(My translation – in the form of a play – of Karel Čapek‘s short story Zločin v chalupě, which was published in Povídky z jedné kapsy in 1929.)
Dramatis Personae
JUDGE
MR VONDRÁČEK, the accused
JUROR
USHER
Villagers
Other jurors
Barristers
Witnesses
Pronunciation: Joudal (Yohdal); Vondráček (Vondrahchek)
Scene 1: Courtroom
JUDGE.
The accused will stand.
[VONDRÁČEK stands up.]
You’ve been charged with murdering your father-in-law František Lebeda. In the police interview you admitted you hit him three times on the head with an axe, with the intention of killing him. How do you plead?
VONDRÁČEK.
[Shivers, gulps.] Not guilty.
JUDGE.
Did you kill him?
VONDRÁČEK.
Yeah.
JUDGE.
So, you are pleading guilty or not?
VONDRÁČEK.
No, I’m not.
JUDGE.
Now look, Mr Vondráček, it’s already been established that you tried to kill him once before. You put rat poison in his coffee. Is that correct?
VONDRÁČEK.
Yeah.
JUDGE.
From which it follows that you’ve been seeking to kill him for some time. Do you understand me?
VONDRÁČEK.
[Sniffs and shrugs his shoulders.] It… it was… it was coz of the clover. He sold the clover, even though I told him, “Dad, don’t sell that clover, I’m gonna buy some rabbits…”
JUDGE.
Hold on. Was the clover his or yours?
VONDRÁČEK.
His. But why would he be awanting clover. And I says to him, “Dad, at least leave me the field where you’ve got the alfafa.” But he says, “When I dies, Mařka – that’s like me wife – Mařka will have it. And then you can do what you likes with it, you greedy bastard.”
JUDGE.
And that’s why you wanted to poison him?
VONDRÁČEK.
Yeah, sort of.
JUDGE.
Because he swore at you?
VONDRÁČEK.
No. It was the field. He said he’d sell the field.
JUDGE.
But, for heavens’ sake, man! It was his field, wasn’t it? Why shouldn’t he have sold it?
VONDRÁČEK.
[Looking reproachfully at the judge.] Well, beside that field I got a sort of line of potatoes. I bought it so’s I could combine it one day with his field. But he said, “What do I care about your line of potatoes?! I’m gonna sell it to Joudal.”
JUDGE.
So you were continually arguing.
VONDRÁČEK.
[Frowning.] Yeah, kind of. Coz of the goat.
JUDGE.
What goat?
VONDRÁČEK.
He milked it dry. I says to him, “If you’re gonna keep the goat, give us that meadow by the stream.” But he sold the meadow.
JUROR.
And what did he do with the money?
VONDRÁČEK.
What d’ya think? He kept it in his trunk. “When I dies,” he says, “you can have it.” But he din’t have no intention of dying, even though he were already over seventy.
JUDGE.
So you mean to say it was your father-in-law who was responsible for all the disagreements?
VONDRÁČEK.
Yeah… He din’t want to hand nuffing over. “As long as I’m alive,” he says, “I’m in charge and that’s that!” So I says to him, “If you buys a cow, Dad, I’ll plough the field and then you won’t have to sell it.” But he says, “When I dies, you can buy two cows for all I care, but I’ll sell the field to Joudal.”
JUDGE.
Now listen, Mr Vondráček, did you kill him on account of the money in the trunk?
VONDRÁČEK.
That was for a cow. We reckoned, when he dies, that’ll be for a cow. A cottage like that can’t be without a cow, can it? Where was I gonna get manure?
JUDGE.
We’re not talking about a cow, we’re talking about a man’s life. Why did you kill your father-in-law?
VONDRÁČEK.
Coz of the field.
JUDGE.
That isn’t an answer!
VONDRÁČEK.
He wanted to sell the field…
JUDGE.
But the money would still be there after he died!
VONDRÁČEK.
Yeah, but he din’t wanna die, did he? If he’d died like he oughta of done, Yer Honour… I treated h’im like he was me own father. [Turns to the public gallery.] The whole village can attest to that, can’t you?
[Murmurs of agreement from VILLAGERS.]
JUDGE.
Yes, and that’s why you wanted to poison him, isn’t it?
VONDRÁČEK.
[Mumbling.] Poison… He shouldn’t of sold that clover. Anyone can tell you, Yer Honour, that clover oughta stay home. [Turning to the public gallery.] That’s no way to manage things, is it now?
[More murmurs of agreement.]
JUDGE.
Turn and face me, or I’ll have the public gallery cleared… Now tell us, how did the murder happen?
VONDRÁČEK.
Well… It was on a Sunday and I could see he was talking with that Joudal again. “Don’t go selling the field, Dad,” I says to him. And all he says is, “I din’t ask your advice, did I, blockhead?” So then I thinks to meself, it’s high time, innit? So I goes off to chop wood.
JUDGE.
With the axe at Exhibit A?
VONDRÁČEK.
Yeah.
JUDGE.
Continue.
VONDRÁČEK.
That evening I says to me missus, “Take the kids over to Auntie’s.” And she starts to cry. But I says, “Don’t cry. I’m just gonna have a chat with him.” But when he comes into the shed, he says, “That’s my axe, give it here!” An’ then he tries to grab it off me. So I gives him a whack with it.
JUDGE
Why?
VONDRÁČEK.
Coz of the field.
JUDGE.
And why did you hit him three times?
VONDRÁČEK.
[Shrugging his shoulders.] Well, Yer Honour… Where I comes from, we’re used to hard work.
JUDGE.
And then?
VONDRÁČEK.
And then I goes to bed.
JUDGE.
Did you manage to get to sleep?
VONDRÁČEK.
No. I was thinking how much a cow would cost, and how I’d exchange the meadow for that bit by the path. Then it’d be all together.
JUDGE.
And your conscience didn’t trouble you?
VONDRÁČEK.
No. What troubled me was that them fields wasn’t together. And then I’d have to repair the cowshed for the cow. That’d cost a few hundred. My father-in-law din’t even have a cart. “Dad,” I says to him, “God help us, but this isn’t no way to run a farm. The two fields need to be together. That’d be more like it.”
JUDGE.
And did you have no sympathy for the old man?!
VONDRÁČEK.
Well… Well… He wanted to sell that strip to Joudal, din’t he?
JUDGE.
So you murdered him out of avarice!
VONDRÁČEK.
[Tremulously.] No. It was coz of the field! If the fields had been together…
JUDGE.
You don’t feel guilty?
VONDRÁČEK.
No.
JUDGE.
So, murdering an old man is a matter of nothing as far as you’re concerned?
VONDRÁČEK.
[Almost in tears.] But it’s like I says, it was coz of that field. That isn’t no murder! Jesus, Mary and Joseph, anyone can see that! It was a family matter, Yer Honour! I wouldn’t of done it to no one outside the family… I never stealed nuffin… You can ask anyone… An’ they drags me off like a thief! … Like a thief!
JUDGE.
No, not like a thief. Like a patricide. You do know, Mr Vondráček, that the punishment for that is death?
VONDRÁČEK.
[Sobbing.] It was coz of the field.
[The hearing continues: witnesses, prosecuting council, defence council… The jury retire to make their decision.]
Scene 2: The judge’s office
Deep in thought, the judge is staring out of a window.
USHER.
All a bit weak, I’d say. Neither the prosecution nor the defence felt the need to say much… In short, open and shut. Guilty as charged.
JUDGE.
“Guilty as charged” you say. Listen, my friend: that man feels just as innocent as you or I. It’s as if I were judging a butcher for killing a cow, or a mole for making molehills. At times I felt like it shouldn’t be up to us, you know – shouldn’t be up to our justice. [Sighs and takes off his robe.] God! I need a break from it. You know, I wouldn’t be surprised if the jury find him not guilty, ridiculous as that sounds… And that’s because… Let me tell you something. I was born and bred in the country, and when that fellow said, “Those fields need to be together,” it was as if I could see the two fields and I thought, you know, if we had to judge… by some sort of divine law… we’d have to judge those two fields. You know what I’d have liked to do? Stand up, take off my cap and say, “In the name of God, Mr Vondráček, because spilt blood cries to heaven for vengeance, you shall sow those two fields with hawthorn and henbane, so that, until your dying day, you’ll have that wasteland of hate in front of your eyes…” I wonder what the prosecuting counsel would have to say to that. My friend, sometimes God should do the judging. He’d be able to impose such terrific sentences. Although we judge in God’s name, we’re nothing in comparision… What’s that? The jury have already decided? [Sighs and puts his robe back on.] Right, let’s go. Call them back in.
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