ROBERT, zvho is looking straight in fivnt of him,
ALFRED takes his hands aivay from his eyes.) So
this IS— (heavily) her room !

ROB. Yes.

ALF. How often we used to sit here on the
balcony. {Turning I'ound^ he loolcs out on to the
street and sees the churchyard wall, Shiidders.)
Over there ?

ROBERT nods,

ALF. We will go there together to-morrow.
ROB. And you can put your wreath there yourself,
Alfred. It has just arrived.

Pause,

ALF. What are you going to do now, Robert ?

ROB. What do you mean ?

OLGA. I have asked the Professor to spend as much
time as he possibly can with us at the villa during
the next few months,

ALF. He certainly shouldn't stay here. You
shouldn't stay in the place, Robert, where

ROB. In any case I shall remove to town in the
beginning of October. It's not long to wait.
Besides, I shall look in at the laboratory once or
twice. The two Americans who were here last year
have been working since the end of August.

77



THE MATE

ALF. Yes, you told me that in your last letter.
But you mustn't go to town on that account.
You surely are not going to begin work straight
away ?

R0«. You really upset my nerves, Alfred. What
else am I to do ? I assure you that I am in the
mood for work and nothing else.

ALF. But you Avon't be able to now,

Ron, YouVe saying just what all the others say.
I feel perfectly competent ; why, I've even got a real
desire for work.

ALF. I quite understand that ; but that desire,
as a matter of fact, is deceptive. I've got an idea
{sincerely). Come away with me. You'll give me a
few more days' leave, and I'll take you with me.
What do you say to that, Frau Merholm ?

OLGA (labouredhj). A very good idea.

ROB. You want to go away — you want to go away
now, Alfred ?

ALF. In any case I was going to ask you for a
few more days.

ROB. But where do you want to go to, then ?

ALF. I want to go to the seaside again.

ROB. Back ?

ALF. Yes, but with you. It will do you good —
take it from me. Am I not right, Frau Merholm ?

OLGA. Oh yes !

ALF. You'll travel with me to Scheveningen, and
there spend a quiet few days with us.

ROB. " Us " — yc^ say " us " ?

ALF (slightly embarrassed). Yes.
78



THE MATE

ROB. What do you mean by " us "" ? Aren't you
alone, then ?

ALF. Of course I'm alone ; but there are people
in Scheveningen, don't you know, whom I see some-
thing of. There are some with whom I

HOB. Well ?

ALF. I was going to tell you in a few days, any-
way ; but as this is the psychological moment — to
put it shortly — I've got engaged there.

ROB. (quite coldly). Oh !

ALF. It makes no odds whether I tell you to-day
or to-morrow ; the world goes round all the same.
It is rather strange that just now

ROB. Yes — I congratulate you.

ALF. That's why I said " with us " before ; and
now you will understand why I want to go back. again.

ROB. That's perfectly easy to understand.

ALF. But please come, too. Her parents will be
quite delighted to make your acquaintance, I've
told them such a lot about you. They are charming
people ; and as for the girl, well, you'll see for
yourself.

ROB. I don't think — I don't think — I I

shall have an opportunity later on. {He keeps up
his pose of calmness xoith a great strain^ hut with
complete success.) It's really quite a mad idea of
yours that I should go with you now to the north
coast to be introduced to your fiancee. How many
millions has she got, by-the-bye ?

ALF. {offended). What a question to ask ! I am

really not the kind of man to marry for money

79



THE MATE

EOB, So it's a grande passion^ is it ?

ALF. Please, Robert, don't let's talk about it any
more to-day. It's like {He half says^ " dese-
cration.")

ROB. Why not ? As you have rightly remarked,
" The world goes round all the same." Let us
confine ourselves to the land of the living. Where
did you meet her ?

ALF. She lives in Vienna.

ROB. Oh ! Now I know all about it.

ALF. Quite impossible.

ROB. Once you told me, don't you remember,
about a fair-haired sweetheart of yours when you
were still a student

ALF. Well, what about it ?

ROB. Well, meeting again after a long time —
rebirth of the old love.

ALF. So that's what you think, is it ? No, it's
not she. I have only known my fiancee for the last
two years, and I went to the seaside in order to
see her.

ROB. So it was there that you fell in love with
her.

ALF. Oh, I have known for ages that she was
going to be my wife*

ROB. Really !

ALP. We have been secretly engaged for a year.

ROB. And you didn't breathe a word of it to me —
to us. Oh !

ALF. There were certain reasons to be taken into
account — her family was at first — but we understood

80



THE MATE

each other from the beginning. I am in a
position to say that it was a case of love at first
sight.

ROB. Starting two years back ?

ALF. Yes.

ROB. You were in love with her ?

ALF. Yes.

ROB. And — she with you ?

ALF. {almost mechanically). And she with me.

ROB. And what about the other woman ? — the
other woman ?

ALF. What other woman ?

ROB. {holding him by the shoulder and pointing
over the street with the other hand). The one over
there, (alfred glances at olga.) What did you
do with her ?

ALF. {after a pause^ leaning on the zmndow). Why
have you been playing with me all this time, Robert,
if you knew ? Why, if you already knew, did you
speak to me like a friend ? You had the right
to do anything to me that you wanted, but not to
play with me.

ROB. It was not a case of playing. I would have
raised you from the ground if you had been broken
by grief. I would have gone with you to her grave
— if the woman who is lying over there had been
your love; but you have turned her into your
wanton, and you have filled this house with lies and
foulness right up to the roof till it makes me sick —
and that's why — ^^thafs why, yes, that's why I'm
going to kick you out.

G 81



THE MATE

ALF. Perhaps I could explain even this.
ROB. Clear out — clear out — clear out !

Ea^it ALFRED.

EOB. So that's what you wanted to save me from ?
Yes, I understand now ; lucky for her that she passed
away without an idea — of what she really meant to
him.

OLGA (turns toxvards him). Without an idea ?

ROB. What do you mean ?

OLGA (after reflecting for a short time). She —
knew it.

ROB. What — she actually

OLGA. She knew what she meant to him. Don't
you see the whole situation ? He neither deceived
her nor humiliated her. Why, she had been pre-
pared for his marriage as a matter of course for quite
a long time. And when he wrote to her (points to
the esciitoire) she shed as few tears for him — as he
did for her. They would never have come to you —
to ask you for their freedom ; they had all the
freedom they wanted.

ROB. She — knew \t? But you! — you wanted to
hide those letters from me

OLGA. Am I not giving you your freedom back
again.? For years and years you suffered at the
hands of that woman — rushed from one self-deception
into another, which made you love her more, and
consequently suffer more. And now you want to
torture yourself still further on account of a calamity
which you only imagine, and which this particular



THE MATE

woman was absolutely incapable of ever suffering,
because she found life so easy, in a way that people
like you can never understand.

ROB. And to think that I should know for the
first time to-day !— for the first time ! Why didn't
you, who saw the whole thing, shake me out of
my weakness ? Why couldn't I know a year ago ?
Even three days ago

OLGA. I was afraid to do so — ^^just as you would
have been. Yes," as you would have l^een. You
should have known — either not at all — or to-day.

Hou. Does it make any difference, her being dead ?

OLGA. No difference at all ! But it is clear, as it
otherwise would never have Ix^en. So long as she
was alive, her very existence — her very smile, would
have given some semblance of importance to this

miserable trumpery adventure You could not

have felt what you feel to-day, now that she is
beyond the reach of your anger — and perhaps it
will give you peace to think how far, how infinitely
far, that woman lived away from you — that woman
who just happened to die in your house. {Exit,)

ROBERT is silent for a slioH time ; he
then locks the escritoire drawer; then
he stands up^ goes to the door and calls
" Franz."

SKRV. Yes, sir.

ROB. I am going away early to-morrow. Get
everything ready, and have a cab at the house by
seven o''clock.

83



THE MATE

SERV. Very good, sir.

ROB. (after short pause), V\\ give you all further
directions to-morrow. Now you can go to bed. {As
the SERV. stays) I'll lock this room up myself — it is
to remain locked up until I come back.

SERV. Very good, sir.

ROB. Good-night.

SERV. Good-night, sir. {Exit on the Right,)

ROBERT immediately locks the door. He
then goes to the balcony ; xvhen he is
about to close the windows^ he notices
the wreath. He picks it np^ bnngs it
into the roorn^ and places it on the
escritoire. He then goes to the door
on the Lefty with a light in his hand ;
he remains standing by the doo7\ turns
and looks round the room once more.
He takes a deep breathy and then gives
a smile of relief and exit. The noise
of his locking up is heard. The dark
room remains empty for a time, then
the curtain falls.



84



PARACELSUS

A PLAY IN VERSE IN ONE ACT



CHARACTERS

CypkiA-N, aji Armourer.

JUBTINA, his icife.

Cecilia, lier sister.

Doctor Copus, Town Physiciajt.

Anselm, a Gallant,

Theophrastus Bombastus Hohbnheim, styled

I'ARACELSUS.

The Scene takes place in Basel at the heginning of the sixteeiith
century^ on a fine June vwrningy in the house of Cyprian.



PARACELSUS

A room in cyprian's house. The room is well
furnished and has two doors^ one leading l. into
justina's roorn^ the other ii. into the ante-room,
jusTiNA sits at the window busy with some zcork
{at a distaff^). Enter cecilia.

Scene I

JUSTINA (looking up quickly). What ? back be-
times ?

CECILIA. Too noisy is the town. {She sits dozem,)
My head so ached, I needs must hie me home.
Had'st thou been with me in the market-place,
Thou had'st returned with me.

JUSTINA. Why so ?

CECILIA. Since yonder

Teems such a press and babble of wild tongues
That no one in their wits can suffer it.

JUSTINA. Is there ? What's to be seen ? Are new
jugglers come ?

CECILIA. But did the girl not gossip ?

JUSTINA. She came not

87



PARACELSUS

CECILIA. Nay, of a truth, she comes not home to-
day.
The whole of Basel stands there wonderbound,
For all stream thither and all there remain.
As though the greatest wonder were on view.

jusTiNA. Prithee, what wonder sayst, thou crazy
thing ?

CECILIA. 'Tis but a mere quacksalver — nothing
more.

JUSTINA. That only, sister ?

CECILIA. Ay, we have already
Had here enow o*" fellows of that kidney.
But what in him they so surpassing find ?

JUSTINA. He must be famous, or has travelled far —
Didst thou not hear his name ?

CECILIA. There buzzed and buzzed

So many round me, I forgot it all.
Praise God that I am home — my head is spinning.

Scene II
JUSTINA, CECILIA. Enter dr. copus.

DR. c. I wish you both good morrow, worthy ladies.

JUSTINA. You come betimes {smiling). The child
is sick again.

DR. c. Then 'tis the first to-day that waiteth me.
For all the others from me run away,

JUSTINA. Where are they ?

DR. c. Where are they ? Why, in the market !

Sir Paracelsus hath appeared to us :
What need remains of Doctor Copus now ?

88



PARACELSUS

CECILIA. Why, yes, 'twas Paracelsus.

JUSTIN A. Paracelsus !

So it is he, that high renowned leech !

DR. c. {angry). What say you ? — high renowned ?

CECILIA {mollifying). She means it not.

DR. c. And " leech '' ? Then prithee dub me quack-
salver,
And call me all unknown, if Paracelsus
Renowned is, and leech !

CECILIA {almost anjciously). What is he then ?

DR. c. A knave,

And now enough ! {Breaks off,) How are you,

gracious Mistress ? {Feels cecilia's pulse,)
A little quick.

CECILIA. Have I not got the fever ?

DR. c. Did you the powder duly take this morn ?

CECILIA. For sure ; as you prescribed it. Dr.
Copus ;
But, marry, my pulse is still too quick.

DR. c. And marry.

Had you perchance forborne to take the powder
'Twere twice as quick.

CECILIA. Do you prescribe another

For me to-day ?

DR. c. Your tongue, an so you please.

CECILIA puts out her tongue.

DR. c. Mistress, not bad; your tongue will pass,

methinks.
CECILIA. ''Tis many a day since so my head did ache.
DR. c. {without listening to her^ suddenly enraged
89



PARACELSUS

again). And know you who stands yonder with
the crowd?

JusTiNA, Who is't ? and where ?

Dii. c. Our Master Cyprian

Stands in the mart and listens to the knave.

JUSTINA. My husband

DR. c. He who whilom scorned such folk

As homeless tramp in rags about the streets
Stands in the market — nay, stands on the steps
That lead to Paracelsus'* wooden platform,
And hears, and sees, and wonders, and goes mad.

JUSTINA. But tell me, pray, what is so wonderful
About that man ?

DR. c. Now I find wonderful

But this — the mighty impudence he shows —
One word, which I did hear with mine own ears :
" My beard hath deeper erudition
Than all the scribes and doctors in the world.''

JUSTINA. A jest — so rings it !

DR. c. Yea, defend him then :

He mocketh Avicennas, scorneth Galen,
Belittles all the men that were before him
And brought our art to this its lofty height ;
Jeers at the school from which himself did spring,
Reviles the leeches and apothecaries ;
And the good people's claps and cries to catch,
What think you that the shameless fellow does —
Does with the physick that sick men have brought

him?
The draughts he poureth out upon the ground.
Far hurls the bottles from him into space,

90



PARACELSUS

And simply blows the powder in the air.
And shouts the while : A new Hippocrates
And more than that am I, I, Paracelsus,
And all your leeches are crabbed simpletons.
jusTiNA. And Cyprian stands there ?
DR. c. With ears aprick !

And half of Basel with him stands and gapes.
And mine own very patients I beheld —
That yonder stand and wait upon his counsel.
JUSTINA. Prescribes he ?

DR. c. Will you go to him perchance ?

Marry ! He doth prescribe — and think you not
To-morrow's death-roll giveth ample proof ?
But I would fainer say to you : Farewell,
I go unto the Council, and mine office
Resign ; and then what crumbs of life remain
Far from ungrateful Basel I'll enjoy.

CECILIA. Sir Doctor ! And my head ? What shall

I do?
DR. c. Marry, PU show you how the knave contrives.
JUSTINA. Ay, prithee, show us that.
CECILIA. Upon my aches

Will you with that man's arts experiment ?
DR. c. What, Madam, have you headache ?
CECILIA. Nay, you know it.

DR. c. As Paracelsus speak I now : take heed.
Now gaze at me. {He jixes her^ makes magnetic
gestures with hand,) The headache's flown
away.
CECILIA. I have it still — and stronger than before.
DR. c. So doth he do ! And all without a powder —
91



PARACELSUS

And rails withal at those who do not likewise.
And there you have his much-belauded art.
And this in Basel ! Can a man conceive it ?

JusTiNA. I trow, such is his practice everywhere.

DR. c. In truth ; yet here but thirteen years ago
He still was sitting at his master^s feet,
And was Trithemius' scholar ! Knew you not ?

JUSTINA. Trithemius ? The one who died last year ?

DR. c. And in good season ! And to this self-same
town
After unnumbered world-wide journey ings
Through Sweden, Prussia, and through Tartary,
Moving from one place to another — fleeing —
Mark you my meaning : he had cause to flee —
Returneth to the self-same town that taught him
The rudiments of our exalted art.
Which he hath now forgotten and gainsaid.

JUSTINA. Nay, tell me, then, who it is ? Lived he
in Basel ?

DR. c. You knew him well when he was simply
styled
Bombastus Theophrastus Hohenheim.

JUSTINA (highly excited). What say you? Theo-
phrastus ...

DR. c. Hohenheim.

JUSTINA. 'Tis he ?

DR. c. Ay, he.

JUSTINA. Then the great Paracelsus,

Hear'st thou, Cecilia, is Hohenheim,
Of whom I told thee.

CECILIA. Nay, what aileth thee ?

92



PARACELSUS

jusTiNA. Thou did'st not know him — wert as yet
a child ;
But now I know why Cyprian gives ear.

Scene III
Enter anselm (a gallant), cecilia, justina, copus.

ANSELM. My knocks you heard not, so I crave withal
Your pardon, that I entered unannounced.
Do I intrude ? Is not the Master here ?

JUSTINA. Not yet.

ANSELM {xoitli amiable affectaiioii). How fareth the
most beautiful
Of dames ? and how the loveliest of maidens ?
How the most erudite of learned men ?

CECiUA. And how the most unbearable of gallants?

ANSELM {looking all the time at justina). He fareth
well — for soon he must depart
This fairest city, and much dear to him.

CECILIA. Are you quite sure ? You promised it
so oft !

ANSELM. My father calls me ; I must home again
Before I {glances at justina) reach the goal of my

desires ;
For now is Master Thomas discontented :
My organ play's amiss ; my composition
Is not succeeded ; and no single song
Have I completed, who began so much.

CECILIA. The cause is simple.

DR. c. You are yet so young,

And Music is no easy art withal.

93



PARACELSUS

ANSELM. To him who is not happy, naught comes
easy,

CECILIA. And if a man through all the nights
carouse,
And play at dice until the grey o' dawn,
He'll ne'*er succeed in anything by day.

jusTiNA (reproachfully). Cecilia !

DR. c. Do you so ? Nay, 'tis not good.

ANSELM. Have you a remedy 'gainst grief of soul ?

DR. c. Dice are no remedy.

ANSELM. Nor even wine.

Yet both oblivion furnish — that is good.

DR. c. Your leech I am not — so must hold my peace.

CECILIA. But pray be mine ; for lo ! the livelong
time
My head aches, and I stand here in distraction.

i)R. c. Pardon, good Mistress, I'll prescribe forth-
with
What shall assuage your pain within an hour.

CECILIA. Come to my chamber. Doctor.

DR. c. By your leave.

Exeunt copus and cecilia.
Scene IV

JUSTINA, ANSELM.

ANSELM. Justina.

JUSTINA. Stop !

ANSELM. To-day you do enjoin me vainly ;

That I the city needs must leave is true ;

94



PARACELSUS

True from to-day I ne'*er shall see you more,
And I must needs declare

jusTiNA. I will not hear it.

ANSELM. Then I am silent ; but my dumbness
speaks.

JUSTINA. Each single word of yours is but an insult,
As are your looks offensive to my honour.

ANSELM. Those looks which upwards gaze unto a
goddess,
Those words which upwards mount into a prayer ?

JUSTINA. A truce, I say.

ANSELM. You know me not, Justina ;

You know not what I wish — scarce what I am.
You deem me but a botcher — or a fool !
I am not that ! I^n more than you divine,
And that which palsies all my spirit's strength
Is that you know it not, and do disdain it.
A smile from those your lips could fashion me
An artist — ah ! a kiss a very master !

JUSTINA {has recovered her self-possession^ is cold
and sharp). Fetch you from others what shall
learn you skill ;
I have no kisses and no smiles withal.

ANSELM. Then would I sing most wondrous songs
in praise
Of my well-loved mistress, that our names
Shall travel linked to far posterity.

JUSTINA. Blossoming youth hath never tempted me:
Shall fame, then — shall a shadow lure me ?
But, prithee, see — you only asked a smile . . ,

ril grant you more

95



PARACELSUS

ANSELM. Oh, speak.

jusTiNA. I'll laugh aloud {laughs),

ANSELM. You drive me unto madness.

jusTiNA. Long's the way.

ANSELM. And unto death.

JUSTINA. We must all travel thither.

ANSELM (throws Mmself doimi). See 1 At your feet
I beg you, come this even
Into your garden — there for a last time
I fain will press my lips upon your hand.
No one will witness us . . . Til climb within
Over the trellis there . . . the night is secret,
111 wait within the arbour,

JUSTINA. You are mad !

Arise. My husband comes.

ANSELM. What then ? An he

See me upon my knees, he'll laugh withal —
So blithely doth he walk about the world.
So certain of his wife, and drunken so
With the proud joy of his monopoly.
But I declare to you — such arrogance . . .

JUSTINA. Arise, for Heaven's sake ! Do you not
hear ?



Scene V

ANSELM, JUSTINA, CYPRIAN. Later PARACELSUS.

CYPRIAN (smiling at the enibarrass7nent of both).

My worthy gallant, so you're here again ?
ANSELM. I am ... I merely wanted . . .
96



PARACELSUS

CYP. (without noticing him further^ to justina).

My sweet child,
I bring to-day a guest right marvellous,
With whom I warrant you we shall divert us.

(justina gives a slight staii.)

My worthy Paracelsus, enter in

(PARACELSUS appears at the doo7\)

A simple burgher's house — and yet methinks.
After your buffets of the midnight air,
It looketh not amiss.

PARACELSUS. I do uot scom

The hospitality of Heaven's roof.

CYP. {pointing to anselm). Anselm, a gallant noble
who in Basel

At organ-playing — organ-playing, hey ?

anselm. Ay, truly, I would learn to play the organ,
CYP. {remembering). To Master Thomas, verily . . .
his father
I furnished a most lordly suit of armour
When with a troop of horsemen here he passed.
{Shaking his head) Warrior the sire . . . the son is
a musician.
ANSELM. Just for a pastime.

CYP. Well. {To PARACELSUS) And now, my

worthy,
Be welcome to us ; 'tis full time that you
Should spend in honourable company
An hour over a bowl of goodly wine.

PARA. Does your fair spouse still recognise myself.?
H 97



PARACELSUS

JtrsliNA. Surely I know you.

PAiiACKLsus holes at her steadfastly,

CYP. Verily for his years

How weatherworn ! Now what say'st thou ?
The man o'er whom sweeps mystery and gloom.
The never- resting one, whom rumour wild
Ever foreruns like to a madden'd herald.
This sorcerer — is none but Hohenheim,
Whom as a pious student once we knew.

PARA. I am no sorcerer, my noble dame ;
I am a leech, but shrewder than the others.

CYP. What leeches are, my friend, that know we
well ;
They ply not such buffooneries as you.
Yet whatso'^er you are, you do divert me,
And now that you have crossed my house's threshold.
Be you my guest — from whenceso''er you come.
And Fm rejoiced I judged you aye aright,
Why, years ago, what time you dwelt in Basel,
Busied yourself with alchemy at Trithem'^s,
And under certain windows nightly languished,
I ever knew no good would come o** you !

Maid comes xcith wine ; when she has
served ity she goes away again, justina
busies herself a little in arranging the
table, PARACELSUS looks shat^ly at

ANSELxM.

PARA. You deem ?

CYP. But this forsooth my censure is :

Let each man live what fashion makes him glad !

98



PARACELSUS

What would it boot, forsooth, by one's own hearth
Serving one's household and the common weal.
To ply one's handicraft an honest burgher,
Were there not others lured to far adventures —
Who fare as errant fellows on their way ?
And I am fain at times to see such varlets,
Who bring the flavour of their distant journeys.
Then, when they leave, why, one is triply glad
That one has wife and home and handicraft.

jusTiNA. Your guest still stands the while.

CYP. Nay, sit you down.

And you, my worthy gallant.

ANSELM. Pardon me.

I must depart, for this same night I journey.

cvr. What say you ?

ANSELM. Yea, my father calls and urges,

And many duties have I e'er I leave.
I'll come at noon, to bid you my adieus.
(^As he leaves) I could not bear that look another
moment.

Scene VI

CYPRIAN, JUSTINA, PARACELSUS.

CYP. What ails the gallant ?
JUSTINA {embarrassed). I know not.

CYP. {smiling). But I !

What boots it that he spake to thee of love ?
JUSTINA. But nay.

CYP. That thou weit wrathful with him =

JUSTINA. Nay.

99



PARACELSUS

CYP. And didst despatch him homewards with
rough words ?

JUSTIN A. What a conceit !

CYP. {laughing), I hope thou didst no less.

jusTiNA. Well, then, I did so.

CYP, See how red she grows.

PARA. And bashful as though beauty were a sin.

JUSTINA {almost in tears), I do entreat thee . . .

CYP. {to PARACELSUS). See, ever the same.

PARA, {meaningly), I see 't.

CYP. {jesting). Ashamed of her mute potency

That each man feels perforce who nigh her comes.
Thou too were wont to sing a song thereof.

JUSTINA {entreating), * I beg thee.

PARA. Do you fear your memory ?

One cannot better rid you of your fear
Than when one wakes the past to life again,