Ilse
Sleep well!–Do you ever go to the wigwam where Melchi Gabor buried my tomahawk?–Brrr! until you are married I'll lie in the straw.
(Runs out.)
Moritz
(Alone.)
It might have cost only a word.–(He calls)–Ilse?–Ilse!–Thank God she doesn't hear me any more.–I am not in the humor.–One needs a clear head and a happy heart for it.–What a lost opportunity!–I would have said that I had many crystal mirrors over my bed–that I had trained an unbroken filly–that I had her proudly march in front of me on the carpet in long black silk stockings and black patent leather shoes, long black gloves, black velvet about her neck–had strangled her in a moment of madness with my cushions. I would laugh when the talk turned on passion–I would cry out!–Cry out!–Cry out! It is you, Ilse!–Priapia!–Loss of memory!–That takes my strength!–This child of fortune, this sunny child–this joyous maiden on my dolorous path!–O!–O!– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
(In the bushes by the bank.)
Have I found it again unwillingly—the seat of turf. The mulleins seem to have grown since yesterday. The outlook between the willows is still the same–The water runs as heavy as melted lead. I mustn't forget. (He takes Frau Gabor's letter from his pocket and burns it.)–How the sparks fly—here and there, downward and upward–souls!–shooting stars!
Before I struck a light one could see the grass and a streak on the horizon.–Now it is dark. Now I shall never return home again.
ACT III
SCENE FIRST
The Board Room—On the walls pictures of Pestalozzi and Jean Jacques Rousseau.
Professors Affenschmalz, Knüppeldick, Hungergurt, Knochenbruch, Zungenschlag and Fliegentod are seated around a green-covered table, over which are burning several gas jets. At the upper end, on a raised seat, is Rector Sonnenstich. Beadle Habebald squats near the door.
Sonnenstich
Has any gentleman something further to remark?–Gentlemen! We cannot help moving the expulsion of our guilty pupil before the National Board of Education; there are the strongest reasons why we cannot: We cannot, because we must expiate the misfortune which has fallen upon us already; we cannot, because of our need to protect ourselves from similar blows in the future; we cannot, because we must chastise our guilty pupil for the demoralizing influence he exerted upon his classmates; we cannot, above all, because we must hinder him from exerting the same influence upon his remaining classmates. We cannot ignore the charge—and this, gentlemen, is possibly the weightiest of all–on any pretext concerning a ruined career, because it is our duty to protect ourselves from an epidemic of suicide similar to that which has broken out recently in various grammar schools, and which until to-day has mocked all attempts of the teachers to shackle it by any means known to advanced education–Has any gentleman something further to remark?
Knüppeldick
I can rid myself of the conception no longer that it is time at last to open a window here.
Zungenschlag
Th- th- there is an a- a- at- atmosphere here li- li- like th- th- that of the cata- catacombs, like that in the document room of the former Cha-Cha-Chamber of Justice at Wetzlar.
Sonnenstich
Habebald!
Habebald
At your service, Herr Rector.
Sonnenstich
Open a window. Thank God there's fresh air enough outside.–Has any other gentleman anything to say?
Fliegentod
If my associate wants to have a window opened, I haven't the least objection to it. Only I should like to ask that the window opened is not the one directly behind my back!
Sonnenstich
Habebald!
Habebald
At your service, Herr Rector.
Sonnenstich
Open the other window!–Has any other gentleman anything to remark?
Hungergurt
Without wishing to increase the controversy, I should like to recall the important fact that the other window has been walled up since vacation.
Sonnenstich
Habebald!
Habebald
At your service, Herr Rector.
Sonnenstich
Leave the other window shut!–I find it necessary, gentlemen, to put this matter to a vote. I request those who are in favor of having the only window which can enter into this discussion opened to rise from their seats. (He counts.) One, two, three–one, two, three–Habebald!
Habebald
At your service, Herr Rector.
Sonnenstich
Leave that window shut likewise! I, for my part, am of the opinion that the air here leaves nothing to be desired!–Has any gentleman anything further to remark?–Let us suppose that we omitted to move the expulsion of our guilty pupil before the National Board of Education, then the National Board of Education would hold us responsible for the misfortune which has overwhelmed us. Of the various grammar schools visited by the epidemic of self-murder, those in which the devastation of self-murder has reached 25 per cent. have been closed by the National Board of Education. It is our duty, as the guardians and protectors of our institute, to protect our institute from this staggering blow. It grieves us deeply, gentlemen, that we are not in a position to consider the other qualifications of our guilt-laden pupil as mitigating circumstances. An indulgent treatment, which would allow our guilty pupil to be vindicated, would not in any conceivable way imaginable vindicate the present imperiled existence of our institute. We see ourselves under the necessity of judging the guilt-laden that we may not be judged guilty ourselves.–Habebald!
Habebald
At your service, Herr Rector!
Sonnenstich
Bring him up! (Exit Habebald.)
Zungenschlag
If the pre-present atmosphere leaves little or nothing to desire, I should like to suggest that the other window be walled up during the summer va- va- va- vacation.
Fliegentod
If our esteemed colleague, Zungenschlag, does not find our room ventilated sufficiently, I should like to suggest that our esteemed colleague, Zungenschlag, have a ventilator set into his forehead.
Zungenschlag
I do- do- don't have to stand that!–I- I- I- I- do- do- don't have to st- st- st- stand rudeness!–I have my fi- fi- five senses!
Sonnenstich
I must ask our esteemed colleagues, Fliegentod and Zungenschlag, to preserve decorum. It seems to me that our guilt-laden pupil is already on the stairs.
(Habebald opens the door, whereupon Melchior, pale but collected, appears before the meeting.)
Sonnenstich
Come nearer to the table!–After Herr Stiefel became aware of the profligate deed of his son, the distracted father searched the remaining effects of his son Moritz, hoping if possible, to find the cause of the abominable deed, and discovered among them, in an unexpected place, a manuscript, which, while it did not make us understand the abominable deed, threw an unfortunate and sufficient light upon the moral disorder of the criminal. This manuscript, in the form of a dialogue entitled “The Nuptial Sleep,” illustrated with life-size pictures full of shameless obscenity, has twenty pages of long explanations that seek to satisfy every claim a profligate imagination can make upon a lewd book.–
Melchior
I have–
Sonnenstich
You have to keep quiet!–After Herr Stiefel had questioningly handed us this manuscript and we had promised the distracted father to discover the author at any price, we compared the handwriting before us with the collected handwriting of the fellow-students of the deceased profligate, and concluded, in the unanimous judgment of the teaching staff, as well as with the full coincidence of a valued colleague, the master of calligraphy, that the resemblance to your–
Melchior
I have–
Sonnenstich
You have to keep quiet!–In spite of this likeness, recognized as crushing evidence by incontrovertible authority, we believe that we should allow ourselves to go further and to take the widest latitude in examining the guilty one at first hand, in order to make him answerable to this charge of an offense against morals, and to discover its relationship to the resultant suicide.–
Melchior
I have–
Sonnenstich
You have to answer the exact questions which I shall put to you, one after the other, with a plain and modest “yes” or “no.”–Habebald!
Habebald
At your service, Herr Rector!
Sonnenstich
The minutes!–I request our writing master, Herr Fliegentod, from now on to take down the proceedings as nearly verbatim as possible.–(to Melchior.) Do you know this writing?
Melchior
Yes.
Sonnenstich
Do you know whose writing it is?
Melchior
Yes.
Sonnenstich
Is the writing in this manuscript yours?
Melchior
Yes.
Sonnenstich
Are you the author of this obscene manuscript?
Melchior
Yes–I request you, sir, to show me anything obscene in it.
Sonnenstich
You have to answer with a modest “yes” or “no” the exact questions which I put to you!
Melchior
I have written neither more nor less than what are well-known facts to all of you.
Sonnenstich
You shameless boy!
Melchior
I request you to show me an offense against morals in this manuscript!
Sonnenstich
Are you counting on a desire on my part to be a clown for you?–Habebald–!
Melchior
I have–
Sonnenstich
You have as little respect for the dignity of your assembled teachers as you have a proper appreciation of mankind's innate sense of shame which belongs to a moral world!–Habebald!
Habebald
At your service, Herr Rector!
Sonnenstich
It is past the time for the three hours' exercise in agglutive Volapuk.
Melchior
I have–
Sonnenstich
I will request our secretary, Herr Fliegentod, to close the minutes.
Melchior
I have–
Sonnenstich
You have to keep still!!–Habebald!
Habebald
At your service, Herr Rector!
Sonnenstich
Take him down!
SCENE SECOND
A graveyard in the pouring rain–Pastor Kahlbauch stands beside an open grave with a raised umbrella in his hand. To his right are Renter Stiefel, his friend Ziegenmelker and Uncle Probst. To the left Rector Sonnenstich with Professor Knochenbruch, The grammar school students complete the circle. Martha and Ilse stand somewhat apart upon a fallen monument.
Pastor Kahlbauch
For, he who rejects the grace with which the Everlasting Father has blessed those born in sin, he shall die a spiritual death!–He, however, who in willful carnal abnegation of God's proper honor, lives for and serves evil, shall die the death of the body!–Who, however, wickedly throws away from him the cross which the All Merciful has laid upon him for his sins, verily, verily, I say unto you, he shall die the everlasting death! (He throws a shovelful of earth into the grave.)–Let us, however, praise the All Gracious Lord and thank Him for His inscrutable grace in order that we may travel the thorny path more and more surely. For as truly as this one died a triple death, as truly will the Lord God conduct the righteous unto happiness and everlasting life.
Renter Stiefel
(His voice stopped with tears, throws a shovelful of earth into the grave.)
The boy was nothing to me!–The boy was nothing to me!–The boy was a burden from his birth!
Rector Sonnenstich
(Throws a shovelful of earth into the grave.)
Suicide being the greatest conceivable fault against the moral order of the world, is the greatest evidence of the moral order of the world. The suicide himself spares the world the need of pronouncing judgment of condemnation against himself, and confirms the existence of the moral order of the world.
Professor Knochenbruch
(Throws a shovelful of earth into the grave.)
Wasted—soiled—debauched—tattered and squandered!
Uncle Probst
(Throws a shovelful of earth into the grave.)
I would not have believed my own mother had she told me that a child could act so basely towards its own parents.
Friend Ziegenmelker
(Throws a shovelful of earth into the grave.)
To treat a father so, who for twenty years, from late to early, had no other thought than the welfare of his child!
Pastor Kahlbauch
(Shaking Renter Stiefel's hand.)
We know that those who love God serve all things best (1 Corinthians 12:15).–Think of the bereaved mother and strive to console her for her loss by doubled love.
Rector Sonnenstich
(Shaking Renter Stiefel's hand.)
Indeed, we could not possibly have promoted him.
Professor Knochenbruch
(Shaking Renter Stiefel's hand.)
And if we had promoted him, next spring he would have certainly failed to pass.
Uncle Probst
(Shaking Renter Stiefel's hand.)
It is your duty now to think of yourself first of all. You are the father of a family–
Friend Ziegenmelker
(Shaking Renter Stiefel's hand.)
Trust yourself to my guidance!–This devilish weather shakes one's guts!–The man who doesn't prevent it with a grog will ruin his heart valves.
Renter Stiefel
(Blowing his nose.)
The boy was nothing to me–the boy was nothing to me!
(Renter Stiefel leaves, accompanied by Pastor Kahlbauch, Rector Sonnenstich, Professor Knockenbruch, Uncle Probst and Friend Ziegenmelker.–The rain ceases.)
Hans Rilow
(Throws a shovelful of earth into the grave.)
Rest in peace, you honest fellow!–Greet my eternal brides for me, those sacrificed remembrances, and commend me respectfully to the grace of God–you poor clown–They will put a scarecrow on top of your grave because of your angelic simplicity.
George
Did they find the pistol?
Robert
There's no use looking for the pistol!
Ernest
Did you see him, Robert?
Robert
It's a damned infernal swindle!–Who did see him?–Who did?
Otto
He was hidden!–They threw a covering over him.
George
Was his tongue hanging out?
Robert
His eyes–That's why they threw the cloth over him.
Otto
Frightful!
Hans Rilow
Do you know for certain that he hanged himself?
Ernest
They say he has no head left.
Otto
Incredible!–Nonsense!
Robert
I have the clue in my hands. I have never seen a man who hanged himself that they haven't thrown a cloth over.
George
He couldn't have taken his leave in a vulgarer way!
Hans Rilow
The devil! Hanging is pretty enough!
Otto
He owes me five marks. We had a bet. He swore he would keep his place.
Hans Rilow
You are to blame for his lying there. You called him a boaster.
Otto
Nonsense! I, too, must grind away all night. If he had learned the history of Greek literature he would not have had to hang himself!
Ernest
Have you your composition, Otto?
Otto
First comes the introduction.
Ernest
I don't know at all what to write.
George
Weren't you there when Affenschmalz gave us the theme?
Hans Rilow
I'll fake up something out of Democritus.
Ernst
I will see if there is anything left to be found in Meyer's Little Encyclopedia.
Otto
Have you your Virgil for to-morrow?–
(The schoolboys leave–Martha and Ilse approach the grave.)
Ilse
Quick, quick!–Here are the grave-diggers coming!
Martha
Hadn't we better wait, Ilse?
Ilse
What for?–We'll bring fresh ones. Always fresh ones. There are enough growing.
Martha
You're right, Ilse!–(She throws a wreath of ivy into the grave, Ilse drops her apron and allows a shower of fresh anemones to rain down on the coffin.)
Martha
I'll dig up our roses. I'll be beaten for it!–They will be of some use here.
Ilse
I'll water them as often as I pass here. I'll fetch violets from the brook and bring some iris from our house.
Martha
It will be beautiful!–beautiful!
Ilse
I was just across the brook on that side when I heard the shot.
Martha
Poor dear!
Ilse
And I know the reason, too, Martha.
Martha
Did he tell you anything?
Ilse
Parallelepipedon! But don't tell anybody.
Martha
My hand on it.
Ilse
Here is the pistol.
Martha
That's the reason they didn't find it!
Ilse
I took it right out of his hand when I came along in the morning.
Martha
Give it to me, Ilse!–Please give it to me!
Ilse
No, I'm going to keep it for a souvenir.
Martha
Is it true, Ilse, that he lay there without a head?
Ilse
He must have loaded it with water!–The mulleins were spattered all over with blood. His brains were scattered about the pasture.
SCENE THIRD
Herr and Frau Gabor
Frau Gabor
They needed a scapegoat. They did not dare meet the charge that was made everywhere against themselves. And now that my child has had the misfortune to run his head into the noose at the right moment, shall I, his own mother, help to end the work of his executioners?–God keep me from it!
Herr Gabor
For fourteen years I have looked on at your spirited educational methods in silence. They were contrary to my ideas. I had always lived in the conviction that a child was not a plaything; a child should have a claim upon our most earnest efforts. But, I said to myself, if the spirit and the grace of the one parent are able to compensate for the serious maxims of the other, they may be given preference over the serious maxims.–I am not reproaching you, Fanny, but don't stand in my way when I seek to right your injustice and mine toward the lad.
Frau Gabor
I will block the way for you as long as a warm drop of blood beats in me. My child would be lost in the House of Correction. A criminal nature might be bettered in such an institution. I don't know. A fine natured man would just as surely turn into a criminal, like the plants when they are kept from sun and light. I am conscious of no injustice on my part. To-day, as always, I thank heaven that it showed me the way to awaken righteousness of character and nobility of thought in my child. What has he done which is so frightful? It doesn't occur to me to apologize for him–now that they have hunted him out of school, he bears no fault! And if it was his fault he has paid for it. You may know better. You may be entirely right theoretically. But I cannot allow my only child to be forcibly hunted to death.
Herr Gabor
That doesn't depend on us, Fanny. That is the risk we took with our happiness. He who is too weak to march stops by the wayside. And, in the end, it is not the worst when what was certain to come comes in time to be bettered. Heaven protect us from that! It is our duty to strengthen the loiterer as long as reason supplies a means.–That they have hunted him out of school is not his own fault. If they hadn't hunted him out of school, that wouldn't have been his fault, either!–You are so lighthearted. You perceive inconsiderable trifles when the question concerns a fundamental injury to character. You women are not accustomed to judge such things. Anyone who can write what Melchior wrote must be rotten to the core of his being. The mark is plain. A half-healthy nature wouldn't do such a thing. None of us are saints. Each of us wanders from the straight path. His writing, on the contrary, tramples on principle. His writing is no evidence of a chance slip in the usual way; it sets forth with dreadful plainness and a frankly definite purpose that natural longing, that propensity for immorality, because it is immorality. His writing manifests that exceptional state of spiritual corruption which we jurists classify under the term “moral imbecility.”–If anything can be done in his case, I am not able to say. If we want to preserve a glimmer of hope, and keep our spotless consciences as the parents of the victim, it is time for us to go to work determinedly in earnest.—Don't let us contend any more, Fanny! I feel how hard it is for you. I know that you idolize him because he expresses so entirely your genial nature. Be stronger than yourself. Show yourself for once devoid of self-interest towards your son.
Frau Gabor
God help me, how can one get along that way! One must be a man to be able to talk that way! One must be a man to be able to blind oneself so with the dead letter! One must be a man to be so blind that one can't see what stares him in the eyes. I have conscientiously and thoughtfully managed Melchior from his first day, because I found him impressionable to his surroundings. Are we answerable for what has happened? A tile might fall off the roof upon your head to-morrow, and then comes your friend—your father, and, instead of taking care of you, tramples upon you!–I will not let my child be destroyed before my eyes. That's the reason I'm his mother.–It is inconceivable! It is not to be believed! What did he write, then, after all! Isn't it the most striking proof of his harmlessness, of his stupidity, of his childish obscurity, that he can write so!–One must possess no intuitive knowledge of mankind–one must be an out and out bureaucrat, or weak in intellect, to scent moral corruption here!–Say what you will. If you land Melchior in the House of Correction, I will get a divorce. Then let me see if I can't find help and means somewhere in the world to rescue my child from destruction.
Herr Gabor
You must prepare yourself for it–if not to-day, then to-morrow. It is not easy for anyone to discount misfortune. I will stand beside you, and when your courage begins to fail will spare no trouble or effort to relieve your heart. The future seems so gray to me, so full of clouds–it only remains for you to leave me too.
Frau Gabor
I should never see him again: I should never see him again! He can't bear the vulgar. He will not be able to stand the dirt. He will break under restraint; the most frightful examples will be before his eyes!–And if I see him again–O, God, O, God, that joyous heart–his clear laughter–all, all,–his childish resolution to fight courageously for good and righteousness–oh, this morning sky, how I cherished it light and pure in his soul as my highest good–Hold me to account if the sin cries for expiation! Hold me to account! Do with me what you will! I will bear the guilt.–But keep your frightful hand off the boy.
Herr Gabor
He has gone wrong!
Frau Gabor
He has not gone wrong!
Herr Gabor
He has gone wrong!–I would have given everything to be able to spare your boundless love.–A terrified woman came to me this morning, scarcely able to control her speech, with this letter in her hand–a letter to her fifteen-year-old daughter. She had opened it simply out of curiosity; the girl was not at home.–In the letter Melchior explains to the fifteen-year-old girl that his manner of acting left him no peace, that he had sinned against her, etc., etc., and that naturally he would answer for it. She must not fret herself even if she felt results. He was already on the road after help; his expulsion made it easier for him. The previous false step could still lead to her happiness–and more of such irrational nonsense.
Frau Gabor
Impossible!
Herr Gabor
The letter is forged. It's a cheat. Somebody is trying to take advantage of his generally known expulsion. I have not yet spoken to the lad about it–but please look at this hand! See the writing!
Frau Gabor
An unprecedented, shameless bit of knavery!
Herr Gabor
That's what I'm afraid!
Frau Gabor
No, no–never, never!
Herr Gabor
It would be so much the better for us.–The woman, wringing her hands, asked me what she should do. I told her she should not leave her fifteen-year-old daughter lying about a haymow. Fortunately she left me the letter.–If we send Melchior to another grammar school, where he is not under parental supervision, in three weeks we shall have the same result.–A new expulsion–his joyful heart will get used to it after awhile.–Tell me, Fanny, where shall I send the lad?
Frau Gabor
To the House of Correction–
Herr Gabor
To the?–
Frau Gabor
House of Correction!
Herr Gabor
He will find there, in the first place, that which has been wrongfully withheld from him at home, parental discipline, principles, and a moral constraint to which he must submit under all circumstances.–Moreover, the House of Correction is not a place of terror, as you think it. The greatest weight is laid in the establishment upon the development of Christian thought and sensibility. The lad will learn at last to follow good in place of desire and not to follow his natural instincts, but to observe the letter of the law.–A half hour ago I received a telegram from my brother that confirms the woman's statement. Melchior has confided in him and begged him for 200 marks in order to fly to England–
Frau Gabor
(Covering her face.)
Merciful heavens!