Brecht Collected Plays: 1: Baal; Drums in the Night; In the Jungle of Cities; Life of Edward II of England; & 5 One Act Plays: "Baal", "Drums in the Night", "In the Jungle of Ci (World Classics) (12 page)

FIRST POLICEMAN
: What is he?

SECOND POLICEMAN
: Above all, a murderer. Before that, revue actor and poet. Then roundabout proprietor, woodsman, lover of a millionairess, convict and pimp. When he did the murder they caught him, but he’s got the strength of an elephant. It was because of a waitress, a registered whore. He knifed his best and oldest friend because of her.

FIRST POLICEMAN
: A man like that has no soul. He belongs to the beasts.

SECOND POLICEMAN
: And he’s childish too. He carries wood for old women, and nearly gets caught. He never had anything. Except for the waitress. That must have been why he killed his friend, another dubious character.

FIRST POLICEMAN
: If only we could get some gin somewhere or a woman! Let’s go! It’s eerie. And there’s something moving over there.
Both go
.

BAAL
comes out of the undergrowth with rucksack and guitar. He whistles through his teeth
: So he’s dead? Poor little animal! Getting in my way. Now things are getting interesting.
He follows the men
.

Wind
.

Night. Wind. Baal on a dirty bed. Men at cards and drink
.

A MAN
by Baal
: What do you want? You’re at your last gasp. A child could see that. And who’s going to look after you? Have you got anyone? That’s it! That’s it! Grit your teeth! Got any teeth left? Now and then it even gets the ones that could go on enjoying themselves, millionaires! But you don’t even have any papers. Don’t you be afraid, the world’ll keep rolling, round as a ball, tomorrow morning the wind’ll whistle. See the situation in a more reasonable light. Tell yourself it’s a rat that’s on the way out. That’s it! Don’t move! You’ve no teeth left.

THE MEN
: Is it still pissing? We’ll have to spend the night with the corpse. – Shut your mouth! Trumped! – Got any breath left, fatty? Sing us a song! ‘Baal grew up within the …’ – Let him be! He’ll be a cold man before the black rain’s stopped. On with the game! – He drank like a sieve but there’s something about that pale hunk that makes you think about yourself. That’s something he didn’t have crooned over his cradle. – Ten of clubs! Keep your cards up, please! That’s no way to play; if you’re not going to be serious, you can’t get a good game going.

Silence, except for a few curses
.

BAAL
: What’s the time?

ONE OF THE MEN
: Eleven. Are you going?

BAAL
: Soon. Are the roads bad?

THE MAN
: Rain.

THE MEN
getting up
: It’s stopped raining. Time to go. – Everything’ll be soaking wet. – Another excuse for him to do nothing.

They pick up the axes
.

A MAN
stops in front of Baal and spits
: Good night and goodbye. Have you had it?

ANOTHER MAN
: Are you on the way out? Incognito?

A THIRD MAN
: Arrange your smelly periods better tomorrow, if you don’t mind. We’ll be working till twelve and then we want to eat.

BAAL
: Can’t you stay a little longer?

ALL
amid loud laughter
: Do you want us to play mother? – Do you want to sing us your swan song? – Do you want to confess, you old soak? – Can’t you throw up on your own?

BAAL
: If you could stay half an hour.

ALL
amid loud laughter
: You know what? Snuff out on your own! – Let’s get moving! The wind’s died down. – What’s the matter?

THE MAN
: I’ll follow.

BAAL
: It can’t last much longer, gentlemen.
Laughter
. You won’t like dying on your own, gentlemen!
Laughter
.

ANOTHER MAN
: Old woman! Here’s a souvenir!
Spits in his face
.

They go
.

BAAL
: Twenty minutes.

The men leave by the open door
.

THE MAN
in the door
: Stars.

BAAL
: Wipe the spit away!

THE MAN
to him
: Where?

BAAL
: On my forehead.

THE MAN
: Done! What are you laughing at?

BAAL
: I like the taste.

THE MAN
indignant
: You’re done for. Good-bye!
With his axe to the door
.

BAAL
: Thanks.

THE MAN
: Is there anything else … but I have to go to work. Jesus. Corpses!

BAAL
: You! Come closer!
The man bends down
. It was very beautiful …

THE MAN
: What was, you crazy hen? I nearly said capon.

BAAL
: Everything.

THE MAN
: Snob!
Laughs loudly, goes, the door remains open, one sees the blue night
.

BAAL
uneasy
: You! You there!

THE MAN
at the window
: Mmmm?

BAAL
: Are you going?

THE MAN
: To work.

BAAL
: Where?

THE MAN
: What’s that got to do with you?

BAAL
: What’s the time?

THE MAN
: A quarter past eleven.
Goes
.

BAAL
: He’s gone.

Silence
.

Mother! Tell Ekart to go away, the sky’s so damned near too, you can touch it, everything’s soaking wet again. Sleep. One. Two. Three. Four. It’s suffocating in here. It must be light outside. I want to go out.
Raises himself
. I will go out. Dear Baal.
Sharply
. I’m not a rat. It must be light outside. Dear Baal. You can get to the door. You’ve still got knees, it’s better in the door. Damn it! Dear Baal!
He crawls on all fours to the threshold
. Stars … mmm.
He crawls out
.

Woodcutters
.

A WOODCUTTER
: Give me the bottle! Listen to the birds!

ANOTHER
: It’ll be a hot day.

A THIRD
: There’s plenty of trees left standing that’ll have to be down before nightfall.

A FOURTH
: He’ll be cold by now.

THE THIRD
: Yes. Yes. He’ll be cold by now.

THE SECOND
: Yes. Yes.

THE THIRD
: We could have had the eggs now if he hadn’t eaten them all. There’s a man for you, stealing eggs on his deathbed. First he kept moaning at me, I got sick of that. He never got a whiff of the bottle in all three days, thank God. It’s inconsiderate. Eggs in a corpse.

THE FIRST
: He had a way of laying himself down in the dirt,
and then he never got up again, and he knew it. It was like a ready-made bed to him. He lay down carefully. Did anybody know him? What’s his name? What did he do?

THE FOURTH
: We’ll have to bury him, anyway. Give me the bottle!

THE THIRD
: I asked him, as the death-rattle was in his throat, what are you thinking about? I always want to know what goes on in a man’s head then. I’m still listening to the rain, he said. I went cold all over. I’m still listening to the rain, he said.

a play

Translator
:
JOHN WILLETT

Characters

Andreas Kragler • Anna Balicke • Karl Balicke, her father • Amalie Balicke, her mother • Friedrich Murk, her fiancé • Babusch, journalist • Two men • Manke, waiter at the Piccadilly Bar • His brother, waiter at Glubb’s bar • Glubb, schnaps distiller • A drunk man • Bulltrotter, a newspaper seller • A worker • Laar, a peasant • Augusta, Marie — prostitutes • A maid • A woman selling newspapers

The Manke brothers are played by the same actor.

[Annotations refer to passages from the 1922 version
,
printed in the Notes
,
p. 409 ff.]

Dark room with muslin curtains. Evening
.

BALICKE
shaving at the window
: It’s now four years since they posted him missing. He’ll never come back now. Times are damned uncertain. Any man’s worth his weight in gold. I’d have given my blessing two years ago. Your bloody sentimentality stopped me. Nothing’ll stop me now.

FRAU BALICKE
by the framed photograph of Kragler as a gunner
: He was such a good man. A man just like a child.

BALICKE:
He’s dead and buried by now.

FRAU BALICKE:
Suppose he comes back.

BALICKE:
People don’t come back from heaven.

FRAU BALICKE:
Anna would drown herself, as heaven’s my witness!

BALICKE:
If that’s what she says she’s an ass, and I’ve never seen an ass drown itself.

FRAU BALICKE
: As it is she can’t keep anything down.

BALICKE
: She shouldn’t keep stuffing with blackberries and Bismarck herring. Murk’s a fine chap, and we ought to go down on our knees and thank God for him.

FRAU BALICKE
: He’s making money all right. But compared with
him
… It makes me want to cry.

BALICKE
: Compared with that corpse? I tell you straight: it’s now or never. Is she waiting for the Pope? Has it got to be a nigger? I’m fed up with the whole silly story.

FRAU BALICKE
: And suppose he
does
come – the corpse you say is dead and buried – back from heaven or hell? ‘The name is Kragler’ – who’s going to tell him that he’s a corpse and his girl is lying in someone else’s bed?

BALICKE
: I’ll tell him. And now
you
tell that creature that I’m
fed up and we’ve ordered the wedding march and it’s to be Murk. If
I
tell her she’ll flood us out. So kindly put the light on, will you?

FRAU BALICKE
: I’ll get the sticking plaster. You always cut yourself when there’s no light.

BALICKE
: Cuts cost nothing, but light …
Calls
: Anna!

ANNA
in the doorway
: What is it, Father?

BALICKE:
Kindly listen to what your mother’s got to say to you and no blubbering on your big day!

FRAU BALICKE:
Come over here, Anna. Father thinks you’re so pale you can’t be sleeping at all.

ANNA:
I am sleeping.

FRAU BALICKE:
It can’t go on like this for ever, don’t you see? He’ll definitely not come back now.
Lights candles
.

BALICKE:
She’s making those crocodile eyes again.

FRAU BALICKE:
It hasn’t been easy for you, and he was such a good man, but he’s dead now.

BALICKE:
Dead, buried and decayed.

FRAU BALICKE
: Karl! And here’s Murk, a good hard worker who’s sure to get on.

BALICKE
: So there you are.

FRAU BALICKE:
And you’re to say yes, for God’s sake.

BALICKE
: Without making a song and dance about it.

FRAU BALICKE
: You’re to accept him, for God’s sake.

BALICKE
furiously occupied with his sticking plaster
: Hell and damnation, do you imagine fellows are going to stand being kicked around like footballs? Yes or no! It’s rubbish rolling your eyes up to heaven like that.

ANNA:
Yes, Father.

BALICKE
huffily
: Blub away, then, the floodgates are open. I’m just off to get my life-jacket.

FRAU BALICKE:
Aren’t you in love with Murk at all, then?

BALICKE:
Well, I call that simply immoral!

FRAU BALICKE:
Karl! Well, what about you and Friedrich, Anna?

ANNA:
Of course. But of course you know, and I feel so horribly sick.

BALICKE:
I know nothing at all! I tell you, the fellow’s dead, buried and rotten; all his bones have come apart. Four years! And not a sign of life! And his whole battery blown up! in the air! to smithereens! missing! Not so difficult to say where he has got to, eh? You’re too damned scared of ghosts, that’s what it is. Get yourself a man, and you won’t have to be scared of ghosts any more.
Going up to Anna
,
expansively
. Are you a brave little woman, or aren’t you? Get on with it, then.

Bell rings
.

ANNA
frightened
: That’s him!

BALICKE:
Catch him before he comes in, and put him wise.

FRAU BALICKE
in the door
,
with the dirty clothes basket
: Haven’t you got anything for the laundry?

ANNA:
Yes. No. No, I don’t think I’ve got anything..

FRAU BALICKE:
But today’s the eighth.

ANNA:
The eighth?

FRAU BALICKE:
The eighth, of course.

ANNA:
And what if it was the eighteenth?

BALICKE:
What’s all that chatter in the doorway? Come inside.

FRAU BALICKE:
Well, you’d better see you have got something for the laundry.
Exit
.

BALICKE
sits down
,
takes Anna on his knee
: Now look, a woman without a husband, that’s a blasphemous business. You’ve been missing that fellow they sent to a better world, right. But would you know him now? Not a bit of it, my dear. Death has turned him into something fit for a freak show. Three years he’s been improving his looks; if he weren’t dead as mutton he’d look very different from what you think. Anyway, he’s dead and buried and not very pretty. He’s got no nose now. But you miss him. So get yourself another man. It’s nature, you see. You’ll wake up like a dog with two tails. You’ve got stout limbs and strong appetites, haven’t you? That’s really not blasphemous, that isn’t.