The Threepenny Opera

“What good are the most beautiful, the most poignant sayings, painted on the most enticing little signs, when they get expended so quickly? The Bible has four or five sayings that stir the heart; once a man has expended them, there’s nothing for it but starvation. Take this one, for instance—‘Give and it shall be given unto you’—how threadbare it is after hanging here a mere three weeks. Yes, you have to keep on offering something new. So it’s back to the good old Bible again, but how long can it go on providing?”

This quote satirizes the commodification of morality and the fleeting nature of ideological appeal in a capitalist society. Through Peachum’s speech, which likens biblical teachings to disposable goods that lose their impact over time, Brecht critiques how moral principles are often repackaged for consumption rather than serving as ethical guides.

“PEACHUM. Those are the five basic types of misery, those most likely to touch the human heart. The sight of such types puts a man into the unnatural state where he is willing to part with money. Outfit A: Victim of vehicular progress. The merry paraplegic, always cheerful—He acts it out.—always carefree, emphasised by arm-stump. Outfit B: Victim of the Higher Strategy. The Tiresome Trembler, molests passers-by, operates by inspiring nausea—He acts it out.—attenuated by medals. Outfit C: Victim of advanced Technology. The Pitiful Blind Man, the Cordon Bleu of Beggary.”

In this passage, Peachum’s categorization of misery as a marketable commodity dehumanizes those who are impoverished, reducing them to strategic “outfits” designed to extract money from passersby. The ironic tone and exaggerated descriptions illustrate the hypocrisy of both charity and business.

“And a hundred men will land in the bright midday sun

Each stepping where the shadows fall.

They’ll look inside each doorway and grab anyone they see

And put him in irons and then bring him to me

And they’ll ask: which of these should we kill?

In that noonday heat there’ll be a hush round the harbour

As they ask which has got to die.

And you’ll hear me as I softly answer: the lot!

And as the first head rolls I’ll say: hoppla!

And that ship with eight sails and

All its fifty guns loaded

Will vanish with me.”

This passage from “Pirate Jenny,” sung by Polly at her mock wedding to Macheath, embodies themes of vengeance, power, and class struggle through its vivid imagery and dramatic tone. The contrast between the bright midday sun and the encroaching shadows mirrors the hidden resentment of the oppressed, which erupts into violent retribution. The repetitive, hypnotic rhythm builds suspense, while the protagonist’s transformation from a passive victim to an agent of destruction suggests that the oppressed may one day seize power through ruthless means, underscoring The Fragile Nature of Power.

“MAC. Though life with its raging torrent has carried us boyhood friends far apart, although our professional interests are very different, some people would go so far as to say diametrically opposed, our friendship has come through unimpaired. Think about it. Castor and Pollux, Hector and Andromache, etcetera. Seldom have I, the humble bandit, well, you know what I mean, made even the smallest haul without giving him, my friend, a share, a substantial share, Brown, as a gift and token of my unswerving loyalty, and seldom has he, take that knife out of your mouth, Jake, the all-powerful police chief, staged a raid without sending me, his boyhood friend, a little tip-off. Well, and so on and so forth, it’s all a matter of give and take. Think about it. He takes Brown by the arm. Well, Jackie, old man, I’m glad you’ve come, I call that real friendship. Pause, because Brown has been looking sadly at a carpet. Genuine Shiraz.”

This passage satirizes the corruption and mutual dependency between criminals and law enforcement. Mac’s exaggerated sentimentality and ironic comparisons to mythological and literary figures mock the supposed nobility of his relationship with Brown, exposing it instead as a transactional arrangement rooted in bribery and self-preservation.

“And though we’ve no paper to say we’re wed

And no altar covered with flowers

And nobody knows for whom your dress was made

And even the ring is not ours—

The platter off which you’ve been eating your bread

Give it one brief look; fling it far.

For love will endure or not endure

Regardless of where we are.”

This passage challenges traditional notions of marriage and societal validation, emphasizing love’s impermanence and independence from material symbols. The rejection of formal institutions—wedding papers, altars, and rings—underscores Brecht’s critique of bourgeois values.

“MRS PEACHUM. Married? First you rig her fore and aft in dresses and hats and gloves and parasols, and when she’s cost as much as a sailing ship, she throws herself in the garbage like a rotten pickle. Are you really married?”

Mrs. Peachum’s simile comparing her daughter to a costly sailing ship symbolizes the commodification of women in a capitalist society, where their value is measured by financial investment rather than personal agency. A woman’s worth, therefore, is contingent on fulfilling societal and economic expectations.

“Dear Mama, you can spare yourself the trip. Mac will go to the Old Bailey of his own accord sooner than meet any of those ladies. And even if he did go to the Old Bailey, the sheriff would serve him a cocktail; they’d smoke their cigars and have a little chat about a certain shop in this street where a little more goes on than meets the eye. Because, Papa dear, the sheriff was very cheerful at my wedding.”

This quote illustrates the corruption and complicity between criminals and authority figures, which Polly uses to take revenge on her own parents, who objectify her in the previous quote. The ironic tone and casual references to the sheriff’s hospitality expose how justice is not applied equally but is instead shaped by personal relationships and hidden transactions. Thus, Polly can act as one more player in the game of capitalism.

“Of course that’s all there is to it.

The world is poor, and man’s a shit.

Who wouldn’t like an earthly paradise?

Yet our condition’s such it can’t arise.

Out of the question in our case.

Let’s say your brother’s close to you

But if there’s not enough for two

He’ll kick you smartly in the face.

You think that loyalty’s no disgrace?

But say your wife is close to you

And finds she’s barely making do

She’ll kick you smartly in the face.”

Through the Peachums’ song, Brecht expresses a cynical view of human nature and societal structures as centered on self-interest, developing the theme of The Futility of Human Aspirations. By systematically dismantling ideals like brotherhood and loyalty, Brecht challenges the audience to question whether ethical behavior is truly possible in a world defined by economic hardship and systemic inequality.

“POLLY. Perhaps there wasn’t yesterday, but suddenly today there’s an awful lot. You—I’ve brought the charges with me, I don’t even know if I can get them straight, the list goes on so. You’ve killed two shopkeepers, more than thirty burglaries, twenty-three hold-ups, and God knows how many acts of arson, attempted murder, forgery and perjury, all within eighteen months. You’re a dreadful man. And in Winchester you seduced two sisters under the age of consent.”

This passage satirizes the arbitrary nature of justice and the performative aspects of crime and punishment in society. Polly’s exaggerated, almost bureaucratic recitation of Macheath’s extensive criminal record juxtaposes the severity of his actions with a tone of detached amusement, highlighting how crime is both normalized and commodified in a corrupt society. The absurdity of Macheath’s unchecked offenses underscores Brecht’s critique of a legal system that selectively enforces morality.

“Thus many a man watched men die in confusion:

A mighty genius, stuck on prostitution!

The watchers claimed their urges were exhausted

But when they died who paid the funeral?

Whores did. Want it or not, they can’t ignore that call.

Sexual obsession has them in its thrall.”

This passage from “Ballad of Sexual Obsession” sung by Mrs. Peachum critiques societal hypocrisy by exposing how those who condemn vice are often dependent on it. The irony of sex workers ultimately financing the burials of their clients highlights the inescapable cycle of exploitation, where the marginalized bear the burdens of the very system that devalues them.

“JENNY. Oh well, I see a narrow dark place and not much light. And then I see a big T, that means a woman’s treachery. And then I see…

MAC. Stop. I’d like some details about that narrow dark place and the treachery. What’s this treacherous woman’s name?

JENNY. All I see is it begins with a J. 

MAC: Then you’ve got it wrong. It begins with a P.”

This exchange between Jenny and Macheath plays with themes of fate, betrayal, and the performative nature of truth. Jenny’s cryptic prophecy aligns with Mac’s growing paranoia, yet his immediate attempt to control the narrative—correcting the initial “J” to “P”—suggests that his betrayal is less about destiny and more about the limits of his perception and self-justification.

“That was the time, now very far away

He was so sweet and bashed me where it hurt.

And when the cash ran out the feathers really flew

He’d up and say: I’m going to pawn your skirt.

A skirt is nicer, but no skirt will do.

Just like his cheek, he had me fairly stewing

I’d ask him straight to say what he thought he was doing

Then he’d lash out and knock me headlong down the stairs.

I had the bruises off and on for years.”

This passage, sung by Jenny who recalls her past relationship with Mac, exposes the normalization of abuse and power imbalances in relationships, using dark irony to critique societal attitudes toward violence and dependency. The juxtaposition of affectionate nostalgia with brutal physical abuse illustrates the contradictions in her perception of love, further pointing to how economic desperation entraps individuals in cycles of exploitation.

“BROWN after a long pause, under the withering glance of his former friend. Oh, Mac, it wasn’t me…I did everything…don’t look at me like that, Mac…I can’t stand it…Your silence is killing me. Shouts at one of the constables: Stop tugging at that rope, you swine…Say something, Mac. Say something to your poor Jackie…A kind word in his tragic…Rests his head against the wall and weeps. He doesn’t deem me worthy even of a word. Goes out.”

This quote illustrates the motif of betrayal and shifting power dynamics, as Brown, once an authoritative figure, is reduced to desperation in the face of Mac’s silent condemnation. Brown’s fragmented speech emphasizes the breakdown of their corrupt friendship, his emotional collapse underscoring his reliance on Mac’s validation despite having betrayed him. Brecht employs irony here, as Brown, a figure of law and order, begs for mercy, while Mac, the supposed criminal, exerts power through silence.

“I’ve heard them praising single-minded spirits

Whose empty stomachs show they live for knowledge

In rat-infested shacks awash with ullage.

I’m all for culture, but there are some limits.

The simple life is fine for those it suits.

I don’t find, for my part, that it attracts.

There’s not a bird from here to Halifax

Would peck at such unappetising fruits.

What use is freedom?

None, to judge from this.

One must live well to know what living is.”

In “The Ballad of Good Living,” Brecht, through Mac, criticizes the romanticization of poverty and intellectual asceticism, exposing the hypocrisy of glorifying suffering while ignoring its harsh realities. Mac’s skepticism of the idea that knowledge and culture should come at the expense of comfort or even survival reinforces the idea that material necessity outweighs idealistic principles.

“PEACHUM. Let me remind you of a historical incident which, though it caused a great stir at the time, in the year 1400 BC, is unknown to the public of today. On the death of the Egyptian king Rameses II, the police captain of Nineveh, or was it Cairo, committed some minor offence against the lower classes of the population. Even at that time the consequences were terrible. As the history books tell us, the coronation procession of Semiramis, the new Queen, ‘developed into a series of catastrophes thanks to the unduly active participation of the lower orders’. Historians still shudder at the cruel way Semiramis treated her police captain. I only remember dimly, but there was some talk of snakes she fed on his bosom.”

Peachum’s speech to Brown, which is a veiled threat, satirizes the manipulation of history to serve personal agendas. Peachum’s deliberately vague and contradictory retelling of an obscure historical event illustrates how those in power distort facts to justify their own actions, furthering Brecht’s critique of authority and propaganda. The absurdity of the story exemplifies the use of historical narratives to maintain control over the lower classes.

“JENNY. Don’t talk to me about Mr Macheath. You’re not fit to black his boots. Last night I had to let a customer go because it made me cry into my pillow thinking how I had sold that gentleman to you. Yes, ladies, and what do you think happened this morning? Less than an hour ago, just after I had cried myself to sleep, I heard somebody whistle, and out on the street stood the very gentleman I’d been crying about, asking me to throw down the key. He wanted to lie in my arms and make me forget the wrong I had done him. Ladies, he’s the last sportsman left in London. And if our friend Suky Tawdry isn’t here with us now, it’s because he went on from me to her to console her too.”

Jenny’s dramatic lament over her role in Macheath’s capture is laced with irony, as her grief is undercut by his immediate return to seek comfort—not just from her, but from another woman as well. The exaggerated sentimentality and idealization of Macheath as “the last sportsman left in London” mock the glorification of charismatic criminals. Jenny, in fact, acts against her expressed sentiments, as she delivers her speech while she is asking for her compensation for having betrayed Mac.

“You know the ever-curious Brecht

Whose songs you liked to hum.

He asked, too often for your peace

Where rich men get their riches from.

So then you drove him overseas.

How curious was my mother’s son!

But now that time is getting late

The world can see what followed on.

Inquisitiveness brought him to this state—

How fortunate the man with none!”

Jenny’s “Solomon Song” references Brecht’s own exile, which signals the fact that the lines were added after Brecht’s relocation to the US in 1933. The quote draws attention to how those who challenge economic and political elites are often cast out or silenced, while the complacent and uninquisitive remain unscathed. The final line’s ironic tone suggests that ignorance and passivity may offer safety in an unjust world. The lines also create an ironic analogy between Macheath, who is waiting for his execution, and Brecht, who is exiled.

“POLLY. To tell the truth, I’ve been thinking about this man a good deal in the last few hours. It’s not so simple. Because you see, Miss, I really can’t help envying you for the way he behaved to you the other day. When I left him, only because my mother made me, he didn’t show the slightest sign of regret. Maybe he has no heart and nothing but a stone in his breast. What do you think, Lucy?”

Polly’s conflicting emotions—envy, doubt, and resentment—illustrate the play’s critique of traditional notions of love. The rhetorical question directed at Lucy invites validation but also exposes Polly’s insecurity, reinforcing the idea that women in the play are left competing for the affections of a man who ultimately values none of them beyond his own convenience.

“MAC suddenly bursts into a soft unbroken flow of speech. All right, Smith, I won’t say a word, not a word about bribery, never fear. I know all about it. If you let yourself be bribed, you’d have to leave the country for a start. You certainly would. You’d need enough to live on for the rest of your life. A thousand pounds, eh? Don’t say anything! In twenty minutes I’ll tell you whether you can have your thousand pounds by noon. I’m not saying a word about feelings. Go outside and think it over carefully. Life is short and money is scarce. And I don’t even know yet if I can raise any. But if anyone wants to see me, let them in.”

This quote illustrates the idea that morality is secondary to financial self-interest. Mac’s smooth and calculated speech, marked by rapid delivery and rhetorical manipulation, reveals his ability to navigate the corrupt system by exploiting the very officials meant to uphold justice.

“Come here and see the shitty state he’s in.

This really is what people mean by bust.

You who set up the dirty cash you win

As just about the only god you’ll trust

Don’t stand and watch him slipping round the bend!

Go to the Queen and say that her subjects need her

Go in a group and tell her of his trouble

Like pigs all following behind their leader.

Say that his teeth are wearing down to rubble.

D’you want his punishment to have no end?”

This quote is Mac’s lament as he awaits execution. Thus, it blends personal desperation with social critique, as he decries both his own suffering and the indifference of a society that worships wealth. His plea for intervention carries an affective weight, revealing his vulnerability while also mocking the idea that those in power, like the queen, would actually come to his aid (ironically, this is precisely what happens in the denouement, though the play cautions audience members not to expect this kind of deus ex machina in real life).

“Here hangs Macheath who never wronged a flea

A faithless friend has brought him to this pass.

And as he dangles from the gallowstree

His neck finds out how heavy is his arse.”

This quote, where Macheath reproaches Brown for his lack of fidelity, blends irony and dark humor to expose the hypocrisy of both Macheath’s sense of personal betrayal and the broader system of justice. Macheath’s exaggerated claim of innocence (“never wronged a flea”) illustrates his self-serving perspective. His reproach to Brown reinforces the idea of loyalty as an illusion.

“MAC. We mustn’t keep anybody waiting. Ladies and gentlemen. You see before you a declining representative of a declining social group. We lower middle-class artisans who toil with our humble jemmies on small shopkeepers’ cash registers are being swallowed up by big corporations backed by the banks. What’s a jemmy compared with a share certificate? What’s breaking into a bank compared with founding a bank? What’s murdering a man compared with employing a man? Fellow citizens, I hereby take my leave of you. I thank you for coming. Some of you were very close to me. That Jenny should have turned me in amazes me greatly. It is proof positive that the world never changes. A concatenation of several unfortunate circumstances has brought about my fall. So be it—I fall.”

In this quote, Macheath ironically presents himself as a victim of progress, framing his fate as part of a larger societal shift where traditional criminals are overshadowed by the criminality of corporate and financial power—a parody of the more typical critique that “lower middle-class artisans” cannot compete in an increasingly industrialized society. His rhetorical questions—comparing burglary to banking and murder to employment—express Brecht’s critique that systemic, legal exploitation is far more insidious and far-reaching than individual acts of crime.

“Since this is opera, not life, you’ll see

Justice give way before humanity.

So now, to stop our story in its course

Enter the royal official on his horse.”

This quote directly breaks the fourth wall, which emphasizes The Threepenny Opera’s use of Verfremdungseffekt to remind the audience that they are watching a constructed performance. The cynical observation that “justice gives way before humanity” mocks the contrived happy endings often found in traditional operas, reinforcing Brecht’s critique of how art distorts reality to provide comforting illusions.