Fritz Divine. It’s made a man of me.
Squint Half a year in Italy!—There’s a father after Rousseau’s own heart.
Fritz I don’t know, Squint. Sending me to Italy like that and giving me that curious piece of advice, not to write to Gussie—I was too excited about the trip to wonder why. Down there, among the lemons and olives, I began to worry, but consoled myself with the thought that he was putting our love to the test. And then in Pompeii a sudden fear sent me flying back—covering as much as eighty miles a day. Here in Halle the same emotions made me interrupt my headlong journey. It seemed to me that perhaps I had better not return too quickly to my beloved Insterburg. And here I find this letter, I’m afraid to open it. My hand shakes every time I try to break the seal. You break it, brother, and read it to me. (Throws himself into an easy chair)
Squint Who is it from? Is it your father’s hand?
Fritz No, it’s from a certain Soapbubble. A neighbor.
Squint (reads) “In view of the friendship I have had the honor of enjoying in your father’s house—” (Stops) the fellow’s spelling is insane! (Reads on) “—I feel obliged, considering that having long been out of communication with our delightful Insterburg you can hardly be aware of the incident concerning the tutor who has been put out of your esteemed uncle’s house … (Stops)
Fritz Go on!
Squint “… for ravishing your cousin, whereby her spirits were so shaken that she jumped into a pond, which calamity threw your family into the utmost …” (Fritz faints) Berg! What’s the matter? (Pours lavender water on him) Berg, Berg, speak to me!—Damn letter, if only I hadn’t … It must be a fabrication—Berg! Berg!
Fritz Leave me alone. It will pass.
Squint Shall I get someone to bleed you?
Fritz Faugh! Don’t be so French! Read it again.
Squint Certainly not.—It’s a disgusting, malicious letter, I’ll … (Tears it up)
Fritz Ravished—drowned—(Strikes his forehead) My fault. All my fault.
Squint You’re out of your mind.—Is it your fault if she lets that tutor seduce her?
Fritz Squint, I swore to go back home for the holidays! And I went to Italy. Damn picturesqueness! She despaired of me. Grief. You know her melancholy bent. Loneliness, disappointed love. It’s as plain as day: I’m a villain. I’m to blame for her death. (Throws himself back into the chair and covers his face)
Squint Pure imagination!—It’s not true, it wasn’t like that at all. (Stamps his foot) ’Sblood! How can you be stupid enough to believe all this, she can’t have been all that innocent. Women! We know what they are. They don’t want it, but they do it. When they itch, they look for someone to scratch them.
Fritz I beg of you, Squint, she is no more.
Squint Berg, look me in the eye and tell me women are not as I say.
(Caroline Squint comes in)
Squint Here she is, my beloved wife. This is Berg, an old school friend.
Caroline I’ve heard about you. You’re a companion. of Squint’s rebellious youth.
Squint Yes, indeed. Make him some coffee, he needs it. He’s just had a terrible letter from home.
Caroline Oh, it can’t be so terrible that a good cup of coffee …
Fritz Please, don’t trouble. I must hurry home. My friends, my place is at a grave-side. (Leaves)
Squint Sad.—But it’s no concern of ours. Come, Caroline, come and warm yourself by the stove.
16
Insterburg, Mrs. von Berg’s parlor.
Mrs. von Berg, the Major, Gussie, Privy Councillor, Leopold. A baby in a cradle.
Privy Councillor My dear sister-in-law, my dear brother, dear Gussie, dear Leopold! Let us drain a glass of grog in honor of St. Nicholas and the first snow that decks the streets so gloriously. But first it seems fitting to ask the servants in to share the hot spirits with us and admire the landscape so beautifully transformed.
Gussie I’ll call them. (Leaves)
Privy Councillor Oh yes, there’s a letter for you from Hasty, in which he proclaims his contrition and swears to change for the better. He encloses a medical certificate to the effect that he, with his own hands, has so corrected his God-given corpus as never again to be a menace to his female pupils.
Mrs. von Berg Disgusting!
Privy Councillor I agree, sister-in-law. And he asks you, dear Berg, in exchange for his certificate to give him a reference that will enable him to pursue his profession.
Major (laughs) He ought to be all right now.
Privy Councillor Say what you will, he’s a man of principle.
Major A rare disciplinarian!
Privy Councillor A true pedagogue, by the grace of God.
Major He shall have his reference.
Privy Councillor Thou shalt not muzzle the ox—ha, ha, ha, the ox—when he treadeth out the corn. (They laugh uproariously)
Mrs. von Berg Disgusting!—
(Maid comes hurrying in)
Maid Sir! Madame! The young master. (She sobs)
Major Which young master?
Maid Master Fritz!
Privy Councillor Fritz back from Italy?
Maid He’s downstairs. What a thing to happen! They’ll put it in the gazette. He comes in in his traveling clothes. He sees Miss Gussie. Stares at her like she’s a ghost. Cries out: “Gussie, you’re not dead? My own Gussie, not dead?” She’s in his arms. “Oh Fritz, you’ve come?” And all is love. But then: “Poor me, don’t touch me, I’m your Gussie no longer.” And he, you should have heard his voice … “Oh yes, you are!”—and she: “No, you don’t know.” And him so loud they could hear him in the kitchen: “I know all about it, and all I want is—to beg your forgiveness. My Gussie!” Oh, here they come.
Mrs. von Berg Gussie and Fritz?
Major ’Ods bodkins!
(Fritz and Gussie enter)
Fritz Father! And my second parents! I’ll fight for my Gussie to the last drop of blood.
Major You mean you want to marry her? In spite of everything?
Fritz In spite? No, not in spite, because of. Let me tell you, Gussie, how a strange experience in Halle opened my eyes to the glory and weakness of your sex. A young lady, to make a long story short, was in love, passionately in love, with a splendid fellow, conscientious, devoted to philosophy, though perhaps somewhat unworldly. Nevertheless—perhaps, my friends, I should say for that very reason—she gave herself to a man of far less consequence. But while in his arms she never for one moment—she told me so herself—thought of anyone but the man she truly loved. Yes, dear father, you may not understand it but I do, and now more than ever; in reality, in spirit, she gave herself to her true beloved. Nothing, my friends, would have happened to Gussie, if oddly enough because of my involvement in this very affair, I hadn’t stayed away during the holidays.
Privy Councillor Or if a certain young scoundrel had been given a horse.
Gussie Oh, Fritz, that’s how it was, just like that.
Fritz Papa, I thought she was a ghost when I saw her on the stairs. But she’s real.
Privy Councillor Always stick to reality—isn’t that what I’ve always taught you?—unless it contradicts the inner image.
Major Come! (Takes Fritz to the sofa) Are you a philosopher?
Mrs. von Berg (referring to the baby) Do you recognize this?
Privy Councillor My son, having justified the cause, you must not shrink back from the effect. Having climbed a tall tree, will you climb down again to retrieve your hat that has blown away? What have you studied logic for?
Fritz (kisses the baby and hands it to Gussie) Now the child is mine too. I love it already. It has your angelic features.
Gussie Fritz!
Privy Councillor You’re right!
Mrs. von Berg Oh dear!
(The servants appear)
Major Don’t gape, you people, don’t gossip, don’t judge. Join a happy father in a drink. To the young couple!
Leopold And to the little one!
Privy Councillor And to the first snow!
Mrs. von Berg Berg, I suspect you would like me to contribute something in the popular vein. (She sings at the spinet while all others drink)
Oh silent winter snow
That cloaks the earth below.
Men sit and idly gaze
Upon the snow-clad days.
And in the barn the silent cows
Hark to the silence as they drowse.
17
Village schoolhouse.
Wenceslas, Hasty, both dressed in black. Lisa.
Wenceslas What did you think of my sermon, colleague? Did you find it edifying?
Hasty Oh yes. Yes indeed. (Sighs)
Wenceslas (takes off his wig and puts on a nightcap) That won’t do.—Tell me what part of it your heart most favored. Listen to me—sit down—I have something to say to you: in church just now I saw something that troubled me. Your gaze as you sat there was so shifty that, to tell you the truth, I felt ashamed of you in the eyes of the congregation. Several times I nearly lost the thread of my discourse. I said to myself: Is this the young warrior who fought so bravely and triumphed, as it were, in the hardest of battles?—And I must confess, you made me angry. I saw the direction of your thoughts, I saw it only too clearly. Toward the center door, down by the organ. Did you for one moment hear what I was saying? Can you repeat one word of my sermon? It was all for your benefit, you know, designed to fit your particular case.—Oh, oh, oh!
Hasty I was delighted with your idea that the rebirth of our souls can be likened to the raising of flax and hemp, and that just as hemp must be freed of its husks by vigorous beating, so our spirits must be prepared for heaven by suffering, hardship, and the eradication of all sensuality.
Wenceslas It was designed to fit your case, my friend.
Hasty However, I can’t deny that your list of the devils expelled from heaven and the whole story about the revolt and about Lucifer regarding himself as the most beautiful strikes me as sheer superstition—our age has outgrown all that!
Wenceslas That’s why this rational world of ours will go to the devil. Take the devil away from the peasant and he’ll turn against his master like a devil, so proving that devils exist. But enough of that—what was I saying? Yes. Just tell me, whom were you looking at all through my sermon? Don’t deny it. You certainly were not looking at me, or you’d have had to squint disgracefully.
Hasty I don’t know what you mean.
Wenceslas You were looking down toward the girls who get their catechism from you.—My dear friend, can a pinch of the old Adam have lingered in your heart? I ask you—the very thought makes my hair stand on end—what will become of you if you yield to the old evil promptings when you lack the means of satisfying them? (Embraces him) I beg you, my dear son, by these tears that I’m shedding out of the most heartfelt concern for you: Don’t go back to the fleshpots of Egypt when you have come so close to Canaan! How can you keep leering at my ward as if you were dying of thirst? As if she would content herself with a capon.
(Lisa steps forward)
Lisa Oh yes, dear godfather, I’m perfectly content with him.
Hasty Woe is me!
Lisa Believe me, dear godfather, I shall never let him go.
Wenceslas Oh.—The devil—Lisa, you don’t understand—Lisa, I can’t tell you why, but you can’t marry him, it’s impossible.
Lisa Why is it impossible, dear godfather? You always said I might marry a clergyman some day.
Wenceslas The devil take you, he can’t—God forgive me my sins, can’t you take my word for it?
Hasty Maybe that’s not what she’s asking for.—Lisa, I cannot sleep with you.
Lisa But you can wake with me. If only we can be together in the daytime and smile at each other and kiss each other’s hands now and then, because, by God, I’m fond of you. God knows, I’m fond of you.
Hasty You see, Master Wenceslas! All she wants of me is love. Does a happy marriage really require the satisfaction of animal lusts?
Wenceslas Heaven help us.—Be fruitful and multiply, says the Good Book. Where there is marriage there must be children.
Lisa No, dear godfather. I swear that I want no children as long as I live. You’ve got plenty of ducks and chickens for me to feed every day: must I feed children too?
Hasty (kisses her) My divine Lisa!
Wenceslas (pries them apart) I declare! What’s this? Before my very eyes?—All right, go ahead, crawl into bed, it’s better to marry than to burn.—But, Mr. Midge, it’s all over between you and me. The high hopes I set in you as a paragon without compare—the expectations aroused by your heroism—merciful heavens! To me you’re just another hybrid, neither fish nor flesh. (Goes out)
Hasty And I feel sure their lordships at Insterburg will help me—in my present state—to find a good position that will enable me to support my wife.
Epilogue
Spoken by the actor who played the tutor.
That’s the conclusion of our play
We hope it’s brought you some dismay.
You’ve seen the sorry state of mind
To which the Germans were resigned
A hundred years and even ten years ago—
It still prevails in many parts, you know.
You’ve seen a tutor of the German school
Led to his calvary of ridicule—
Poor devil whom they so browbeat
He can’t distinguish hands from feet.
Enacting a parable bigger than life
He finally has recourse to the knife
Exterminating his virility
Which only brought him misery.
For when he did as nature meant
The higher-ups were not content
And when he crawled as best he could
They cut down on his livelihood.
His sterling value they proclaimed
Only when he was cut and maimed.
His backbone broken, he would do
His duty by breaking his pupils’ too.
The German schoolmaster, if one reflects
Is the product and origin of our defects.
Pupils and teachers of this century:
Consider his servility
And let it teach you to be free.
Coriolanus
William Shakespeare
Adaptation
Translator: Ralph Manheim
Characters
Caius Marcius, later called Coriolanus, a Roman general
Volumnia, his mother
Virgilia, his wife
Young Marcius, his son
Menenius Agrippa, his friend
Cominius, Titus Lartius, generals against the Volscians
Sicinius Velutus, Junius Brutus, tribunes of the people
Valeria, friend of Virgilia
Virgilia’s Servant
The Man with the Child
Tullus Aufidius, general of the Volscians
One of Aufidius’ Captains
Romans and Volscians: (Senators, Consuls, Aediles, Patricians, Citizens—Plebeians—Officers, Soldiers, A Herald, Attendants, Servants, Messengers)
Act One
1
Rome. A public square.
Enter a group of rebellious Citizens to whom clubs, knives, and other weapons are distributed; among them a man with a child; the man is carrying a large bundle.
First Citizen Before we go any further, let me speak.
Citizens Speak, but be brief.
First Citizen Are all of you resolved to die rather than starve?
Citizens Resolved. Resolved.
First Citizen Are you prepared to stand fast until the senate agrees that it’s us citizens who decide the price of bread?
Citizens Yes. Yes.
First Citizen And the price of olives?
Citizens Yes.
First Citizen Caius Marcius will meet us with force of arms. Will you run away or will you fight?
/> Citizens We’ll knock him dead.—He’s the people’s main enemy. No need to ask us that.
First Citizen Because if you’re not prepared to see this thing through, you can count me out. Why have you brought that sack? And the child?
Berliner Ensemble Adaptations Page 8
