Thea Harbou - Metropolis

The old lady's eyes were fixed on him, sparkingly.

"What did you answer me, Joh, when I wanted to stop you on your way to Hel?"

"I don't remember."

"But I do, Joh! I still remember every syllable. You said: 'I don't hear a word you say—! only hear Hel! If I were to be blinded—! should still see Hel! If I were to be paralysed — with paralysed feet, I should still find my way to Hel! — ' Freder is your son. What do you think, Joh, he would answer me were I to say to him: give up the girl you love…?"

Joh Fredersen was silent.

"Take care, Joh," said the old mother. "I know what it means when your eyes grow cold, as now, and when you grow as pale as one of the stones of the wall. You have forgotten that lovers are sacred. Even if they are mistaken, Joh, their mistake itself is sacred. Even if they are fools, Joh, their folly itself is sacred. For where lovers are, there is God's garden, and no one has the right to drive them out Not even God. Only their own sin."

"I must have my son back," said Joh Fredersen. "I had hoped you would help me, and you would certainly have been the gentlest means I could have chosen. But you will not, and now I must seek another means… "

"Freder is ill, you say… "

"He will get well again… "

"So you will continue in your way?"

"Yes."

"I believe, Joh, that Hel would weep were she to hear you!"

"Perhaps. But Hel is dead."

"Well, come here to me, Joh! I will give you a word to take with you on your way, which you cannot forget. It is easy to retain."

Joh Fredersen hesitated. Then he walked up to his mother. She laid her hand on the bible which lay before her. Joh Fredersen read:… Whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he reap…

Joh Fredersen turned around. He walked through the room. His mother's eyes followed him. As he turned toward her, suddenly, violently, with a violent word on his lips he found the gaze of her eyes set upon him. They could hide themselves no longer, and neither did they wish to — such an almighty love — such an almighty love, in their tear-washed depths that Joh Fredersen believed himself to see his mother to-day for the first time.

They looked at each other for a long time, in silence.

Then the man stepped up to his mother.

"I am going, now, mother," he said, "and I don't believe I shall ever come to you again…."

She did not answer.

It seemed as though he wanted to stretch out his hand to her, but, half-way he let it drop again.

"For whom are you crying, mother," he asked, "for Freder or for me?"

"For you both," said the mother, "for you both, Joh… " He stood in silence and the struggle of his heart was in his face. Then, without giving his mother another look, he turned around and went out of the house, over which the walnut tree rustled.

IT WAS MIDNIGHT AND NO LIGHT was burning. Only through the window there fell the radiance of the city, lying like a pale gleam upon the face of the girl who sat, leaning back against the wall, without moving, with closed eyelids, her hands in her lap.

"Will you never answer me?" asked the great inventor.

Stillness. Silence. Immobility.

"You are colder than stone, harder than any stone. The tip of your finger must cut through the diamond as though it were water… I do not implore your love. What does a girl know of love? Her unstormed fortresses — her unopened Paradises — her sealed-up books, whom no one knows but the god who wrote them — what do you know of love? Women know nothing of love either. What does light know of light? Flame of burning? What do the stars know of the laws, by which they wander? You must ask chaos — coldness, darkness, the eternal unredeemed which wrestles for the redemption of itself. You must ask the man what love is. The hymn of Heaven is only composed in Hell…! do not implore your love, Maria. But your pity, you motherly one, with the virgin face… "

Stillness. Silence. Immobility.

"I hold you captive… Is that my fault? I do not hold you captive for myself, Maria. Above you and me there is a Will which forces me into being evil. Have pity on him who must be evil, Maria! All the springs of good within me are choked up. I thought them to be dead; but they are only buried alive. My being is a rock of darkness. But deep within the sad stone I hear the springs rushing… If I defy the Will which is above you and me… If I destroy the work I created after your image… It would only be what Joh Fredersen deserves and it would be better for me!.. He has ruined me, Maria — he has ruined me! He stole the woman from me, who was mine, and whom I loved. I do not know if her soul was ever with me. But her pity was with me and made me good. Joh Fredersen took the woman from me. He made me evil. He, who grudged the stone the imprint of her shoe, made me evil to take her pity from me. Hel is dead. But she loved him. What a fearful law it is by which the beings of Light turn themselves to those of Darkness, but pass \ by those in the shade. Be more merciful than Hel was, Maria! I will defy the Will which is above you and me. I will open the doors for you. You will be able to go where you list and nobody shall stop you. But would you remain with me of your own free will, Maria? I long to be good… will you help me?"

Stillness. Silence. Immobility.

"Neither do I implore your pity, Maria. There is nothing on earth more incompassionate than a woman who only loves one single being… You cool murderesses in the name of Love… You goddesses of Death, with your smile!.. The hands of your Beloved are cold. You ask: 'Shall I warm your hands for you, Beloved?' You do not wait for his 'Yes.' You set fire to a city. You burn down a kingdom, so that you can warm the hands of your Beloved at its blaze… You rise up and pluck from the heaven of the world its most radiant stars, without caring that you destroy the Universe and put the dance of the Eternal out of balance. 'Do you want the stars-Beloved?' And if he says 'No' then you let the stars fall… Oh! you blessed harmdoers! You may step, fearfully inviolable, before the throne of God and say: 'Get up, Creator of the World! I need the throne of the World for my beloved!.. ' You do not see who dies by your side if only the one is living. A drop of blood on the finger of your Beloved frightens you more than the destruction of a continent… All this I know, and have never possessed it. I… I — No, I do not call upon your pity, Maria. But I call upon your fidelity… "

Still. Silence. Immobility.

"Do you know the subterranean City of the Dead? There, I used a girl called Maria, nightly to call her brothers together. I Her brothers wear the blue linen uniform, the black caps, I the hard shoes. Maria spoke to her brothers of a mediator, who would come to deliver them. 'The Mediator between Brain and Hands must be the Heart… ' Wasn't it so? — The brothers of the girl believed in the girl. They waited. They waited long. But the mediator did not come. And the girl did not come. She sent no message. She was not to be found. But the brothers believed in the girl, for they had found her as true as gold. 'She will come!' they said. 'She will come again! She is faithful. She will not leave us alone! She said: 'The mediator will come!'… Now he must come… Let us be patient and let us wait'…! But the mediator did not come. And — the girl did not come. The misery of the brothers has grown from day to day. Where once a thousand murmured — now murmur ten thousand. They will no more be fed with hope. They languish for fight, for destruction, for ruin, for downfall. And even the believers, even the patient ones ask: 'Where is Maria? Can it be that gold is faithless?' Will you leave them without an answer, Maria?"

Stillness. Silence. Immobility.