HANS MÜLLER Beg to report, Captain, sir, it’s common knowledge I was effectively active in Berlin when the war broke out, and that was exactly what I depicted in my article “Germany Arises” on the 25th August 1914. We were standing in the Neustädtische Kirchstrasse, unaware of any imminent onslaught, a Russian spy had just been swallowed up in the jaws of the crowd, I can see it now — and at that moment I spot a procession of ordinary folk bearing our good old black-and-yellow flag before them, moving straight towards the Brandenburg Gate. They’re singing our beloved national anthem. I, nothing loath, sing along with them, “God preserve, God protect”, right through to the next verse. At this, a fellow marcher by my side shoots me a heartfelt glance, then slips his arm under mine and gives it a comradely squeeze—
CAPTAIN Aha, shoulder to shoulder.
HANS MÜLLER —and, reading my lips, sings the same text I’m singing myself. It was this honest fellow — he’d a moustache and wasn’t exactly handsome, nor what you could call very elegant — he was the one I kissed on the mouth, in front of the Austro-Hungarian Embassy.
CAPTAIN Well, that beats everything! If Ambassador Szögyeny had seen that from his window, it would have made him a happy man.
HANS MÜLLER Probably telling it like that makes it sound too emotional—
CAPTAIN Nonsense, not a bit of it—
HANS MÜLLER —and perchance I shall not succeed in reaping the plaudits of the ultra-aesthetes — (muttering among the literati, cries of Oho!)
CAPTAIN Silence!
HANS MÜLLER But I know that even if the Mona Lisa herself were to step down from her frame and bestow the unique smile of her lips upon me, her embrace would not make me as happy and deeply stirred in my innermost being as the brotherly kiss on the lips of this wonderful German man.
CAPTAIN (moved) That was well done! And apart from that, what else did you see and do at the dawning of this age of grandeur?
HANS MÜLLER Beg to report, Captain, sir, that summer day at noon when men and women in the royal cathedral trooped up to the altar to invoke the God of German armaments — that shall remain in my memory forever. In the gallery of the cathedral sits the Kaiser, upright, his helmet in his hand. At his feet, the congregation formed a surging black sea—
CAPTAIN Aha, so he was already in Constantinople.
HANS MÜLLER —a black sea of the faithful. The organ thunders down from above, the sun breaks through the windows and there arises as if in clamorous worship—
CAPTAIN Yes, yes, fine, but y’know, I’m less interested in the colour than in what you did yourself, personally, at the time.
HANS MÜLLER Woman and men clasp each others’ hands, the organ thunders—
CAPTAIN Get to the point!
HANS MÜLLER Aye, aye, sir! I feel a hot lump rising in my throat, with firm resolve I can still manage to restrain myself, for I’m surrounded by brave, disciplined men, one and all, and at such times one must not show weakness. But now I look up at Kaiser Wilhelm, immersed in what seems an unutterable extremity of emotion, as he sinks his ashen head, lower and lower, and lets the shattering tones furrow his brow—
CAPTAIN You’re making my flesh creep!
HANS MÜLLER —in a fervent gesture he presses the helmet to his breast. Nothing can save me now—
CAPTAIN Why, what happened to you?
HANS MÜLLER —I sob out loud—
CAPTAIN You never!
HANS MÜLLER —and lo and behold, the brave men beside me, with their grey hairs and iron will, they’re all sobbing with me, and not ashamed to do so. And y’know what churned up the heart of this poor unmilitary guest in their midst? Through the veil of streaming tears I see standing beside their noble ruler another, my own Emperor, that chivalrous, kindly old gentleman—
CAPTAIN Don’t blub, Müller!
HANS MÜLLER —and from the bottom of my heart I add my fraternal prayer to theirs: “O God beyond the stars, give thy blessing at this time also to Franz Joseph the First, bless my beloved and venerable Fatherland, let it remain strong and thrive — for ever and ever — bless my brothers in this hour of need, honour bound to march off to mortal danger, bless us all, our future, our fighting strength, our destiny — Lord God, thou who holdest the destinies of men and of nations in thy hands, in our most ardent and fervent love of our native land, we all, all, call out unto thee …”—beg to report, Captain, that’s the end of the article.
CAPTAIN Not without some genuine feeling there. Tell me, what’s the Presse paying for a prayer these days — ah — I mean, for an article?
HANS MÜLLER Beg to report, Captain, sir, 200 crowns, but in truth I’d have done it for the love of God — I would!
CAPTAIN No, for you received more than that, the highest honour open to a gentleman of the press was bestowed upon you — the German Kaiser received you in the Viennese Hofburg, he’s an admirer of your muse, it’s no secret if I tell you there’s even some talk that you’ve supplanted Lauff. Let me take this opportunity to congratulate you. Tell me, what was it His Majesty said by way of greeting, you described it so well—
HANS MÜLLER The Kaiser comes towards me right up to the door and holds out his hand, looks at me, beaming with eyes aglitter, and with the most gracious of smiles says: “You have presented us with such poetic inspiration in wartime — what may we expect from you in time of peace?”
CAPTAIN A smutty farce — is what you should have said.
HANS MÜLLER Beg to report, Captain, sir, your inhibitions just melt away when you hear his voice — but I just couldn’t get the courage up, Captain!
CAPTAIN Yes, of course it is a tricky situation. But just tell me, what was it impressed you most about the German Kaiser?
HANS MÜLLER Beg to report, Captain, sir — everything!
CAPTAIN Is that all?
HANS MÜLLER I’m still so deeply stirred, I’d be incapable of conveying the magic power of his personality, his unforced dignity, the luminous power of his gaze that compels your attention, as if mirroring a transparent and profoundly moral nature—
CAPTAIN That’s enough! Y’know — it’s naturally no wonder that the German Kaiser can be taken in by a Jew from the back of beyond. But for a Jew from the back of beyond to be taken in by the German Kaiser — that’s incredible! (Enter an orderly delivering a letter.) Not again — what is it? (He reads.) Strewth! This concerns you, Müller. (Müller gives a start.) On the major-general’s orders, you are to be released from the War Archive at once. (Müller turns pale.) A handwritten note from his Majesty the German Kaiser has arrived with the request that the author of that magnificent patriotic drama Kings should not be held back from his own creative writing through employment in the Austro-Hungarian War Archive. (Muttering among the literati.) Silence! — Farewell, Müller! But y’know what? (Moved) The “Three Falcons Above Lovcen”—finish that off for us! And when you’re able to work again on your own account, and naturally turn to peace-time production — you’ll be able to think back occasionally on your hours of military service, and then you’ll be able to say: happy times! — and I hope you’ll still have a soft spot for the War Archive.
HANS MÜLLER For better or for worse!