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Ebook has 1239 lines and 26515 words, and 25 pages
Translator: Hilmar R. Baukhage
HONOR
A Play in Four Acts
BY HERMANN SUDERMANN
New York | London SAMUEL FRENCH | SAMUEL FRENCH, Ltd. PUBLISHER | 26 Southampton Street 28-30 WEST 38th STREET | STRAND
HONOR
The French expression, a "man of the theater," is best exemplified in the person of the German dramatist Hermann Sudermann. The term is intended to convey the idea of a playwright who is interesting and effective, one who is, in short, master of his trade. The author of "Die Ehre," which is here presented for the first time to English readers, was for many years a man of the theater in the strictest acceptance of the term.
Hermann Sudermann was born at Matziken, Prussia, in 1857. After receiving his preliminary scholastic training in his native province, he attended the Universities of Konigsberg and Berlin and immediately after his graduation from the latter institution entered the field of journalism. His first works were short stories and novels, of which "Dame Care," "Regina," and "The Song of Songs" are the best known. German critics and the German reading public are inclined, of late years, in view of Sudermann's repeated failures in the field of drama, to place his fiction on a distinctly higher plane than his plays, and it is true that much of the finer intelligence of the man has gone to the making of his better novels. However, the earlier plays exerted an influence so widespread and are of such unquestioned intrinsic value, that there is some question as to the ultimate disposition of the laurels.
"Honor" was published in book form in 1888, the year before the founding of the famous "Freie Buhne," or "Free Theater," which was to usher in and nourish modern German Realism. It was first produced in 1890.
"Honor" is clearly a thesis play: it aims at the presentation and consideration of an idea, a problem, and the problem is that which arises when one's individual principles are at variance with those laid down in a conventional society. In Germany "honor" is not so much a personal matter as a fixed code applicable to situations, and an individual who finds himself in a certain situation must have recourse to the code, not his own convictions. Sudermann in this play sets himself the task of opposing the current conception of honor, and in Trast's mouth he places what arguments he wishes to have advanced. Trast is what the French call the "raisonneur": he who reasons. This method is a very direct but rather bald one, as the audience is likely, nowadays at least, to resent a preacher who is only too obviously doing his duty. It prefers the method followed by another very skilful writer of thesis plays, Brieux, who in his "Red Robe" allows the thesis to unfold itself before the eyes of the spectators rather than permit a "raisonneur" to expound his personal ideas. But in Sudermann's day the technic of the drama was not so far advanced as it was twelve years later, when the French dramatist was able to employ means to his end which were artistic in the highest degree.
Yet Sudermann always lacked the sincerity and earnestness of Brieux, for he considered the play primarily as a means to tell a story in as effective a manner as possible. Brieux's purpose has always been to expose a state of affairs and argue about it. As a consequence, Sudermann never fell into the error of allowing the thesis to overshadow the play. As a matter of fact, he became with years less and less didactic, and took good care that his later plays should be free of encumbering theses, so that now his desire to please the unthinking public has brought him near to artistic bankruptcy.
Sudermann is clearly a man whose best work is over. "Honor" led dramatists to treat the theater more seriously, it taught them to construct plays with a story, and showed that a thesis play is not necessarily a "conversation"; his attention to detail instilled a desire for greater truthfulness in the delineation of character. "Honor" and its immediate successors present a series of pictures of lower, middle, and upper class German society of the day which are and will in the future prove of great value for the student of the times and of the drama.
BARRETT H. CLARK.
PERSONS REPRESENTED.
HONOR
Frau Hebenstreit. So it's really true?--Your son is home?
Frau Heinecke. Sh! sh!--for the Lord's sake--he's asleep!
Frau Hebenstreit. There is Alma's bedroom?
Frau Heinecke. Yes!--I don't know what I'm about!--I'm actually dizzy from joy!
Frau Hebenstreit. Do the folks on the avenue know about it yet?
Frau Heinecke. He had to report to 'em to-day because they're his boss. To-morrow he'll make the visit.
Frau Hebenstreit. How long has he been gone, anyway?
Frau Heinecke. Seven--eight--nine and a half years. It's as long as that since I've seen my boy!
Frau Hebenstreit. And did you recognize him right off?
Frau Heinecke. For they ain't too stuck up to come around and see us poor folks on the alley--Well, as I was saying, he throws his hat and coat on the floor--a real top hat--right down on the floor, mind you!--and he gets right down on his knees in front of me--well, I thought I was losing my mind, but when he calls out; "Mother, Father, don't you know me?--It's me, Robert, your son Robert"--Well, Frau Hebenstreit, it was just too good to be true! I'll never get over it!
Frau Hebenstreit. Don't get excited, neighbor; the pleasure won't last! Every rat has a head and tail--and a rat's tail is poison, they do say.
Frau Heinecke. How can you say a thing like that! My son is a good son, a fine son.
Frau Heinecke. He can have all that here--
Frau Heinecke. Whether he will or not, Frau Hebenstreit! A mother's heart don't reckon with rank and society!--And--Good Lord! Here I am a-standing--Where on earth can Heinecke be? Have you seen Heinecke?--The way he has to hobble along with his lame leg!
Frau Hebenstreit. I saw him standing outside with a sign as big as all outdoors, drying his sign he said--and the thermometer at thirty above zero!
Frau Heinecke. Will you be still!
Heinecke. "Welcome, beloved son, to your father's house." Fine, eh?
Frau Hebenstreit. Looks for all the world like a target!
Heinecke. With a heart in the middle! You old--!
Frau Heinecke. Hold your tongue!-- You know how he is!
Frau Heinecke. No, nor mine either. It was seventeen years ago, when our boss on the avenue got his title of Councillor of Commerce--there was a great time: carriages and fireworkings and free beer for all the workmen in the factory. Well, my husband was a little bit full--and why not?--Pa, quit pounding! when it didn't cost nothing? Well, one of the carriages run over him,--broke his leg and his arm!
Heinecke. Talking about me? Yes, that wasn't no joke, neither!
Frau Heinecke. Don't whistle! The folks in front can hear that from the balcony, and they'll send round to find out what's the matter with our family affairs!--And the boss was so tickled over his new title, that he was feelin' free with his pocket-book and he promised to take care of us and give our oldest an education.
Frau Hebenstreit. And did he stick to it?
Heinecke. Ah, there!
Frau Heinecke. Couldn't 've done better! They gave us a place here on the alley, where, thank God, we still are, and they sent Robert off to the school where he got his learning. And when he came back home on his vacations, he was always invited over on the avenue to drink chocolate with whip-cream,--on purpose to play with the little Miss. Young Herr Kurt was still sucking a rubber nipple then.
Frau Hebenstreit. That was all before Alma--?
Frau Heinecke. What do you mean by that?
Frau Heinecke. And then afterwards they sent him to Hamburg to learn about the foreign business, you know--and when he was seventeen off he goes to India, where they say it's so outlandish hot! The Councillor's nephew is out there. He's got a big coffee and tea plantation!
Heinecke. It grows out there just like daisies do around here! Fine, eh?
Frau Hebenstreit. I'm a-going. Good-bye, and don't forget the poison in the rat's tail! It's a pretty kettle of fish!
Heinecke. She's an old poison-toad herself!
Frau Heinecke. Jealousy--jealousy--jealousy!
Heinecke. Well! Where did you get the pound-cake!
Frau Heinecke. The cook brought it, with the compliments of the Miss.
Frau Heinecke. Father, he's here!
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