 | Armageddon |  |
Scene I.
—A room in a French château on the heights overlooking Rheims. General von der Trenk, commander of the Fifth German Army Corps, is sitting at a table covered with papers, a revolver lying beside him. On the table are glasses and the floor is strewn with champagne bottles, some broken. At the back the spire of Rheims Cathedral is seen, and from time to time a flame spurts up from the town below. German officers, etc., are sitting or standing around the General. An orderly fills the General's glass, and the glasses of the others. A Lieutenant enters and salutes.Trenk.
Well then?
Lieutenant.
I have to report, sir, that our
spies—
Spies? We have no spies. The enemy
spies, we reconnoitre.
[Laughter.
Lieutenant.
That our agents, dressed some as
labourers, others as old peasant women—
Trenk.
Good so.
Lieutenant.
Report that the enemy may retreat
westward, if by so doing they may save the
Cathedral. They also report the possession by
the enemy of a three-inch shell, pattern unknown,
which on explosion will instantly asphyxiate all
living things within four hundred yards, so that
in a room which has been hit
[gesture]
you shall
find a dead man, still standing at aim, or another
a glass at his lips, lifeless.
[Trenk puts down his
glass.]
The death, so caused, they say is painless.
Trenk.
So; and that is something. They say
nothing of a French force operating on our right?
Lieutenant.
Nothing, sir.
[Trenk dismisses Lieutenant, who retires up-stage.
[Picking up revolver at his side, to Orderly.]
Unloaded, what?
Orderly.
Sir, I—
Trenk.
[With gesture.]
Load! Set it here!
Orderly.
Sir, shall I open the door? I hear
a dog scratching at it.
Trenk.
No, 'tis my servant. He must not
knock, he merely scratches like a dog. Give him
this paper, I never speak to servants.
That shell, eh? Is it treachery? Only a
German brain could have invented that shell.
[Enter Captain.
Captain.
Sir, I come for instructions. The
Cathedral—
Trenk.
Well, what of it?
Captain.
It still stands, though the city itself
is in flames. Are we to train our guns on it?
Trenk.
But of course. Remember! Always
thorough!
They fly the Red Cross flag from it.
Trenk.
That gives a good mark, eh?
[Laughter.
Captain.
These then are my instructions?
Trenk.
There was no need to ask them, and,
besides, did not they foil us before Paris? Well
then, we take what revenge comes to hand.
[He
drinks.]
The Red Cross Flag? What is that to
us more than a treaty? The one a rag of cotton,
the other a scrap of paper. The laws of war?
[Striking his fist on the table.]
Herrgottsakrament!
We make them as we march!
[Exit Captain.]
Now bring in this fellow that you have caught.
[A sign is made to those outside, while Trenk fills a fresh glass of champagne. Enter Uhlan officer and two Uhlans, bringing in a young Frenchman.
Trenk.
Let him stand there, where he can see
me.
[Curls moustache.
Sir, we caught this fellow lurking
outside the walls after no good. He will tell
us nothing, so we have brought him here where
he will be made to speak.
Trenk.
Now, fellow, does the main French
force intend retreat, or no? You can tell us.
Prisoner.
I will not.
Officer.
[Striking Prisoner on cheek.]
Salute
the General.
Prisoner.
I will only salute a French officer.
[Officer again slaps him on the face. The prisoner quivers with rage, but is silent.
Trenk.
What of another force to the westward?
Where are they?
Prisoner.
I cannot tell, sir.
Trenk.
[Sipping wine and curling moustache.]
Now understand, you dog, we are here to bring
you our Kultur. If you will not take it with a
spoon, you must take it from the shell. It must
What?
Prisoner.
I understand, sir.
Trenk.
Is this retreat of the French meant or
not? Answer! or you'll be shot as a spy.
Prisoner.
I am no spy, sir.
Trenk.
[Banging fist on table.]
I say you are a
spy—therefore you are one! Are you married?
Prisoner.
Not yet, sir, but I hope to be shortly.
Trenk.
Well then, you can leave at once, a
free man, if you will tell me what I want to know.
Think of—her!
Prisoner.
Not even to go back to her?
Trenk.
Eh?
Prisoner.
No!
Trenk.
So! I give you two minutes to decide.
And then—
[Trenk takes out watch, finishes glass; another bottle is uncorked; there is a burst of flame at the back below.
Prisoner.
I am ready, sir. I will die.
Ass! Take him away!
[They bandage his eyes and are taking him off, when two soldiers enter hurriedly, dragging a girl between them.
Soldier.
[Saluting.]
Sir, here is this fellow's
sweetheart. We found her asking for news of
him.
Trenk.
Ah, but this is better. Put the fellow
back, and the girl there opposite. Unbandage
his eyes and let him see her. Now we shall
have it!
Girl.
[Starting forward.]
Pierre!
Trenk.
Good! We shall see. Now, Mam'selle,
is this your sweetheart?
Girl.
[Hesitating.]
Yes, sir.
Trenk.
And you are shortly to be married?
Girl.
We had hoped—
Trenk.
Good so—.
[Chucking her under the
chin.]
Now, little one, 'tis for you to decide
whether he lives, or whether—he's shot. Your
they are now? Look at him and tell us.
Girl.
Oh, if it is to save—
Prisoner.
Marie, I forbid you to speak.
Trenk.
Lie down, dog!
[To Girl.]
You have
but to tell us this and go away together—to be
married. If you refuse—
Girl.
Pierre, let me speak!
Prisoner.
Are you French?
Trenk.
[To Prisoner.]
Once more, you then.
Look well at your sweetheart. Is she not pretty,
and, alas, she loves you. Now, if you will not
speak—tell us all—not only shall you be shot,
but she—
Prisoner.
What?
Trenk.
I shall myself endeavour to take your
place. I have conceived something of a fancy
for your Marie; and in a time of war—eh?
Prisoner.
[Springing towards Trenk.
Sacré!
Soldiers seize him.
[Putting his arm round Girl.]
Once
more then?
Prisoner.
No, for France!
Trenk.
And you, my dolly?
Girl.
No! For Pierre!
Trenk.
Take him off! But stay, he shall kiss
her once more.
[To Girl.]
Kiss him!
[Marie
goes to Pierre, whom she kisses.]
Was that kiss
sweet, eh? It need not be the last, if—
[Pierre remains silent, and at a sign is taken off.]
You see you could have saved him by speaking,
but now—
Girl.
He told me to be dumb and I was dumb.
Ah, do not part us even now; shoot me with him.
If he is a spy, then so am I.
Trenk.
Ah no, little one, I have something
better for you. You there!
[Signing to Orderly.]
Conduct Mam'selle to my room; but first she
must drink a glass with me.
[He fills and hands
her a glass. A shot rings out and she flings the
glass in his face.]
Ah now, my wild-cat, see how
must pay for this with a kiss. [He starts forward
to embrace her, but she, snatching his revolver from
the table, shoots herself, falling in the arms of the
Orderly.]
Herrgottsakrament! You should have
stopped her!
Orderly.
Sir, she was too quick.
Trenk.
Take her away!
[He slowly empties glass; as he sets it down a lieutenant enters.
Lieutenant.
Sir, the Abbé of the Cathedral
asks you to spare him a moment.
Trenk.
So, so.
[Enter Abbé, white-haired, followed by two priests.
Abbé.
Sir, you are the General in command
here?
Trenk.
I am.
Abbé.
General, your guns are trained on our
Cathedral. One shell has already fallen.
Well?
Abbé.
Sir, I have come to ask you to spare the
ancient church.
Trenk.
Old man, war is war.
Abbé.
That I know well. I do not ask for the
homes of our people, nor even for their lives. I
see that would be vain; but I am here to plead
for this church that holds such memories.
Trenk.
[Laughing.]
Ah! You lose your job,
what?
Abbé.
[Advancing.]
Your business, sir, is war, but I would ask you
In the mid-track of ruin to spare these walls.
Trenk.
Priest, you waste breath.
Abbé.
A moment let me speak.
[Trenk impatiently sits down, taking out his watch.
Trenk.
To the point. As war is war, so time
is time.
Abbé.
If Rheims Cathedral you must batter down,
You burn the body of an eternal soul.
[Trenk sighs and looks at watch.
They who did build so high they feared not time;
They feared not man; and now shall man erase
This thought unchanging in the drift of change;
This Prayer that ever-rising still abides;
This Rally of the Soul in days of dross,
With windows rose-flushed from heroic dawns;
A Vision frozen, stationary Sigh,
Time-worn, yet wearying t'ward Eternity.
Trenk.
Less of Eternity and more of Time.
Abbé.
To you, a patriot, I appeal by names
Of Goethe, Schiller and of Beethoven!
Trenk.
Bah! Dreamers all!
Abbé.
Yet when your country stands
For final judgment at the Eternal Bar,
To whom then will she look? To you or these?
Trenk.
But, meanwhile, will these aid us now to grasp
World-Power?
These already World-Power wield.
Did not your Schiller sing our Joan of Arc,
Her who in this cathedral crowned a king?
Trenk.
And whom you afterwards burnt as a witch?
Abbé.
Then if I cannot move you by these names,
Think still what this destruction means to us:
Here for seven hundred years looked down on us
A nation's dearest angels and old knights;
This shrine for ivy hath our antique hours;
Here hath the mother brought her first-born child
To lay him at God's feet; bereaved women
Have heard a whisper in the glooming nave.
Oh, can you shell a people's memory?
Put out a solemn taper of dark France,
Man, man, do you not fear?
Trenk.
No living thing!
Abbé.
Aye, but the dead?
Trenk.
The dead? They are far off!
No, but that the nearer in that they are dead.
If we revenge not, yet will God avenge!
Trenk.
No God we fear! And what revenge is yours?
Abbé.
[Pointing outside.]
Those ruined choirs for ever unrestored,
Against you standing, age-long witnesses!
Trenk.
And for this reason shall that minster fall!
We come to strike a terror in mankind,
To make war frightful, not to life alone,
But to your souls; your memories to maim,
And hack your holy places through and through.
The war we bring is not of blood alone,
No, but to desecrate all that is dear,
O'erride your hearts, make ashes of your Faith!
Is it your holy dead that you invoke?
These, I say, these we would appal and scare!
Old man, your speech has made you dry, come drink!
Abbé.
On Force you call; take care lest Force itself
Reel back on you—perhaps this very night!
[Exit Abbé and Priests.
Trenk
[Who is now wine-flushed, addressing officers around him.
Now, what you heard me tell that fool outright,
Who came here whining for his bricks and mortar,
Remember, each of you, as you are soldiers,
And as true children of the Fatherland:
Lay well my words to heart and act on them!
Your business is to make war terrible,
To strike alarm and anguish in the heart!
To batter a dreadful culture into man!
We come not hither but to slay and burn,
But to make havoc in the very souls
Of those whom we subdue. We come to grasp
The world and nothing less; not Belgium,
Until we wrest from her the very waves;
But these are not our goal, our final port,
Though first through these must we hack our way:
World-Power is our furious journey's end;
Therefore all Pity, Scruple, Truth discard;
There is no truth but one: that we alone
Are destined for the Lordship of the Earth!
Then come like wolves upon the villages,
And visit wasted cities at sunset,
Like the lean lion roaming Babylon!
Be deaf then to the wail of women, blind
To children's blood; the cause demands of you
That you shall lie and burn, betray and snare!
Remember Attila, grand, ruthless Hun!
Whom did he spare? What father or what wife?
Dead-straight his track of fury through the Earth;
And for the people, be they at your mercy:
Lop from the wrist the hand that may offend,
And leave them nothing but their eyes to weep with,
While hovers over them our boding bird,
Advising from the clouds our dubious guns!
Make women a war-screen, the babe a shield
To interpose between you and the foe!
Be the Red Flag the red rag to the bull!
Let nothing live between you and your goal!
[He sits and all sit round the table drinking, and sing “Deutschland, Deutschland üeber Alles.” When the song has ended, Trenk, raising his glass, cries: “To the Day!” They all raise their glasses with cries: “To the Day!” As they sit in act of drinking, a turpinite shell bursts outside with a thudding sound. The
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