Chapter IX: Act V: The Death of Man

_A vague, wavering, flickering, dim light through which one can
at first make out nothing. When the eye becomes accustomed to
the gloom, the following scene is disclosed_:

_A long, wide, basement room with a very low ceiling and
without windows. A flight of stairs leads from the room to the
entrance, somewhere above. The walls are smooth, gloomy, and
dirty, like the coarse, spotted hide of some huge beast. The
rear wall, as far as to the steps, is occupied by a large,
flat buffet with a mirror. The buffet is filled with straight
rows of bottles containing liquids of various colours. Behind
a low counter sits the BARTENDER, perfectly motionless, with
his hands folded across his stomach. He has a white face with
red nose and cheeks, a bald head, and a large, sandy beard,
and wears an expression of complete calm and indifference. He
remains the same through the entire scene, not once moving
from his place or changing his attitude. At small tables sit
the DRUNKARDS, on wooden stools. The number of the people is
seemingly increased by their shadows, which rove along the
walls and ceiling._

_The scene presents an endless variety of the disgusting
and the horrible. The faces resemble masks, the parts of
which are disproportionately large or small. Some have large
noses, others are entirely noseless. The eyes roll wildly,
almost bursting from their sockets, or are nearly closed so
that they are reduced to scarcely visible slits and points.
There are prominent Adam’s apples and diminutive chins. All
have tangled, shaggy, and dirty hair, which in some cases
half conceals the face. In spite of their variety, all the
faces have a hideous resemblance, which consists in a sallow,
grave-like colour and an expression now of frightful laughter
and now of insane and gloomy horror._

_The DRUNKARDS are dressed in rags of one colour, which
expose a sallow, bony hand, or a sharp knee, or a sunken,
frightful chest. Some are nearly naked. The women are scarcely
distinguishable from the men and are even uglier. The hands
and heads of all tremble, and their gait is unsteady, as if
they were walking on very slippery or boggy or moving surfaces.
Their voices, too, are alike in that they are wheezing,
whimpering, and as unsteady as the gait. They utter their words
with lips which do not obey them and which are, as it were,
stiffened with cold._

_In the centre of the group, at a separate table, sits MAN,
resting his grey, dishevelled head upon his hands. He remains
throughout in the same position, except for the moment that he
speaks. He is shabbily dressed._

_In one corner the BEING IN GREY with the nearly burned-out
candle stands motionless. The narrow, blue flame flutters,
now bending to one side and now reaching upward with a sharp
tongue, throwing livid spots of light on His stony face and
chin._

CONVERSATION OF THE DRUNKARDS

My God! My God!

Listen! How strangely everything shakes! You cannot fix your eyes on anything.

Everything trembles as in a fever: people, chairs, and the ceiling.

Everything sways as if it were afloat.

Don’t you hear a noise? I hear a noise as if iron wheels were rumbling or stones were falling from a cliff—huge stones, falling like rain.

That is the noise in your ears.

That is the noise of the blood. I can feel my blood, thick, black, and smelling of rum. It rolls heavily along the veins, and when it comes to the heart everything seems to fall and terror seizes me.

I seem to see lightning flashes.

I see huge, red bonfires and people burning in them. There’s a disgusting smell of burning flesh! Black shadows whirl about the bonfires, drunken shadows. Ho, there! Let me have a dance with you!

My God! My God!

I, too, am cheerful. Who will laugh with me? No one wants to. Then I will laugh alone. [_He laughs alone._

A charming woman is kissing my lips. She smells of musk and her teeth are like a crocodile’s. She is trying to bite me. Away, you slattern!

I am not a slattern. I am an old, pregnant serpent. For an hour I have been watching the little serpents issuing from my body and crawling about. Take care! Don’t crush my little snakes!

Where are you going?

Who’s walking about there? Sit down! The whole house shakes when you walk.

I can’t sit still. It is frightful when I sit still.

It is frightful for me, too. When I sit still I can feel horror running through my body.

So can I. Let me go!

_Three or four drunkards wander aimlessly about with unsteady
steps, stumbling among the tables._

See what it is doing! For two hours it has been trying to jump onto my knees. It comes within an inch of it. I drive it away, but it comes back. That’s a queer sort of game.

Black cockroaches are creeping about under my skull, making a crawling noise.

My brain is falling to pieces. I can feel one grey fragment separate from the other. My brain is like spoiled cheese—it smells.

It smells like carrion here.

My God! My God!

To-night I will crawl to her on my knees and butcher her. Blood will flow. It is flowing now—red blood.

Three people are continually following me. They are calling me into a dark, lonely corner. They want to butcher me there. They are gathered about the door now.

Who is that walking along the walls and ceiling?

My God! They have come—they’re after me!

Who?

They.

My tongue is numb. What shall I do? My tongue is numb. I will weep. [_He weeps._

Everything in me is coming out. I shall turn inside out in a moment and be red.

Listen, listen! Ho, somebody! A monster is coming upon me. It is raising its hand. Help! Oh!

What’s this? Help! A spider!

Help!

[_For some time they cry with hoarse voices_: “Help!”

We are all drunkards. Let’s call everybody down here. Up yonder it is nasty.

No, don’t. When I go out on the street, the street rushes about like a wild beast and quickly throws me to the ground.

We have all come here from the street. We drink alcohol and it makes us happy.

It makes us miserable. All day I tremble with horror.

Better this horror than life. Who wants to go back there?

Not I.

Nor I. I’d rather die here. I don’t want to live.

Nobody wants to live.

My God! My God!

Why does Man come here? He drinks little and sits long. We do not need him.

Let him go home. He has a home.

He has fifteen rooms.

Don’t touch him! He has nowhere else to go.

He has fifteen rooms.

But they are empty, except for the rats. The rats run about in them and fight.

But his wife?

He has nobody. Probably his wife is dead.

His wife is dead.

His wife is dead.

_During this conversation and that which follows, the OLD WOMEN
in strange garments enter noiselessly and without attracting
attention replace the quietly withdrawing DRUNKARDS. They
mingle in the conversation, but so gradually that no one
notices it._

CONVERSATION OF THE DRUNKARDS AND THE OLD WOMEN

OLD WOMAN. He will soon die. He is so feeble he can scarcely walk.

DRUNKARD. He has fifteen rooms.

OLD WOMAN. Listen to his heart. How unevenly and feebly it beats. It will soon stop.

DRUNKARD. Invite us to your house, Man. You have fifteen rooms.

OLD WOMAN. It will soon stop—the big, old, feeble heart of Man.

DRUNKARD. He is asleep, the drunken fool. It is frightful to sleep, and yet he sleeps on. He might die in his sleep. Hey, there! Wake him up!

OLD WOMAN. Do you recall how his heart used to beat—fresh and strong?

_Subdued laughter._

DRUNKARD. Who’s laughing? There are intruders here.

DRUNKARD. Only in your imagination. There is no one here but us—us drunkards.

DRUNKARD. I will go out on the street and raise a disturbance. I have been robbed. I am completely naked. I have a green skin.

OLD WOMAN. Good evening.

DRUNKARD. Again the wheels are rumbling. My God! They will crush me. Help!

_No one answers._

OLD WOMAN. Good evening.

OLD WOMAN. Do you remember how he was born?

OLD WOMAN. I think you were there.

DRUNKARD. It must be I am dying. My God! My God! Who will carry me to the grave? Who will bury me? I shall lie about like a dog in the street. People will walk over me. Carriages will ride over me. They will crush me. My God! My God! [_He weeps._

OLD WOMAN. Allow me to congratulate you, my dear kinsman, on the birth of your son.

DRUNKARD. I am firmly convinced that there is an error here. A straight line that presents the form of a closed circle is simply ridiculous.

DRUNKARD. I will prove it to you in a jiffy.

DRUNKARD. You are quite right.

DRUNKARD. My God! My God!

DRUNKARD. Only people who are ignorant of mathematics will admit it. I won’t admit it. Do you hear? I won’t admit it.

OLD WOMAN. Do you remember the rose-coloured dress and the naked throat?

OLD WOMAN. And the flowers—the lilies-of-the-valley on which the dew had not yet dried, and the violets, and the green grass?

OLD WOMAN. Don’t touch them, girls! Don’t touch the flowers!

_Subdued laughter._

DRUNKARD. My God! My God!

_The DRUNKARDS are all gone. Their places are occupied by the
OLD WOMEN with strange garments. The light, though very faint,
becomes steady. The figure of the UNKNOWN comes sharply out as
does also the grey head of MAN, upon which from above falls a
feeble light._

CONVERSATION OF THE OLD WOMEN

Good evening.

Good evening. What a glorious night!

Well, we are together again. How are you?

I have a cough.

_Subdued laughter._

It won’t be long now. He will soon die.

Look at the candle. The flame is blue and narrow and droops toward the sides. There is no wax left now—only the wick is burning.

It does not want to go out.

When did you ever see a flame that wanted to go out?

Stop quarrelling! Stop quarrelling! Whether it wants to go out or not, time is passing.

Do you remember his automobile? Once it almost crushed me.

And his fifteen rooms?

I have just been there. I was nearly eaten by the rats, and I caught cold from the draughts. Now that some one has stolen the windows, the wind sweeps through the whole house.

Did you lie on the bed where his wife died? How soft it is, isn’t it?

Yes, I went through all the rooms and mused a bit. They have such a dear nursery. Only it is too bad that the windows are broken there, too, and the wind rustles amid the dust. The child’s little bed is so dear! The mice have now built their nests in it and are raising their families.

Such dear little naked micelets.

_Subdued laughter._

And in the study on the table lie the toys—the horse without a tail, the soldier cap, and the red-nosed clown. I played a bit with them. I put on the cap. It quite becomes me. But there’s a terrible lot of dust on them. I was just covered with dirt.

But were you not in the hall where the dance took place? It is so cheerful there!

Yes, I was there, but just imagine what I saw. It was dark. The panes were all broken and the wind was rustling in the wall-paper——

It makes a sound like music.

And along the wall in the darkness were squatted the guests. Oh, if you only knew how they looked!

We know!

And with grinning teeth they barked abruptly: “How costly! How gorgeous!”

Surely you are joking!

Of course I am joking. You know how jolly I am.

How costly! How luxurious!

How gorgeous!

_Subdued laughter._

Remind him.

How costly! How gorgeous!

Do you remember the music at your ball?

He will soon die.

The dancers circled about and the music played so tenderly, so beautifully. This is the way it played.

_They form a semicircle about MAN and in a low voice hum the
tune that was played at the ball._

Let’s have a ball. It is so long since I have danced.

Just imagine that this is a palace, a miraculously beautiful palace.

Call the musicians! You cannot have a good dance without music.

Musicians!

Do you remember?

_They strike up the tune and at the same moment the three
musicians who played at the ball descend the stairs. The one
with a violin carefully spreads the handkerchief over his
shoulder, and all three begin to play with extreme painstaking,
though the sounds are low, soft, and sad as in a dream._

Now we have a ball!

How costly! How gorgeous!

How brilliant!

Do you remember?

_Humming in a low tone in time with the music, they begin to
circle about MAN, posturing and repeating with wild distortions
the movements of the girls in white robes who danced at the
ball. During the first musical phrase they circle about, and
during the second they approach each other and then draw apart
gracefully and silently. They whisper in low voices._

Do you remember?

You will soon die, but do you remember?

Do you remember?

Do you remember?

You will soon die, but do you remember?

Do you remember?

_The dance becomes swifter and the movements more jerky.
Through the voices of the OLD WOMEN who are singing there glide
strange, whimpering notes; and the same strange laughter, as
yet subdued, runs like a low rustling through the dancers. As
they sweep past MAN they discharge, as it were, into his ears
abrupt whispers_:

Do you remember?

Do you remember?

How tender! How fine!

How restful to the soul!

Do you remember?

You will soon die. You will soon die. You will soon die——

Do you remember?

_The whirling dance becomes swifter and the movements still
more abrupt. Suddenly all is silent and motionless. The
musicians become rigid, with their instruments in their hands.
The dancing women are motionless in the same attitudes in
which the oncoming of silence found them._

_MAN rises, straightens himself, throws back threateningly his
beautiful grey head, and cries out in a challenging voice,
unexpectedly loud and full of sorrow and anger. After each
brief utterance there is a short but profound silence._

MAN. Where is my armour-bearer? Where my sword? Where is my shield? I am weaponless. Come hither quickly, quickly. Be accurs——

[_He sinks upon a chair with head thrown back and dies._

_At the same instant the candle, flaring up, goes out, and a
deep gloom envelops all objects. It is as though the gloom
were pouring down the stairway and gradually spreading
over everything. Only the face of MAN is illuminated. Low,
indistinct conversation of the OLD WOMEN, whispering and
interchanging laughter._

THE BEING IN GREY. Silence! Man is dead.

_Profound silence, during which the same cold, indifferent
voice repeats the words from the far distance like an echo_:
“Silence! Man is dead.” _Profound silence. Slowly the gloom
becomes thicker, but the mice-like figures of the OLD WOMEN
watchers can still be seen. Now quietly and silently they begin
to circle about the corpse. Then they begin to hum in a low
tone, and the musicians begin to play. The gloom becomes still
more dense, and as the music and singing become louder and
louder the wild dance becomes more unrestrained. They are no
longer dancing but wildly whirling about the corpse, stamping
and shrieking with continuous, wild laughter. Absolute darkness
ensues. The face of the dead is still illumined, but presently
that also vanishes. Black, impenetrable darkness._

_In the darkness one can hear the movements of the wild
dancers, the shrieking, the laughter, and the discordant and
desperately loud sounds of the orchestra. Having attained their
greatest intensity, all these sounds quickly withdraw somewhere
and die away. Silence._

_Curtain._