Chapter 12

9 min

It was one hour after midnight.

It was one in the morning.

Joh Fredersen came to his mother’s house.

It was a farmhouse, one-storied, thatch-roofed, over-shadowed by a walnut tree and it stood upon the flat back of one of the stone giants, not far from the cathedral. A garden full of lilies and hollyhocks, full of sweet peas and poppies and nasturtiums, wound itself about the house.

It was a one-story farmhouse with a thatched roof, shaded by a walnut tree. It stood on the flat back of one of the stone giants, not far from the cathedral. A garden wound around the house, full of lilies, hollyhocks, sweet peas, poppies, and nasturtiums.

Joh Fredersen’s mother had only one son and him she had very dearly loved. But the Master over the great Metropolis, the Master of the machine-city, the Brain of the New Tower of Babel had become a stranger to her and she hostile to him. She had had to look on once and see how one of Joh Fredersen’s machine-Titans crushed men as though they were dried up wood. She had screamed to God. He had not heard her. She fell to the ground and never got up again. Only head and hands retained their vitality in the paralysed body. But the strength of a legion blazed in her eyes.

Joh Fredersen’s mother had only one son, and she had loved him dearly. But he had become a stranger to her, and she had grown hostile to him. He was the Master of the great Metropolis, the Master of the machine-city, the Brain of the New Tower of Babel. She had once watched one of Joh Fredersen’s machine-Titans crush men as though they were dried wood. She had screamed to God. He had not heard her. She fell to the ground and never got up again. Only her head and hands remained alive in her paralyzed body. But the strength of a legion blazed in her eyes.

She opposed her son and the work of her son. But he did not let her alone; he forced her to him. When she angrily vowed she wished to live in her house—under the thatched roof, with its vault, the walnut tree—until her dying day, he transplanted house and tree and gaily blossoming garden to the flat roof of the stone house-giant which lay between the cathedral and the New Tower of Babel. The walnut tree ailed one year long; and then it became green again. The garden blossomed, a wonder of beauty, about the house.

She opposed her son and his work. But he would not leave her alone. He forced her to come to him. She angrily vowed to live in her house until the day she died. It had a thatched roof, with the walnut tree arching over it. So he moved the house, the tree, and the brightly blooming garden to the flat roof of a giant stone building. The building stood between the cathedral and the New Tower of Babel. The walnut tree was sick for a year, but then it turned green again. The garden bloomed around the house, a wonder of beauty.

When Joh Fredersen entered this house he came from sleepless nights and evil days.

When Joh Fredersen entered this house, he had been through sleepless nights and terrible days.

He found his mother as he always found her: sitting in the wide, soft chair by the open window, the dark rug over the now paralysed knees, the great Bible on the sloping table before her, in the beautiful old hands the delicate figured lace at which she was sewing; and, as ever, when he came to her, she silently laid aside the fine work and folded her hands firmly in her lap as though she must collect all her will and every thought for the few minutes which the great son spent with his mother.

He found his mother as he always did, sitting in the wide, soft chair by the open window. A dark rug covered her now paralyzed knees, and the large Bible lay on the sloping table before her. In her beautiful old hands, she held the delicate patterned lace she was sewing. As always when he came to her, she silently put aside the fine work and folded her hands firmly in her lap. It was as if she had to gather all her will and every thought for the few minutes her great son spent with her.

They did not shake hands; they did not do that any more.

They did not shake hands. They no longer did that.

“How are you, mother?” asked Joh Fredersen.

She looked at him with eyes in which gleamed the strength of a heavenly legion. She asked:

She looked at him, her eyes shining with the strength of a heavenly legion. She asked:

“What is it you want, Joh?”

“What do you want, Joh?”

He sat down opposite her and laid his forehead in his hands.

He sat down across from her and rested his forehead in his hands.

There was nobody in the great Metropolis, not anywhere else on earth who could have boasted ever having seen Joh Fredersen with sunken brow.

No one in the great Metropolis or anywhere else on earth could have boasted of seeing Joh Fredersen with a furrowed brow.

“I need your advice, mother,” he said, looking at the floor.

The mother’s eyes rested on his hair.

The mother looked at his hair.

“How shall I advise you, Joh? You have taken a path along which I cannot follow you—not with my head, and certainly not with my heart. Now you are so far away from me that my voice can no longer reach you. And if it were able to reach you, Joh, would you listen to me were I to say to you: Turn back—? You did not do it then and would not do it to-day. Besides, all too much has been done which cannot be undone, you have done all too much wrong, Joh, and do not repent, but believe yourself to be in the right. How can I advise you then...?”

“How can I advise you, Joh? You have taken a path I cannot follow, neither with my head nor with my heart. Now you are so far away that my voice can no longer reach you. And even if it could reach you, Joh, would you listen if I told you to turn back? You did not turn back then, and you would not do it today. Besides, far too much has been done that cannot be undone. You have done far too much wrong, Joh, and you feel no remorse. Instead, you believe you are right. So how can I advise you...?”

“It is about Freder, mother...?”

“Is it about Freder, Mother...?”

“... about Freder?”

“Yes.”

“What about Freder....”

Joh Fredersen did not answer immediately.

Joh Fredersen did not answer right away.

His mother’s hands trembled greatly, and, if Joh Fredersen had looked up, the fact could not have remained hidden from him. But Joh Fredersen’s forehead remained sunken upon his hands.

His mother’s hands trembled badly. If Joh Fredersen had looked up, he could not have missed it. But Joh Fredersen kept his forehead resting on his hands.

“I had to come to you, mother, because Hel is no longer alive....”

“I had to come to you, mother, because Hel is dead....”

“And of what did she die?”

“And what did she die of?”

“I know: of me.... You have made it clear to me, mother, often and cruelly, and you have said I had poured boiling wine into a crystal. Then the most beautiful of glass must crack. But I do not repent it, mother. No, I do not repent it.... For Hel was mine....”

“I know. It was me.... You have made that clear to me, mother, often and cruelly. You said I had poured boiling wine into crystal. Even the most beautiful glass must crack then. But I don't regret it, mother. No, I don't regret it.... For Hel was mine....”

“And died of it....”

“Yes. Had she never been mine perhaps she would still be alive. Better that she should be dead.”

“Yes. If she had never been mine, perhaps she would still be alive. It is better that she is dead.”

“She is, Joh. And Freder is her son.”

“What do you mean by that, mother?”

“What do you mean by that, Mother?”

“If you did not know just as well as I, Joh, you would not have come to me to-day.”

“If you didn't know just as well as I do, Joh, you wouldn't have come to me today.”

Joh Fredersen was silent. Through the open window, the rustling of the walnut tree was to be heard, a dreamy, touching sound.

Joh Fredersen was silent. Through the open window came the rustling of the walnut tree, a dreamy, touching sound.

“Freder often comes to you, mother, doesn’t he?” asked Joh Fredersen.

“Freder often comes to see you, mother, doesn’t he?” asked Joh Fredersen.

“Yes.”

“He comes to you for aid against me....”

“He comes to you for help against me....”

“He is in great need of it, Joh....”

“He needs it very badly, Joh....”

Silence. Then Joh Fredersen raised his head. His eyes looked as though sprinkled with purple.

Silence. Then Joh Fredersen raised his head. His eyes looked as if they had been sprinkled with purple.

“I have lost, Hel, mother,” he said. “I can’t lose Freder too....”

“I’ve lost Hel, mother,” he said. “I can’t lose Freder too....”

“Have you reason to fear that you will lose him?”

“Do you have reason to fear you might lose him?”

“Yes.”

“Then I am surprised,” said the old lady, “that Freder has not yet come to me....”

“Then I'm surprised Freder hasn't come to see me yet....” said the old lady.

“He is very ill, mother....”

“He is very sick, mother....”

The old lady made a movement as though wishing to rise, and into her archangel eyes there came an angry glitter.

The old lady moved as if she wanted to get up. An angry glitter came into her archangel eyes.

“When he came here recently,” she said, “he was as healthy as a tree in bloom. What ails him?”

“When he came here recently,” she said, “he was as healthy as a tree in bloom. What’s wrong with him?”

Joh Fredersen got up and began to walk up and down the room. He smelt the perfume of flowers streaming up from the garden through the open window as something inflicting pain which ripped his forehead into lines.

Joh Fredersen got up and began pacing the room. The scent of flowers drifted in from the garden through the open window. It hurt him, and his forehead creased with pain.

“I do not know,” he said suddenly, quite disjointedly, “how this girl could have stepped into his life. I do not know how she won this monstrous hold over him. But I heard from his own lips how he said to her: My father no longer has a son, Maria....”

“I don’t know,” he said suddenly, his words disjointed, “how this girl came into his life. I don’t know how she gained such a monstrous hold over him. But I heard him say to her: My father no longer has a son, Maria....”

“Freder does not lie, Joh. So you have lost him already.”

“Freder doesn't lie, Joh. So you've already lost him.”

Joh Fredersen did not answer. He thought of Rotwang. He had said the same words to him.

Joh Fredersen didn't answer. He thought of Rotwang. He had said the same words to him.

“Is it about this that you have come to me, Joh?” asked his mother. “Then you could have spared yourself the trouble. Freder is Hel’s son. Yes.... That means he has a soft heart. But he is your’s too, Joh. That means he has a skull of steel. You know best, Joh, how much obstinacy a man can summon up to attain to the woman he wants.”

“Is this why you came to me, Joh?” his mother asked. “Then you could have saved yourself the trouble. Freder is Hel’s son. Yes... That means he has a soft heart. But he is your son too, Joh. That means he has a skull of steel. You know best, Joh, how stubborn a man can be when he wants to win a woman.”

“You cannot make that comparison, mother. Freder is almost a boy, still. When I took Hel to me I was a man, and knew what I was doing. Hel was more needful to me than the air to breathe. I could not do without Hel, Mother. I would have stolen her from the arms of God himself.”

“You can't make that comparison, Mother. Freder is still almost a boy. When I took Hel as my own, I was a man and knew what I was doing. I needed Hel more than the air I breathed. I couldn't live without her, Mother. I would have stolen her from the arms of God himself.”

“From God, Joh, you can steal nothing, but something can be stolen from man. You have done that. You have sinned, Joh. You have sinned towards your friend. For Hel loved Rotwang and it was you who compelled her.”

“You can steal nothing from God, Joh, but you can steal something from a person. That is what you have done. You have sinned, Joh. You have sinned against your friend. For Hel loved Rotwang, and you were the one who forced her.”

“When she was dying, mother, she loved me....”

“Yes. When she saw that you, too, were a man, when your head was beating against the floor and you were crying out. But do you believe, Joh, that this one smile in her dying hour outweighs all that which brought about her death?”

“Yes. She smiled when she saw that you, too, were a man. Your head was beating against the floor, and you were crying out. But do you believe, Joh, that this one smile as she was dying outweighs everything that caused her death?”

“Leave me my belief, Mother....”

“Let me keep my belief, Mother....”

“Delusion....”

Joh Fredersen looked at his mother.

“I should very much like to know,” he said with darkened voice, “on what you feed your cruelty towards, me, mother.”

“I'd really like to know,” he said in a dark voice, “what feeds your cruelty toward me, mother.”

“On my fears for you, Joh—on my fears!”

“On my fears for you, Joh, on my fears!”

“You need have no fears for me, mother....”

“You don't need to worry about me, mother....”

“Oh yes, Joh—oh yes! Your sin walks behind you like a good dog on the trail. It does not lose your scent, Joh—it remains always and always at your back. A friend is unarmed against his friend. He has no shield before his breast, nor armour before his heart. A friend who believes in his friend is a defenceless man. A defenceless man was it whom you betrayed, Joh.”

“Oh yes, Joh, oh yes! Your sin follows you like a good dog on a trail. It never loses your scent, Joh. It is always, always at your back. A friend is unarmed against his friend. He has no shield over his chest, no armor over his heart. A man who trusts his friend is defenseless. You betrayed a defenseless man, Joh.”

“I have paid for my sin, mother.... Hel is dead. Now I have only Freder left. That is her legacy. I will not give up Hel’s legacy. I have come to you to beg of you, mother: help me to win Freder back.”

“I have paid for my sin, mother.... Hel is dead. Now I have only Freder left. He is her legacy. I will not give up Hel’s legacy. I have come to beg you, mother: help me win Freder back.”

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

The old lady stared at him, her eyes sparkling.

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

“What did you say to me, Joh, when I tried 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—I only hear “Hel!” If I were to be blinded—I should still see Hel! If I were to be paralysed—with paralysed feet, I should still find my way to Hell—’ 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...?”

“But I do, Joh! I still remember every word. You said: ‘I don’t hear a word you say. I only hear “Hel!” If I were blinded, I would still see Hel! If I were paralyzed, I would still find my way to Hell, even with paralyzed feet.’ Freder is your son. What do you think he would say, Joh, if I told him to give up the girl he loves...?”

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.”

“Be careful, Joh,” said the old mother. “I know what it means when your eyes turn cold, as they have now. And I know what it means when you turn as pale as a stone in 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 foolishness itself is sacred. For wherever lovers are, there is God’s garden, and no one has the right to drive them out. Not even God. Only their own sin can do that.”

“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....”

“I must have my son back,” said Joh Fredersen. “I hoped you would help me. You would certainly have been the gentlest way to get him back. But you won't help me, so now I must find another way....”

“Freder is ill, you say....”

“He will get well again....”

“He will get better....”

“So you will continue in your way?”

“So you’ll keep doing things your way?”

“Yes.”

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

“I think Hel would cry if she heard you, Joh!”

“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.”

“Well, come here, Joh! I’ll give you a word to take with you on your way. You won’t forget it. It’s easy to remember.”

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 hesitated. Then he walked up to his mother. She placed her hand on the Bible in front of her. Joh Fredersen read: ... Whatever a man sows, he will 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.

Joh Fredersen turned around and walked across the room. His mother’s eyes followed him. He suddenly turned toward her, a violent word on his lips, and found her eyes fixed on him. Her eyes could no longer hide what they felt, nor did they wish to. Such overwhelming love filled their tear-washed depths, such overwhelming love that Joh Fredersen felt he was seeing his mother for the first time.

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

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

Then the man stepped up to his mother.

Then the man walked up to his mother.

“I am going, now, mother,” he said, “and I don’t believe I shall ever come to you again....”

“I’m leaving now, mother,” he said, “and I don’t think I’ll ever come to you again....”

She did not answer.

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

He seemed to want to reach out to her, but halfway there, he let his hand drop.

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

“Who are you crying for, mother,” he asked, “Freder or me?”

“For you both,” said the mother, “for you both, Joh....”

“For both of you,” the mother said, “for both of you, 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.

He stood in silence, his inner struggle showing on his face. Then, without looking at his mother again, he turned and left the house. The walnut tree rustled above it.