With her dainty feet she stamped declarations of war and orders for executions. Then, one day, she was besieged by a King, who, by chance, had two heads, which, year in and year out, disputed with one another so violently that neither could get a word in edgewise. The Court Conjurer-in-chief took off the smallest of these heads and set it upon the Queen's body. And, behold, it became her extraordinarily well! Therefore, the King and the Queen were married, and the two heads disputed no longer, but kissed each other upon the brow, the cheeks and the mouth, and lived thereafter through long, long years of joy and peace.
Since vacation I can't get the headless Queen out of my mind. When I see a pretty girl, I see her without a headand then presently, I, myself appear to be the headless Queen. Here, children, here's a mouthful for you. Good-evening, Herr Stiefel, how are you? Thank you, Frau Gabor. But you don't look very gooddon't you feel well? It's not worth mentioning. I went to bed somewhat too late last night. Only think, he worked all through the night.
You shouldn't do such things, Herr Stiefel. You ought to take care of yourself. Think of your health. Don't set your school above your health. Take plenty of walks in the fresh air. At your age, that is more important than a correct use of middle high German. I will go walking. One can be industrious while one is taking a walk. Why didn't I think of that myself! You can do your writing here; that will make it easier for both of us.
Here is the beadle's report. See that the matter is cleared up once for all! The whole class will attend the burial. What book is that you have, Melchior? Have you read it yet? Not to the end. We're just at the Walpurgisnacht. If I were you I should have waited for one or two years. I know of no book, Mamma, in which I have found so much beauty.
Why shouldn't I read it? Because you can't understand it. You can't know that, Mamma. We always read together; that helps our understanding wonderfully. You are old enough, Melchior, to be able to know what is good and what is bad for you. Do what you think best for yourself. I should be the first to acknowledge your right in this respect, because you have never given me a reason to have to deny you anything.
I only want to warn you that even the best can do one harm when one isn't ripe enough in years to receive it properly. I shall be in my bedroom. Your Mamma means the story of Gretchen. Weren't we discussing it just a moment ago! Faust himself cannot have deserted her in cold blood! The masterpiece does not end with this infamous action! Gretchen might have died of a broken heart for all I care.
To be frank with you, Melchior, I have almost the same feeling since I read your explanation. I fastened the door and flew through the flaming lines as a frightened owl flies through a burning woodI believe I read most of it with my eyes shut.
Your explanation brought up a host of dim recollections, which affected me as a song of his childhood affects a man on his deathbed when heard from the lips of another. I felt the most vehement pity over what you wrote about maidens. I shall never lose that sensation. Believe me, Melchior, to suffer a wrong is sweeter than to do a wrong. To be overcome by such a sweet wrong and still be blameless seems to me the fullness of earthly bliss. I don't want my bliss as alms! I don't want anything for which I don't have to fight!
Is it enjoyable then, Melchior? The maiden controls herself, thanks to her self-denial. She keeps herself free from every bitterness until the last moment, in order that she may see the heavens open over her in an instant. The maiden fears hell even at the moment that she perceives a blooming paradise.
Her feeling is as pure as a mountain spring. The maiden holds a cup over which no earthly breath has blown as yet; a nectar chalice, the contents of which is spilled when it flames and flares. You can think what you like about it, but keep your thoughts to yourselfI don't like to think about it. Her face is beaming. She is without a hat, wears a mantilla on her head and has a basket on her arm.
You are up already, child? Now, that is nice of you! You have been out already? You must take her this basket! Only think, Wendla, last night the stork paid her a visit and brought her a little baby boy! A fine little boy! I must see him, Mother. That makes me an aunt for the third timeaunt to a little girl and two little boys! And what little boys!
Were you there when he brought him? He had just flown away again. Why couldn't you have been a little earlier, Mother? I almost believe he brought you something, tooa breastpin or something. It's really a shame! But, I tell you, he brought you a breastpin! Then be happy, child. What do you want besides? I would have liked so much to have known whether he flew through the window or down the chimney. You must ask Ina. You must ask Ina that, dear heart! Ina will tell you that fast enough. Ina talked with him for a whole half hour. I will ask Ina when I get there.
Now don't forget, sweet angel! I'm interested myself to know if he came in through the window or by the chimney. Or hadn't I better ask the chimney-sweep? Not the chimney-sweep, child; not the chimney-sweep. What does the chimney-sweep know about the stork! He'd tell you a lot of foolishness he didn't believe himselfWhawhat are you staring at down there in the street?
A man, Mother,three times as big as an ox! You are, and always will be a foolish child! I wonder when you will understand things. I've given up hope of you. So have I, Mother dear, so have I. It's a sad thing about my understanding. Whom in the world should I ask but you! Please tell me, dear Mother! Tell me, dear Mother! I'm ashamed for myself. Don't scold me for asking you about it. Give me an answerHow does it happen? Lord, child, but you are peculiar! But why not, Mother?
OO God protect me! I'll goAnd suppose your child went and asked the chimney-sweep? But that would be madness! I'll tell you everythingO Almighty Goodness! Tell me to-day, Mother; tell me now! I can't do it, Wendla. Oh, why can't you, Mother dear! You can cover my head with your apron and talk and talk, as if you were entirely alone in the room. I won't move, I won't cry, I will bear all patiently, no matter what may come. Heaven knows, Wendla, that I am not to blame! I will tell you, child, how you came into this world.
I deserve to be put into prisonto have you taken from me. In order to have a childdo you understand me, Wendla? Quick, Mother, I can't stand it much longer. In order to have a childone must love--the man--to whom one is married--love him, I tell you--as one can only love a man! One must love him so much with one's whole heart, so--so that one can't describe it! One must love him, Wendla, as you at your age are still unable to loveNow you know it! Now you know what an ordeal awaits you!
And that is all? As true as God helps me! You will get chocolate and cakes there. Did you get meat for lunch, Mother? The Good God protect and bless youI will find an opportunity to add a handbreadth of flounces to the bottom. Wilt thou not visit me for awhile in my dreams? I will receive thee with widely open arms and will kiss thee until thou art breathless.
Thou drawest me onward as the enchanted princess in her deserted castle. The thought of my lonely nights is strangling me. I swear to thee, child, on my soul, that it is not satiety which rules me. Who could ever boast of being satiated of thee! But thou suckest the marrow from my bones, thou bendest my back, thou robbest my youthful eyes of their last spark of brilliancy.
And I have won the victory. Suppose I count themall those who sleep, with whom I have fought the same battle here Psyche by Thumann--another bequest from the spindle-shanked Mademoiselle Angelique, that rattlesnake in the paradise of my childhood; Io by Corregio; Galathea by Lossow; then a Cupid by Bouguereau; Ada by J.
Let that be a consolation unto thee, and seek not to increase my torments at this enormity by that fleeting look. Thou diest not for thy sins, thou diest on account of mine! I believe the combined sufferings of his murdered wives did not equal the torments he underwent each time he strangled one of them. But my thoughts will become more peaceful, my body will strengthen itself, when thou, thou little devil, residest no longer in the red satin padding of my jewel case.
But a quarter of a year more, perhaps thy unveiled charms, sweet soul, would begin to consume my poor head as the sun does a pat of butter. It is high time to declare the divorce from bed and board. I feel a Heliogablus within me? Maiden, maiden, why dost thou press thy knees together?
Doest thou not guess that only thy chastity begets my debauchery? Agnes also died for her reserve and was not half as naked as thou! It is the cause! Melchior lies on his back in the fresh hay. Wendla comes up the ladder. Here's where you've hid yourself? The wagon is outside again. There's a storm coming up. Go away from me! What's the matter with you? I'll throw you down on the floor below. Now for certain I'm not going.
Suppose we do get wet to the skin, what difference will that make to us! The hay smells so fine. Don't kiss me, Melchior! People lovewhen they kissDon't, don't! Oh, believe me, there's no such thing as love! Everything is selfishness, everything is egotism! I cannot furnish you with the necessary amount for the voyage to America--I give you my word of honor. In the first place, I have not that much to my credit, and in the second place, if I had, it would be the greatest sin imaginable for me to put into your hands the means of accomplishing such an ill-considered measure.
You will be doing me a bitter wrong, Herr Stiefel, if you see a sign of lack of love in my refusal. On the contrary, it would be the greatest neglect of my duty as your motherly friend were I to allow myself to be affected by your temporary lack of determination, so that I also lost my head and blindly followed my first fleeting impulse.
I am very ready--in case you desire it--to write to your parents. I should seek to convince your parents that you have done what you could during this quarter, that you have exhausted your strength, that a rigorous judgment of your case would not only be inadvisable, but might be in the greatest degree prejudicial to your mental and bodily health.
That you imply a threat to take your own life in case flight is impossible for you, to speak plainly, has somewhat surprised me. No matter how undeserving is a misfortune, Herr Stiefel, one should never choose improper means to escape it. The way in which you, to whom I have always done only good, want to make me responsible for a possible frightful action on your part, has something about it which, in the eyes of an evil-thinking person, might be misconstrued very easily.
I must confess that this outbreak of yours--you who know so well what one owes to oneself--is the last thing for which I was prepared. However, I cherish the strong conviction that you are laboring yet too much under the shock of your first fright to be able to understand completely your action. And, therefore, I hope with confidence that these words of mine will find you already in better spirits. Take up the matter as it stands. In my opinion it is unwise to judge a young man by his school record. We have too many examples of bad students becoming distinguished men, and, on the other hand, of brilliant students not being at all remarkable in life.
At any rate, I can assure you that your misfortune, as far as it lies with me, shall make no difference in your association with Melchior. On the contrary, it will afford me the greatest pleasure to see my son going with a young man who, let the world judge him as it will, is able to win my fullest sympathy. And, therefore, hold your head high, Herr Stiefel!
If all of us had recourse to dagger or poison in such cases, there would soon be no men left in the world. Why have you slipped out of the room? Light clouds in the sky. The path straggles through low bushes and coarse grass. The flow of the stream is heard in the distance. Another may be able to climb to the top. I pull the door to behind me and step into the open. I haven't succeeded in forcing my way. How shall I force my way now! Let them make out of the thing what they will.
I have been forced. At the same time, the worst must fall upon them. They were old enough to know what they were doing. I was a weakling when I came into the worldor else I would have been wise enough to become another being. Why should I be forced to pay for the fact that the others were here already! I must have fallen on my headIf anybody makes me a present of a mad dog I'll give him back a mad dog. And if he won't take back his mad dog, then I am human and I must have fallen on my head!
Man is born by chance and should not, after mature considerationIt is to shoot oneself dead! The weather at least has shown itself considerate. The whole day it looked like rain and yet it has held off. Nowhere anything dazzling, exciting. Heaven and earth are like a transparent fabric. And everything seems so happy. The landscape is as sweet as the melody of a lullaby.
It's a shame she holds her elbows so awkwardly! Snandulia only dances with good matches. In the back, down to her girdle and in the front downunconscionably low. I will not cry again to-day. I will not think of my burial again. Pastor Kahlbauch will console my parents.
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Rector Sonnenstich will cite examples from history. I had wanted a snow-white marble urn on a pedestal of black syenite. Monuments are for the living, not for the dead. I should need a whole year to say farewell to everything in my thoughts. I will not cry again. I am so happy to be able to look back without bitterness.
How many beautiful evenings I have passed with Melchior! Whipped cream doesn't stay firm. It falls and leaves a pleasant after-taste. I haven't found one who didn't want to do his best. Many have suffered with me on my own account. I wander to the altar like the ancient Etrurian youth whose dying rattle bought his brothers' prosperity for the coming year. I sob with sorrow over my lot. I see earnest, friendly glances luring me there in the distance, the headless queen, the headless queen--compassion awaiting me with open armsYour commands concern minors; I carry my free ticket in myself.
Spring Awakening: A Children's Tragedy - Frank Wedekind - Google Книги
If the shell sinks, the butterfly flits from it; the delusion no longer holds. The mists close in; life is bitter on the tongue. What are you hunting here? Why did you frighten me so? What are you hunting? Why did you frighten me so fearfully? I'm coming from town. I don't know what I've lost. Then seeking won't help you. I haven't been home for four days. Restless as a cat! Because I have on my dancing slippersMother will make eyes! Where have you been strolling again? Kling, klingthings were lively! Do they paint you? Fehrendorf painted me as a pillar saint.
I am standing on a Corinthian capital. Fehrendorf, I tell you, is a gibbering idiot. The last time, I trod on one of his tubes. He wiped his brush on my hair. I fetched him a box on the ear. He threw his palette at my head. I upset the easel. He chased me all about the studio, over divans, tables and chairs, with his mahlstick.
Behind the stove stood a sketch;Be good or I'll tear it! He swore amnesty, and--and then kissed me promptly and frightfully, frightfully, I tell you. Where do you spend the night when you stop in town? Yesterday we were at Nohl's. We had champagne at Padinsky's. I was so drunk they had to put me to bed.
No, no,I take my leave of it this quarter. Ah, how time passes when one earns money! I haven't seen her since the floodWhat is Melchi Gabor doing? Wendla came to see us a while ago and brought Mother some presents. I sat that day for Isidor Landauer. He is a ninny and disagreeable. Hu, like a weathercock! I staggered home at five o'clock. One need only to look at you. Arabella, the beer nymph, an Andalusian.
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- About Wedekind Plays: 1.
The landlord let all of us spend the whole night alone with her. One only need look at you, Moritz! During the last carnival I went three days and three nights without going to bed or taking my clothes off. Lena was there, and the fat Viola. Had he been looking for you? He tripped over my arm. I lay senseless in the snow in the street. For fourteen days I didn't leave his lodgingsa dreadful time! In the morning I had to throw on his Persian nightgown and in the evening go about the room in the black costume of a page; white lace ruffles at my neck, my knees and my wrists.
Every day he photographed me in some new arrangementonce on the sofa as Ariadne, once as Leda, once as Ganymede, once on all fours as a feminine Nebuchadnezzar. Then he longed for murder, for shooting, suicide and coal gas. Early in the morning he brought a pistol into bed, loaded it full of shot and put it against my breast!
A twitch and I'll pull! Is Heinrich living yet? How do I know! The room seemed as high as a tower and as bright as an opera house. One saw one's self hanging down bodily from heaven. I had frightful dreams at nightO God, O God, if it were only day! Is this Heinrich living yet? The carnival was over; the police arrested me; what was I doing in man's clothes? They transported me in a cab to Adolar's studio. Since then I've been true to the herd. Fehrendorf is an ape, Nohl is a pig, Bojokewitsch an owl, Loison a hyena, Oikonomopulos a cameltherefore I love one and all of them the same and wouldn't attach myself to anyone else, even if the world were full of archangels and millionaires!
I must go back, Ilse. Come as far as our house with me! To drink warm goat's milk! I will singe your hair and hang a little bell around your neck. I must go back. I have yet the Sassanides, the Sermon on the Mount and the parallelepipedon on my thoughts. I would laugh when the talk turned on passionI would cry out! It is you, Ilse! The mulleins seem to have grown since yesterday. The outlook between the willows is still the sameThe water runs as heavy as melted lead.
Before I struck a light one could see the grass and a streak on the horizon. Now I shall never return home again.
Wedekind Plays: 1
At the upper end, on a raised seat, is Rector Sonnenstich. Beadle Habebald squats near the door. Has any gentleman something further to remark? We cannot help moving the expulsion of our guilty pupil before the National Board of Education; there are the strongest reasons why we cannot: We cannot, because we must expiate the misfortune which has fallen upon us already; we cannot, because of our need to protect ourselves from similar blows in the future; we cannot, because we must chastise our guilty pupil for the demoralizing influence he exerted upon his classmates; we cannot, above all, because we must hinder him from exerting the same influence upon his remaining classmates.
We cannot ignore the charge--and this, gentlemen, is possibly the weightiest of allon any pretext concerning a ruined career, because it is our duty to protect ourselves from an epidemic of suicide similar to that which has broken out recently in various grammar schools, and which until to-day has mocked all attempts of the teachers to shackle it by any means known to advanced educationHas any gentleman something further to remark? I can rid myself of the conception no longer that it is time at last to open a window here.
Th- th- there is an a- a- at- atmosphere here li- li- like th- th- that of the cata- catacombs, like that in the document room of the former Cha-Cha-Chamber of Justice at Wetzlar. At your service, Herr Rector. Thank God there's fresh air enough outside. If my associate wants to have a window opened, I haven't the least objection to it. Only I should like to ask that the window opened is not the one directly behind my back!
Open the other window! Without wishing to increase the controversy, I should like to recall the important fact that the other window has been walled up since vacation. Leave the other window shut! I request those who are in favor of having the only window which can enter into this discussion opened to rise from their seats. Leave that window shut likewise! I, for my part, am of the opinion that the air here leaves nothing to be desired! Of the various grammar schools visited by the epidemic of self-murder, those in which the devastation of self-murder has reached 25 per cent. It is our duty, as the guardians and protectors of our institute, to protect our institute from this staggering blow.
It grieves us deeply, gentlemen, that we are not in a position to consider the other qualifications of our guilt-laden pupil as mitigating circumstances. An indulgent treatment, which would allow our guilty pupil to be vindicated, would not in any conceivable way imaginable vindicate the present imperiled existence of our institute.
We see ourselves under the necessity of judging the guilt-laden that we may not be judged guilty ourselves. At your service, Herr Rector! If the pre-present atmosphere leaves little or nothing to desire, I should like to suggest that the other window be walled up during the summer va- va- va- vacation. If our esteemed colleague, Zungenschlag, does not find our room ventilated sufficiently, I should like to suggest that our esteemed colleague, Zungenschlag, have a ventilator set into his forehead.
I do- do- don't have to stand that! I must ask our esteemed colleagues, Fliegentod and Zungenschlag, to preserve decorum. It seems to me that our guilt-laden pupil is already on the stairs. She later wanders her garden, distraught, begging God for someone who would explain everything to her. Despite great effort, Moritz's academics do not improve and he is expelled from school. Disgraced and hopeless, he appeals to Melchior's mother for money with which he can escape to America, but she refuses. Aware that Moritz is contemplating suicide, Mrs.
Gabor writes Moritz a letter in which she asserts he is not a failure, in spite of whatever judgment society has passed upon him. Nonetheless, Moritz has been transformed into a physical and emotional wreck, blaming both himself and his parents for not better preparing him for the world. Alone, he meets Ilse, a former friend who ran away to the city to live a Bohemian life with several fiery, passionate lovers.
She offers to take Moritz in, but he rejects her offer. After she leaves, Moritz shoots himself. After an investigation, the professors at the school hold that the primary cause of Moritz's suicide was an essay on sexuality that Melchior wrote for him. Refusing to let Melchior defend himself, the authorities roundly expel him. At Moritz's funeral, the adults call Moritz's suicide selfish and blasphemous; Moritz's father disowns him. The children come by later and pay their own respects. As they all depart, Ilse divulges to Martha that she found Moritz's corpse and hid the pistol he used to kill himself.
Gabor is the only adult who believes Melchior and Moritz committed no wrongdoing, and that Melchior was made into a scapegoat. Gabor, however, brands his son's actions as depraved. He shows her a letter that Melchior wrote to Wendla, confessing his remorse over "sinning against her. They decide to put Melchior in a reformatory. There, several students intercept a letter from Wendla; aroused, they masturbate as Melchior leans against the window, haunted by Wendla and the memory of Moritz. Wendla suddenly falls ill.
A doctor prescribes pills, but after he leaves, Wendla's mother informs her of the true cause of her sickness: She condemns Wendla for her sins. Wendla is helpless and confused, since she never loved Melchior, and she yells at her mother for not teaching her properly. Meanwhile, back at school, Hanschen Rilow and Ernst Robel share a kiss and confess their homosexuality to each other.
Spring Awakening: A Children’s Tragedy
In November, an escaped Melchior hides in a cemetery where he discovers Wendla's tombstone, which attests that she died of anemia. There, he is visited by Moritz's ghost, who is missing part of his head. Moritz explains that, in death, he has learned more and lived more than in his tortured life on earth.
Melchior is almost seduced into traveling with Moritz into death, but a mysterious figure called the Masked Man intervenes. Moritz confesses that death, in fact, is unbearable; he only wanted to have Melchior as a companion again. The Masked Man informs Melchior that Wendla died of an unnecessary abortion, and that he has appeared to teach him the truth about life in order to rescue him from death.
His work was censored and the original Lulu play was not even published during his lifetime; Wedekind toned it down and adapted it to make two plays: Pandora's Box and Earth-Spirit. The version in this volume, Lulu: A Monster Tragedy, is based on the first manuscript, presenting the original sexually voracious heroine to a British audience for the first time. The volume also contains Spring Awakening, "a work of great compassion that still has a lot to teach us about the dangers of battening down adolescent sex The translation of Spring Awakening "scrupulously faithful both to Wedekind's irony and his poetry" The Times was commissioned by the National Theatre and that of Lulu: A Monster Tragedy "the Bonds' version is sharper and funnier than its predecessors" Guardian was toured nationally.