  [Room in a hotel prepared for a banquet. There are long tables laden with flowers and candelabra. Dishes with peacocks, pheasants in full plumage, boars' heads, entire lobsters, oysters, salmon, bundles of asparagus, melons and grapes. There is a musicians' gallery with eight players in the right-hand corner at the back.] [At the high table: the STRANGER in a frock coat; next to him a Civil Uniform with orders; a professorial Frock Coat with an order; and other black Frock Coats with orders of a more or less striking kind. At the second table a few Frock Coats between black Morning Coats. At the third table clean every-day costumes. At the fourth table dirty and ragged figures of strange appearance.] [The tables are so arranged that the first is furthest to the left and the fourth furthest to the right, so that the people sitting at the fourth table cannot be seen by the STRANGER. At the fourth table CAESAR and the DOCTOR are seated, in shabby clothes. They are the farthest down stage. Dessert has just been handed round and the guests have golden goblets in front of them. The band is playing a passage in the middle of Mendelssohn's Dead March pianissimo. The guests are talking to one another quietly.] DOCTOR (to CAESAR). The company seems rather depressed and the dessert came too soon! CAESAR. By the way, the whole thing look's like a swindle! He hasn't made any gold, that's merely a lie, like everything else. DOCTOR. I don't know, but that's what's being said. But in our enlightened age anything whatever may be expected. CAESAR. There's a professor at the high table, who's supposed to be an authority. But what subject is he professor of? DOCTOR: I've no idea. It must be metallurgy and applied chemistry. CAESAR. Can you see what order he's wearing? DOCTOR. I don't know it. I expect it's some tenth rate foreign order. CAESAR. Well, at a subscription dinner like this the company's always rather mixed. DOCTOR. Hm! CAESAR. You mean, that we... hm.... I admit we're not well dressed, but as far as intelligence goes.... DOCTOR. Listen, Caesar, you're a lunatic in my charge, and you must avoid speaking about intelligence as much as you can. CAESAR. That's the greatest impertinence I've heard for a long time. Don't you realise, idiot, that I've been engaged to look after you, since you lost your wits? PROFESSOR (taping his goblet). Gentlemen! CAESAR. Hear, hear! PROFESSOR. Gentlemen! Our small society is to-day honoured by the presence of the great man, who is our guest of honour, and when the committee... CAESAR (to the DOCTOR). That's the government, you know! PROFESSOR.... and when the committee asked me to act as interpreter and to explain the motives that prompted them I was at first doubtful whether I could accept the honour. But when I compared my own incapacity with that of others, I discovered that neither lost in the comparison. VOICES. Bravo! PROFESSOR. Gentlemen! A century of discovery is ending with the greatest of all discoveries—foreseen by Pythagoras, prepared for by Albertus and Paracelsus and first carried out by our guest of honour. You will permit me to give this feeble expression of our admiration for the greatest man of a great century. A laurel crown from the society! (He places a laurel frown on the STRANGER'S head.) And from the committee: this! (He hangs a shining order round the STRANGER'S neck.) Gentlemen! Three cheers for the Great Man who has made gold! ALL (with the exception of the STRANGER). Hurrah! (The band plays chords from Mendelssohn's Dead March. During the last part of the foregoing speech servants have exchanged the golden goblets for dull tin ones, and they now begin to take away the pheasants, peacocks, etc. The music plays softly. General conversation.) CAESAR. Oughtn't we to taste these things before they take them away? DOCTOR. It all seems humbug, except that about making gold. STRANGER (knocking on the table). Gentlemen! I've always been proud of the fact that I'm not easy to deceive... CAESAR. Hear, hear! STRANGER.... that I'm not easily carried away, but I am touched at the sincerity so obvious in the great tribute you've just paid me; and when I say touched, I mean it. CAESAR. Bravo! STRANGER. There are always sceptics; and moments in the life of every man, when doubts creep into the hearts of even the strongest. I'll confess that I myself have doubted; but after finding myself the object this sincere and hearty demonstration, and after taking part in this royal feast, for it is royal; and seeing that, finally, the government itself... VOICE. The committee! STRANGER.... the committee, if you like, has so signally recognised my modest merits, I doubt no longer, but believe! (The Civil Uniform creeps out.) Yes, gentlemen, this is the greatest and most satisfying moment of my life, because it has given me back the greatest thing any man can possess, the belief in himself. CAESAR. Splendid! Bravo! STRANGER. I thank you. Your health! (The PROFESSOR gets up. Everyone rises and the company begins to mix. Most of the musicians go out, but two remain.) GUEST (to the STRANGER). A delightful evening! STRANGER. Wonderful. (All the Frock Coats creep away.) FATHER (an elderly, overdressed man with an eye-glass and military bearing crosses to the doctor). What? Are you here? DOCTOR. Yes, Father-in-law. I'm here. I go everywhere he goes. FATHER. It's too late in the day to call me father-in-law. Besides, I'm his father-in-law now. DOCTOR. Does he know you? FATHER. No. He's not had that honour; and I must ask you to preserve my incognito. Is it true he's made gold? DOCTOR. So it's said. But it's certain he left his wife while she was in childbed. FATHER. Does that mean I can expect a third son-in-law soon? I don't like the idea! The uncertainty of my position makes me hate being a father-in-law at all. Of course, I've nothing to say against it, since.... (The tables have now been cleared; the cloths and the candelabra have been removed, so that the tables themselves, which are merely boards supported on trestles, are all that remain. A big stoneware jug has been brought in and small jugs of simple form have been put on the high table. The people in rags sit down next to the STRANGER at the high table; and the FATHER sits astride a chair and stares at him.) CAESAR (knocking on the table). Gentlemen! This feast has been called royal, not on account of the excellence of the service which, on the contrary, has been wretched; but because the man, whom we have honoured, is a king, a king in the realm of the Intellect. Only I am able to judge of that. (One of the people in rags laughs.) Quiet. Wretch! But he's more than a king, he's a man of the people, of the humblest. A friend of the oppressed, the guardian of fools, the bringer of happiness to idiots. I don't know whether he's succeeded in making gold. I don't worry about that, and I hardly believe it... (There is a murmur. Two policemen come in and sit by the door; the musicians come down and take seats at the tables.)... but supposing he has, he has answered all the questions that the daily press has been trying to solve for the last fifty years.... It's only an assumption— STRANGER. Gentlemen! RAGGED PERSON. No. Don't interrupt him. CAESAR. A mere assumption without real foundation, and the analysis may be wrong! ANOTHER RAGGED PERSON. Don't talk nonsense! STRANGER. Speaking in my capacity as guest of honour at this gathering I should say that it would be of interest to those taking part to hear the grounds on which I've based my proof.... CAESAR. We don't want to hear that. No, no. FATHER. Wait! I think justice demands that the accused should be allowed to explain himself. Couldn't our guest of honour tell the company his secret in a few words? STRANGER. As the discoverer I can't give away my secret. But that's not necessary, because I've submitted my results to an authority under oath. CAESAR. Then the whole thing's nonsense, the whole thing! We don't believe authorities—we're free-thinkers. Did you ever hear anything so impudent? That we should honour a mystery man, an arch-swindler, a charlatan, in good faith. FATHER. Wait a little, my good people! (During this scene a wall screen, charmingly decorated with palm trees and birds of paradise, has been taken away, disclosing a wretched serving-counter and stand for beer mugs, behind which a waitress is seen dispensing tots of spirits. Scavengers and dirty-looking women go over to the counter and start drinking.) STRANGER. Was I asked here to be insulted? FATHER. Not at all. My friend's rather loquacious, but he's not said anything insulting yet. STRANGER. Isn't it insulting to be called a charlatan? FATHER. He didn't mean it seriously. STRANGER. Even as a joke I think the word arch-swindler slanderous. FATHER. He didn't use that word. STRANGER. What? I appeal to the company: wasn't the word he used arch-swindler? ALL. No. He never said that! STRANGER. Then I don't know where I am—or what company I've got into. RAGGED PERSON. Is there anything wrong with it? (The people murmur.) BEGGAR (comes forward, supporting himself on crutches; he strikes the table so hard with his crutch, that some mugs are broken.) Mr. Chairman! May I speak? (He breaks some more crockery.) Gentlemen, in this life I've not allowed thyself to be easily deceived, but this time I have been. My friend in the chair there has convinced me that I've been completely deceived on the question of his power of judgment and sound understanding, and I feel touched. There are limits to pity and limits also to cruelty. I don't like to see real merit being dragged into the dust, and this man's worth a better fate than his folly's leading him to. STRANGER. What does this mean? (The FATHER and the DOCTOR have gone out during this scene without attracting attention. Only beggars remain at the high table. Those who are drinking gather into groups and stare at the STRANGER.) BEGGAR. You take yourself to be the man of the century, and accept the invitation of the Drunkards' Society, in order to have yourself fÊted as a man of science.... STRANGER (rising). But the government.... BEGGAR. Oh yes, the Committee of the Drunkards' Society have given you their highest distinction—that order you've had to pay for yourself.... STRANGER. What about the professor? BEGGAR. He only calls himself that; he's no professor really, though he does give lessons. And the uniform that must have impressed you most was that of a lackey in a chancellery. STRANGER (tearing of the wreath and the ribbon of the order). Very well! But who was the elderly man with the eyeglass? BEGGAR. Your father-in-law! STRANGER. Who got up this hoax? BEGGAR. It's no hoax, it's quite serious. The professor came on behalf of the Society, for so they call themselves, and asked you whether you'd accept the fÊte. You accepted it; so it became serious! (Two dirty-looking women carry in a dust-bin suspended from a stick and set it down on the high table.) FIRST WOMAN. If you're the man who makes gold, you might buy two brandies for us. STRANGER. What's this mean? BEGGAR. It's the last part of the reception; and it's supposed to mean that gold's mere rubbish. STRANGER. If only that were true, rubbish could be exchanged for gold. BEGGAR. Well, it's only the philosophy of the Society of Drunkards. And you've got to take your philosophy where you find it. SECOND WOMAN (sitting down next to the STRANGER). Do you recognise me? STRANGER. No. SECOND WOMAN. Oh, you needn't be embarrassed so late in the evening as this! STRANGER. You believe you're one of my victims? That I was amongst the first hundred who seduced you? SECOND WOMAN. No. It's not what you think. But I once came across a printed paper, when I was about to be confirmed, which said that it was a duty to oneself to give way to all desires of the flesh. Well, I grew free and blossomed; and this is the fruit of my highly developed self! STRANGER (rising). Perhaps I may go now? WAITRESS (coming over with a bill). Yes. But the bill must be paid first. STRANGER. What? By me? I haven't ordered anything. WAITRESS. I know nothing of that; but you're the last of the company to have had anything. STRANGER (to the BEGGAR). Is this all a part of the reception? BEGGAR. Yes, certainly. And, as you know, everything costs money, even honour.... STRANGER (taking a visiting card and handing it to the waitress). There's my card. You'll be paid to-morrow. WAITRESS (putting the card in the dust-bin). Hm! I don't know the name; and I've put a lot of such cards into the dust-bin. I want the money. BEGGAR. Listen, madam, I'll guarantee this man will pay. WAITRESS. So you'd like to play tricks on me too! Officer! One moment, please. POLICEMAN. What's all this about? Payment, I suppose. Come to the station; we'll arrange things there. (He writes something in his note-book.) STRANGER. I'd rather do that than stay here and quarrel.... (To the BEGGAR.) I don't mind a joke, but I never expected such cruel reality as this. BEGGAR. Anything's to be expected, once you challenge persons as powerful as you have! Let me tell you this in confidence. You'd better be prepared for worse, for the very worst! STRANGER. To think I've been so duped... so... BEGGAR. Feasts of Belshazzar always end in one way a hand's stretched out—and writes a bill. And another hand's laid on the guest's shoulder and leads him to the police station! But it must be done royally! POLICEMAN (laying his hand on the STRANGER). Have you talked enough? THE WOMEN and RAGGED ONES. The alchemist can't pay. Hurrah! He's going to gaol. He's going to gaol! SECOND WOMAN. Yes, but it's a shame. STRANGER. You're sorry for me? I thank you for that, even if I don't quite deserve it! You felt pity for me! SECOND WOMAN. Yes. That's also something I learnt from you. (The scene is changed without lowering the curtain. The stage is darkened, and a medley of scenes, representing landscapes, palaces, rooms, is lowered and brought forward; so that characters and furniture are no longer seen, but the STRANGER alone remains visible and seems to be standing stiffly as though unconscious. At last even he disappears, and from the confusion a prison cell emerges.) SCENE II PRISON CELL[On the right a door; and above it a barred opening, through which a ray of sunlight is shining, throwing a patch of light on the left-hand wall, where a large crucifix hangs.] [The STRANGER, dressed in a brown cloak and wearing a hat, is sitting at the table looking at the patch of sunlight. The door is opened and the BEGGAR is let in.] BEGGAR. What are you brooding over? STRANGER. I'm asking myself why I'm here; and then: where I was yesterday? BEGGAR. Where do you think? STRANGER. It seems in hell; unless I dreamed everything. BEGGAR. Then wake up now, for this is going to be reality. STRANGER. Let it come. I'm only afraid of ghosts. BEGGAR (taking out a newspaper). Firstly, the great authority has withdrawn the certificate he gave you for making gold. He says, in this paper, that you deceived him. The result is that the paper calls you a charlatan! STRANGER. O God! What is it I'm fighting? BEGGAR. Difficulties, like other men. STRANGER. No, this is something else.... BEGGAR. Your own credulity, then. STRANGER. No, I'm not credulous, and I know I'm right. BEGGAR. What's the good of that, if no one else does. STRANGER. Shall I ever get out of this prison? If I do, I'll settle everything. BEGGAR. The matter's arranged; everything's paid for. STRANGER. Oh? Who paid, then? BEGGAR. The Society, I suppose; or the Drunkard's Government. STRANGER. Then I can go? BEGGAR. Yes. But there's one thing.... STRANGER. Well, what is it? BEGGAR. Remember, an enlightened man of the world mustn't let himself be taken by surprise. STRANGER. I begin to divine.... BEGGAR. The announcement's on the front page. STRANGER. That means: she's already married again, and my children have a stepfather. Who is he? BEGGAR. Whoever he is, don't murder him; for he's not to blame for taking in a forsaken woman. STRANGER. My children! O God, my children! BEGGAR. I notice you didn't foresee what's happened; but why not look ahead, if you're so old and such an enlightened man of the world. STRANGER (beside himself). O God! My children! BEGGAR. Enlightened men of the world don't weep! Stop it, my son. When such disasters happen men of the world... either... well, tell me.... STRANGER. Shoot themselves! BEGGAR. Or? STRANGER. No, not that! BEGGAR. Yes, my son, precisely that! He's throwing out a sheet-anchor as an experiment. STRANGER. This is irrevocable. Irrevocable! BEGGAR. Yes, it is. Quite irrevocable. And you can live another lifetime, in order to contemplate your own rascality in peace. STRANGER. You should be ashamed to talk like that. BEGGAR. And you? STRANGER. Have you ever seen a human destiny like mine? BEGGAR. Well, look at mine! STRANGER. I know nothing of yours. BEGGAR. It's never occurred to you, in all our long acquaintance, to ask about my affairs. You once scorned the friendship I offered you, and fell straightway into the arms of boon companions. I hope it'll do you good. And so farewell, till the next time. STRANGER. Don't go. BEGGAR. Perhaps you'd like company when you get out of prison? STRANGER. Why not? BEGGAR. It hasn't occurred to you I mightn't want to show myself in your company? STRANGER. It certainly hasn't. BEGGAR. But it's true. Do you think I want to be suspected of having been at that immortal banquet in the alchemist's honour, of which there's an account in the morning paper? STRANGER. He doesn't want to be seen with me! BEGGAR. Even a beggar has his pride and fears ridicule. STRANGER. He doesn't want to be seen with me. Am I then sunk to such misery? BEGGAR. You must ask yourself that, and answer it, too. (A mournful cradle song is heard in the distance.) STRANGER. What's that? BEGGAR. A song sung by a mother at her baby's cradle. STRANGER. Why must I be reminded of it just now? BEGGAR. Probably so that you can feel really keenly what you've left for a chimera. STRANGER. Is it possible I could have been wrong? If so it's the devil's work, and I'll lay down my arms. BEGGAR. You'd better do that as soon as you can.... STRANGER. Not yet! (A rosary can be heard being repeated in the distance.) What's that? (A sustained note of a horn is heard.) That's the unknown huntsman! (The chord from the Dead March is heard.) Where am I? (He remains where he is as if hypnotised.) BEGGAR. Bow yourself or break! STRANGER. I cannot bow! BEGGAR. Then break. (The STRANGER falls to the ground. The same confused medley of scenes as before.) Curtain. SCENE III THE 'ROSE' ROOM[The same scene as Act I. The kneeling Sisters of Mercy are now reading their prayer books, '... exules filii Evae; Ad to suspiramus et flentes In hac lacrymarum aalle.' The MOTHER is by the door at the back; the FATHER by the door on the right.] MOTHER (going towards him). So you've come back again? FATHER (humbly). Yes. MOTHER. Your lady-love's left you? RATHER. Don't be more cruel than you need! MOTHER. You say that to me, you who gave my wedding presents to your mistress. You, who were so dishonourable as to expect me, your wife, to choose presents for her. You, who wanted my advice about colour and cut, in order to educate her taste in dress! What do you want here? FATHER. I heard that my daughter... MOTHER. Your daughter's lying there, between life and death; and you know that her feelings for you have grown hostile. That's why I ask you to go; before she suspects your presence. FATHER. You're right, and I can't answer you. But let me sit in the kitchen, for I'm tired. Very tired. MOTHER. Where were you last night? FATHER. At the club. But I wanted to ask you if the husband weren't here? MOTHER. Am I to lay bare all this misery? Don't you know your daughter's tragic fate? FATHER. Yes... I do. And what a husband! MOTHER. What men! Go downstairs now and sleep off your liquor. FATHER. The sins of the fathers.... MOTHER. You're talking nonsense. FATHER. Of course I don't mean my sins... but those of our parents. And now they say the lake up there's to be drained, so that the river will rise.... MOTHER (pushing him out of the door). Silence. Misfortune will overtake us soon enough, without you calling it up. MAID (from the bedroom at the back). The lady's asking for the master. MOTHER. She means her husband. MAID. Yes. The master of the house, her husband. MOTHER. He went out a little while ago. (The STRANGER comes in.) STRANGER. Has the child been born? MOTHER. No. Not yet. STRANGER (putting his hand to his forehead). What? Can it take so long? MOTHER. Long? What do you mean? STRANGER (looking about him). I don't know what I mean. How is it with the mother? MOTHER. She's just the same. STRANGER. The same? MOTHER. Don't you want to get back to your gold making? STRANGER. I can't make head or tail of it! But there's still hope my worst dream was nothing but a dream. MOTHER. You really look as if you were walking in your sleep. STRANGER. Do I? Oh, I wish I were! The one thing I fear I'd fear no longer. MOTHER. He who guides your destiny seems to know your weakest spots. STRANGER. And when there was only one left, he found that too; happily for me only in a dream! Blind Powers! Powerless Ones! MAID (coming in again). The lady asks you to do her a service. STRANGER. There she lies like an electric eel, giving shocks from a distance. What kind of service is it to be now? MAID. There's a letter in the pocket of her green coat. STRANGER. No good will come of that! (He takes the letter out of the green coat, which is hanging near the dress by fireplace.) I must be dead. I dreamed this, and now it's happening. My children have a stepfather! MOTHER. Who are you going to blame? STRANGER. Myself! I'd rather blame no one. I've lost my children. MOTHER. You'll get a new one here. STRANGER. He might be cruel to them.... MOTHER. Then their sufferings will burden your conscience, if you have one. STRANGER. Supposing he were to beat them? MOTHER. Do you know what I'd do in your place? STRANGER. Yes, I know what you'd do; but I don't know what I'll do. MOTHER (to the Sisters of Mercy). Pray for this man! STRANGER. No, no. Not that! It'll do no good, and I don't believe in prayer. MOTHER. But you believe in your gold? STRANGER. Not even in that. It's over. All over! (The MIDWIFE comes out of the bedroom.) MIDWIFE. A child's born. Praise the Lord! MOTHER. Let the Lord be praised! SISTERS. Let the Lord be praised! MIDWIFE (to the STRANGER). Your wife's given you daughter. MOTHER (to the STRANGER). Don't you want to see your child? STRANGER. No. I no longer want to tie myself anything on earth. I'm afraid I'd get to love her, and then you'd tear the heart from my body. Let me get out of this atmosphere, which is too pure for me. Don' t let that innocent child come near me, for I'm a man already damned, already sentenced, and for me there's no joy, no peace, and no... forgiveness! MOTHER. My son, now you're speaking words of wisdom! Truthfully and without malice: I welcome your decision. There's no place for you here, and amongst us women you'd be plagued to death. So go in peace. STRANGER. There'll be no more peace, but I'll go. Farewell! MOTHER. Exules filii Evae; on earth you shall be a fugitive and a vagabond. STRANGER. Because I have slain my brother. Curtain. |
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