This Mr. Schmock with the three glasses of punch is well worth cultivating, I should say. Scarcely have I arrived in town when my room turns into a regular business office, where editors and authors ply their trade. I fear that is an omen.
[Exit to the left.]
It grows dark. The COLONEL enters from the garden.
COLONEL (slowly coming forward).
I am glad that all is over between us. [Stamping his foot.] I am very glad! [In a depressed tone.] I feel free and more relieved than for a long time. I think I could actually sing! At this moment I am the subject of conversation over all tea-cups, on all beer-benches. Everywhere arguing and laughter: It serves him right, the old fool! Damn! [Enter CARL, with lights and the newspaper.] Who told you to bring the lamp?
CARL.
Colonel, it is your hour for reading the newspaper. Here it is. [Lays it on the table.]
COLONEL.
A low rabble, these gentlemen of the pen! Cowardly, malicious, insidious in their anonymity. How this band will triumph now, and over me! How they will laud their editor to the skies! There lies the contemptible sheet! In it stands my defeat, trumpeted forth with full cheeks, with scornful shrugs of the shoulders—away with it! [Walks up and down, looks at the newspaper on the ground, picking it up.] All the same I will drink out the dregs! [Seats himself.] Here, right in the beginning! [Reading.] "Professor Oldendorf—majority of two votes. This journal is bound to rejoice over the result."—I don't doubt it!—"But no less a matter for rejoicing was the electoral contest which preceded it."—Naturally—"It has probably never before been the case that, as here, two men stood against each other who were so closely united by years of friendship, both so distinguished by the good will of their fellow-citizens. It was a knightly combat between two friends, full of generosity, without malice, without jealousy; yes doubtless, deep down in his heart, each harbored the hope that his friend and opponent and not himself would be the victor"—[Lays down the paper; wipes his brow.] What sort of language is that? [Reads.] "and aside from some special party views, never did a man have greater claims to victory than our honored opponent. What he, through his upright, noble personality stands for among his wide circle of friends and acquaintances, this is not the place to dwell upon. But the way in which, by his active participation in all public spirited enterprises of the town, he has given aid and counsel, is universally known and will be realized by our fellow-citizens, especially today, with heartfelt gratitude." [Lays the paper aside.] That is a vile style! [Reads on.] "By a very small majority of votes our town has decreed to uphold the younger friend's political views in Parliament. But by all parties today—so it is reported—addresses and deputations are being prepared, not to extol the victor in the electoral contest, but to express to his opponent the general reverence and respect of which never a man was more worthy than he."—That is open assassination! That is a fearful indiscretion of Oldendorf's, that is the revenge of a journalist, so fine and pointed! Oh, it is just like him! No, it is not like him! It is revolting, it is inhuman! What am I to do! Deputations and addresses to me? To Oldendorf's friend? Bah, it is all mere gossip, newspaper-babble that costs nothing but a few fine words! The town knows nothing of these sentiments. It is blackguardism!
Enter CARL.