Bertolt Brecht: Mutter Courage und ihre Kinder 1

  YOUNGER GURNEY:

  This is the City of London, sire.

  ELEVENTH OF FEBRUARY, 1326.

  London

  Soldiers and crowd before Westminster.

  FIRST: The eleventh of February will count among the most important days in England’s history.

  SECOND: A man’s toes freeze on such a night as this.

  THIRD: And we have waited here for seven hours.

  SECOND: Is Ned already in there?

  FIRST: He must pass by to go to Parliament.

  SECOND: There’s a light again up there in Westminster.

  THIRD: Will the Eel bring him round?

  FIRST: I’ll lay a silver shilling on the Eel.

  SECOND: And I two shillings on Ned.

  FIRST: What’s your name?

  SECOND: Smith. And yours?

  FIRST: Baldock.

  THIRD: It’ll snow for sure about morning.

  Westminster

  Edward, blindfold, the two Gurneys.

  ELDER GURNEY:

  Are you content to be at last at the Eel’s?

  EDWARD:

  Aye. Where is the Eel?

  YOUNGER GURNEY:

  That you’ll soon see.

  Exeunt the two Gurneys.

  Enter Mortimer.

  MORTIMER:

  As London’s sweaty market has so forced matters

  That my head for these few minutes almost hangs

  Upon a yea or nay from this man’s humbled lips

  So from him in his weakened state will I

  Rip out this yea like a tooth.

  Takes off Edward’s blindfold.

  EDWARD:

  Is this Westminster and are you the Eel?

  MORTIMER:

  So men call me. It is a harmless beast.

  You are weary; you shall eat

  Drink, bathe perhaps. Would you like that?

  EDWARD:

  Aye.

  MORTIMER:

  You shall find yourself a friend.

  Edward looks at him.

  You shall be taken to England’s Parliament.

  There before the Peers you’ll testify

  You have resigned.

  EDWARD:

  Draw nearer, Mortimer.

  We give you leave to sit. But for our

  Broken health be brief

  In your petition.

  MORTIMER to himself:

  He is hard. Antaeus-like

  He draws strength from Westminster’s soil.

  Aloud:

  Brevity’s the salt in watery soup. I

  Have come for your reply if you’ll

  Resign in favour of your son Edward.

  EDWARD:

  Thirteen years away from Westminster

  After long campaigns, the thorny exercise

  Of command, the flesh’s needs have led me to

  A commonplace concern with the welfare and

  Decline of this my body.

  MORTIMER:

  I understand you.

  Nightly wanderings, human disenchantment

  Give pause for thought. And do you

  After all this weariness of which you speak

  And which you’ve borne so patiently, with such

  Broken health, still intend now

  To continue office?

  EDWARD:

  That is not in our plan.

  MORTIMER:

  Will you consent?

  EDWARD:

  That is not in our plan. The substance

  Of these last days starts to clear. Edward, whose

  Fall approaches, inexorable yet

  Not fearful, knows himself. Not wishing much

  To die he savours the usefulness of

  Withering destruction. Edward, who no more

  Poor Edward is, thinks death but little price

  For such pleasure in his murderer. So then

  When it is time, Mortimer, come yourself.

  MORTIMER:

  I see you grossly wrapped up in yourself

  Whiles I, no longer sullied by a taste

  For power, bear on my shoulders

  This island that one workday word

  Upon your lips can save from civil war.

  Blunt perhaps in feelings, yet knowing much

  No doubt not kingly, yet just perhaps

  Not even that if you will, but yet

  The rough stammering mouth of poor England

  I ask you and I pray you:

  Resign.

  EDWARD:

  Approach us not with such a mean request!

  And yet at this hour when my body

  Purifies I yearn to feel

  Your hands about my throat.

  MORTIMER:

  You fight well. As one well versed in rhetoric

  Whom men call the Eel, and valuing

  Your taste, none the less I ask you

  In this sober matter, at this night hour

  For a brief answer.

  Edward is silent.

  Do not stop your ears! Lest the weight

  Of human tongues, a moment’s whim

  And at the last misunderstanding, plunge

  England in the ocean, speak now!

  Edward is silent.

  Will you resign before the Commons at noon

  Today?

  Edward is silent.

  MORTIMER:

  Will you not resign? You

  Refuse?

  EDWARD:

  Though Edward must in swiftest time

  Bring to a close more tangled matters

  Than you, O busy Mortimer, can know

  Yet while he’s in this world he takes good care

  For all that

  Not to meddle arrogantly

  In your affairs that from a growing

  Distance seem to him most

  Murky.

  Therefore your question has no yea or nay.

  Stitched up, his lips will nothing say.

  Westminster

  MORTIMER alone:

  So long as he draws breath it can come to light.

  Since not rough winds could snatch his foolish

  Mantle from him, nor the warm sun draw it

  Off, let it go rot

  With him.

  A scrap of paper cunningly prepared

  Odourless, proving nothing, shall this

  Chance resolve.

  Since he gives my question neither yea or nay

  I shall give an answer in like kind.

  ‘Eduardum occidere nolite timere bonum est.’

  I leave out the comma. Then can it read:

  ‘Kill not the king, ’tis good to fear the worst’

  Or depending on their state of innocence

  Or whether they have dined or fasted:

  ‘Fear not to kill the king, ’tis good he die.’

  Unpointed as it is thus shall it go.

  Now is England

  Under us, above us God, who’s very old.

  My sole witness I take before the Peers.

  Lightborn, come in.

  Enter Lightborn.

  If, when morning greys, the prisoner’s

  Learned nothing, he’s not for saving.

  Sewer in the Tower.

  The two Gurneys.

  ELDER GURNEY:

  He speaks incessantly, tonight.

  YOUNGER GURNEY:

  It is

  A wonder this king will not yield.

  Worn out purposely, for when he would sleep

  Our drum rolls, he stands

  In a vault knee-deep in

  Sewage, in which all the channels

  Of the Tower run, yet he says not yea.

  ELDER GURNEY:

  That is most strange, brother. Just now I

  Opened up the hatch to throw

  Him meat and I was almost stifled

  With the stench.

  YOUNGER GURNEY:

  He has a body more able to endure than we.

  He sings. When you raise th
e hatch you hear

  Him sing.

  ELDER GURNEY:

  I think he makes psalms

  Against Spring’s coming. Open up, we’ll

  Ask him again.

  ELDER GURNEY:

  Wilt thou say yes, Ned?

  YOUNGER GURNEY:

  No answer.

  Lightborn has entered.

  ELDER GURNEY:

  Still he will not yield.

  Lightborn gives a letter.

  YOUNGER GURNEY:

  What’s this? I do not understand.

  ‘Kill not the king, ’tis good to fear the worst.’

  ELDER GURNEY:

  ‘Fear not to kill the king’ is there.

  YOUNGER GURNEY:

  Give the token.

  Lightborn gives it.

  ELDER GURNEY:

  There is the key and there the vault.

  Carry out the order. Need you anything besides?

  LIGHTBORN:

  A table and a feather bed.

  YOUNGER GURNEY:

  Here is a light for the cage.

  Exeunt the two Gurneys.

  Lightborn opens the door.

  EDWARD:

  This hole in which they hold me is the sink-hole

  And upon me here, these seven hours, falls

  London’s filth. Yet its sewage hardens

  My limbs. Now they are like cedar

  Wood. The stench of rubbish makes my

  Stature boundless. Great rolls on the drums

  Keep him awake, though weak, so his death

  Find him not in a swoon but rather

  Waking.

  Who’s there? What light is that? Wherefore com’st thou?

  LIGHTBORN:

  To comfort you.

  EDWARD:

  Thou would’st me kill.

  LIGHTBORN:

  What means your Highness to mistrust me thus?

  Come out, brother.

  EDWARD:

  Thy look can harbour naught but death.

  LIGHTBORN:

  I am not without sin, yet not without

  Heart. Come and lie down.

  EDWARD:

  Howell had pity, Berkeley was poorer

  Yet he stained not his hand. The elder

  Gurney’s heart’s a block

  From Caucasus. The younger’s harder. And

  Mortimer, from whom thou comest, ice.

  LIGHTBORN:

  You are haggard, sire. Lie you

  Upon this bed and rest awhile.

  EDWARD:

  Good was rain; hunger satisfied. But

  The best was darkness. All

  Were wavering, many hanging back but

  The best were those betrayed me. Therefore

  Whoever’s dark let him dark remain, who’s

  Unclean, remain unclean. Praise

  Want, praise cruelty, praise

  The darkness.

  LIGHTBORN:

  Sleep, sire.

  EDWARD:

  Something buzzes in my ear and tells me

  If I sleep now I never wake.

  ‘Tis waiting makes me tremble thus.

  Yet I cannot ope my eyes, they stick.

  Therefore tell me wherefore thou art come.

  LIGHTBORN:

  For this.

  Smothers him.

  Westminster

  MORTIMER alone:

  Rise up eleventh of February

  The others are shrubs beside me

  They tremble at my name and dare not

  Impeach me for his death.

  Let come who will.

  Enter the Queen.

  ANNE:

  Ah, Mortimer, my son hath news

  His father’s dead and now, new-hailed

  As king, comes hither in the knowledge

  We have murdered him.

  MORTIMER:

  What matter that he know since he’s

  A child so weak a drop of rain would

  Kill him?

  ANNE:

  In to the Council Chamber he is gone

  To crave the aid and succour of the peers, who

  Like the people, wait since morning for this

  Edward whom you promised. He tears

  His hair and wrings his hands and vows

  To be revenged upon us both.

  MORTIMER:

  Seem

  I like one soon to be under earth?

  Enter Young Edward, Lord Abbot, Rice ap Howell, peers.

  YOUNG EDWARD:

  Murderers!

  MORTIMER:

  What sayest thou, boy?

  YOUNG EDWARD:

  Think not that I’m frighted with thy words.

  ANNE:

  Edward!

  YOUNG EDWARD:

  Stand off, mother! Had you loved him

  As I did you’d not endure his death.

  ABBOT:

  Why speak you not, my lord, unto the king?

  RICE AP HOWELL:

  At this hour should Edward speak

  Unto the Parliament.

  A LORD:

  At this hour

  Is Edward’s mouth dumb.

  MORTIMER:

  Who is the man who will

  Impeach me for this death?

  YOUNG EDWARD:

  I am he.

  MORTIMER:

  Your witness?

  YOUNG EDWARD:

  My father’s voice in me.

  MORTIMER:

  Have you no other witness, my lord?

  YOUNG EDWARD:

  Those not here are my witnesses.

  ABBOT:

  The Earl of Kent.

  RICE AP HOWELL:

  Berkeley.

  A LORD:

  The brothers Gurney.

  ABBOT:

  A man, Lightborn by name, seen

  In the Tower.

  ANNE:

  No more!

  ABBOT:

  Who had a paper with him

  In your writing.

  The peers examine the paper.

  RICE AP HOWELL:

  Equivocal truly. The comma lacks.

  ABBOT:

  Purposely.

  RICE AP HOWELL:

  May be. Yet it stands not therein

  That someone kill the king.

  YOUNG EDWARD:

  Ah Mortimer, thou knowest it was done

  And so shall it be done to thee. Thou diest!

  A witness to this world that thy

  All too subtle wiles, by which

  A kingly body in a grave now lies, too subtle were

  For God.

  MORTIMER:

  If I see right you charge me with the murder

  Of Edward the Second. Sometimes

  The truth untruthful seems nor can we ever

  Know which side the buffalo of state

  Will roll. Good and moral

  The side it rolls not on.

  The buffalo has rolled and fallen on me.

  Had I proof, how would proof serve me?

  The man the state has called a murderer

  Does well to play the murderer

  Were his hand as white as Scotland’s snow.

  Therefore I am silent.

  ABBOT:

  Heed not the windings of the Eel.

  MORTIMER:

  Take away my seal! Squadron on squadron

  France spits towards the isle. In Normandy

  The armies rot. Banish me

  To Normandy as your Governor

  Or as a captain. As a recruiting officer

  What you will, with naked arm to whip

  The army for you ’gainst the foe. Send me as a

  Soldier to be whipped on.

  Yet do not thus

  ‘Twixt meat and napkin, take my life

  Because a young whelp yaps

  For blood to see his father dead.

  Ask yourself if now’s the time

  To clear the case of Edward’s death,

  Or whether this whole isl
and, purged of one

  Murder, should swim in blood.

  You need me.

  Your silence is heard as far as Ireland.

  Have you a new tongue in your head

  Since yesterday? If your hands are still

  Unsullied, why, they are not sullied yet.

  To be dispatched thus coldly smacks of morality.

  ANNE:

  For my sake, sweet son, pity Mortimer!

  Young Edward is silent.

  Be silent then, I never taught you speech.

  MORTIMER:

  Madam, stand off! I will rather die

  Than sue for life unto a paltry boy.

  YOUNG EDWARD:

  Hang him!

  MORTIMER:

  See, boy, the strumpet fortune turns

  A wheel. It bears thee upwards.

  Upwards and upwards. Thou holdest fast. Upwards.

  There comes a point, the highest. From whence thou see’st

  It is no ladder, but now bears thee downwards

  For it’s round indeed. Who’s seen that, boy

  Does he fall or let himself go? The question

  Is amusing. Savour it!

  YOUNG EDWARD:

  Take him away!

  Mortimer is led out.

  ANNE:

  Bring not the blood of Roger Mortimer on you!

  YOUNG EDWARD:

  These words argue, mother, thou, perchance

  Hast brought my father’s blood on thee.

  For thou, tied fast to Mortimer, I fear

  Art suspect of his death and

  We send you to the Tower for trial.

  ANNE:

  Not from thy mother’s milk suckest thou

  Such caustic wit, Edward the Third.

  Dragged here and there, more than others

  And not from love of change, I’ve ever seen

  Evil nurturing its man and paying

  Every triumph over conscience with success.

  Now evil itself betrays me.

  You say in these last hours died a man

  Whose face yours dimly calls to mind

  Who did me many wrongs, whom I forget

  (Out of pity, you might say)

  Even his face and voice I blotted out.

  So much the better for him.

  Now his son sends me to the Tower.

  That is as good a place as anywhere.

  You who have the excuse, that you

  A child, have seen about you such hard

  Lifeless things, what know you of the world

  Where nothing’s so inhuman as

  Judgement and cold righteousness?

  Exit Anne.

  YOUNG EDWARD:

  It yet remains for us to lay his body

  Worthily to rest.

  ABBOT:

  And so it is of those who saw his crowning

  In Westminster Abbey, not one shall see

  His exequies. Of Edward the Second who

  Not knowing, as it seems, which among his enemies

  Remembered him, knowing not what

  Breed lived in light above his head, knowing

  Not the colour of the leaves, the season

  Nor the pattern of the stars, oblivious

  Of himself, in misery