it a verdant delight for all mankind? And here you are, proposing to sell a verdant delight for all mankind. Shame on you.

  MATTI: Then do the other thing.

  PUNTILA: Et tu, Brute? Do you really want me to sell myself?

  MATTI: What kind of selling have you in mind?

  PUNTILA: Mrs Klinckmann.

  MATTI: Out at Kurgela, where we’re going? The Attache’s aunty?

  PUNTILA: She fancies me.

  MATTI: So you’re thinking of selling your body to her? That’s hair-raising.

  PUNTILA: Not a bit. But what price freedom, brother? I think I’d better sacrifice myself all the same. After all, what do I amount to?

  MATTI: Too right.

  The Judge wakes up, gropes for a non-existent bell and rings it.

  THE JUDGE: Silence in court!

  PUNTILA: He’s asleep, so he thinks he must be in court.

  Brother, you’ve just settled the problem which is the more valuable, a forest like my forest or a human being like myself. You’re a wonderful fellow. Here, take my wallet and pay for the drinks, and put it in your pocket, I’d only lose it. Indicating the Judge: Pick him up, get him out of here. I’m always losing things. I wish I had nothing, that’s what I’d like best. Money stinks, remember. That’s my ideal, to have nothing, just you and me hiking across Finland on foot or maybe in a little two-seater, nobody would grudge us the drop of petrol we’d need, and every so often when we felt tired we’d turn into a pub like this one and have one for the road, that’s something you could do blindfold, brother.

  They leave, Matti carrying the Judge.

  2

  Eva

  Entrance hall of the Kurgela manor house. Eva Puntila is waiting for her father and eating chocolates. Eino Silakka, the Attache, appears at the head of the stairs. He is very sleepy.

  EVA: No wonder Mrs Klinckmann got fed up waiting.

  THE ATTACHÉ: My aunt is never fed up for long. I have telephoned again for news of them. A car passed through Kirchendorf with two rowdy men in it.

  EVA: That’ll be them. One good thing, I can always pick out my father anywhere. Whenever there’s been someone chasing a farmhand with a pitchfork or giving a cottager’s widow a Cadillac it’s got to be father.

  THE ATTACHÉ: Enfin, he’s not at Puntila Hall. I just don’t like scandal. I may not have much head for figures or how many gallons of milk we export to Lithuania – I don’t drink the stuff myself – but I am exceedingly sensitive to any breath of scandal. When the First Secretary at the French embassy in London leant across the table after his eighth cognac and called the Duchess of Catrumple an old whore I instantly foresaw a scandal. And I was proved right. I think that’s them arriving now. I’m a little tired, dear. Would you excuse me if I went up to my room? Exit rapidly.

  Great commotion. Enter Puntila, Judge and Matti.

  PUNTILA: Here we are. But don’t you bother about us, no need to wake anyone, we’ll just have a quiet bottle together and go to bed. Happy?

  EVA: We expected you three days ago.

  PUNTILA: Got held up, but we’ve brought everything with us. Matti, unload the bag. I hope you kept it on your knee the whole time so nothing got broken, or we’ll thirst to death in this place. We knew you’d be waiting, so we didn’t dawdle.

  THE JUDGE: May I offer my congratulations, Eva?

  EVA: Daddy, it’s too bad of you. Here I am, been sitting around for a week now in a strange house with nothing but an old book and the Attache and his aunt, and I’m bored to tears.

  PUNTILA: We didn’t dawdle. I kept pressing on, saying we mustn’t sit on our bottoms, the Attache and I still have one or two points to settle about the engagement, and I was glad you were with the Attache so you had company while we got held up. Look out for that suitcase, Matti, we don’t want accidents. With infinite care he helps Matti to set down the case.

  THE JUDGE: I hope the way you grumble about being left alone with the Attache doesn’t mean you’ve been quarrelling with him.

  EVA: Oh, I don’t know. He’s not the sort of person you can quarrel with.

  THE JUDGE: Puntila, your daughter doesn’t strike me as being all that enthusiastic. Here she is, saying the Attache’s not a man you can quarrel with. I tried a divorce case once where the wife complained that her husband never belted her when she threw the lamp at him. She felt neglected.

  PUNTILA: There we are. Another successful operation. Anything Puntila puts his hand to is a success. Not happy, eh? If you ask me I’d say dump the Attache. He’s not a man.

  EVA, as Matti is standing there grinning: I merely said I wasn’t certain if the Attache was all that amusing on his own.

  PUNTILA: Just what I was saying. Take Matti. Any woman’d find him amusing.

  EVA: You’re impossible, Daddy. All I said was that I wasn’t certain. To Matti: Take that suitcase upstairs.

  PUNTILA: Just a minute. Not till you’ve unpacked a bottle or two. You and me have got to get together over a bottle and discuss if the Attache suits me. At least he’ll have had time to propose to you by now.

  EVA: No, he has not proposed, we didn’t talk about that kind of thing. To Matti: That case stays shut.

  PUNTILA: Good God, not proposed! After three days? What on earth were the pair of you up to? That doesn’t say much for the fellow. I get engaged in three minutes flat. Wake him up and I’ll fetch the cook and show him how to get engaged in two shakes of a lamb’s tail. Fish ou
t those bottles, the Burgundy; no, let’s have the liqueur.

  EVA: No, no more drinking for you. To Matti: Take it to my bedroom, second door on the right.

  PUNTILA, in alarm, as Matti picks up the case: Really, Eva, that’s not very nice of you. You can’t deny your father his right to a thirst. I swear all I want to do is empty a bottle peacefully with the cook or the parlourmaid and Fredrik here too, he’s still thirsty, have a heart.

  EVA: That’s why I stayed up: to stop you waking the domestic staff.

  PUNTILA: I bet old Klinckmann would be happy to sit up with me a bit – come to think of it, where is she? – Freddie’s tired anyway, he can go to bed and I’ll talk things over with old Ma Klinckmann, that’s something I meant to do anyway, we’ve always fancied each other.

  EVA: I wish you’d try to pull yourself together. Mrs Klinckmann’s angry enough already at your getting here three days late; I don’t suppose you’ll see her tomorrow at all.

  PUNTILA: I’ll give her a knock on her door and straighten matters out. I know how to handle her; you don’t understand that sort of thing yet, Eva.

  EVA: What I do understand is that no woman is going to want to sit with you in that condition. To Matti: You’re to take that case upstairs. Those three days were the end.

  PUNTILA: Eva, do be reasonable. If you don’t want me to go up to her room, then get hold of that little buxom thing, housekeeper isn’t she? and I’ll have a talk with her.

  EVA: Don’t push things too far, Daddy, unless you want me to carry the case upstairs myself and accidentally drop it. Puntila stands there appalled. Matti carries the suitcase off. Eva follows him.

  PUNTILA, quietly: So that’s how children treat their fathers. Shaken, he turns to walk off. Come along, Freddie.

  THE JUDGE: What are you up to, Jack?

  PUNTILA: I’m clearing out, I don’t like it here. Here am I, hurrying all I’m worth and arriving late at night, and what kind of a loving welcome do I get? Remember the Prodigal Son, Freddie, but what if there’d been no fatted calf, just cold reproaches? I’m clearing out.

  THE JUDGE: Where to?

  PUNTILA: It beats me how you can ask that. Didn’t you see my own daughter deny me a drink? Forcing me out into the night to see who will let me have a bottle or two?

  THE JUDGE: Be sensible, Puntila, you won’t get alcohol anywhere at half past two in the morning. Serving or selling liquor without a licence is not legal.

  PUNTILA: So you’re deserting me too? So I can’t get legal liquor? I’ll show you how I can get legal liquor, day or night.

  EVA, reappearing at the top of the stairs: Take that coat off at once, Daddy.

  PUNTILA: Shut up, Eva, and honour thy father and thy mother that thy days may be long upon the land. A nice house this, I don’t think, where they hang up the visitor’s guts to dry like underwear. And not getting a woman! I’ll show you if I get a woman or not! You tell old Klinckmann I can do without her. I say she’s the foolish virgin who’s got no oil in her lamp. And now I shall drive off so that the earth resoundeth and all the curves straighten out in terror. Exit.

  EVA, coming downstairs: Stop your master, do you hear?

  MATTI, appearing behind her: Too late. He’s too nippy for me.

  THE JUDGE: I don’t think I shall wait up for him. I’m not as young as I was, Eva. I don’t suppose he’ll come to any harm. He has the devil’s own luck. Where’s my room? He goes upstairs.

  EVA: Third door at the top. To Matti: Now we’ll have to sit up in case he starts drinking with the servants and getting familiar with them.

  MATTI: That kind of intimacy’s always disagreeable. I once worked in a paper mill where the porter gave notice because the director asked him how his son was getting on.

  EVA: They all take advantage of my father because of this weakness of his. He’s too good.

  MATTI: Yes, it’s just as well for everyone that he goes on the booze now and again. Then he turns into a good fellow and sees pink rats and wants to stroke them what with being so good.

  EVA: I won’t have you speaking about your master like that. And I would prefer you not to take the sort of thing he says about the Attache literally. I would be sorry if you went around repeating what he said in jest.

  MATTI: That the Attache’s not a man? What makes a man is a subject about which opinions differ. I used to work for a brewer’s wife had a daughter wanted me to come to the bath hut and bring her a dressing-gown because she was so modest. ‘Bring my dressing-gown,’ she’d say as she stood there stark bollock naked. ‘The men keep looking at me as I’m getting into my bath.’

  EVA: I don’t understand what you are implying.

  MATTI: I’m not implying anything. I’m just chatting to help pass the time and keep you amused. When I talk to the gentry I imply nothing and have absolutely no opinions, as those are something they can’t abide in servants.

  EVA, after a short pause: The Attache is very well thought of in the diplomatic service and set to have an outstanding career; I’d like everyone to be aware of that. He is one of the most promising of its younger members.

  MATTI: I see.

  EVA: What I was trying to say, when you were standing there just now, was that I didn’t find him quite as amusing as my father expected. Naturally what counts isn’t whether a man is amusing or not.

  MATTI: I knew a gentleman wasn’t at all amusing, but it didn’t stop him making a million in margarine and fats.

  EVA: My engagement was arranged a long time ago. We knew each other as children. It’s just that I’m a rather vivacious sort of person and get easily bored.

  MATTI: So you’re not certain.

  EVA: That’s not what I said. Look, I don’t see why you won’t grasp what I am trying to say. Why don’t you go to bed?

  MATTI: I’m keeping you company.

  EVA: There’s no need for you to do that. I just wanted to point out that the Attache is an intelligent and kind-hearted person who ought not to be judged by appearances or by what he says or what he does. He is extremely attentive and anticipates my every wish. He would never perform a vulgar action or become familiar or try to parade his masculinity. I have the highest regard for him. Are you feeling sleepy?

  MATTI: Just go on talking. I’m only shutting my eyes so’s to concentrate better.

  3

  Puntila proposes to the early risers

  Early morning in the village. Small wooden houses. One of them is marked ‘Post Office’, another ‘Veterinary Surgeon’, a third ‘Chemist’. In the middle of the square stands a telegraph pole. Puntila, having run his Studebaker into the pole, is cursing it.

  PUNTILA: What’s happened to the Finnish highway system? Get out of my way, you rat-shit pole, who are you to block Puntila’s access? Own a forest, got any cows? There, what did I tell you? Back! If I ring the police and have them arrest you as a Red I suppose you’ll say sorry, but it wasn’t you. He gets out. So you’ve backed down, and about time too. He goes to one of the houses and raps on the window. Sly-Grog Emma looks out.

  PUNTILA: Good morrow, your ladyship. I trust your ladyship slept well? I have a trivial request to put to your ladyship. I am Puntila who farms the manor at Lammi, and I am severely perturbed because I must somehow obtain legal alcohol for my seventy fever-ridden cows. Where does the veterinary surgeon of your village deign to reside? I shall feel myself regretfully compelled to smash up your dirty little hovel if you don’t show me the way to the vet’s.

  SLY-GROG EMMA: Heavens, what a state you’re in. There’s our vet’s house, right there. But did I hear you say you want alcohol, sir? I have alcohol, good and strong, all my own make.

  PUNTILA: Get thee behind me, thou Jezebel! How dare you offer me your illegal liquor? I drink legitimate only, anything else would choke me. Sooner die than fail to respect our law and order, I would. Because everything I do is according to the law. If I want to clobber a man to death I do it within the law or not at all.

  SLY-GROG EMMA: Then I hope your lega
l alcohol makes you sick, sir. She disappears inside her house. Puntila goes over to the vet’s house and rings the bell. The vet looks out.

  PUNTILA: Vet, vet, found you at last. I am Puntila who farms the manor at Lammi, and I’ve got ninety cows and all ninety have scarlet fever. So I need legal alcohol right away.

  THE VET: I fancy you’ve come to the wrong address; you’d better be on your way, my man.

  PUNTILA: Vet, vet, don’t disappoint me. You’re no true vet or you’d know what they give Puntila throughout the province every time his cows have the scarlet fever. Because I’m not lying to you. If I said they’d got glanders that’d be a lie, but when I tell you they’ve got scarlet fever that’s a delicate hint from one gentleman to another.

  THE VET: What happens if I fail to take your hint?

  PUNTILA: Then I might tell you that Puntila is the biggest bruiser in the whole of Tavastland province. There’s even a folk song about him. He’s got three vets on his conscience already. You see what I mean, doctor?

  THE VET, laughing: Yes, I see all right. If only I could be sure it was scarlet fever …