Ferenc Molnár

“ Nothing you can reduce to a creed. Molnar is not a preacher or a [Pg xiv] propagandist for any theory of life. You will look in vain in his plays for moral or dogma. His philosophy—if philosophy you can call it—is always implicit. And nothing is plainer than that his picture of a courtroom in the beyond is neither devoutly nor satirically intended. Liliom’s Heaven is the Heaven of his own imagining. And what is more natural than that it should be an irrational jumble of priest’s purgatory, police magistrate’s justice and his own limited conception of good deeds and evil? ”

“ In the carousel?
LILIOM
Yes—but he was something of a bully, too. He’d fight anyone. He even hit your dear little mother.
JULIE
That’s a lie.
[Pg 179]
LILIOM
It’s true.
JULIE
Aren’t you ashamed to tell the child such awful things about her father? Get out of here, you shameless liar. Eats our soup and our bread and has the impudence to slander our dead!
LILIOM
I didn’t mean—I——
JULIE
What right have you to tell lies to the child? Take that plate, Louise, and let him be on his way. If he wasn’t such a hungry-looking beggar, I’d put him out myself. [LOUISE takes the plate out of his hand.] ”

“ JULIE goes to the kitchen door. FICSUR withdraws until she has closed the door behind her. Then he reappears in the doorway, stands on tiptoes, looks at LILIOM, then exits. Now the body lies alone. After a brief silence music is heard, distant at first, but gradually coming nearer. It is very much like the music of the carousel, but slower, graver, more exalted. The melody, too, is the same, yet the tempo is altered and contrapuntal measures of the thieves’ song are intertwined in it. ”

“ Good-bye. [MRS. MUSKAT exits. JULIE puts the candle on the table near LILIOM’S head, sits on the edge of the stretcher, looks into the dead man’s face and caresses it tenderly.] Sleep, Liliom, sleep—it’s no business of hers—I never even told you—but now I’ll tell you—now I’ll tell you—you bad, quick-tempered, rough, unhappy, wicked—dear boy—sleep peacefully, Liliom—they can’t understand how I feel—I can’t even explain to you—not even to you—how I feel—you’d only laugh at me—but you can’t hear me any more. ”

“ Something of the kind greets Molnar whenever he appears in public, and nothing is more certain than that he is the hero, the oracle, the spoiled darling of club, salon and coffee house in which artistic Hungary foregathers. ”

“ MRS. MUSKAT
Why do you go around with this man Ficsur? He’ll get you mixed up in one of his robberies first thing you know.
LILIOM
What’s it to you who I go with? I do what I please. What do you want?
MRS. MUSKAT
You know what I want.
LILIOM
No, I don’t.
MRS. MUSKAT
What do you suppose I want? Think I’ve come just to pay a social call?
LILIOM
Do I owe you anything?
MRS. MUSKAT
Yes, you do—but that’s not what I came for. You’re a fine one to come to for money! You earn so much these days! You know very well what I’m here for.
LILIOM
You’ve got Hollinger at the carousel, haven’t you? ”

“ MRS. MUSKAT
Well, I only want to tell you this, my dear, so that we understand each other perfectly. If you ever stick your nose in my carousel again, you’ll wish you hadn’t! I’m not going to lose my license on account of the likes of you! People who don’t know how to behave, have got to stay out!
JULIE
You’re wasting your breath. If I feel like riding on your carousel I’ll pay my ten heller and I’ll ride. I’d like to see anyone try to stop me! ”

“ MRS. MUSKAT comes out of the merry-go-round, bringing LILIOM coffee and rolls. LILIOM mounts the barker’s stand at the entrance, where he is elevated over everyone on the stage. Here he begins his harangue. Everybody turns toward him. The other booths are gradually deserted. The tumult makes it impossible for the audience to hear what he is saying, but every now and then some witticism of his provokes a storm of laughter which is audible above the din. Many people enter the merry-go-round. ”

“ JULIE
What kind is that?
MARIE
Daylight comes about three in the morning this time of the year. When we’ve been up that long we’re all through with flirting and Passionate Love—and then our Ideal Love comes to the surface. It comes like this: I’ll be sitting on the bench and Wolf, he holds my hand tight—and he puts his cheek against my cheek and we don’t talk . . . we just sit there very quiet. . . . And after a while he gets sleepy, and his head sinks down, and he falls asleep . . . but even in his sleep he holds tight to my hand. ”

“ A mordant wit, an inimitable raconteur, he loves life and gayety and all the luxuries of life. Nothing can persuade him out of his complacent and comfortable routine. He will not leave Budapest, even to attend the première of one of his plays in nearby Vienna. The post-war political upheaval which has rent all Hungary into two voluble and bitter factions left him quite unperturbed and neutral. ”

“ JULIE does not move. MARIE exits. Meantime it has grown quite dark. During the following scene the gas-lamps far in the [Pg 31] distance are lighted one by one. LILIOM and JULIE sit on the bench. From afar, very faintly, comes the music of a calliope. But the music is intermittently heard; now it breaks off, now it resumes again, as if it came down on a fitful wind. Blending with it are the sounds of human voices, now loud, now soft; the blare of a toy trumpet; the confused noises of the show-booths. It grows progressively darker until the end of the scene. There is no moonlight. ”

“ Perhaps the tragedy of the war had made Molnar’s public more sensitive to spiritual values. Whatever the reason, Budapest now accepted ecstatically what it had previously rejected, and Molnar was more of a popular hero than ever. From which it may be gleaned that Hungary takes its drama and dramatists more seriously, disapproves them more passionately and praises them more affectionately than we Americans can conceive. ”

“ LILIOM
[Raises himself with difficulty; speaks lightly at first, but later soberly, defiantly.] Little—Julie—there’s something—I want to tell you—like when you go to a restaurant—and you’ve finished eating—and it’s time—to pay—then you have to count up everything—everything you owe—well—I beat [Pg 131] you—not because I was mad at you—no—only because I can’t bear to see anyone crying. You always cried—on my account—and, well, you see,—I never learned a trade—what kind of a caretaker would I make? But anyhow—I wasn’t going back to the carousel to fool with the girls. ”

“ You leave it to an old hand like me.
MOTHER HOLLUNDER
[Enters from the kitchen.] In the morning he must have his coffee, and at noon his soup, and in the evening coffee again—and plenty of firewood—and I’m expected to furnish it all. Give me back my cup and saucer.
[The show booths of the amusement-park have opened for business. The familiar noises begin to sound; clear above them all, but far in the distance, sounds the organ of the carousel.] ”

“ MRS. MUSKAT
I can’t make out why you’re so concerned about her. You’ve been married to her two months—it’s plain to see that you’re sick of it—and out there is the carousel—and the show booths—and money—and you’d throw it all away. For what? Heavens, how can anyone be such a fool? [Looks at him appraisingly.] Where have you been all night? You look awful. ”

“ Perhaps Molnar was at the old, old task of revaluing our ideas of good and evil. Perhaps he has only shown how the difference between a bully, a wife-beater and a criminal on the one hand and a saint on the other can be very slight. If one must tag LILIOM with a moral, I prefer to read mine in Liliom’s dying speech to Julie wherein he says: “Nobody’s right . . . but they all think they are right. . . . A lot they know.”
BENJAMIN F. GLAZER.
New York, April, 1921.
[Pg xv]
LILIOM
[Pg xvii]
SYNOPSIS OF SCENES PROLOGUE—An amusement park on the outskirts of Budapest. ”

“ From the left on the embankment a POLICEMAN appears, revolver in hand.]
FIRST POLICEMAN
Stop!
LINZMAN
Well, my boy, do you still want to know what time it is? From ten to twelve years in prison!
LILIOM
You won’t get me! [LINZMAN laughs derisively. LILIOM is now three or four paces from the POLICEMAN and equally distant from LINZMAN. His face [Pg 125] is uplifted to the sky. He bursts into laughter, half defiant, half self-pitying, and takes the kitchen knife from under his coat.] ”

“ For those who hold that every fine dramatic architecture must have its spire of meaning, that by the very selection of character and incident the dramatist writes his commentary on life, there is still an explanation possible. ”

“ MRS. MUSKAT
You should hear it close by—it’s heavenly. Even the carousel seems to know . . . it goes quicker. I got rid of those two horses—you know, the ones with the broken ears?
LILIOM
What have you put in their place?
MRS. MUSKAT
Guess.
LILIOM
Zebras?
MRS. MUSKAT
No—an automobile.
[Pg 68]
LILIOM
[Transported.] An automobile——
MRS. MUSKAT
Yes. If you’ve got any sense you’ll come back. What good are you doing here? Out there is your art, the only thing you’re fit for. You are an artist, not a respectable married man.
LILIOM
Leave her—this little——
MRS. MUSKAT
She’ll be better off. ”

“ The première of “LILIOM” at Budapest in December, 1909, left both playgoer and critic a bit bewildered. It was not the sort of play the Hungarian capital had been accustomed to expect of its favorite dramatist, whose THE DEVIL, after two years of unprecedented success, was still crowding the theatres of two continents.
One must, it was true, count on a touch of fantasy in every Molnar work. Never had he been wholly content with everyday reality, not in his stories, or in his sketches or in his earlier plays ”

“ What you did will be written in books to gladden the hearts of children who read them. [Indicates the door at left.] The door is open to you. The eternal light awaits you. [THE FIRST escorts the POORLY DRESSED MAN out at left with great deference.] Liliom! [LILIOM rises.] You have heard?
LILIOM
Yes.
THE MAGISTRATE
When this man first appeared before us he was as stubborn as you. But now he has purified himself and withstood the test. He has done a good deed.
[Pg 164]
LILIOM
What’s he done, anyhow? Any roofer can fix a roof. It’s much harder to be a barker in an amusement park. ”

“ How much money have you got?
[Pg 19]
JULIE
[Bashfully.] Eight heller.
LILIOM
And you? [MARIE casts down her eyes and does not reply. LILIOM continues sternly.] I asked you how much you’ve got? [MARIE begins to weep softly.] I understand. Well, you needn’t cry about it. You girls stay here, while I go back to the carousel and get my clothes and things. And when I come back, we’ll go to the Hungarian beer-garden. It’s all right, I’ll pay. Keep your money. [He exits. MARIE and JULIE stand silent, watching him until he has gone.] ”

“ Well, what else do you want? He’s as good as I am.
MRS. MUSKAT
You’re quite right, my boy. He’s every bit as good as you are. I’d not dream of letting him go. But one isn’t enough any more. There’s work enough for two——
LILIOM
One was enough when I was there.
MRS. MUSKAT
Well, I might let Hollinger go——
LILIOM
Why let him go, if he’s so good?
MRS. MUSKAT
[Shrugs her shoulders.] Yes, he’s good. [Not once until now has she looked at LILIOM.]
LILIOM
[To JULIE.] Ask your aunt if I can have a cup of coffee. [JULIE exits into the kitchen.] So Hollinger is good, is he? ”

“ You were offered employment as a caretaker on Arader Street. [To THE FIRST.] Where is that entered?
THE FIRST
In the small docket. [Hands him the open book. THE MAGISTRATE looks in it.]
THE MAGISTRATE
Rooms, kitchen, quarterly wages, the privilege of keeping poultry. Why didn’t you accept it?
LILIOM
I’m not a caretaker. I’m no good at caretaking. To be a caretaker—you have to be a caretaker——
THE MAGISTRATE
If I said to you now: Liliom, go back on your stretcher. Tomorrow morning you will arise alive and well again. Would you be a caretaker then? ”

“ Always wanting something, but never willing to work for it. He won’t work, and he won’t steal, [Pg 49] but he’ll use up a poor old widow’s last bit of firewood. He’ll do that cheerfully enough! A big, strong lout like that lying around all day resting his lazy bones! He ought to be ashamed to look decent people in the face.
JULIE
I’m sorry, Mother Hollunder. . . .
MOTHER HOLLUNDER
Sorry! Better be sorry the lazy good-for-nothing ain’t in jail where he belongs instead of in the way of honest, hard-working people. [She exits into the kitchen.] ”

“ Left side.
FICSUR
That’s right—over your heart. [Feels it.] Ah—there it is—there—there’s the blade—quite a big fellow, isn’t it—ah, here it begins to get narrower. [Reaches the tip of the knife.] And here is its eye—that’s what it sees with. [JULIE enters from the kitchen, passes them slowly, watching them in silent terror, then stops. FICSUR nudges LILIOM.] Sing, come on, sing! ”

“ Genius lacking the courage to spread its wings and soar. A potential immortal bidding fearfully for the praise of a coffee-house clique. Is it vanity? Is it abnormal sensitiveness? Biographical data cast little light on the enigma.
Franz Molnar was born in Budapest on January 12, 1878, the son of a wealthy Jewish merchant. He graduated from the Universities of Geneva and Budapest. His literary career was begun as a journalist at the age of eighteen. ”

“ Suddenly, in a voice that overtops the droning of the organ, he shouts as if addressing the far-off carousel.] I’m going to be a father.
JULIE
[Enters from the kitchen.] Liliom! What’s the matter? What’s happened?
LILIOM
[Coming down from the sofa.] Nothing. [Throws himself on the sofa, buries his face in the cushion. JULIE watches him a moment, comes over to him and covers him with a shawl. Then she goes [Pg 80] on tip-toe to the door at back and remains standing in the doorway, looking out and listening to the droning of the organ.] ”