Moral | Page 4

write poetry in those days?
DOBLER. No, Frau Bolland. Much later.
FRAU BOLLAND. I'll have to read your novel all over again, now that
I know it is all autobiographical.
FRAU BEERMANN [to Dr. Wasner]. You were going to sing, Herr
Professor?
DR. WASNER. I promised ...
FRAU BEERMANN. Yes, do, Effie will accompany you.
DR. WASNER. If Fraulein will be so kind ... but I don't know how my
voice is to-day ...
FRAU BOLLAND. You sing so beauti-ful-ly.
DR. WASNER. So much campaign work. Politics corrupts even the
voice.
FRAULEIN KOCH-PINNEBERG. Do oblige us.
[Frau Bolland, Frau Beermann, Dr. Wasner, Fraulein Koch, Effie go
out into the music room.]
BEERMANN. It's a pity that the professor is going to sing. We could
have started a game of skat. Have some more cognac?
DR. HAUSER. No, thanks.
DOBLER. Thanks. No more for me.
[Bolland seats himself on sofa; Dr. Hauser and Dobler sit in chairs;
Beermann lights a fresh cigar. The butler goes into the music room and
as he opens the door, the sound of the piano is heard.]
BOLLAND. As I said before Herr Dobler, your story reminded me
very much of my late father.

DR. HAUSER. Of the well known Kommerzienrat Bolland?
BOLLAND [sinks deep into chair; crosses legs]. Never mind he was
not always a wealthy Kommerzienrat. [Turning to Dobler.] Picture to
yourself a winter landscape--it's bitter cold--a gray sky--it is snowing
and everything is wrapped in snow. Through all this we see a youth
walking--rather staggering--along the forest road from Perleberg. A
half starved young man. [He pauses and brushes ashes from his cigar.
The butler enters from the music room to get a glass of water; then he
goes out again. While the door is open, the trembling bass baritone
voice of Prof. Wasner is heard.]
"In deinen Augen hab ich einst gelesen Von Lieb' und--Gluck--von
Lieb' und Gluck den Schein...."
[Footnote: (Translated):--"In thy dear eyes I once read the story Of love
and Joy--of Love, And Joy agleam...."]
[The door closes and the sound is shut off.]
BOLLAND [now continues his speech]. And now the snow falls faster
and faster. This poor young man had par tout nothing to eat since the
morning. He becomes very weak; sits down on a bundle of twigs and
falls asleep. Just by sheer chance it happens that a man from Perleberg
passing by sees this dejected, snowed-in figure and takes the young
fellow home with him. [He pauses.] And this young man later became
my father ...
HAUSER. And Herr Kommerzienrat Bolland.
BOLLAND. Yes. Herr Kommerzienrat Bolland. [To Dobler.] Now
don't you consider it quite remarkable? Wouldn't that make a fine
novel?
DOBLER. Yes ... Yes.
BOLLAND. That could be worked up very nicely, couldn't it? A poor
young man--the snow covered landscape ...
HAUSER. And that bundle of twigs.
DOBLER. Fortune has her unique whims and likes to turn the tables.
BOLLAND. That's it exactly. Fortune delights in turning the tables.
HAUSER. Unique whims? No. That sort of thing happens every day.
BOLLAND. What happens every day?
HAUSER. The story of a poor young man who becomes a millionaire.
Every large factory boasts of a like progenitor.
BOLLAND. Do you think so?

HAUSER. And the poor young man grows poorer with each telling.
Your son, Herr Bolland, in his description will have his grandfather
freeze to death on the bundle of twigs.
BOLLAND. Upon my word the story is gospel. [To Dobler.] I'd make
use of that plot ... How he founded his business and how it grew and
grew ...
[As Frau Beermann enters from the music room, the tremulous voice of
Prof. Wasner is heard.]
"Behuet dich Gott, es hat nicht sollen sein." [Footnote: God guard thee
well, it was but a dream.]
[The closing of the door shuts off the sound.]
DOBLER. In one respect you are right. The character of the SELF
MADE MAN [Footnote: So in original.] has hardly been treated in
contemporary German literature.
BOLLAND [with enthusiasm]. That's just what I claim. Always about
the poor people only. But take a man who has a large income--one who
makes a success of his business, that also is poetry.
HAUSER. I'd have my ledger novelized, if I were you, Holland. [A
maid opens door, admitting Frau Lund.]
FRAU BEERMANN [welcoming Frau Lund]. Mama Lund, how good
of you.
FRAU LUND [vivaciously]. Always glad to come here. Good
afternoon, gentlemen. Where is my little Effie?
FRAU BEERMANN. In the music room. [To the maid.] Please tell my
daughter ...
FRAU LUND. No, no, don't disturb her.
BEERMANN. Permit me. [Introducing.] ... Herr Hans Jacob Dobler,
our famous poet ...
FRAU LUND [taking his hand]. A famous poet? Delighted.
BOLLAND. Author of "Life Story of Hans." ...
FRAU LUND [pleasantly to Dobler]. If