Chapter 7

No, you were not made for that.... But what were you made for then?

JOHANNA (_shrugs her shoulders and sits down as before, with hands folded in her lap and her eyes staring straight ahead_)

FELIX

Johanna, why do you never talk to me any more as you used to? Have you, then, nothing to tell me? Don't you remember how we used to tell each other everything?

JOHANNA

That was long ago. We were children then.

FELIX

Why can't you talk to me any longer as you did then? Have you forgotten how well we two used to understand each other? How we used to confide all our secrets to each other? What good chums we used to be?... How we wanted to go out into the wide world together?

JOHANNA

Into the wide world.... Oh, yes, I remember. But there is nothing left now of all those words of wonder and romance.

FELIX

Perhaps it depends on ourselves only.

JOHANNA

No, those words have no longer the same meaning as before.

FELIX

What do you mean?

JOHANNA

Into the wide world ...

FELIX

What is the matter, Johanna?

JOHANNA

Once, when we were in the museum together, I saw a picture of which I often think. It has a meadow with knights and ladies in it--and a forest, a vineyard, an inn, and young men and women dancing, and a big city with churches and towers and bridges. And soldiers are marching across the bridges, and a ship is gliding down the river. And farther back there is a hill, and on that hill a castle, and lofty mountains in the extreme distance. And clouds are floating above the mountains, and there is mist on the meadow, and a flood of sunlight is pouring down on the city, and a storm is raging over the castle, and there is ice and snow on the mountains.--And when anybody spoke of "the wide world," or I read that term anywhere, I used always to think of that picture. And it used to be the same with so many other big-sounding words. Fear was a tiger with cavernous mouth--love was a page with long light curls kneeling at the feet of a lady--death was a beautiful young man with black wings and a sword in his hand--and fame was blaring bugles, men with bent backs, and a road strewn with flowers. In those days it was possible to talk of all sorts of things, Felix. But to-day everything has a different look--fame, and death, and love, and the wide world.

FELIX (_hesitatingly_)

I feel a little scared on your behalf, Johanna.

JOHANNA

Why, Felix?

FELIX

Johanna!--I wish you wouldn't do anything to worry father.

JOHANNA

Does that depend on me alone?

FELIX

I know in what direction your dreams are going, Johanna.--What is to come out of that?

JOHANNA

Is it necessary that something comes out of everything?--I think, Felix, that many people are destined to mean nothing to each other but a common memory.

FELIX

You have said it yourself, Johanna--that you are not made to see other people suffer.

JOHANNA (_shrinks slightly at those words_)

FELIX

Suffer ... and ...

JULIAN (_enters_)

How are you? (_He shakes hands with Felix_)

JOHANNA (_who has risen_)

Mr. Fichtner. (_She holds out her hand to him_)

JULIAN

I could hardly recognize you, Johanna. You have grown into a young lady now.--Has your father not come home yet?

JOHANNA

He hasn't gone out yet. He has nothing to do at the Academy until twelve.

JULIAN

I suppose he's in his studio?

JOHANNA

I'll call him.

[_Julian looks around. As Johanna is about to leave the room, Wegrat enters, carrying his hat and stick._

WEGRAT (_giving his hand to Julian_)

I'm delighted, my dear fellow.

JULIAN

I heard of it only after my arrival here yesterday--through Sala. I don't need to tell you ...

WEGRAT

Thank you very much for your sympathy. I thank you with all my heart.--But sit down, please.

JULIAN

You were going out?

WEGRAT

Oh, it's no hurry. I have nothing to do in the Academy until twelve. Johanna, will you please get a carriage for me, just to be on the safe side?

[_Johanna goes out. Wegrat seats himself, as does Julian. Felix stands leaning against the glazed oven._

WEGRAT

Well, you stayed away quite a while this time.

JULIAN

More than two years.

WEGRAT

If you had only got here ten days earlier, you could have had a last look at her. It came so very suddenly--although it wasn't unexpected.

JULIAN

So I have heard.

WEGRAT

And now you are going to stay right here, I suppose?

JULIAN

A little while. How long I am not yet able to tell.

WEGRAT

Of course not. The making of schedules has never been your line.

JULIAN

No, I have a certain disinclination for that kind of thing. (_Pause_)

WEGRAT

Oh, mercy, my dear fellow ... how often have I not been thinking of you recently!

JULIAN

And I....

WEGRAT

No, you haven't had much chance for it.... But I.... As I enter the building where I now hold office and authority, I remember often how we two young chaps used to sit side by side in the model class, full of a thousand plans and hopes.

JULIAN

Why do you say that in such a melancholy tone? A lot of those things have come true, haven't they?

WEGRAT

Some--yes.... And yet one can't help wanting to be young again, even at the risk of similar sorrows and struggles....

JULIAN

And even at the risk of also having to live through a lot of nice things over again.

WEGRAT

Indeed, those are the hardest things to bear, once they have turned into memories.--You have been in Italy again?

JULIAN

Yes, in Italy too.

WEGRAT

It's a long time now since I was there. Since we made that walk together through the Ampezzo Valley,[5] with the pack on our backs--to Pieve, and then right on to Venice. Can you remember? The sun has never again shone as brightly as it did then.

[5] One of the main routes through the Dolomites, leading from Southern Tirol into Italy. It is in part identical with the route outlined by Albert in "Intermezzo," but parts from it at Cortina to run straight south.

JULIAN

That must have been almost thirty years ago.

WEGRAT

No, not quite. You were already pretty well known at the time. You had just finished your splendid picture of Irene Herms. It was the year before I married.

JULIAN

Yes, yes. (_Pause_)

WEGRAT

Do you still recall the summer morning when you went with me to Kirchau for the first time?

JULIAN

Of course.

WEGRAT

How the light buggy carried us through the wide, sun-steeped valley? And do you remember the little garden at Hügelhang, where you became acquainted with Gabrielle and her parents?

FELIX (_with suppressed emotion_)

Father, is the house in which mother used to live still standing?

WEGRAT

No, it's gone long ago. They have built a villa on the spot. Five or six years ago, you know, we went there for the last time to visit the graves of your grandparents. Everything has been changed, except the cemetery.... (_To Julian_) Can you still remember that cool, cloudy afternoon, Julian, when we sat on the lower wall of the cemetery and had such a remarkable talk about the future?

JULIAN

I remember the day very clearly. But I have entirely forgotten what we were talking about.

WEGRAT

Just what we said has passed out of my mind, too, but I can still remember what an extraordinary talk it was.... In some way the world seemed to open up more widely. And I felt something like envy toward you, as I often did in those days. There rose within me a feeling that I, too, could do anything--if I only wanted. There was so much to be seen and experienced--and the flow of life was irresistible. Nothing would be needed but a little more nerve, a little more self-assurance, and then to plunge in. ... Yes, that was what I felt while you were talking. ... And then Gabrielle came toward us along the narrow road from the village, between the acacias. She carried her straw hat in her hand, and she nodded to me. And all my dreams of the future centered in her after that, and once more the whole world seemed fitted into a frame, and yet it was big and beautiful enough. ... Why does the color all of a sudden come back into those things? It was practically forgotten, all of it, and now, when she is dead, it comes to life again with a glow that almost scares me. ... Oh, it were better not to think of it at all. What's the use? What's the use? (_Pause; he goes to one of the windows_)

JULIAN (_struggling to overcome his embarrassment_) It is both wise and brave of you to resume your regular activities so promptly.

WEGRAT

Oh, once you have made up your mind to go on living. ... There is nothing but work that can help you through this sense of being alone--of being _left_ alone.

JULIAN

It seems to me that your grief makes you a little unjust toward--much that is still yours.

WEGRAT

Unjust...? Oh, I didn't mean to. I hope you don't feel hurt, children ...! Felix, you understand me fully, don't you? There is so much, from the very beginning, that draws--that lures--that tears the young ones away from us. We have to struggle to keep our children almost from the very moment they arrive--and the struggle is a pretty hopeless one at that. But that's the way of life: they cannot possibly belong to us. And as far as other people are concerned.... Even our friends come into our lives only as guests who rise from the table when they have eaten, and walk out. Like us, they have their own streets, their own affairs. And it's quite natural it should be so.... Which doesn't prevent us from feeling pleased, Julian--sincerely pleased, when one of them finds his way back to us. Especially if it be one on whom we have put great store throughout life. You may be sure of that, Julian. (_They shake hands_) And as long as you remain in Vienna, I shall see you here quite often, I trust. It will give me genuine pleasure.

JULIAN

I'll be sure to come.

MAID (_enters_)

The carriage is here, Professor. (_She goes out_)

WEGRAT

I'm coming. (_To Julian_) You must have a lot to tell me. You were as good as lost. You understand it will interest me to hear all you have done--and still more what you intend to do. Felix told us the other day about some very interesting sketches you had showed him.

JULIAN

I'll go with you, if you care to have me.

WEGRAT

Thanks. But it would be still nicer of you to stay right here and take dinner with us.

JULIAN

Well ...

WEGRAT

I'll be through very quickly. To-day I have nothing but a few business matters to dispose of--nothing but signing a few documents. I'll be back in three-quarters of an hour. In the meantime the children will keep you company as they used to in the old days. ... Won't you, children?--So you're staying, are you not? Good-by for a little while then. (_He goes out_)

[_Long pause._

FELIX

Why didn't you go with him?

JULIAN

Your mother was without blame. If any there be, it falls on me alone. I'll tell you all about it.

FELIX (_nods_)

JULIAN

It had been arranged that we were to go away together. Everything was ready. We meant to leave the place secretly because, quite naturally, your mother shrank from any kind of statement or explanation. Our intention was to write and explain after we had been gone a few days. The hour of our start had already been settled. He ... who later became her husband, had just gone to Vienna for a couple of days in order to get certain documents. The wedding was to take place in a week. (_Pause_) Our plans were all made. We had agreed on everything. The carriage that was to pick us up a little ways off had already been hired. In the evening we bade each other good-night, fully convinced that we should meet next morning, never to part again.--It turned out differently.--You mustn't keep in mind that it was your mother. You must listen to me as if my story dealt with perfect strangers. ... Then you can understand everything.

FELIX

I am listening.

JULIAN

I had come to Kirchau in June, one beautiful Summer morning--with him.... You know about that, don't you? I meant to stay only a few days. But I stayed on and on. More than once I tried to get away while it was still time. But I stayed. (_Smiling_) And with fated inevitability we slipped into sin, happiness, doom, betrayal--and dreams. Yes, indeed, there was more of those than of anything else. And after that last farewell, meant to be for a night only--as I got back to the little inn and started to make things ready for our journey--only then did I for the first time become really conscious of what had happened and was about to happen. Actually, it was almost as if I had just waked up. Only then, in the stillness of that night, as I was standing at the open window, did it grow clear to me that next morning an hour would come by which my whole future must be determined. And then I began to feel ... as if faint shiverings had been streaming down my body. Below me I could see the stretch of road along which I had just come. It ran on and on through the country, climbing the hills that cut off the view, and losing itself in the open, the limitless.... It led to thousands of unknown and invisible roads, all of which at that moment remained at my disposal. It seemed to me as if my future, radiant with glory and adventure, lay waiting for me behind those hills--but for me alone. Life was mine--but only this one life. And in order to seize it and enjoy it fully--in order to live it as it had been shaped for me by fate--I needed the carelessness and freedom I had enjoyed until then. And I marveled almost at my own readiness to give away the recklessness of my youth and the fullness of my existence.... And to what purpose?--For the sake of a passion which, after all, despite its ardor and its transports, had begun like many others, and would be destined to end like all of them.

FELIX

Destined to end...? _Must_ come to an end?

JULIAN

Yes. Must. The moment I foresaw the end, I had in a measure reached it. To wait for something that must come, means to go through it a thousand times--to go through it helplessly and needlessly and resentfully. This I felt acutely at that moment. And it frightened me. At the same time I felt clearly that I was about to act like a brute and a traitor toward a human being who had given herself to me in full confidence.--But everything seemed more desirable--not only for me, but for her also--than a slow, miserable, unworthy decline. And all my scruples were submerged in a monstrous longing to go on with my life as before, without duties or ties. There wasn't much time left for consideration. And I was glad of it. I had made up my mind. I didn't wait for the morning. Before the stars had set, I was off.

FELIX

You ran away....

JULIAN

Call it anything you please.--Yes, it was a flight, just as good and just as bad, just as precipitate and just as cowardly as any other--with all the horrors of being pursued and all the joys of escaping. I am hiding nothing from you, Felix. You are still young, and it is even possible that you may understand it better than I can understand it myself to-day. Nothing pulled me back. No remorse stirred within me. The sense of being free filled me with intoxication.... At the end of the first day I was already far away--much farther than any number of milestones could indicate. On that first day her image began to fade away already--the image of her who had waked up to meet painful disillusionment, or worse maybe. The ring of her voice was passing out of my memory.... She was becoming a shadow like others that had been left floating much farther behind me in the past.

FELIX

Oh, it isn't true! So quickly could she not be forgotten. So remorselessly could you not go out in the world. All this is meant as a sort of expiation. You make yourself appear what you are not.

JULIAN

I am not telling you these things to accuse or defend myself. I am simply telling you the truth. And you must hear it. It was your mother, and I am the man who deserted her. And there is something more I am compelled to tell you. On the very time that followed my flight I must look back as the brightest and richest of any I have ever experienced. Never before or after have I reveled to such an extent in the splendid consciousness of my youth and my freedom from restraint. Never have I been so wholly master of my gifts and of my life.... Never have I been a happier man than I was at that very time.

FELIX (_calmly_)

And if she had killed herself?

JULIAN

I believe I should have thought myself worth it--in those days.

FELIX

And so you were, perhaps, at that time.--And she thought of doing it, I am sure. She wanted to put an end to the lies and the qualms, just as hundreds of thousands of girls have done before. But millions fail to do it, and they are the most sensible ones. And I am sure she also thought of telling the truth to him she took to husband. But, of course, the way through life is easier when you don't have to carry a burden of reproach or, what is worse, of forgiveness.

JULIAN

And if she had spoken....

FELIX

Oh, I understand why she didn't. It had been of no use to anybody. And so she kept silent: silent when she got back from the wedding--silent when her child was born--silent when, ten years later, the lover came to her husband's house again--silent to the very last.... Fates of that kind are to be found everywhere, and it isn't even necessary to be--depraved, in order to suffer them or invoke them.

JULIAN

And there are mighty few whom it behooves to judge--or to condemn.

FELIX

I don't presume to do so. And it doesn't even occur to me that I am now to behold deceivers and deceived where, a few hours ago, I could only see people who were dear to me and whose relationships to each other were perfectly pure. And it is absolutely impossible for me to feel myself another man than I have deemed myself until to-day. There is no power in all this truth.... A vivid dream would be more compelling than this story out of bygone days, which you have just told me. Nothing has changed--nothing whatever. The thought of my mother is as sacred to me as ever. And the man in whose house I was born and raised, who surrounded my childhood and youth with care tenderness, and whom my mother--loved.... He means just as much to me now as he ever meant--and perhaps a little more.

JULIAN

And yet, Felix, however powerless this truth may seem to you--there is one thing you can take hold of in this moment of doubt: it was as my son your mother gave birth to you....

FELIX

At a time when you had run away from her.

JULIAN

And as my son she brought you up.

FELIX

In hatred of you.

JULIAN

At first. Later in forgiveness, and finally--don't forget it--in friendship toward me.... And what was in her mind that last night?--Of what did she talk to you?--Of those days when she experienced the greatest happiness that can fall to the share of any woman.

FELIX

As well as the greatest misery.

JULIAN

Do you think it was mere chance which brought those very days back to her mind that last evening?... Don't you think she knew that you would go to me and ask for that picture?... And do you think your wish to see it could have any other meaning than of a final greeting to me from your mother?... Can't you understand that, Felix?... And in this moment--don't try to resist--you have it before your eyes--that picture you held in your hand yesterday: and your mother is looking at you.--And the glance resting on you, Felix, is the same one that rested on me that passionate and sacred day when she fell into my arms and you were conceived.--And whatever you may feel of doubt or confusion, the truth has now been revealed to you once for all. Thus your mother willed it, and it is no longer possible for you to forget that you are my son.

FELIX

Your son.... That's nothing but a word. And it's cried in a desert.--Although I am looking at you now, and although I know that I am your son, I can't grasp it.

JULIAN

Felix...!

FELIX

Since I learned of this, you have become a stranger to me. (_He turns away_)

CURTAIN

THE FOURTH ACT

_The garden belonging to Mr. von Sala's house. At the left is seen the white, one-storied building, fronted by a broad terrace, from which six stone steps lead down into the garden. A wide door with panes of glass leads from the terrace into the drawing-room. A small pool appears in the foreground, surrounded by a semi-circle of young trees. From that spot an avenue of trees runs diagonally across the stage toward the right. At the opening of the avenue, near the pool, stand two columns on which are placed the marble busts of two Roman emperors. A semi-circular stone seat with back support stands under the trees to the right of the pool. Farther back glimpses of the glittering fence are caught through the scanty leafage. Back of the fence, the woods on a gently rising hillside are turning red. The autumnal sky is pale blue. Everything is quiet. The stage remains empty for a few moments._

_Sala and Johanna enter by way of the terrace. She is in black. He has on a gray suit and carries a dark overcoat across his shoulders. They descend the steps slowly._

SALA

I think you'll find it rather cool. (_He goes back into the room, picks up a cape lying there, and puts it around Johanna's shoulders; little by little they reach the garden_)

JOHANNA

Do you know what I imagine?... That this day is our own--that it belongs to us alone. We have summoned it, and if we wanted, we could make it stay.... All other people live only as guests in the world to-day. Isn't that so?... The reason is, I suppose, that once I heard you speak of this day.

SALA

Of this...?

JOHANNA

Yes--while mother was still living.... And now it has really come. The leaves are red. The golden mist is lying over the woods. The sky is pale and remote--and the day is even more beautiful, and sadder, than I could ever have imagined. And I am spending it in your garden, and your pool is my mirror. (_She stands looking down into the pool_) And yet we can no more make it stay, this golden day, than the water here can hold my image after I have gone away.

SALA

It seems strange that this clear, mild air should be tinged with a suggestion of winter and snow.

JOHANNA

Why should it trouble you? When that suggestion has become reality here, you are already in the midst of another Spring.

SALA

What do you mean by that?

JOHANNA

Oh, I suppose that where you go they have no winter like ours.

SALA (_pensively_)

No, not like ours. (_Pause_) And you?

JOHANNA

I...?

SALA

What are you going to do, I mean, when I am gone?

JOHANNA

When you are gone...? (_She looks at him, and he stands staring into the distance_) Haven't you gone long ago? And at bottom, are you not far away from me even now?

SALA

What are you saying? I am here with you.... What are you going to do, Johanna?

JOHANNA

I have already told you. Go away--just like you.

SALA (_shakes his head_)

JOHANNA

As soon as possible. I have still the courage left. Who knows what may become of me later, if I stay here alone.

SALA

As long as you are young, all doors stand open, and the world begins outside every one of them.

JOHANNA

But the world is wide and the sky infinite only as long as you are not clinging to anybody. And for that reason I want to go away.

SALA

Away--that's so easily said. But preparations are needed for that purpose, and some sort of a scheme. You use the word as if you merely had to put on wings and fly off into the distance.

JOHANNA

To be determined is--the same as having wings.

SALA

Are you not at all afraid, Johanna?

JOHANNA

A longing free from fear would be too cheap to be worth while.

SALA

Where will it lead you?

JOHANNA

I shall find my way.

SALA

You can choose your way, but not the people that you meet.

JOHANNA

Do you think me ignorant of the fact that I cannot expect only beautiful experiences? What is ugly and mean must also be waiting for me.

SALA

And how are you going to stand it?--Will you be able to stand it at all?

JOHANNA