Bertolt Brecht: Mutter Courage und ihre Kinder 1 Page 10

  Silence. Wind.

  KRAGLER looking up at her: Hm! He gets up slowly and laboriously, looks round the room. Walks around silently, with bent head, looks through the window, turns round, slowly takes himself off, whistling, without his cap.

  MAID: Here! Your cap! You’ve left your cap behind!

  ACT TWO (PEPPER)

  Piccadilly Bar

  Big window at the back. Music. In the window a red moon. When the door opens, wind.

  BABUSCH: This way to the menagerie, folks! There’s plenty of moonlight. Up Spartacus! Bullshit! Red wine!

  MURK enters with Anna on his arm, they take off their things: A night like in a story-book. Shouting round the newspaper offices. The coach bearing the happy couple.

  ANNA: It’s no good, I feel horrible today. I can’t control my arms and legs.

  BABUSCH: Cheers to that, Friedrich!

  MURK: This is where I’m at home. Damned uncomfortable in the long run but absolutely slap-up. Look after the older generation, will you, Babusch?

  BABUSCH: Right. Drinks. You look after the next. Goes out.

  ANNA: Kiss me.

  MURK: Nonsense. Half Berlin’s looking.

  ANNA: Doesn’t matter. Nothing matters when I want something. Don’t you find that?

  MURK: Not for a minute. Nor do you.

  ANNA: You’re common.

  MURK: That’s right.

  ANNA: Coward! Murk rings, enter a waiter.

  MURK: Atten … shun! He leans across the table, knocking glasses

  over, and forcibly kisses Anna.

  ANNA: You!

  MURK: Dis … miss! Exit waiter. Am I a coward? Looks under the table. And you needn’t push your feet at me now.

  ANNA: What’s got into you?

  MURK: Honour and obey, that’s it.

  BALICKE enters with Babusch and Frau Balicke: There they are. Service!

  ANNA: Where’ve you been?

  FRAU BALICKE: There’s such a red moon tonight. I’m quite upset because it’s so red. And more shouting round the newspaper offices.

  BABUSCH: Pack of wolves.

  FRAU BALICKE: See that you two get together.

  BALICKE: In bed, Friedrich, eh?

  ANNA: Mother, are you all right?

  FRAU BALICKE: When do you think of getting married?

  MURK: In three weeks, Mamma.

  FRAU BALICKE: Shouldn’t we have asked more people to come and celebrate? This way nobody knows. But they ought to know.

  BALICKE: Rubbish, I say, rubbish. Because the wolves are howling? Let them howl. Till their tongue hangs red between their knees. I’ll shoot them down, no question.

  BABUSCH: Murk, help me get the cork out. Quietly to him: He’s there. Arrived with the moon. The wolf with the moon. From Africa.

  MURK: Andy Kragler?

  BABUSCH: The wolf. Not funny, is it?

  MURK: He’s in his grave, that’s all. Pull the curtains.

  FRAU BALICKE: Every other doorway your father found a boozer to tumble into. He’s got a monkey on his back all right. There’s a man for you! What a man! He’ll drink himself to death for his children, that man will.

  ANNA: Yes, but what makes him do it?

  FRAU BALICKE: Don’t ask, child. Don’t ask me. Everything’s upside down. The world’s coming to an end. I must have a kirsch at once, child.

  BALICKE: That’s only the red moon, Mother. Draw the curtains ! Waiter does so.

  BABUSCH: You had a hunch?

  MURK: I’m ready down to the last button. Has he been to their place?

  G

  BABUSCH: Yes, just now.

  MURK: Then he’ll come here.

  BALICKE: What are you two cooking behind the bottles? Park yourselves here! Engagement party! All sit around the table. Get cracking! I haven’t time to feel tired.

  ANNA: Ha, the horse! Wasn’t that funny? The middle of the road, and he just stopped. Friedrich, get out, the horse has packed up. And then in the middle of the road the horse standing. And trembling. It had eyeballs like gooseberries, though, all white, and Friedrich prodded its eyes with a stick and made it hop. It was like a circus.

  BALICKE: Time’s money. It’s damned hot here. I’m sweating again. I’ve sweated one shirt through today already.

  FRAU BALICKE: You’ll land us in the workhouse with the laundry bills, the way things are going.

  BABUSCH munching prunes from his pocket: Apricots are ten marks a pound now. Well, well. I shall write an article about prices. Then I’ll be able to buy apricots. Suppose the world does come to an end, I’ll write about it. But what are the others to do? If the whole Zoo district blows up I’ll be sitting pretty. But the people …!

  MURK: Shirts, apricots, the Zoo. When’s the wedding?

  BALICKE: In three weeks. Wedding in three weeks’ time. I have spoken. Heaven has heard it. We all agreed? All agreed about the wedding? Right, then ready, steady, go, the happy couple! They clink glasses. The door has opened. Kragler stands in the doorway. The wind makes the candles flicker and dim.

  BALICKE: Now, now, why so shaky with the glass? Like your mother, Anna?

  Anna, who is sitting opposite the door, has seen Kragler. She sits hunched up and looks fixedly at him.

  FRAU BALICKE: Good heavens, what’s made you fold up like that, child?

  MURK: What’s that wind?

  KRAGLER hoarsely: Anna!

  Anna gives a subdued scream. All now look round, leap to their feet. Tumult. Speaking at once:

  BALICKE: Hell! Pours wine down his gullet. The ghost, Mother!

  FRAU BALICKE: God! Kra …

  MURK: Throw him out! Throw him out!

  Kragler has remained swaying in the doorway for a moment; he looks sinister. During the short tumult he comes quite quickly but clumsily up to Anna, who is now sitting alone holding her glass shakily before her face, takes the glass away from her, props himself on the table, and stares at her.

  BALICKE: He’s drunk.

  MURK: Waiter! This is a disturbance of the peace. Throw him out! Runs along the wall, pulls back the curtain in the process. Moon.

  BABUSCH: Be careful. He’s got raw flesh under his shirt still. It’s stinging him. Don’t touch him. Bangs the table with his stick. No scenes here, please. Leave quietly. Pull yourselves together and leave.

  ANNA has meanwhile left the table and throws her arms round her mother: Mother! Help!

  Kragler goes round the table unsteadily after Anna.

  FRAU BALICKE all more or less simultaneously: Spare my child’s life! You’ll end up in gaol! Oh God, he’s killing her!

  BALICKE at a considerable distance, swelling up: Are you drunk? Pauper! Anarchist! Ex-serviceman! You pirate! You moon ghost! Where’s your white sheet?

  BABUSCH: If you have a stroke now he’ll marry her. Shut up, all of you! He’s the one who’s been wronged. Clear out! He must be allowed to have his say. He has a right to. To Frau Balicke: Haven’t you any feeling? Four years he’s been away. It’s a matter of feeling.

  FRAU BALICKE: She can hardly stand on her legs, she’s as white as chalk.

  BABUSCH to Murk: Have a look at his face. She’s seen it already. It used to be like milk and blood. Now it’s a rotten lemon. No need for you to be frightened. Exeunt.

  MURK: If you’re thinking about jealousy I’m not that sort. Ha!

  BALICKE is still standing between the door and the table, somewhat drunk, with crooked legs and a glass in his hand. During what follows he says: That wog on wheels! Face like a, a collapsed elephant. Utterly broken down. A piece of impertinence. Clears off so that there’s now nobody left but the waiter by the door right, a tray in his hands. Gounod’s ‘Ave Maria’. The light goes down.

  KRAGLER after a moment: It’s as if everything in my head had been wiped away, I’ve nothing but sweat left there, I find it hard to understand things.

  ANNA picks up a candle, stands helplessly, lights up his face: Didn’t the fishes eat you?

  KRAGLER: I don’t know what y
ou mean.

  ANNA: Weren’t you blown to pieces?

  KRAGLER: I can’t understand you.

  ANNA: Didn’t they shoot your face away?

  KRAGLER: Why are you looking at me like that? Is that what I look like? Silence. He looks towards the window. I’ve a skin like a shark’s: black. Silence. And I used to be like milk and blood. Silence. And then I keep on bleeding, it just streams out of me.

  ANNA: Andy.

  KRAGLER: Yes.

  ANNA going hesitantly towards him: Oh, Andy, why were you away so long? Did they bar your way with guns and swords? And now I can no longer get through to you.

  KRAGLER: Was I away?

  ANNA: You were with me a long while at the beginning, your voice hadn’t yet died away. When I walked down the passage I brushed against you and in the fields I heard you calling from behind the sycamore. Even though they wrote that your face had been shot away and two days later you’d been buried. But the time came when it changed. When I walked down the passage, it was deserted, and the sycamore had nothing to say. When I straightened myself over the washtub I could still see your face, but when I spread the things on the grass I lost sight of it and all that long while I had no idea what you looked like. But I ought to have waited.

  KRAGLER: You could have done with a photo.

  ANNA: I was frightened. I ought to have waited all the same, but I am no good. Don’t touch my hand, nothing about me’s any good.

  KRAGLER looks towards the window: I don’t know what you’re talking about. Perhaps it’s just the red moon. I must try and think what it means. I’ve got swollen hands, they’ve got webs on them, I’ve no manners and I break glasses when I drink. I can’t talk properly to you any longer. My throat’s full of nigger language.

  ANNA: Yes.

  KRAGLER: Give me your hand. Do you think I’m a ghost? Come here, give me your hand. Don’t you want to come to me?

  ANNA: Do you want it?

  KRAGLER: Give it me. I’ve stopped being a ghost now. Can you see my face again? Is it like crocodile hide? I can’t see properly. I’ve been in salty water. It’s just the red moon.

  ANNA: Yes.

  KRAGLER: You take my hand too. – Why don’t you press it? Give me your face. Is it bad?

  ANNA: No, no.

  KRAGLER takes hold of her: Anna! A wog on wheels, that’s me. Throat full of crap. Four years! Will you have me? Anna! Pulls her round and catches sight of the waiter, whom he stares at with a grin while bending forward.

  WAITER disconcerted, drops his tray, stammers: The point is … her lily … has she still got her lily?

  KRAGLER with his hands round Anna, gives a horse-laugh: What did he say? Lily? The waiter hurries off. Here, wait a moment, you with the taste for cheap novels. That’s something he didn’t mean to say. Lily! Something that’s happened to him. Lily! Did you hear it? He felt it as deeply as that.

  ANNA: Andy!

  KRAGLER looks at her, stooping, having let go of her: Say that again, that’s your voice. Hurries off right. Waiter! Come here, man.

  BABUSCH in the doorway: What a fleshly laugh you have. You laugh velly fleshly. How’s it going?

  FRAU BALICKE behind him: Anna, my child! What a worry you are to us! Next door ‘The Lady from Peru’ has been playing for a while.

  BALICKE sobered up somewhat, hurries in: Sit down. He draws the curtain, there is a metallic sound. They’ve got the red moon with them and rifles behind them in Babusch’s newspaper district. They’re a serious proposition. He relights all the candles. Sit down.

  FRAU BALICKE: What a look on your face! My legs are starting to shake again. Waiter! Waiter!

  BALICKE: Where’s Murk?

  BABUSCH: Friedrich Murk’s shuffling round the dance floor.

  BALICKE softly: Just get him to sit down. Once he’s sitting we can get him where we want him. Nobody can make a drama sitting down. Aloud. Sit down, everybody. Quiet! Pull yourself together, Amalie. To Kragler: You sit down too, for God’s sake.

  FRAU BALICKE takes a bottle of kirsch from the waiter’s tray: I’ve got to have kirsch or I’ll die. She returns to the table with it.

  The following are seated: Frau Balicke, Balicke, Anna. Babusch has leapt around and got them to sit down. He now pushes Kragler, who was standing looking lost, into a chair.

  BABUSCH: Sit down, your knees aren’t too firm. Would you like some kirsch? Why do you laugh like that? Kragler gets up again. Babusch pushes him down. He remains seated.

  BALICKE: Andreas Kragler, what do you want?

  FRAU BALICKE: Herr Kragler! Our Kaiser said, ‘You must grin and bear it.’

  ANNA: Stay in your chair.

  BALICKE: Shut up! Let him speak. What do you want?

  BABUSCH rises: Would you like a nip of kirsch perhaps? Speak up!

  ANNA: Think, Andy. Before you say anything.

  FRAU BALICKE: You’ll have me in my grave. Hold your tongue! You don’t understand a thing.

  KRAGLER wants to get up, but is pushed back by Babusch. With extreme seriousness: If you’re asking me it’s not at all simple. And I don’t want to drink any kirsch. There’s too much involved.

  BALICKE: Get a move on. Say what you want. Then I’ll chuck you out.

  ANNA: No, no!

  BABUSCH: You’d better have a drink, you know. You’re so dried up. It’ll make it easier, believe me. At this point Friedrich Murk shuffles in left with a prostitute called Marie.

  FRAU BALICKE: Murk!

  BABUSCH: Genius has its limits. Sit down.

  BALICKE: Bravo, Fritz! Show the man what a man’s made of! Fritz isn’t scared. Fritz is having fun. Claps.

  MURK sinister, he has been drinking, leaves Marie standing where she is and comes to the table: Haven’t you settled this third-rate farce yet?

  BALICKE pulls him down on to a chair: Shut up!

  BABUSCH: Go on, Kragler. Ignore interruptions.

  KRAGLER: He’s got misshapen ears.

  ANNA: He used to be the look-out boy.

  MURK: He’s got an egg in his noddle.

  KRAGLER: He must leave the room!

  MURK: Then they hit him on it.

  KRAGLER: I must be very careful what I say.

  MURK: So he’s got egg-nog in his noddle.

  KRAGLER: Yes, they hit me on the head. I’ve been away four years. I couldn’t write letters. There was no egg in my brain. Silence. Four years have passed, I must be very careful. You (Anna) haven’t recognized me, you’re still on a see-saw and can’t feel it yet. But I’m talking too much.

  FRAU BALICKE: His brains have dried up. Shaking her head.

  BALICKE: Had a bad time did you? Fought for Kaiser and Country? I feel sorry for you. Anything you want?

  FRAU BALICKE: And the Kaiser said, ‘Be strong in your sorrow.’ Have some of this. Pushes the kirsch towards him.

  BALICKE drinking, weightily: You stood under a hail of bullets? Firm as a rock? Splendid. Our army can be proud of itself. It marched to a hero’s death with a song on its lips. Have a drink. What do you want?

  ANNA: Andy! Didn’t they give you another uniform? Still got the old blue one on? Those aren’t worn any more.

  FRAU BALICKE: There are lots of other girls! Waiter, more kirsch! Passes him the kirsch.

  BALICKE: We did our bit too. So what do you want? Not a penny to your name? No place of your own? Fatherland can only offer you a barrel-organ? We can’t have that. That kind of thing can’t be allowed to happen any longer. What do you want?

  ANNA: ‘Stormy the night and the sea runs high,’ ha!

  KRAGLER has risen. To Anna: Since I feel I’ve no rights here I beg you, from the bottom of my heart, to go with me at my side.

  BALICKE: What kind of talk is that? What’s he saying? Bottom of my heart. At my side. What an extraordinary way of speaking.

  The others laugh.

  KRAGLER: Because no one’s got a right … Because I can’t live without you … From the bottom of my heart.

  Much laughter.
<
br />   MURK puts his feet up on the table. Cold, nasty, drunk: Sunk right to the ocean bed. Fished up. Mouth full of slime. Look at my boots. They used to be the same sort as yours. Buy yourself a pair like mine. Come again. Do you know what you are?

  MARIE suddenly: Were you in the army?

  WAITER: Were you in the army?

  MURK: Shut your trap! To Kragler: The steamroller squashed you, did it? The steamroller squashed a lot of people. All right. It wasn’t us set it rolling. Got no face left? Eh? Want a new one for nothing? Are the three of us supposed to fit you out again? Was it because of us you went under? Do you still not know what you are?

  BABUSCH: Oh, do be quiet.

  WAITER coming forward: Were you in the army?

  MURK: Nope. I’m one of the people who have to settle the bill for your heroism. The roller’s gone bust.

  BABUSCH: Oh, don’t make a drama of this. It’s too squalid. After all, you made a packet, didn’t you? So leave your boots out of it.

  BALICKE: There you are, that’s the long and the short of it. That’s where the shoe pinches. It isn’t a drama. It’s political realism. Something we Germans are short of. It’s very simple. Have you got the means to support a wife? Or have you got webbed fingers?

  FRAU BALICKE: Hear that, Anna? He hasn’t a penny.

  MURK: If he has I’ll marry his mother. Jumps up. He’s just a perfectly ordinary fortune-hunter.

  WAITER to Kragler: Say something! Answer something!

  KRAGLER has risen, trembling, to Anna: I don’t know what to say. When we were just skin and bone, and we kept having to drink schnaps to be able to work on the roads, we’d often only the evening sky, that’s extremely important, because that’s when I lay in the bushes with you in April. I used to say the same thing to the others. But they went down like flies.

  ANNA: Like horses, no?

  KRAGLER: Because of the heat, and we kept boozing away. But why am I going on telling you about the evening sky, that’s not what I meant to do, I don’t know …

  ANNA: Were you always thinking of me?

  FRAU BALICKE: Listen to his way of speaking! Like a child. Makes you blush for him, to hear it.

  MURK: Won’t you sell me your boots? For the war museum. I’ll offer forty marks.

  BABUSCH: Go on speaking, Kragler. It’s just what’s needed.