by David Edgar
FRENCH OFFICER. The discipline of the institution requires that prisoners should adopt a standing position whenever approached or in the presence of prison officers. They will salute by standing at attention at the same time removing their headgear.
HESS gestures to the GUARD who goes to speak to him. A GUARD goes and whispers to him.
The prisoners may approach an officer or warder only if ordered to do so or if they want to make a request.
RUSSIAN DIRECTOR (in Russian). Ftchyom tam dela? [What’s the problem?]
GUARD (nodding to HESS). This man says he will faint.
RUSSIAN DIRECTOR (Russian). Poost syadit. [Let him sit down.]
GUARD(to HESS). You must sit down.
HESS sits on the floor. The other PRISONERS continue to dress.
FRENCH OFFICER (continues). Prisoners shall at all times wear the clothing provided for them. Imprisonment shall be in the form of solitary confinement. Approaching any window – including those in the cells – is strictly prohibited. The Prisoners may not talk or associate with one another except with special dispensation from the Directorate. However religious services and walks in open air will be carried out together.
RUSSIAN DIRECTOR. Form line!
The PRISONERS form up in their concentration camp uniforms.
RUSSIAN DIRECTOR (Russian). Zaklyutchyonnym vazzmozhina boodit intiressna oozznat shto etoo adezhdoo nasseeli oozniki konstlagirey. [The Prisoners may be interested to learn that these clothes were worn by prisoners in concentration camps.]
GUARD (translates). The Prisoners must like to know that these cloths are worn by prisoners in concentration camp.
No response from the PRISONERS.
RUSSIAN DIRECTOR (Russian). Im shto, ni panyatna? [Do they understand that?]
GUARD (translates). Do you understand?
The PRISONERS give slight nods. HESS nods and is helped to his feet.
RUSSIAN OFFICER. So, gentlemen. Welcome to Spandau.
As the DIRECTOR, OFFICER, GUARDS and PRISONERS leave, and the next scene is set up, SPEER speaks out front.
SPEER. You ask me how I felt? That I was getting what I deserved.
What, did I really feel that? Well, my feelings then were complex. I am putting them in simple terms for you.
But I can assure you, at that moment, nothing could have been better designed to make me feel very humble indeed.
1.2.2 Spandau, October 1947
GEORGES CASALIS has come in to a double cell which has been appointed for use as a chapel. He carries a suitcase. There is one table and the cell lavatory. CASALIS, a young Calvinist pastor, opens the case, takes out a wooden cross and places it on the table. He takes out a Bible and finds himself a black cassock. He takes off his jacket and is putting the cassock on when he hears the rumble of an approaching congregation.
He hurries to finish dressing as a SOVIET GUARD leads in RAEDER, FUNK, DÖNITZ, SCHIRACH, NEURATH and SPEER, dragging chairs. There is a moment when the SOVIET GUARD and the SIX PRISONERS stand watching a YOUNG MAN having a fight with his cassock. CASALIS wins, looks round for someone he recognises and holds out his hand to DÖNITZ.
CASALIS. Herr Dönitz.
After a moment, DÖNITZ puts his chair upright and shakes CASALIS’s hand.
(To the next man.)Herr Schirach?
SCHIRACH. Yes.
Shake hands.
CASALIS(to FUNK). And – Raeder?
FUNK. Funk.
CASALIS. Herr Funk.
FUNK (shaking hands, nodding to the next man). Raeder.
RAEDER. Admiral Raeder.
CASALIS (shaking hands). How do you do. And . . . Herr von Neurath.
NEURATH shakes, pleased that CASALIS used the ‘von’.
And of course, Herr . . .
SPEER. Speer.
CASALIS. Herr Speer.
Shakes hands. To the GUARD.
Herr Hess?
The GUARD is baffled.
NEURATH (Russian). Nommerr chetyrree. [Number Four.]
SOVIET GUARD. He is in cell. No religion. ‘Mumbo jumbo’.
He indicates by the universal gesture that HESS is mad.
CASALIS. Please gentlemen be seated.
The PRISONERS sit on their chairs. The SOVIETGUARD sits on the lavatory.
My name is Georges Casalis. I minister to the Protestant French community here in Berlin. I was asked if I would be prepared to serve as pastor to the prisoners of Spandau, on the grounds I fear of my linguistic rather than my spiritual skills.
No laugh.
So, as required of me: your regular Saturday dose of mumbo jumbo.
No laugh.
The text on which I wish to speak today is taken from Luke’s gospel: ‘While he was in a certain city, there came a man full of leprosy – ’
The PRISONERS glance at each other.
‘ – and when he saw Jesus he fell on his face and begged him: Lord, if you will, make me clean.’
SCHIRACH a bark of a laugh. DÖNITZ leans over and whispers to FUNK.
Now, you may ask, why I have chosen this passage to discuss with you today.
The PRISONERS are chuntering. CASALIS looks up from his notes, deciding to confront the atmosphere directly.
But before I say anything more to you, I sense that you have something you want to say to me.
RAEDER stands. The SOVIETGUARD stands too.
RAEDER. Herr Pastor, we must protest.
CASALIS. Uh – why?
RAEDER. It is entirely inappropriate to address us in this way.
CASALIS. In what way?
FUNK. As lepers.
CASALIS. Ah.
Slight pause. SCHIRACH stands.
SCHIRACH. We are here not as criminals, but because we have been unjustly condemned.
DÖNITZ (stands). As men who only did their military duty.
FUNK (stands). Therefore we protest, in the strongest possible terms.
RAEDER. And if our protest should prove ineffective –
NEURATH. – we shall take official action.
A moment of standoff. NEURATH stands. SPEER stands.
CASALIS. Gentlemen –
DÖNITZ. And so good morning, Herr Pastor.
DÖNITZ leads the group, picking up their chairs and dragging them to the exit.
SOVIET GUARD. You want be take to cell?
DÖNITZ. ‘We want be take to cell’.
SPEER is following the group.
CASALIS. But gentlemen –
The GUARD calls up the corridor to other GUARDS.
SOVIET GUARD (in Russian). Kapitan Razzinskiy! Mne noozhna vasha pomashch! Dvaa tchelaveka! [Captain Rozinsky! I need your help! Two men!]
CASALIS. But, gentlemen, I don’t know what to do.
The PRISONERS look back at him, a little contemptuously.
If the words of the Bible are an offence to you, how can I be of help?
The other GUARDS arrive.
I had hoped we were to set out on a journey, to find common ground between us and our inner selves. Tomorrow, I shall deliver the sermon I have not delivered here, to my own congregation. Next week I planned to speak to you and then to them from Mark: ‘Those who are well have no need of a physician’.
He puts the Bible and the cross in the suitcase, and slams it shut.
That is, to anyone who wants to hear me.
RAEDER. We shall see.
DÖNITZ leads the PRISONERS out. SPEER lingers. When the others have gone, the SOVIET GUARD gestures for him to follow. SPEER demurs. CASALIS is picking up his suitcase.
SPEER. Well, that put the cat among the pigeons.
CASALIS realises that SPEER wants to speak to him. He puts down his suitcase.
CASALIS. That was not of course my intention –
SPEER. You should however pay no attention to that little spectacle.
CASALIS. I fear that’s not as easy –
SPEER. Your sermons should upset us. You should not spare anybody’s feelings.
/> CASALIS. No. Well, thank you.
Pause.
Herr Speer, would you like to join your comrades?
SPEER. Oh, come now, Herr Pastor. You have done your homework. You know that even if I saw those gentlemen as comrades, they would hardly think that way of me.
Pause.
CASALIS (to GUARD). Please, leave us for a moment.
After a beat, the GUARD understands, and leaves, shutting and locking the door behind him.
Your defence at Nuremberg: Your position in the government was merely technical. You made no ideological statements. You were aware that people were evacuated but you had no idea that they were being systematically put to death.
SPEER. But nevertheless . . .
CASALIS. Nevertheless it was your duty to assume your share of the responsibility for the catastrophe of the world war. Insofar as Hitler gave you orders and you obeyed them you must share the blame.
SPEER. Well done.
CASALIS (aware of being patronised). Well, thank you.
SPEER. So it will be no surprise that number five is hardly number one in the affections of his fellow-prisoners.
CASALIS. No.
SPEER. In the same way as I would imagine you are hardly popular with your associates.
CASALIS. I beg your pardon?
SPEER. I wondered what your comrades in the French Resistance think about your present ministry?
CASALIS. You’ve done your homework too.
SPEER acknowledges with a gesture.
I think they are suspicious of its premise.
SPEER looks questioningly.
Which is, that the greatest sinner can repent. And now Herr Speer, I think you should tell me what you want to say or go back to your cell.
Pause.
SPEER. I want to know if they are right. You spoke about a journey to becoming someone else. I wondered if you felt that anyone can leave their past behind, and become a different man. Or if there are crimes – and criminals – so terrible there is no price too high for them to pay.
CASALIS. What is the past self that you want to leave behind?
SPEER. The man who thinks it’s possible to be merely technical.
CASALIS. And what price do you think your crimes deserve?
SPEER. That is the question.
Slight pause.
CASALIS. Herr Speer. I don’t think I am looking at a man who wished he’d died at Nuremberg.
SPEER looks questioning.
But perhaps . . . a man who thinks he ought to have wanted to die.
Slight pause.
And yes. The crimes for which you took responsibility were terrible. In the scale of justice, maybe, for a judge, a jury, yes, there is no price too high. But I am not a lawyer, I am not here to judge, to probe or to interrogate. I am a priest, and as such I am not concerned with balancing your suffering against the suffering for which you were undoubtedly responsible. All I see before me is an individual soul. Alone, alive, and thus, yes, capable of change.
SPEER. And is this a journey I must make alone?
Pause.
CASALIS. Not if you’d prefer to walk in company.
Slight pause.
But only if you tell the truth, to me and to yourself. For although it’s possible that a man be born again, to do so he must confront the truth of what he was before.
1.3.1 Germany, 1920s
SPEER out front:
SPEER. And so I tried to do so. Starting with my childhood, how at school I shone at mathematics, how my father nevertheless persuaded me to follow him into an architectural career. And how despite, yes, some initial disappointment, this course of study took me from provincial Heidelberg to Munich, to new interests and new friends.
Enter RUDOLF WOLTERS, a couple of years older than SPEER, now in his 20s. He tosses SPEER his informal 1930s clothes, into which SPEER changes, as:
WOLTERS. Say, you know your problem, Albert? You don’t do any work, you dress like a tramp, you’re always late and you can’t draw. Correct those faults, and you might make something of yourself in architecture.
SPEER (to CASALIS). Which of course was absolutely true.
WOLTERS. Oh, and that’s not to mention spending all your time with girls far too pretty for you doing pointlessly exhausting things in boats, down rivers and up mountains.
SPEER. Which was also true. The woman, naturally, was to become my wife. But this was after I had followed Rudi Wolters to the capital, falling under the influence of the great Heinrich Tessenow . . .
WOLTERS. . . . whose deep knowledge of the classical tradition . . .
SPEER. . . . love of peasant culture and hostility to internationalism . . .
WOLTERS. . . . inspires us all.
TESSENOW appears, bringing young ARCHITECTURE STUDENTS in his wake.
TESSENOW. So what is simple?
STUDENTS. Simple is not always good.
TESSENOW. But what is good?
STUDENTS. It’s always simple.
TESSENOW. And where will we find good and simple?
STUDENTS. Not in the cities! With the peasants! In the countryside!
SPEER. He told us in his classes in Berlin.
TESSENOW. And so what three things unite the principles of Germanic peasant architecture with those of Agrigento, Paestum and the Parthenon?
The STUDENTS are all keen to answer but TESSENOW silences them with a raised finger.
Herr Speer?
SPEER. Simplicity.
SPEER momentarily stumped. WOLTERS gestures at his own body.
SPEER. The proportions of the human form. And um . . .
WOLTERS holds up three fingers.
The rule of three.
TESSENOW. Exactly and precisely and entirely so.
TESSENOW sweeps off, followed by the STUDENTS, echoing:
STUDENTS. Exactly and precisely and entirely so . . .
SPEER. But what changed my life and fortunes was a chance meeting with the head of my party district.
CASALIS. You are in the party now?
SPEER. Yes, I joined in 1931.
CASALIS. Two years before Hitler came to power.
SPEER. Yes.
CASALIS. You will understand that for me that needs some explanation.
SPEER. Oh, Herr Pastor, just the chaos and despair of the depression. The six million unemployed.
CASALIS. Of course. But, still . . .
SPEER. And a meeting I had been persuaded by my fellow students to attend.
Massive applause. YOUNG NAZIS run in to catch a glimpse of a MAN in a blue suit, surrounded by an entourage of MINDERS, striding purposefully across the stage. SPEER finds himself caught up in their enthusiasm. Finally, the group rushes forward to the front of the stage, saluting and chanting:
YOUNG NAZIS. Sieg heil! Sieg heil! Sieg heil!
On the last of which SPEER finds himself joining in. The YOUNG NAZIS withdraw.
CASALIS. And do you remember what he said?
SPEER. Well, as I recall, he concentrated on the way in which the war had eliminated the best, leaving the inferior in charge.
CASALIS. And what you felt?
SPEER. Well, I’d expected a vulgar rabble-rouser. In fact, he seemed quite quiet, almost shy . . .
CASALIS. But what you felt?
Slight pause.
SPEER. I felt he was a human being. That here was somebody who cared for us, the young. Who loved us. Individually. And afterwards I drove into the country, to the woods. And walked all night. And joined the Party.
And as the only member of my section with a car, and thus perforce a member of the Party’s motorists’ association, I was immediately appointed section head, and thus came to the notice of Karl Hanke, then a rising star.
1.3.2 Railway Station, Berlin, July 1932
KARL HANKE enters in party uniform. Also SPEER’s wife MARGRET, with a PORTER, and the luggage of a boating holiday – collapsible boats and all – on his trolley.
&
nbsp; HANKE. Speer.
SPEER. Who one day in 1932 pursued me to the Lehrter railway station.
HANKE. Thank God I’ve found you. They told me at your lodgings you had gone away.
SPEER. That’s right, I have. On Holiday.
MARGRET approaches.
MARGRET. Albert, the train is leaving.
HANKE. On holiday? For Christ’s sake, where?
SPEER. East Prussia. We’re going faltboating.
MARGRET. In fact, in less than five minutes –
HANKE. And all this – stuff –
SPEER. Is our equipment. My dear, this is Party Comrade Hanke.
MARGRET. I am very pleased to meet you.
HANKE. But Speer you cannot possibly . . . You know that we have taken over premises in the Voss Strasse?
SPEER. Yes.
HANKE. Which the Doctor wishes to refurbish. Instantly.
SPEER. Uh – yes?
HANKE. Speer, you claimed you were an architect.
SPEER. I am.
A whistle blows.
MARGRET. Um, Albert –
SPEER. And yes of course I will.
HANKE. Good man, good man. Thank God.
HANKE goes out. SPEER looks at MARGRET and the luggage.
MARGRET. The Doctor?
SPEER. Goebbels.
MARGRET. Ah. So we don’t go on holiday.
MARGRET goes out with the luggage.
CASALIS. So, effectively, your career began with Goebbels.
SPEER. And continued with him, yes.
1.3.3 Voss Strasse, Berlin, July 1932
ANNEMARIE WITTENBERG appears, carrying files and office equipment. She is 18.
ANNEMARIE. Herr Speer. My name is Annemarie Wittenberg.
SPEER. How do you do?
ANNEMARIE. You are the man who painted the outer office red?
SPEER. That’s right.
ANNEMARIE. And Party Comrade Hanke’s office yellow?
SPEER. Yes.
ANNEMARIE. I work in Dr Goebbels’ office. I am very happy there. But now, apparently, I have to work for you.
She goes out.
SPEER. And then in 1933, I saw some drawings on Karl Hanke’s desk.
1.3.4 Voss Strasse, Berlin, April 1933
Enter HANKE with design drawings.
HANKE. What are you saying? This appears to be ‘The backdrop for “a shooting match”?’
