by Oskar Kokoschka
Translated from the German by Michael
Hamburger
PERSONS
MAN
WOMAN
CHORUS: MEN and WOMEN
Night sky. Tower with large red iron grille as
door; torches the only light; black ground, rising to the tower in such a way
that all the figures appear in relief.
THE MAN in blue armor, white face, kerchief
covering a wound, with a crowd of men—savage in appearance, gray-and-red
kerchiefs, white-black-and-brown clothes, signs on their clothes, bare legs,
long-handled torches, bells, din—creeping up with handles of torches extended
and lights; wearily, reluctantly try to hold back the adventurer, pull his
horse to the ground; he walks on, they open up the circle around him, crying
out in a slow crescendo.
MEN. We were the flaming wheel around him,
We were the flaming wheel around you,
assailant of locked fortresses!
Hesitantly follow him again in chain
formation; he, with the torch bearer in front of him, heads the procession.
MEN. Lead us, pale one!
While they are about to pull his horse to the
ground, women with their leader ascend steps on the left.
WOMAN, red clothes, loose yellow hair, tall.
WOMAN, loud. With my breath I fan the yellow
disc of the sun, my eye collects the jubilation of the men, their stammering
lust prowls around me like a beast.
FEMALE ATTENDANTS separate themselves from
her, only now catch sight of the stranger.
FIRST FEMALE ATTENDANT. His breath attaches
itself to the virgin!
FIRST MAN to the others. Our master is like
the moon that rises in the East.
SECOND GIRL, quiet, her face averted. When
will she be enfolded joyfully?
Listening, alert, the CHORUS walks round the
whole stage, dispersed in groups; THE MAN and the WOMAN meet in front of the gate.
(Pause.)
WOMAN observes him spellbound, then to
herself. Who is the stranger that has looked on me?
GIRLS press to the fore.
FIRST GIRL recognizes him, cries out. His
sister died of love.
SECOND GIRL. O the singing of Time, flowers
never seen.
THE MAN, astonished; his procession halts. Am
I real? What did the shadows say?
Raising his face to her.
Did you look at me, did I look at you?
WOMAN, filled with fear and longing. Who is
the pallid man? Hold him back.
FIRST GIRL, with a piercing scream, runs back.
Do you let him in? It is he who strangles my little sister praying in the
temple.
FIRST MAN to the girl. We saw him stride
through the fire, his feet unharmed.
SECOND MAN. He tortured animals to death,
killed neighing mares by the pressure of his thighs.
THIRD MAN. Birds that ran before us he made
blind, stifled red fishes in the sand.
THE MAN angry, heated. Who is she that like an
animal proudly grazes amidst her kin?
FIRST MAN. She divines what none has
understood.
SECOND MAN. She perceives what none has seen
or heard.
THIRD MAN. They say shy birds approach her and
let themselves be seized.
GIRLS in time with the men.
FIRST GIRL. Lady, let us flee. Extinguish the
flares of the leader.
SECOND GIRL. Mistress, escape!
THIRD GIRL. He shall not be our guest or
breathe our air. Let him not lodge with us, he frightens me.
MEN, hesitant, walk on, WOMEN crowd together
anxiously. The WOMAN goes up to THE MAN, prowling, cautious.
FIRST GIRL. He has no luck.
FIRST MAN. She has no shame.
WOMAN. Why do you bind me, man, with your
gaze? Ravening light, you confound my flame! Devouring life overpowers me. O
take away my terrible hope—and may torment overpower you.
THE MAN, enraged. My men, now brand her with
my sign, hot iron into her red flesh.
MEN carry out his order. First the CHORUS,
with their lights, struggle with her, then the OLD MAN with the iron; he rips
open her dress and brands her.
WOMAN, crying out in terrible pain. Beat back
those men, the devouring corpses.
She leaps at him with a knife and strikes a
wound in his side. THE MAN falls.
MEN. Free this man possessed, strike down the
devil. Alas for us innocents, bury the conqueror. We do not know him.
THE MAN, in convulsions, singing with a
bleeding, visible wound. Senseless craving from horror to horror, unappeasable
rotation in the void. Birth pangs without birth, hurtling down of the sun,
quaking of space. The end of those who praised me. Oh, your unmerciful word.
MEN. We do not know him; spare us. Come, you
singing girls, let us celebrate our nuptials on his bed of affliction.
GIRLS. He frightens us; you we loved even
before you came.
Three masked men on the wall lower a coffin on
ropes; the wounded man, hardly stirring now, is placed inside the tower. WOMEN
retire with the MEN. The OLD MAN rises and locks the door, all is dark, a
torch, quiet, blue light above in the cage.
WOMAN, moaning and revengeful. He cannot live,
nor die; how white he is!
She creeps round the cage like a panther. She
crawls up to the cage inquisitively, grips the bars lasciviously, inscribes a
large white cross on the tower, cries out.
Open the gate; I must be with him.
Shakes the bars in despair.
MEN and WOMEN, enjoying themselves in the
shadows, confused. We have lost the key—we shall find it—have you got it?—
haven't you seen it?—we are not guilty of your plight, we do not know you—
They go back again. A cock crows, a pale light
rises in the background.
WOMAN slides her arm through the bars and
prods his wound, hissing maliciously, like an adder. Pale one, do you recoil?
Do you know fear? Are you only asleep? Are you awake? Can you hear me?
THE MAN, inside, breathing heavily, raises his
head with difficulty; later, moves one hand; then slowly rises, singing higher
and higher, soaring.
Wind that wanders, time repeating time,
solitude, repose and hunger confuse me.
Worlds that circle past, no air, it grows long
as evening.
WOMAN, incipient fear. So much light is
flowing from the gap, so much strength from the gate, pale as a corpse he's
turned.
Once more creeps up the steps, her body
trembling, triumphant once more and crying out with a high voice. THE MAN has
slowly risen, leans against the grille, slowly grows.
WOMAN weakening, furious. A wild beast I tame
in this cage; is it with hunger your song barks?
THE MAN. Am I the real one, you the dead
ensnared? Why are you turning pale?
Crowing of cocks.
WOMAN, trembling. Do you insult me, corpse?
THE MAN, powerfully. Stars and moon! Woman! In
dream or awake, I saw a singing creature brightly shine. Breathing, dark things
become clear to me. Who nourishes me?
WOMAN covers him entirely with her body;
separated by the grille, to which she clings high up in the air like a monkey.
THE MAN. Who suckles me with blood? I devour
your melting flesh.
WOMAN. I will not let you live, you vampire,
piecemeal you feed on me, weaken me, woe to you, I shall kill you—you fetter
me—you I caught and caged—and you are holding me—let go of me. Your love
imprisons me—grips me as with iron chains—throttles me—let go—help! I lost the
key that kept you prisoner.
Let’s go the grille, writhes on the steps like
a dying annual, her thighs and muscles convulsed.
THE MAN stands upright now, pulls open the
gate, touches the woman—who rears up stiffly, dead white—with his fingers. She
feels that her end is near, highest tension, released in a slowly diminishing
scream; she collapses and, as she falls, tears away the torch from the hands of
the rising leader. The torch goes out and covers everything in a shower of
sparks. He stands on the highest step; men and women who attempt to flee from
him run into his way, screaming.
CHORUS. The devil! Tame him, save yourselves,
save your selves if you can—all is lost!He walks straight towards them. Kills
them like mosquitoes and leaves red behind. From very far away, crowing of
cocks.
1907
*Reprinted from An Anthology of German
Expressionist Drama, ed. by Walker H. Sokel (New York: Anchor, 1963), pp.
17-21.
© 1963 by Anchor Books.
____
First performed at the Kunstchau Theatre in
Vienna in 1909, Murderer, the Women's Hope, by artist Oscar Kokoschka,
was one of the seminal plays of German Expressionism. The shocking
representation of the battle of the sexes, ends with everyone except the Man,
dying. The Vienna premiere cause a great deal of controversy, as soldiers,
watching the play from the edge of the garden, rushed through the barrier, a
riot breaking out before the police arrived. Kokoschka, as well as his writer
friends Adolf Loos and Karl Kraus, were issued a warning, but not arrested for
disturbing the peace. But both public and press, for the most part, detested
the play, describing it as a collection of "screaming images," and a
"pretentious Decoration Drama."
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