After a day or two of deliberation I therefore decided against any rash rebellion. Moreover, as nothing compromising was immediately required of me, I detached and mailed the four coupons provided, having duly filled in the time at which I should make the preliminary calls.
II
On the day and hour appointed I presented the school card to the elevator operator, who punched it after the manner of his kind, and duly deposited me on the level of schools for boys of the professional groups. A lad of about sixteen met me at the elevator and conducted me to the school designated.
The master greeted me with obsequious gravity, and waved me to the visitor’s seat on a raised platform. ‘You will be asked to speak,’ he said, ‘and I beg that you will tell the boys of the wonderful chemical discoveries that won you the honors of election to paternity.’
‘But,’ I protested, as I glanced at the boys who were being put through their morning drill in the gymnasium, ‘I fear the boys of such age will not comprehend the nature of my work.’
‘Certainly not,’ he replied, ‘and I would rather you did not try to simplify it for their undeveloped minds, merely speak learnedly of your work as if you were addressing a body of your colleagues. The less the boys understand of it the more they will be impressed with its importance, and the more ambitious they will be to become great chemists.’
This strange philosophy of education annoyed me, but I did not have time to argue further for the bell had rung and the boys were filing in with strict military precision. There were about fifty of them, all in their twelfth year, and of remarkable uniformity in size and development. The blanched skin, which marked the adult faces of Berlin, was, in the pasty countenance of those German boys, a more horrifying spectacle. Yet they stood erect and, despite their lack of color, were evidently a well nourished, well exercised group of youngsters.
As the last boy reached his place the master motioned with his hand and fifty arms moved in unison in a mechanical salute.
‘We have with us this morning,’ said the master, ‘a chemist who has won the honors of paternity with his original thought. He will tell you about his work which you cannot understand – you should therefore listen attentively.’
After a few more sentences of these paradoxical axioms on education, the master nodded, and, as I had been instructed, I proceeded to talk of the chemical lore of poison gases.
‘And now,’ said the master, when I resumed my seat, ‘we will have a review lesson. You will first recite in unison the creed of your caste.’
‘We are youth of the super-race,’ began the boys in a singsong and well timed chorus. ‘We belong to the chemical group of the intellectual levels, being born of sires who were great chemists, born of great chemists for many generations. It is our duty to learn while we are yet young all that we may ever need to know, to keep our minds free from forbidden knowledge and to resist the temptation to think on unnecessary things. So we may be good Germans, loyal to the House of Hohenzollern and to the worship of the old German God and the divine blood of William the Great.’
The schoolmaster, who had nodded his head in unison with the rhythm of the recitation, now smiled in satisfaction. ‘That was very good,’ he said. ‘I did not hear one faltering voice. Now you may recite individually in your alphabetical order.
‘Anton, you may describe the stages in the evolution of the super-man.’
Anton, a flaxen-haired youngster, arose, saluted like a wooden soldier, and intoned the following monologue:
‘Man is an animal in the process of evolving into a god. The method of this evolution is a struggle in which the weak perish and the strong survive. First in this process of man’s evolution came the savage, who lived with the lions and the apes. In the second stage came the dark races who built the so-called ancient civilizations, and fought among themselves to possess private property and women and children. Third came the barbarian Blond Brutes, who were destined to sire the super-race, but the day had not yet come, and they mixed with the dark races and produced the mongrel peoples, which make the fourth. The fifth stage is the pure-bred Blond Brutes, uncontaminated by inferior races, which are the men, who under God’s direction, built the Armored City of Berlin in which to breed the Super-men who are to conquer the mongrel peoples. The sixth, last and culminating stage of the evolution of man is the Divinity in human form which is our noble House of Hohenzollern, descended physically from William the Great, and spiritually from the soul of God Himself, whose statue stands with that of the Mighty William at the portals of the Emperor’s palace.’
It had been a noble effort for so young a memory and as the proud master looked at me expectantly I could do nothing less than nod my appreciation.
The master now gave Bruno the following cue:
‘Name the four kinds of government and explain each.’
From the sad-eyed youth of twelve came this flow of wisdom:
‘The first form of government is monarchy, in which the people are ruled by a man who calls himself a king but who has no divine authority so that the people sometimes failed to respect him and made revolutions and tried to govern themselves. The second form of government is a republic, sometimes called a democracy. It is usually co-existent with the lawyer, the priest, the family and the greed for gold. But in reality this government is by the rich men, who let the poor men vote and think they have a share in the government, thus to keep them contented with their poverty. The third form of government is proletariat socialism in which the people, having abolished kings and rich men, attempt to govern themselves; but this they cannot do for the same reason that a man cannot lift himself by his shoestraps –’
At this point Bruno faltered and his face went chalky white. The teacher being directly in front of the standing pupil did not see what had happened, while I, with fleeting memory of my own schooldays, suppressed my mirth behind a formal countenance, as the stoic Bruno resumed his seat.
The master marked zero on the roll and called upon Conrad, next in line, to finish the recitation.
‘The fourth and last form of government,’ recited Conrad, ‘is autocratic socialism, the perfect government that we Germans have evolved from proletariat socialism which had destroyed the greed for private property and private family life, so that the people ceased to struggle individually and were ready to accept the Royal House, divinely appointed by God to govern them perfectly and prepare them to make war for the conquest of the world.’
The recitations now turned to repetitions of the pedigree and ranking of the various branches of the Royal House. But it was a mere list of names like the begats of Genesis and I was not able to profit much by this opportunity to improve my own neglected education. As the morning wore on the parrot-like monologues shifted to elementary chemistry.
The master had gone entirely through the alphabet of names and now called again the apt Anton for a more brilliant demonstration of his system of teaching. ‘Since we have with us a chemist who has achieved powers of original thought, I will permit you, Anton, to demonstrate that even at the tender age of twelve you are capable of original thought.’
Anton rose gravely and stood at attention. ‘And what shall I think about?’ he asked.
‘About anything you like,’ responded the liberal-minded schoolmaster, ‘provided it is limited to your permitted field of psychic activity.’
Anton tilted back his head and gazed raptly at a portrait of the Mighty William. ‘I think,’ he said, ‘that the water molecule is made of two atoms of hydrogen and one of oxygen.’
A number of the boys shook their heads in disapproval, evidently recognizing the thought as not being original, but the teacher waited in respectful silence for the founts of originality to burst forth in Anton’s mind.
‘And I think,’ continued Anton, ‘that if the water molecule were made of four atoms of nitrogen and one of oxygen, it would be a great economy, for after we had bathed in the water we could evaporate it and make air and breath it, and after we h
ad breathed it we could condense it again and use it to drink – ‘
‘But that would be unsanitary,’ piped a voice from the back of the room.
To this interruption Anton, without taking his gaze from the face of William, replied, ‘Of course it would if we didn’t sterilize it, but I was coming to that. We would sterilize it each time.’
The master now designated two boys to take to the guardhouse of the school the lad who had spoken without permission. He then produced a red cardboard cross adorned with the imperial eagle and crossed test tubes of the chemists’ insignia and I was honored by being asked to decorate Anton for his brilliant exploit in original thought.
‘Our intellectual work of the day is over,’ resumed the master, ‘but in honor of our guest we will have, a day in advance, our weekly exercises in emotion. Heinrich, you may recite for us the category of emotions.’
‘The permitted emotions,’ said Heinrich, ‘are: First, anger, which we should feel when a weak enemy offends us. Second, hate, which is a higher form of anger, which we should feel when a powerful enemy offends us. Third, sadness, which we should feel when we suffer. Fourth, mirth, which we should feel when our enemy suffers. Fifth, courage, which we feel at all times because we believe in our strength. Sixth, humility, which we should feel only before our superiors. Seventh, and greatest, is pride, which we should feel at all times because we are Germans.
‘The forbidden emotions are very numerous. The chief ones which we must guard against are: First, pity, which is a sadness when our enemy suffers; to feel this is exceedingly wicked. Second, envy, which is a feeling that someone else is better than we are, which we must not feel at all because it is destructive of pride. Third, fear, which is a lack of courage. Fourth, love, which is a confession of weakness, and is permissible only to women and dogs.’
‘Very good,’ said the master, ‘I will now grant you permission to feel some of the permitted emotions. We will first conduct a chemical experiment. I have in this bottle a dangerous explosive and as I drop in this pellet it may explode and kill us all, but you must show courage and not fear.’ He held the pellet above the mouth of the bottle, but his eyes were on his pupils. As he dropped the pellet into the bottle, he knocked over with his foot a slab of concrete, which fell to the floor with a resounding crash. A few of the boys jumped in their seats, and the master gravely marked them as deficient in courage.
‘You now imagine that you are adult chemists and that the enemy has produced a new form of gas bomb, a gas against which we have no protection. They are dropping the gas bombs into our ventilating shafts and are killing our soldiers in the mines. You hate the enemy – hate hard – make your faces black with hate and rage. Adolph, you are expressing mere anger. There, that is better. You never can be a good German until you learn to hate.
‘And now we will have a permitted emotion that you all enjoy; the privilege to feel mirth is a thing for which you should be grateful.
‘An enemy came flying over Berlin – and this is a true story. I can remember when it happened. The roof guard shot at him and winged his plane, and he came down in his parachute, which missed the roof of the city and fell to the earth outside the walls but within the first ring of the Ray defenses. He knew that he could not pass beyond this and he wandered about for many days within range of the glasses of the roof guards. When he was nearly starved he came near the wall and waved his white kerchief, which meant he wished to surrender and be taken into the city.’
At this point one of the boys tittered, and the master stopped his story long enough to mark a credit for this first laugh.
‘As the enemy aviator continued to walk about waving his cowardly flag another enemy plane saw him and let down a line, but the roof guards shelled and destroyed the plane. Then other planes came and attempted to pick up the man with lines. In all seven planes were destroyed in attempting to rescue one man. It was very foolish and very comical. At last the eighth plane came and succeeded in reaching the man a line without being winged. The roof batteries shot at the plane in vain – then the roof gunners became filled with good German hate, and one of them aimed, not at the plane, but at the man swinging on the unstable wire line two thousand meters beneath. The shell exploded so near that the man disappeared as by magic, and the plane flew off with the empty dangling line.’
As the story was finished the boys who had listened with varying degrees of mechanical smiles now broke out into a chorus of raucous laughter. It was a forced unnatural laughter such as one hears from a bad actor attempting to express mirth he does not feel.
When the boys had ceased their crude guffaws the master asked, ‘Why did you laugh?’
‘Because,’ answered Conrad, ‘the enemy were so stupid as to waste seven planes trying to save one man.’
‘That is fine,’ said the master; ‘we should always laugh when our enemy is stupid, because then he suffers without knowing why he suffers. If the enemy were not stupid they would cease fighting and permit us to rule them and breed the stupidity out of them, as it has been bred out of the Germans by our good old God and the divine mind of the House of Hohenzollern.’
The boys were now dismissed for a recess and went into the gymnasium to play leapfrog. But the sad-eyed Bruno promptly returned and saluted.
‘You may speak,’ said the master.
‘I wish, Herr Teacher,’ said Bruno, ‘to petition you for permission to fight with Conrad.’
‘But you must not begin a fight,’ admonished the master, ‘unless you can attach to your opponent the odium of causing the strife.’
‘But he did cause the odium,’ said Bruno; ‘he stuck it into my leg with a pin while I was reciting. The Herr Father saw him do it, ‘– and the boy turned his eyes towards me in sad and serious appeal.
The schoolmaster glanced at me enquiringly and I corroborated the lad’s accusation.
‘Then,’ said the master, ‘you have a casus belli that is actually true, and if you can make Conrad admit his guilt I will exchange your mark for his.’
Bruno saluted again and started to leave. Then he turned back and said, ‘But Conrad is two kilograms heavier than I am, and he may not admit it.’
‘Then,’ said the teacher, ‘you must know that I cannot exchange the marks, for victory in a fight compensates for the fault that caused it. But if you wish I will change the marks now, but then you cannot fight.’
‘But I wish to fight,’ said Bruno, ‘and so does Conrad. We arranged it before recitation that he was to stick me with the pin.’
‘Such diplomacy!’ exulted the master when the lad had gone, ‘and to think that they can only be chemists!’
III
As the evening hour drew near which I had set for my call on the first of the potential mothers assigned me by the Eugenic Staff, I reread the rules for my conduct:
On the occasion of this visit you must wear a full dress uniform, including all orders, decorations and badges of rank and service to which you are entitled. This is very important and you should call attention thereto and explain the full dignity and importance of your rank and decorations.
When you call you will first present the card of authorisation. You will then present your identification folder and extol the worth and character of your pedigree.
Then you will ask to see the pedigree of the woman, and will not fail to comment favorably thereon. If she be already a mother you will enquire in regard to her children. If she be not a mother, you will supplicate her to speak of her potential children. You will extol the virtue of her offspring – or her visions thereof – and will not fail to speak favorably of their promise of becoming great chemists whose service will redound to the honor of the German race and the Royal House.
After the above mentioned matters have been properly spoken of, you may compliment the mother upon her own intelligence and fitness as a mother of scientists. But you will refrain from all reference to her beauty of person, lest her thoughts be diverted from her higher purpose to matters
of personal amours.
You will not prolong your call beyond the hours consistent with dignity and propriety, nor permit the mother to perceive your disposition toward her.
Surely nothing in such formal procedure could be incompatible with my own ideals of propriety. Taking with me my card of authorisation bearing the name ‘Frau Karoline, daughter of Ernest Pfeiffer, Director of the Perfume Works’, I now ventured to the Level of Maternity.
Countless women passed me as I walked along. They were erect of form and plain of feature, with expressions devoid of either intelligence or passion. Garbed in formless robes of somber gray, like saints of song and story, they went their way with solemn resignation. Some of them led small children by the hand; others pushed perambulators containing white-robed infants being taken to or from the nurseries for their scheduled stays in the mothers’ individual apartments.
The actions of the mothers were as methodical as well trained nurses. In their faces was the cold, pallid light of the mother love of the madonnas of art, uncontaminated by the fretful excitement of the mother love in a freer and more uncertain world.
Even the children seemed wooden cherubim. They were physically healthy beyond all blemish, but they cooed and smiled in a subdued manner. Already the ever present ‘verboten’ of an ordered life seemed to have crept into the small souls and repressed the instincts of anarchy and the aspirations of individualism. As I walked among these madonnas of science and their angelic offspring, I felt as I imagined a man of earthly passions would feel if suddenly loosed in a medieval and orthodox heaven; for everything about me breathed peace, goodness, and coldness.
At the door of her apartment Frau Karoline greeted me with formal gravity. She was a young woman of twenty years, with a high forehead and piercing eyes. Her face was mobile but her manner possessed the dignity of the matron assured of her importance in the world. Her only child was at the nursery at the time, in accordance with the rules of the level that forbids a man to see his stepchildren. But a large photograph, aided by Frau Karoline’s fulsome description and eulogies, gave me a very clear picture of the high order of the young chemist’s intelligence though that worthy had but recently passed his first birthday.
City of Endless Night Page 7
