more now. The boss c'n send some other feller there. I been quarrelin'
with him about that these three days. I gotta take up my hat right now
an' go there; he axed me to come roun' to his office again at six. If he
don' want to give in, he needn't. It won't never do for the father of a
family to be forever an' a day away from his family ... I got a
friend--why, all I gotta do's to say the word 'n I c'n get work on the
layin' o' the foundations o' the new houses o' Parliament. Twelve years I
been workin' for this same boss! I c'n afford to make a change some time.
HASSENREUTER
[_Pats JOHN'S shoulder._] Quite of your opinion, quite! Our family life
is something that neither money nor kind words can buy of us.
_ERICH SPITTA enters. His hat is soiled; his clothes show traces of
mud. His tie is gone. He looks pale and excited and is busy wiping
his hands with his handkerchief._
SPITTA
Beg pardon, but I wonder if I could brush up here a little, Mrs. John?
HASSENREUTER
Ha, ha, ha! For heaven's sake, what have you been up to, my good Spitta?
SPITTA
I only escorted a lady home, Mr. Hassenreuter--nothing else!
HASSENREUTER
[_Who has joined in the general, outburst of laughter called forth by
SPITTA'S explanation._] Well now, listen here! You blandly say: Nothing
else! And you announce it publicly here before all these people?
SPITTA
[_In consternation._] Why not? The lady in question, was very well
dressed; I've often seen her on the stairs of this house, and she
unfortunately met with an accident on the street.
HASSENREUTER
You don't say so? Tell us about it, dear Spitta! Apparently the lady
inflicted spots on your clothes and scratches on your hands.
SPITTA
Oh, no. That was probably the fault of the mob. The lady had an attack of
some kind. The policeman caught hold of her so awkwardly that she slipped
down in the middle of the street immediately in front of two omnibus
horses. I simply couldn't bear to see that, although I admit that the
function of the Good Samaritan is, as a rule, beneath the dignity of
well-dressed people on the public streets.
_MRS. JOHN wheels the perambulator behind the partition and reappears
with a basin full of water, which she places on a chair._
HASSENREUTER
Did the lady, by any chance, belong to that international high society
which we either regulate or segregate?
SPITTA
I confess that that was quite as indifferent to me in the given instance,
as it was to one of the omnibus horses who held his left fore foot
suspended in the air for five, six or, perhaps, even eight solid minutes,
in order not to trample on the woman who lay immediately beneath it.
[_SPITTA is answered by a round of laughter._] You may laugh! The
behaviour of the horse didn't strike me as in the least ludicrous. I
could well understand how some people applauded him, clapped their hands,
and how others stormed a bakery to buy buns with which to feed him.
MRS. JOHN
[_Fanatically._] I wish he'd trampled all he could! [_MRS. JOHN'S remark
calls forth another outburst of laughter._] An' anyhow! That there Knobbe
woman! She oughta be put in some public place, that she ought, publicly
strapped to a bench an' then beaten--beaten--that's what! She oughta have
the stick taken to her so the blood jus' spurts!
SPITTA
Exactly, I've never been deluded into thinking that the so-called Middle
Ages were quite over and done with. It isn't so long ago, in the year
eighteen hundred and thirty-seven, as a matter of fact, that a widow
named Mayer was publicly broken on the wheel right here in the city of
Berlin on Hausvogtei Square,--[_He displays fragments of the lenses of
his spectacles._] By the way, I must hurry to the optician at once.
JOHN
[_To SPITTA._] You must excuse us. But didn't you take that there fine
lady home on this very floor acrost the way? Aha! Well, mother she
noticed it right off that that couldn't ha' been nobody but that Knobbe
woman what's known for sendin' girls o' twelve out on the streets! Then
she stays away herself an' swills liquor an' has all kinds o' dealin's
an' takes no care o' her own children. Then when she's been drunk an'
wakes up she beats 'em with her fists an' with an umbrella.
HASSENREUTER
[_Pulling himself together and bethinking himself._] Hurry, gentlemen! We
must proceed to our period of instruction. We're fifteen minutes behind
hand as it is and our time is limited. We must close the period quite
punctually to-day. I'm sorry. Come, mama. See you later, ladies and
gentlemen.
[_HASSENREUTER offers his arm to his wife and leaves the room,
followed by KÄFERSTEIN and DR. KEGEL. JOHN also picks up his slouch
hat._
JOHN
[_To his wife._] Good-bye. I gotta go an' see the boss.
[_He also leaves._
SPITTA
Could you possibly lend me a tie?
MRS. JOHN
I'll see what c'n be found in Paul's drawer. [_She opens the drawer of
the table and turns pale._] O Lord! [_She takes from the drawer a lock of
child's hair held together by a riband._] I found a bit of a lock o' hair
here that was cut off the head of our little Adelbert by his father when
he was lyin' in the coffin. [_A profound, grief-stricken sadness suddenly
comes over her face, which gives way again, quite as suddenly, to a gleam
of triumph._] An' now the crib is full again after all! [_With an
expression of strange joyfulness, the lock of hair in her hand, she leads
the young people to the door of the partition through which the
perambulator projects into the main room by two-thirds of its length.
Arrived there she holds the lock of hair close to the head of the living
child._] Come on! Come on here! [_With a strangely mysterious air she
beckons to WALBURGA and SPITTA, who take up their stand next to her and
to the child._] Now look at that there hair an' at this! Ain't it the
same? Wouldn't you say it was the same identical hair?
SPITTA
Quite right. It's the same to the minutest shade, Mrs. John.
MRS. JOHN
All right! That's all right! That's what I wanted to know.
[_Together with the child she disappears behind the partition._
WALBURGA
Doesn't it strike you, Erich, that Mrs. John's behaviour is rather
peculiar?
SPITTA
[_Taking WALBURGA'S hands and kissing them shyly but passionately._] I
don't know, I don't know ... Or, at least, my opinion musn't count
to-day. The sombre state of my own mind colours all the world. Did you
get the letter?
WALBURGA
Yes. But I couldn't make out why you hadn't been at our house in such a
long while.
SPITTA
Forgive me, Walburga, but I couldn't come.
WALBURGA
And why not?
SPITTA
Because my mind was not at one with itself.
WALBURGA
You want to become an actor? Is that true? You're going to change
professions?
SPITTA
What I'll be in the end may be left to God. But never a parson--never a
country parson!
WALBURGA
Listen! I've had my fortune told from the cards.
SPITTA
That's nonsense, Walburga. You mustn't do that.
WALBURGA
I swear to you, Erich, that it isn't nonsense. The woman told me I was
betrothed in secret and that my betrothed is an actor. Of course I
laughed her to scorn. And immediately after that mama told me that you
wanted to be an actor.
SPITTA
Is that a fact?
WALBURGA
It's true--every bit of it. And in addition the clairvoyant said that we
would have a visitor who would cause us much trouble.
SPITTA
My father is coming to Berlin, Walburga, and it's undoubtedly true that
the old gentleman will give us not a little trouble. Father doesn't know
it, but my views and his have been worlds asunder for a long time. It
didn't need these letters of his which seem actually to burn in my pocket
and by which he answered my confession--it didn't need these letters to
tell me that.
WALBURGA
An evil, envious, venomous star presided over our secret meeting here!
Oh, how I used to admire my papa! And since that Sunday I blush for him
every minute. And however much I try, I can't, since that day, look
frankly and openly into his eyes.
SPITTA
Did you have differences with your father too?
WALBURGA
Oh, if it were nothing more than that! I was so proud of papa! And now I
tremble to think of even your finding it out. You'd despise us!
SPITTA
_I_ despise anyone? Dear child, I can't think of anything less fitting
for me! Look here: I'll set you an example in the matter of frankness. A
sister of mine, six years older than I, was governess in a noble family.
Well, a misfortune happened to her and ... when she sought refuge in the
house of her parents, my Christian father put her out of doors! I believe
he thought that Jesus would have done the same. And so my sister
gradually sank lower and lower and some day we can go and visit her in
the little suicides' graveyard near Schildhorn where she finally found
rest.
WALBURGA
[_Puts her arms around SPITTA._] Poor boy, you never told me a word of
that.
SPITTA
Circumstances have changed now and I speak of it. I shall speak of it to
papa too even if it causes a breach between us.--You're always surprised
when I get excited, and that I can't control myself when I see some poor
devil being kicked about, or when I see the rabble mistreating some poor
fallen girl. I have actual hallucinations sometimes. I seem to see ghosts
in bright daylight and my own sister among them!
_PAULINE PIPERCARCKA enters, dressed as before. Her little face seems
to have grown paler and prettier._
PAULINE
Good mornin'.
MRS. JOHN
[_From behind the partition._] Who's that out there?
PAULINE
Pauline, Mrs. John.
MRS. JOHN
Pauline? I don't know no Pauline.
PAULINE
Pauline Pipercarcka, Mrs. John.
MRS. JOHN
Who? Oh, well then you c'n wait a minute, Pauline.
WALBURGA
Good-bye, Mrs. John.
MRS. JOHN
[_Emerges from behind the partition and carefully draws the hangings._]
That's right. I got somethin' to discuss with this here young person. So
you young folks c'n see about getting out.
_SPITTA and WALBURGA leave hastily. MRS. JOHN locks the door behind
them._
MRS. JOHN
So it's you, Pauline? An' what is it you want?
PAULINE
What should I be wantin'? Somethin' jus' drove me here! Couldn't wait no
longer. I has to see how everythin' goes.
MRS. JOHN
How what goes? What's everythin'?
PAULINE
[_With a somewhat bad conscience._] Well, if it's well; if it's gettin'
on nicely.
MRS. JOHN
If what's well? If what's gettin' on nicely?
PAULINE
You oughta know that without my tellin'.
MRS. JOHN
_What_ ought I to know without your tellin' me?
PAULINE
I wants to know if anythin's happened to the child!
MRS. JOHN
What child? An' what could ha' happened? Talk plainly, will you? There
ain't a word o' your crazy chatter that anybody c'n understand!
PAULINE
I ain't sayin' nothin' but what's true, Mrs. John.
MRS. JOHN
Well, what is it?
PAULINE
My child ...
MRS. JOHN
[_Gives her a terrific box on the ear._] Say that again an' I'll bang my
boots about your ears so that you'll think you're the mother o' triplets.
An now: get outa here! An' don' never dare to show your face here again!
PAULINE
[_Starts to go. She shakes the door which is locked._] She's beaten me!
Help! Help! I don' has to--stand that! No! [_Weeping._] Open the door!
She's maltreated me, Mrs. John has!
MRS. JOHN
[_Utterly transformed, embraces PAULINE, thus restraining her._] Pauline!
For God's sake, Pauline! I don' know what could ha' gotten into me! You
jus' be good now an' quiet down an' I'll beg your pardon. What d'you want
me to do? I'll get down _on_ my knees if you wants me to! Anythin'!
Pauline! Listen! Let me do _some_thin'!
PAULINE
Why d'you go 'n hit me in the face? I'm goin' to headquarters and say as
how you slapped me in the face. I'm goin' to headquarters to give notice!
MRS. JOHN
[_Thrusts her face forward._] Here! You c'n hit me back--- right in the
face! Then it's all right; then it's evened up.
PAULINE
I'm goin' to headquarters ...
MRS. JOHN
Yes, then it's evened up. You jus' listen to what I says: Don't you see
it'll be evened up then all right! What d'you want to do? Come on now an'
hit me!
PAULINE
What's the good o' that when my cheek is swollen?
MRS. JOHN
[_Striking herself a blow on the cheek._] There! Now my cheek is swollen
too. Come on, my girl, hit me an' don' be scared!--- An' then you c'n
tell me everythin' you got on your heart. In the meantime I'll go an'
I'll cook for you an' me, Miss Pauline, a good cup o' reel coffee made o'
beans--none o' your chicory slop, so help me!
PAULINE
[_Somewhat conciliated._] Why did you has to go an' be so mean an' rough
to a poor girl like me, Mrs. John?
MRS. JOHN
That's it'--that's jus' what I'd like to know my own self! Come on,
Pauline, an' sit down! So! It's all right, I tells you! Sit down! It's
fine o' you to come an' see me! How many beatin's didn't I get from my
poor mother because sometimes I jus' seemed to go crazy an' not be the
same person no more. She said to me more'n onct: Lass, look out! You'll
be doin' for yourself some day! An' maybe she was right; maybe it'll be
that way. Well now, Pauline, tell me how you are an' how you're gettin'
along?
PAULINE
[_Laying down bank-notes and handfuls of silver, without counting them,
on the table._] Here is the money: I don't need it.
MRS. JOHN
I don' know nothin' about no money, Pauline.
PAULINE
Oh, you'll know about the money all right! It's been jus' burnin' into
me, that it has! It was like a snake under my pillow ...
MRS. JOHN
Oh, come now ...
PAULINE
Like a snake that crept out when I went to sleep. An' it tormented me an'
wound itself aroun' me an' squeezed me so that I screamed right out an'
my landlady found me lyin' on the bare floor jus' like somebody what's
dead.
MRS. JOHN
You jus' let that be right now, Pauline. Take a bit of a drink first of
all! [_She pours out a small glassful of brandy._] An' then come an' eat
a bite. It was my husband's birthday yesterday.
[_She gets out some coffee-cake of which she cuts an oblong piece._
PAULINE
Oh, no, I don' feel like eatin'.
MRS. JOHN
That strengthens you; that does you good; you oughta eat that! But I is
pleased to see, Pauline, how your fine constitootion helped you get back
your strength so good.
PAULINE
But now I want to have a look at it, Mrs. John.
MRS. JOHN
What's that? What d'you want to have a look at?
PAULINE
If I could ha' walked I'd ha' been here long ago. I want to see now what
I come to see!
_MRS. JOHN, whose almost creeping courtesies have been uttered with
lips aquiver with fear, pales ominously and keeps silent. She goes to
the kitchen cabinet, wrenches the coffee handmill out and pours beans
into it. She sits down, squeezes the mill between her knees, grasps
the handle, and stares with a consuming expression of nameless hatred
over at PAULINE._
MRS. JOHN
Eh? Oh, yes! What d'you want to see? What d'you want to see now all of a
sudden? That what you wanted to throttle with them two hands o' yours,
eh?
PAULINE
Me?
MRS. JOHN
D'you want to lie about it? _I'll_ go and give notice about you!
PAULINE
Now you've tormented me an' jabbed at me an' tortured me enough, Mrs.
John. You followed me up; you wouldn't leave me no rest where I went.
Till I brought my child into the world on a heap o' rags up in your loft.
You gave me all kinds o' hopes an' you scared me with that rascal of a
feller up there! You told my fortune for me outa the cards about my
intended an' you baited me an' hounded me till I was most crazy.
MRS. JOHN
An' that's what you are. Yes, you're as crazy as you c'n be. _I_
tormented you, eh? Is that what I did? I picked you up outa the gutter! I
fetched you outa the midst of a blizzard when you was standin' by the
chronometer an' stared at the lamplighter with eyes that was that
desperate scared! You oughta seen yourself! An' I hounded you, eh? Yes,
to prevent the police an' the police-waggon an' the devil hisself from
catchin' you! I left you no rest, eh? I tortured you, did I? to keep you
from jumpin' into the river with the child in your womb! [_Mocking her._]
"I'll throw myself into the canal, mother John! I'll choke the child to
death! I'll kill the little crittur with my hat pin! I'll go an' run to
where its father plays the zither, right in the midst o' the saloon, an'
I'll throw the dead child at his feet!" That's what you said; that's the
way you talked--all the blessed day long and sometimes half the night too
till I put you to bed an' petted you an' stroked you till you went to
sleep. An' you didn't wake up again till next day on the stroke o'
twelve, when the bells was ringin' from all the churches, Yes, that's the
way I scared you, an' then gave you hope again, an' didn't give you no
peace! You forgot all that there, eh?
PAULINE
But it's my child, Mrs. John ...
MRS. JOHN
[_Screams._] You go an' get your child outa the canal!
[_She jumps up and walks hastily about the room, picking up and
throwing aside one object after another._
PAULINE
Ain't I goin' to be allowed to see my child even?
MRS. JOHN
Jump into the water an' get it there! Then you'll have it! I ain't
keepin' you back. God knows!
PAULINE
All right! You c'n slap me, you c'n beat me, you c'n throw things at my
head if you wants to. Before I don' know where my child is an' before I
ain't seen it with my own eyes, nothin' an' nobody ain't goin' to get me
away from this place.
MRS. JOHN
[_Interrupting her._] Pauline, I put it out to nurse!
PAULINE
That's a lie! Don't I hear it smackin' its lips right behind that there
partition. [_The child behind the partition begins to cry. PAULINE
hastens toward it. She exclaims with pathetic tearfulness, obviously
forcing the note of motherhood a little._] Don' you cry, my poor, poor
little boy! Little mother's comin' to you now!
[_MRS. JOHN, almost beside herself, has sprung in front of the door,
thus blocking PAULINE'S way._
PAULINE
[_Whining helplessly but with clenched fists._] Lemme go in an' see my
child!
MRS. JOHN
[_A terrible change coming over her face._] Look at me, girl! Come here
an' look me in the eye!--D'you think you c'n play tricks on a woman that
looks the way I do? [_PAULINE sits down still moaning._] Sit down an'
howl an' whine till ... till your throat's swollen so you can't give a
groan. But if you gets in here--then you'll be dead or I'll be dead an'
the child--he won't be alive no more neither.
PAULINE
[_Rises with some determination._] Then look out for what'll happen.
MRS. JOHN
[_Attempting to pacify the girl once more._] Pauline, this business was
all settled between us. Why d'you want to go an' burden yourself with the
child what's my child now an' is in the best hands possible? What d'you
want to do with it? Why don't you go to your intended? You two'll have
somethin' better to do than listen to a child cryin' an' takin' all the
care an' trouble he needs!
PAULINE
No, that ain't the way it is! He's gotta marry me now! They all says
so--Mrs. Keilbacke, when I had to take treatment, she said so. They says
I'm not to give in; he has to marry me. An' the registrar he advised me
too. That's what he said, an' he was mad, too, when I told him how I
sneaked up into a loft to have my baby! He cried out loud that I wasn't
to let up! Poor, maltreated crittur--that's what he called me an' he put
his hand in his pocket an' gave me three crowns! All right. So we needn't
quarrel no more, Mrs. John. I jus' come anyhow to tell you to be at home
to-morrow afternoon at five o'clock. An' why? Because to-morrow an
official examiner'll come to look after things here. I don't has to worry
myself with you no more....
MRS. JOHN
[_Moveless and shocked beyond expression._] What? You went an' give
notice at the public registry?
PAULINE
O' course? Does I want to go to gaol?
MRS. JOHN
An' what did you tell the registrar?
PAULINE
Nothin' but that I give birth to a boy. An' I was so ashamed! Oh my God,
I got red all over! I thought I'd just have to go through the floor.
MRS. JOHN
Is that so? Well, if you was so ashamed why did you go an' give notice?
PAULINE
'Cause my landlady an' Mrs. Kielbacke, too, what took me there, didn't
give me no rest.
MRS. JOHN
H-m. So they knows it now at the public registry?
PAULINE
Yes; they had to know, Mrs. John!
MRS. JOHN
Didn't I tell you over an' over again?
PAULINE
You gotta give notice o' that! D'you want me to be put in gaol for a
investergation?
MRS. JOHN
I told you as how I'd give notice.
PAULINE
I axed the registrar right off. Nobody hadn't been there.
MRS. JOHN
An' what did you say exackly?
PAULINE
That his name was to be Aloysius Theophil an' that he was boardin' with
you.
MRS. JOHN
An' to-morrow an officer'll be comin' in.
PAULINE
He's a gentlemen from the guardian's office. What's the matter with that?
Why don't you keep still an' act sensible. You scared me most to death a
while ago!
MRS. JOHN
[_As if absent-minded._] That's right. There ain't nothin' to be, done
about that now. An' there ain't so much to that, after all, maybe.
PAULINE
All right. An' now c'n I see my child, Mrs. John?
MRS. JOHN
Not to-day. Wait till to-morrow, Pauline.
PAULINE
Why not to-day?
MRS. JOHN
Because no good'd come of it this day. Wait till to-morrow, five o'clock
in the afternoon.
PAULINE
That's it. My landlady says it was written that way, that a gentleman
from the city'll be here to-morrow afternoon five o'clock.
MRS. JOHN
[_Pushing PAULINE out and herself going out of the room with her, in the
same detached tone._] All right. Let him come, girl.
_MRS. JOHN has gone out into the hall for a moment. She now returns
without PAULINE. She seems strangely changed and absent-minded. She
takes a few hasty steps toward the door of the partition; then stands
still with an expression of fruitless brooding on her face. She
interrupts herself in this brooding and runs to the window. Having
reached it she turns and on her face there reappears the expression
of dull detachment. Slowly, like a somnambulist, she walks up to the
table and sits down beside it, leaning her chin on her hand. SELMA
KNOBBE appears in the doorway._
SELMA
Mother's asleep, Mrs. John, an' I'm that hungry. Might I have a bite o'
bread?
_MRS. JOHN rises mechanically and cuts a slice from the loaf of bread
with the air of one under an hypnotic influence._
SELMA
[_Observing MRS. JOHN'S state of mind._] It's me! What's the matter, Mrs.
John? Whatever you do, don't cut yourself with the bread knife.
MRS. JOHN
[_Lets the loaf and the bread-knife slip involuntarily from her hand to
the table. A dry sobbing overwhelms her more and more._]
Fear!--Trouble!--You don' know nothin' about that!
[_She trembles and grasps after some support._
THE THIRD ACT
_The same decoration as in the first act. The lamp is lit. The dim
light of a hanging lamp illuminates the passage._
_HASSENREUTER is giving his three pupils, SPITTA, DR. KEGEL and
KÄFERSTEIN instruction in the art of acting. He himself is seated at
the table, uninterruptedly opening letters and beating time to the
rhythm of the verses with a paper cutter. In front of him stand,
facing each other, KEGEL and KÄFERSTEIN on one side, SPITTA on the
other, thus representing the two choruses in Schiller's "Bride of
Messina." The young men stand in the midst of a diagram drawn with
chalk on the floor and separated, like a chess-board, into sixty-four
rectangles. On the high stool in front of the office desk WALBURGA is
sitting. Waiting in the background stands the house steward QUAQUARO,
who might be the manager of a wandering circus and, in the capacity
of athlete, its main attraction. His speech is uttered in a guttural
tenor. He wears bedroom slippers. His breeches are held up by an
embroidered belt. An open shirt, fairly clean, a light jacket, a cap
now held in his hand, complete his attire._
DR. KEGEL AND KÄFERSTEIN
[_Mouthing the verses sonorously and with exaggerated dignity._]
"Thee salute I with reverence,
Lordliest chamber,
Thee, my high rulers'
Princeliest cradle,
Column-supported, magnificent roof.
Deep in its scabbard ..."
HASSENREUTER
[_Cries in a rage._] Pause! Period! Period! Pause! Period! You're not
turning the crank of a hurdy-gurdy! The chorus in the "Bride of Messina"
is no hand-organ tune! "Thee salute I with reverence!" Start over again
from the beginning, gentleman! "Thee salute I with reverence, Lordliest
chamber!" Something like that, gentlemen! "Deep in its scabbard let the
sword rest." Period! "Magnificent roof." I meant to say: Period! But you
may go on if you want to.
DR. KEGEL AND KÄFERSTEIN
"Deep in its scabbard
Let the sword rest,
Fettered fast by your gateway
Moveless may lie Strife's snaky-locked monster.
For ..."
HASSENREUTER
[_As before._] Hold on! Don't you know the meaning of a full stop,
gentlemen? Haven't you any knowledge of the elements? "Snaky-haired
monster." Period! Imagine that a pile is driven there! You've got to
stop, to pause. There must be silence like the silence of the dead!
You've got to imagine yourself wiped out of existence for the moment,
Käferstein. And then--out with your best trumpeting chest-notes! Hold on!
Don't lisp, for God's sake. "For ..." Go on now! Start!
DR. KEGEL AND KÄFERSTEIN