The Awakening of Spring

I will not cry again to-day. I will not think of my burial again.–Melchior will lay a wreath on my coffin. Pastor Kahlbauch will console my parents. Rector Sonnenstich will cite examples from history.–It is possible that I shall not have a tombstone. I had wanted a snow-white marble urn on a pedestal of black syenite.–Thank God, I shall not miss them. Monuments are for the living, not for the dead.

I should need a whole year to say farewell to everything in my thoughts. I will not cry again. I am so happy to be able to look back without bitterness. How many beautiful evenings I have passed with Melchior!–under the osiers; at the forester's house; on the highway where the five lindens stand; on the Schlossberg, among the restful ruins of the Runenburg.–When the hour comes, I will think with all my might of whipped cream. Whipped cream doesn't stay firm. It falls and leaves a pleasant after-taste.–I had thought men were infinitely worse. I haven't found one who didn't want to do his best. Many have suffered with me on my own account.

I wander to the altar like the ancient Etrurian youth whose dying rattle bought his brothers' prosperity for the coming year.–I experience bit by bit the mysterious awe of liberation. I sob with sorrow over my lot.–Life has turned its cold shoulder to me. I see earnest, friendly glances luring me there in the distance, the headless queen, the headless queen—compassion awaiting me with open arms–Your commands concern minors; I carry my free ticket in myself. If the shell sinks, the butterfly flits from it; the delusion no longer holds.–You should drive no mad bargain with the swindle! The mists close in; life is bitter on the tongue.

Ilse (In torn clothing, a bright cloth about her head, grabs him by the shoulder from behind.)

What have you lost?

Moritz

Ilse!

Ilse

What are you hunting here?

Moritz

Why did you frighten me so?

Ilse

What are you hunting?–What have you lost?

Moritz

Why did you frighten me so fearfully?

Ilse

I'm coming from town.–I'm going home.

Moritz

I don't know what I've lost.

Ilse

Then seeking won't help you.

Moritz

Sakerment, sakerment!

Ilse

I haven't been home for four days.

Moritz

Restless as a cat!

Ilse

Because I have on my dancing slippers–Mother will make eyes!–Come to our house with me!

Moritz

Where have you been strolling again?

Ilse

With the Priapia!

Moritz

Priapia?

Ilse

With Nohl, with Fehrendorf, with Padinsky, with Lenz, Rank, Spühler—with all of them possible! Kling, kling–things were lively!

Moritz

Do they paint you?

Ilse

Fehrendorf painted me as a pillar saint. I am standing on a Corinthian capital. Fehrendorf, I tell you, is a gibbering idiot. The last time, I trod on one of his tubes. He wiped his brush on my hair. I fetched him a box on the ear. He threw his palette at my head. I upset the easel. He chased me all about the studio, over divans, tables and chairs, with his mahlstick. Behind the stove stood a sketch;–Be good or I'll tear it! He swore amnesty, and—and then kissed me promptly and frightfully, frightfully, I tell you.

Moritz

Where do you spend the night when you stop in town?

Ilse

Yesterday we were at Nohl's.–The day before with Bojokewitsch—Sunday with Oikonomopulos. We had champagne at Padinsky's. Valabregez had sold his “Woman Dead of the Pest.” Adolar drank out of the ash tray. Lenz sang the “Child's Murderer,” and Adolar pounded the guitar out of shape. I was so drunk they had to put me to bed.–Do you go to school yet, Moritz?

Moritz

No, no,–I take my leave of it this quarter.

Ilse

You are right. Ah, how time passes when one earns money!–Do you remember how we used to play robbers?–Wendla Bergmann and you and I and the others, when you used to come out in the evening and drink warm goat's milk at our house?–What is Wendla doing? I haven't seen her since the flood–What is Melchi Gabor doing?–Does he seem as deep thinking as ever?–We used to stand opposite each other during singing.

Moritz

He philosophizes.

Ilse

Wendla came to see us a while ago and brought Mother some presents. I sat that day for Isidor Landauer. He needed me for the Holy Mary, the Mother of God, with the Christ Child. He is a ninny and disagreeable. Hu, like a weathercock!–Have you a katzenjammer?

Moritz

From last night!–We soaked like hippopotami. I staggered home at five o'clock.

Ilse

One need only to look at you.–Were there any girls there?

Moritz

Arabella, the beer nymph, an Andalusian. The landlord let all of us spend the whole night alone with her.

Ilse

One only need look at you, Moritz!–I don't know what a katzenjammer's like. During the last carnival I went three days and three nights without going to bed or taking my clothes off. From the ball to the café, noon at Bellavista; evenings, Tingle-Tangle; night, to the ball. Lena was there, and the fat Viola.–The third night Heinrich found me.

Moritz

Had he been looking for you?

Ilse

He tripped over my arm. I lay senseless in the snow in the street.–That's how I went with him. For fourteen days I didn't leave his lodgings–a dreadful time! In the morning I had to throw on his Persian nightgown and in the evening go about the room in the black costume of a page; white lace ruffles at my neck, my knees and my wrists. Every day he photographed me in some new arrangement–once on the sofa as Ariadne, once as Leda, once as Ganymede, once on all fours as a feminine Nebuchadnezzar. Then he longed for murder, for shooting, suicide and coal gas. Early in the morning he brought a pistol into bed, loaded it full of shot and put it against my breast! A twitch and I'll pull!–Oh, he would have fired, Moritz, he would have fired!–Then he put the thing in his mouth like a blow-pipe.–That awoke the feeling of self-preservation. And then–brrr!–the shot might have gone through my spine.

Moritz

Is Heinrich living yet?

Ilse

How do I know!–Over the bed was a large mirror set into the ceiling. The room seemed as high as a tower and as bright as an opera house. One saw one's self hanging down bodily from heaven. I had frightful dreams at night–O God, O God, if it were only day!–Good-night, Ilse, when you are asleep you will be pretty to murder!

Moritz

Is this Heinrich living yet?

Ilse

Please God, no!–One day, when he went for absinthe, I put on the mantle and ran out into the street. The carnival was over; the police arrested me; what was I doing in man's clothes?–They took me to the Central Station. Nohl, Fehrendorf, Padinsky, Spühler, Oikonomopulos, the whole Priapia came there and bailed me out. They transported me in a cab to Adolar's studio. Since then I've been true to the herd. Fehrendorf is an ape, Nohl is a pig, Bojokewitsch an owl, Loison a hyena, Oikonomopulos a camel–therefore I love one and all of them the same and wouldn't attach myself to anyone else, even if the world were full of archangels and millionaires!

Moritz

I must go back, Ilse.

Ilse

Come as far as our house with me!

Moritz

What for?–What for?–

Ilse

To drink warm goat's milk! I will singe your hair and hang a little bell around your neck.–Then we have another kid with which you can play.

Moritz

I must go back. I have yet the Sassanides, the Sermon on the Mount and the parallelepipedon on my thoughts.–Good-night, Ilse!

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.