QIUNG: But at least he has a warm shawl for his shoulders.
She gives him her new headscarf.
SEN: Don’t stop for every little injustice you see by the wayside, that’s dangerous. The river floods the valley, but the dam must be built in the mountains.
SCRIBE: Perhaps you could come with me after all? But I have to leave right away, I’m expected.
SEN: I can’t do that, I still have some thinking to do.
SCRIBE: I’m off then, to the Tibetan Gate. Farewell. He exits to the rear.
SU: See you tomorrow, Wang! She goes back into the house. Two of the Clothesless come and knock on the swordsmith’s door. The swordsmith beckons them inside.
SWORDSMITH: I can hardly get to my forge with all this bloody culture. And upstairs there’s a terrible draught through the hole in the floor. And here come more of them, no hats on their heads. He disappears quickly.
Four Tuis from the teahouse approach: Wen, Gu, Shi Ka and Mo Si.
GU: Still here, Mr A Sha Sen? Is this the blacksmith’s place, where we can hide the valuables?
QIUNG: The house is full. Besides, how can you walk around like that, with nothing on your heads? Any fool can see you used to have Tui-hats, and now they’re rounding up everyone with a bare head!
WEN: It’s terrible. They’ve closed the teahouse. Wit and wisdom have become homeless beggars.
GU: I have to try. If China loses its art it will degenerate into barbarism. He knocks at the narrow house. He’s not answering. He shows the others a scroll. This is a Pi Jeng. Twelfth century. The hills of the Hoang Ho. Look at the line. Look at that blue. This is what they want to destroy.
QIUNG: Why?
GU: They say, real hills don’t look like this. He shows it to Sen.
SEN: That’s true, hills don’t look like that. Not quite like that. But if they looked like that for everyone, we’d have no need of a painting. When I was a child my grandfather showed me what a sausage looks like. This whatsisname, the painter, shows me what hills look like. Of course, I can’t see it straight away. But I guess, when I next climb a hill, it’ll mean more to me. Perhaps it will be blue, and have such a line as this.
GU: Perhaps it will. But we haven’t got time for long discussions. Get the swordsmith! This Pi Jeng is from the Imperial Museum!
SEN: If only it had been ours from the start! It would have been safer then.
MA GOGH has appeared at the doorway: I’ll hide it for you. Gogher won’t get a hold of it. He’d just tear it up. They should have sewn up my womb.
QIUNG: She’s the Chancellor’s mother, you know.
MA GOGH: There’s no call to be afraid. I’ll disown him. Give me the picture. He thinks he understands everything, and now he’s in charge. It’s a bad time for pictures. He thinks he’s a painter.
SHI KA: The architects are frightened too.
MA GOGH: Yes, my son’s an architect as well.
WEN: We should all have been scientists.
MA GOGH: Possibly not. He’s the biggest scientist of all.
MO SI shows her a globe: Could you hide the globe as well? The fact the earth is round - it might matter one day.
ER FEI tugs at Sen’s arm: Grandfather, a soldier!
THE TUIS: He mustn’t see us, with our bare heads.
MA GOGH: Give the globe here. She disappears into the house with the globe and the picture.
The Tuis run away, with the exception of Mo Si, who has got held up.
SECOND BODYGUARD looking for something: And what is this my tired eyes espy? A Tui. Now where have you left your hat? No no, there’s no need to be frightened this time. Come here. Clear off, Qiung, you scumbag. Referring to Sen: You have some quaint guests here in the laundry.
SEN: I’m a peaceful peasant. Just sitting here doing some thinking. That takes time for me, you know.
QIUNG: Don’t you dare go inside. Mother Gogh will smash you over the head with a frying pan. She sets her new hat at a jaunty angle and goes inside.
SECOND BODYGUARD confidentially to Mo Si: So what’s your name?
MO SI: I’m Mo Si, the king of excuse-makers.
SECOND BODYGUARD: That’s good. Erm, because we need something, you know, not urgently, but … What do you call it, those things you do?
MO SI: A phrase, a formulation?
SECOND BODYGUARD: Right. The boss, right? Is getting married, right? Don’t gawp like that, why shouldn’t he, with her? Right? But it’s just that he can’t, right? One smirk on your ugly little face and I’ll knock your head off, right? So, what is he to say to her? You come with me, and get it right, right? He leads him off.
The Clothesless come out of the swordsmith’s with big bundles. One of the bundles falls apart. Guns and swords tumble out. Alarmed, they look at Sen, who just smiles and waves. They pack it all together again and hurry off.
SEN: Er Fei, I’m done thinking. Do up my sandals. The thoughts you can buy here stink. The whole country is governed by injustice, and in the Tui Academy all you get to learn is why it has to be that way. It’s true, they can build stone bridges over the widest rivers. But the powerful are carried over them into indolent luxury, while the poor are herded into slavery. It’s true, they have medicine. But the few are restored to health so they can commit injustice, while the rest are made fit in order to sweat on their behalf. Opinions are bartered like fish, and thought itself has fallen into disrepute. He’s thinking, they say, what mean tricks is he brewing? And yet thinking is the most useful and pleasurable of activities. So what has happened to it? And then there’s Kai Ho, I’ve got his little book right here. So far, all I really know about him is that the fools call him a fool, and the frauds a fraud. But wherever he has been and done the thinking, there are wide fields with rice and cotton, and the people seem to be happy. And if the people are happy when someone has been thinking, then, Er Fei, he must surely have done some good thinking, that’s the proof. We’re not going home, Er Fei, not yet. Even if I don’t survive this new course of study. Good things demand a heavy price.
ER FEI: Will they be rooted out with fire and sword, grandfather?
SEN: No, it’s more like with the soil: you have to decide what you want from it, barley or weeds. And act on your decision.
ER FEI grumpily: Will there always be Tuis, even when Kai Ho has shared out the fields?
SEN laughs: Not for long. We’ll all get wide fields to plough and even wider fields to study. And just how we’ll get the fields, it says right here. Sen pulls out his book and flourishes it. They both exit to the rear.
Qiung comes out of the laundry.
QIUNG calls after them: Hey, old man, home is over that way! You’re taking the wrong road!
SEN: No, I think I’m taking the right road, Qiung!
10
IN THE ANCIENT MANCHU TEMPLE
Marching up and down, back and forth, small companies of soldiers armed to the teeth, and bandits with armbands. The Prime Minister enters and cross-questions the soldiers.
PRIME MINISTER: Any news of the rebels’ positions?
CAPTAIN: Still no news.
PRIME MINISTER: And tested officers were sent with the reconnaissance troops?
CAPTAIN: Indeed, Excellency.
PRIME MINISTER: And dependable agents with the officers?
CAPTAIN: Indeed, Excellency.
PRIME MINISTER: And still no reports?
CAPTAIN: No, Excellency.
PRIME MINISTER: My confidence remains undimmed, Captain.
CAPTAIN: Indeed, Excellency.
Exit the Prime Minister, then the soldiers. Enter the Minister for War and the Court Tui, without his Tui-hat.
MINISTER FOR WAR: Have you heard the latest scandal? They’re saying the unmentionable one shot a little Tui. He’d sent him to Her Imperial Highness to explain something and he stayed in her chamber two whole hours. It was something to do with cotton and de-briefing, they say. Hahaha!
The company of soldiers returns.
MINISTER FOR WA
R: Repeat your instructions!
CAPTAIN: Said personage is to be arrested immediately after the ceremony.
Exit the Minister and Court Tui, then the soldiers. Enter Gogher Gogh in ceremonial dress, and a company of bandits.
GOGHER GOGH to the first bodyguard: Repeat your orders.
FIRST BODYGUARD: Arrest everyone after the ceremony.
GOGHER GOGH: Your brother was on duty with me this morning. Have you spoken to him since? The first bodyguard shakes his head. Good. He’s gone and shot somebody. Have him quartered, at once, understand? And have the drums beat, so no one can hear what he says.
FIRST BODYGUARD: Right away, boss.
GOGHER GOGH takes his loyal guard’s dagger and conceals it up his sleeve-. I’ll be needing this; there’s nothing but deceit and treachery in this palace. Another thing: immediately after the marriage you grab the Manchu coat and throw it over me. No one will dare touch me wearing that, except some complete degenerate. I’ll make sure that scoundrel Emperor gets the message: you don’t just bunk off when danger threatens, and leave me to face the music.
Enter the Emperor with the Minister for War and the Prime Minister, followed by the captain and his men.
EMPEROR: My dear Gogh, I’m a little late, I know. I had to approve some rather stringent measures, you know, the usual thing in such situations.
GOGHER GOGH: Request permission to countersign the measures.
EMPEROR: Beg your pardon? Ah yes, countersign, of course. And there she comes, on cue, the lovely young bride.
Enter Turandot with the Court Tui and her maids. They bow in greeting.
TURANDOT: Papa, I’ve just met a really nice man, I want to marry him. I don’t mean the Tui from last night from the teahouse, he was intelligent as well, and I’m not at all pleased with you for what you did to him, Gogher, there’s no need to be churlish. But I don’t mean him, it’s an officer, he’s just explained to me how the palace is to be defended, you see, I consider the situation to be extremely serious, there’s no time to lose. So can I marry him?
EMPEROR: No.
TURANDOT: What do you mean, no? This isn’t just some passing fancy, it goes much deeper. Because it’s all a question of defending ourselves now, every inch. He’d make a very good son-in-law, he knows so much about horses. An officer enters and tries to communicate with the Minister for War, who waves him away because Turandot is speaking. An army without a cavalry, Papa …
EMPEROR: I can’t have the palace defended by horses. Let’s proceed to the ceremony.
Exit the officer.
TURANDOT: Papa, that’s really very inconsiderate of you. You have to understand, Gogher. It’ll hurt for a bit, but life goes on, and after all your war wound healed up all right didn’t it. Just do me this one favour, and don’t be obstinate. Can I, Papa?
EMPEROR roughly: I’ve already said, no. To Gogher Gogh: Of course, if you care to resign and step aside …
GOGHER GOGH: Your Majesty, Imperial Highness. In this historic hour we stand here, before the shrine of the first Manchu Emperor, in awe and excited expectation. I am a simple man. Not one for speeches. But Your Majesty has entrusted this man of the people with a holy mission, the protection of the throne. And Your Imperial Highness has given me your heart. It is not my part not to justify such trust, all the more as in these difficult times it is, above all, all a question of trust. When Your Majesty’s honoured and departed brother, driven by unholy delusion, endangered the honour of the Imperial Family, then I acted with iron determination and took immediate control of the warehouses, and so regained the trust and confidence of the common people.
An officer with a bandaged head comes looking for the Minister of War.
OFFICER: Kai Ho … at the Tibetan Gate …
GOGHER GOGH continues nervously: I shall now discourse at a little length about the events of last week. The whole business has not just been about cotton, as some people think. There have been those who talked about cotton from dawn to dusk, and tried to undermine the confidence of the people, and they have received their deserts. At a gesture from the Minister for War the soldiers leave. It is due solely to my energetic intervention that the Emperor and the people are now united in unprecedented …
TURANDOT: Papa, I won’t do it.
EMPEROR: You just shut up. Mr Gogh, we’ve received certain intelligences which suggest it might be wise to complete the ceremony as quickly as possible, or else to postpone it.
GOGHER GOGH: Out of the question. I assume responsibility for the protection of your Imperial person, and that of Her Highness.
EMPEROR: Minister …
MINISTER FOR WAR: Gentlemen, the situation has clearly deteriorated. To the Emperor: I’ve sent the palace guard to defend the gates.
EMPEROR while Gogher Gogh’s bandits take up positions at the doors: What? You’ve sent them away. You had explicit orders …
GOGHER GOGH: Hand over the keys! Where’s the temple guard?
FIRST BODYGUARD: He must have run away. He rattles at the entrance door to the temple. It opens. Not locked!
Cries from outside. The door opens into the inner temple. The Imperial Manchu tunic has disappeared.
FIRST BODYGUARD: Treachery! The tunic has gone.
EMPEROR: Cut down.
PRIME MINISTER: The guard has disappeared: he’s stolen it.
GOGHER GOGH: Gentlemen, let us proceed to the marriage ceremony. This little incident is happily of no consequence.
TURANDOT: Perhaps he was cold, Papa.
EMPEROR: But it was a poor coat, all patched up.
GOGHER GOGH: There’s few enough these days, even poor quality coats. If you hadn’t tried to corner the cotton market! The marriage ceremony, gentlemen!
Drums in the distance. Turandot screams shrilly.
EMPEROR: That was Yao Yel, it wasn’t me.
Sounds of jubilation from a great crowd.
SOLDIER: It was the whole pack of you, and you’re finished now!
Notes and Variants
THE ANTIGONE OF SOPHOCLES
Texts by Brecht
JOURNAL ENTRIES
16 December 1947
Between 30 November and 12 December finished an adaptation of Antigone, since I want to do preparatory work on Courage with Weigel and Cas for Berlin and can do this here in Chur where Curjel is working, though I then need a second part for Weigel. On Cas’s advice I am using the Hölderlin translation, which is seldom or never performed because it is considered too obscure. I come across Swabian accents and grammar-school Latin constructions and feel quite at home. And there is some Hegel in there too. It is presumably the return to the German-speaking world which is forcing me into this enterprise. As far as dramatic composition is concerned, ’fate’ eliminates itself all along the line of its own accord. Of the gods only the local popular deity, the god of joy, remains. Gradually, as the adaptation of the scenes progresses, the highly realistic popular legend emerges from the ideological fog.
23 December 1947
In Galileo the moral lesson is of course in no way absolute. If the bourgeois social movement which makes use of him were on the way down, then he could recant without further ado and in that way achieve something very reasonable. (See He Who Says Yes and He Who Says No.)
In the Antigone adaptation the moral decline derives from an enterprise for which the state is not strong enough. It could be poor weaponry, or a bottleneck in food supplies caused by too small a fleet of vehicles, or strategic errors that provide the immediate grounds for the descent into brutality; mishandling of the economy is also adduced as a reason for taking the war option; but that too indicates an enfeeblement.
25 December 1947
Holderlin’s language in Antigone deserves deeper study than I was able to give it this time. It is of an astounding radicalism.
‘Süss Mahl den Vogeln, die auf Frasses Lust serin’ or:
‘So steht es dir und gleich wirst du beweisen, ob gutgeboren.…’etc.
[‘Sweet dish
for the birds that look and lust for food’ or
‘So it stands for you. And you will prove now whether you are well born…’ etc.]
Then the Swabian popular Gestus:
‘Und die Sache sei/nicht wie für nichts’
‘Derm treulos fängt man mich nicht.’
‘Treibt sein’ Verkehr er, mit dem Rossegeschlecht.’
‘Hochstädtisch kommt, unstádtisch
zu nichts er, wo das Schöne
mit ihm ist und mit Frechheit.’
[‘And that the matter is/Not one that does not matter.’
‘I won’t be caught faithless.’
‘He does his trade, with the race of horses.’
‘In high civility uncivil he comes
To nothing where beauty is
With him and thuggish pride.’]
I wrote the bridging verses in hexameters, largely to test whether I had learnt anything from the Manifesto. In fact it is now easier, above all it can be done faster.
25 December 1947
On Christmas Eve Cas and Erika come round. We work on the Antigone. First we twiddled the radio knob but the only German station we could find was broadcasting endless lists of names of missing soldiers, and the Nehers’ son is missing in the USSR.
4 January 1948
In modelling the set Cas and I stumble on an ideological element of the first order. Should we place the barbaric totem poles with the horses’ skulls at the back between the actors’ benches, thus indicating the barbaric location of the old poem which the actors leave in order to act (the de-totemised version)? We decide to place the acting among the totem poles, since we are still living in the totemic state of the class war.
5 January 1948
In Antigone the violence is explained by inadequacy. The war against Argos derives from mismanagement in Thebes. Those who have been robbed have to look to robbery themselves. The undertaking exceeds the strength available. Violence splits the forces instead of welding them together; basic humanity, under too much pressure, explodes, scattering everything with it into destruction.
Collected Plays, Volume 4 (Bertolt Brecht: Plays, Poetry & Prose) 8 Page 22
