University of Virginia Library

Scene III.

The Office of the German Press Bureau in Berlin. Herr Weiss seated at a table centre, surrounded by papers, writing; various reporters seated at desk round him, writing rapidly.
Weiss.
[Banging fist on table and looking at watch.]

Now then. Time! You there—the
report on the situation in London and the attitude
of the Parliament and the people at the present
moment, to be circulated this evening through the
length and breadth of the Fatherland. The report
on London—is it ready?

[Again looks at watch.
Reporter.
[Rising.]

It is ready, Herr Weiss.

Weiss.

Read!

Reporter.

“The panic in London which broke

out on the declaration of war with Germany
shows no sign of abatement.”

Weiss.

Good so! Now—details!

Reporter.

“Business has been for some time
at a standstill. Even street-traffic is practically
suspended, and in such congested thoroughfares
as the Strand, for instance, one meets only a few
foolhardy clerks who, in sheer dread of starvation,
hurry citywards in fear and trembling. Actors
out of work, and other desperate characters, hang
about the street-corners, demanding food or money,
either with whining voices or blackmailing threats.
At night London presents an incredible spectacle.
It has, in fact, all the aspect of a
closely-invested city.”

Weiss.
[Banging fist on table.]

Ah! And so
it is!

Reporter.

“Not a sound is to be heard but
from time to time the sullen and terrifying drone
of our aeroplanes, or still more awful spectacle of
a Zeppelin, too high up to be scrutinized. Occasionally

you may see the white faces of scared
tradesmen start up for a moment from various
cellars, where the majority of Londoners now
spend the long nights in a fever of apprehension.”

Weiss.

Good! The general description—and no
exaggeration. Now the scenes in Parliament and
round the Royal Palace.

Reporter.

“In Parliament the general dismay
is especially apparent. In the Chamber, lighted
only by candles for fear of attracting our airships,
the Members stealthily assemble. There have,
however, been violent scenes. On Tuesday night
the leader of the Opposition engaged in personal
conflict with the Chancellor of the Exchequer, and
only released his grip of the latter's throat by the
threat of the Chancellor to find no more money
for the war. This had the effect for the moment
of allaying party differences and uniting the
Government and Opposition. The Chancellor has
removed in a noiseless motor-car, with blinds down,

to the Exchequer suffering from shock. The
Palace of Buckingham—”

Weiss.

Buckingham Palace.

Reporter.

Your pardon, Herr Direktor. [He

takes pen and alters.]
“Buckingham Palace is surrounded
by troops, who amount practically in
numbers to an army, and the expeditionary force
has been seriously depleted owing to the necessity
of defending the person of the King from the fury
of his deceived subjects. The cries and curses of
the mob are said to resemble nothing so much as
the howling of wolves. It is said that the Royal
Family has been removed secretly by night in a
large warehouse-van to the shooting-box at
Sandringham; but of this there is as yet no
confirmation.

“The condition of abject alarm in the Metropolis
obtains in the other cities of England,
the inhabitants of which practically live underground.”

Weiss.

I pass that—off with it at once. [Exit

Reporter.]
Now Paris? The attitude of the
people to the government.

Reporter.

“Paris is seething with insurrection
and mutiny. No less than eight governments have
been formed and dissolved since the outbreak
of the war. The attitude of the Parisians
towards the authorities recalls the worst days of
the Revolution. Everywhere are heard the cries
of ‘À bas la guerre!’ ‘À bas Poincaré!’
Officers are continually executed secretly for
refusing to go to the front. Officers will not
lead, soldiers will not obey. The fall of the city
is hourly expected; its only defences are barriers
of dead Frenchmen, piled six and eight feet
high.”

Weiss.

The last statement—just a little too
much perhaps.

Reporter.
[Crosses out statement.]

“Piled three
feet high.”

Weiss.

Better!

Reporter.

“The citizens are eagerly anticipating

the entry of our troops as the only
salvation.”

Weiss.

Well! That will do. Let that go
out at once.

[Exit Reporter.
Weiss.

Now you! The situation at St.
Petersburg!

[Enter Officer carrying papers
Officer.

Herr Weiss?

[Weiss rises and bows
Officer.

You are director of this Press Bureau,
instituted by the Government.

Weiss.

I have that honour.

Officer.

I am sent from the Imperial Palace,
[Weiss bows low]
to ask you to account for a
sentence in this report, circulated in America.
You are aware of the importance of the good-will
of America?

Weiss.

But of course!

Officer.

Then read that.

Weiss.
[Reading.]

“The reports of recent
victories in the East are now being received with

caution in Berlin.” [Excitedly.]
Now who—
which of you is responsible for this?

Officer.

Wait! That can be settled after.
Do you realise the nature of your offence?

Weiss.

Ah! A mistake!

Officer.

Germany makes no mistakes; or if
she does, she does not admit them. But do you
realize what you have—

Weiss.

I scarcely comprehend.

Officer.

Herr Weiss, you have published THE
TRUTH!

Weiss.

Ah, no, no!

Officer.

THE TRUTH! It is stated here.
Now I have to tell you from my Imperial Master
that you are hereby dismissed from your office.

Weiss.

Ah, do not say that!

Officer.

My Imperial Master wishes to point
out to you, that you were placed in a position of
national trust. Your business was fiction—for
the good of the Fatherland—not fact. Your high
office demanded of you unceasing vigilance in

the avoidance of truth; a ceaseless energy in
fabrication. You have been found wanting, you
go!

Weiss.

But it was not my oversight. It was a
lapse of a subordinate—the lapse into truth!

Officer.

For which you are responsible.

Weiss.
[Falling on his knees.]

Ah, Captain,
plead for me to the Emperor! Say—say—that I
have served him well, with zeal, with industry,
since the outbreak of the war. Ah, think yourself!
If some slight negligence of military duty
had been charged against you—

Officer.

I should expect what I should get.

Weiss.

But place before your august Master
my long, honourable career of ceaseless lies. I
plead my stainless record of fabrication. Must
this all be destroyed by a momentary lapse into
truth, committed, too, by a subordinate, whom I
trusted, alas! too well? [He weeps.]
Pray him to
give me another chance. There is against me no
previous conviction of veracity. I defy all of

you here to charge me with telling the truth on
any single occasion.

Chorus of Reporters.

We acquit you of that
charge, Herr Direktor.

Weiss.

You hear? They know; they who
are in personal, hourly contact with me, by day,
by night, that I am no truthmonger. That but
in this instance I have never for one moment
relaxed my ardour for the false, my pure passion
for misstatement. Must all this be blotted out
for one—what shall I say—peccadillo of accuracy?
I will strive, so tell the Emperor, I will strive
never to give way again, only give me one more
chance to redeem myself and wipe out this blot!

Officer.

I have no more to say!

Weiss.

Then plead to him not only on my
behalf, but on behalf of the others. I have a wife
and a son with a career before him. Must they
too suffer? They depend on my capacity for
falsehood—they are, I tell you, dependent on my
reputation for lies.

Officer.

I have given my instructions and I
go.

[Exit Officer.

Weiss.

Ah! All is lost! This is the supreme
cruelty, that the labour of a life can be sacrificed
to the mistake of a moment. Ah, my wife, who
had such trust in me! My Fritz, who was following
so faithfully in my footsteps. And also
my iron-cross—lost, lost, lost!

[He falls on the floor while the Reporters gather sympathetically round him as the Curtain falls.