The Awakening of Spring

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.

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?

I can rid myself of the conception no longer that it is time at last to open a window here.

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.

Habebald!

At your service, Herr Rector.

Open a window. Thank God there's fresh air enough outside.–Has any other gentleman anything to say?

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!

Habebald!

At your service, Herr Rector.

Open the other window!–Has any other gentleman anything to remark?

Without wishing to increase the controversy, I should like to recall the important fact that the other window has been walled up since vacation.

Habebald!

At your service, Herr Rector.

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!

At your service, Herr Rector.

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!

At your service, Herr Rector!

Bring him up! (Exit Habebald.)

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.

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.

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!

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.

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.–

I have–

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–

I have–

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.–

I have–

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!

At your service, Herr Rector!

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?

Yes.

Do you know whose writing it is?

Yes.

Is the writing in this manuscript yours?

Yes.

Are you the author of this obscene manuscript?

Yes–I request you, sir, to show me anything obscene in it.

You have to answer with a modest “yes” or “no” the exact questions which I put to you!

I have written neither more nor less than what are well-known facts to all of you.

You shameless boy!

I request you to show me an offense against morals in this manuscript!

Are you counting on a desire on my part to be a clown for you?–Habebald–!

I have–

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!

At your service, Herr Rector!

It is past the time for the three hours' exercise in agglutive Volapuk.

I have–

I will request our secretary, Herr Fliegentod, to close the minutes.

I have–

You have to keep still!!–Habebald!

At your service, Herr Rector!

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.

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.

The boy was nothing to me!–The boy was nothing to me!–The boy was a burden from his birth!

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.

Wasted—soiled—debauched—tattered and squandered!

I would not have believed my own mother had she told me that a child could act so basely towards its own parents.

To treat a father so, who for twenty years, from late to early, had no other thought than the welfare of his child!

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.

Indeed, we could not possibly have promoted him.

And if we had promoted him, next spring he would have certainly failed to pass.

It is your duty now to think of yourself first of all. You are the father of a family–

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.

The boy was nothing to me–the boy was nothing to me!

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.

Did they find the pistol?

There's no use looking for the pistol!

Did you see him, Robert?

It's a damned infernal swindle!–Who did see him?–Who did?

He was hidden!–They threw a covering over him.

Was his tongue hanging out?

His eyes–That's why they threw the cloth over him.

Frightful!

Do you know for certain that he hanged himself?

They say he has no head left.

Incredible!–Nonsense!

I have the clue in my hands. I have never seen a man who hanged himself that they haven't thrown a cloth over.

He couldn't have taken his leave in a vulgarer way!

The devil! Hanging is pretty enough!

He owes me five marks. We had a bet. He swore he would keep his place.

You are to blame for his lying there. You called him a boaster.

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!

Have you your composition, Otto?

First comes the introduction.

I don't know at all what to write.

Weren't you there when Affenschmalz gave us the theme?

I'll fake up something out of Democritus.

I will see if there is anything left to be found in Meyer's Little Encyclopedia.

Have you your Virgil for to-morrow?–

Quick, quick!–Here are the grave-diggers coming!

Hadn't we better wait, Ilse?

What for?–We'll bring fresh ones. Always fresh ones. There are enough growing.

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.)

I'll dig up our roses. I'll be beaten for it!–They will be of some use here.

I'll water them as often as I pass here. I'll fetch violets from the brook and bring some iris from our house.

It will be beautiful!–beautiful!

I was just across the brook on that side when I heard the shot.

Poor dear!

And I know the reason, too, Martha.

Did he tell you anything?

Parallelepipedon! But don't tell anybody.

My hand on it.

Here is the pistol.

That's the reason they didn't find it!

I took it right out of his hand when I came along in the morning.

Give it to me, Ilse!–Please give it to me!

No, I'm going to keep it for a souvenir.

Is it true, Ilse, that he lay there without a head?

He must have loaded it with water!–The mulleins were spattered all over with blood. His brains were scattered about the pasture.

SCENE THIRD

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!

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.

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.