On Trial (L'Affaire Maurizius)

The Maurizius Affair

In Berne, in November, Etzel Andergast, son of Chief Prosecutor Wolf Andergast...

...first met the old man with the sailor's cap.

57, 58, 59... Gentlemen, the minute is up.

No one is guilty.

So everyone is guilty.

I admire your solidarity in idiocy, and since I can't punish you all...

...one of you will pay for the rest.

Mr. Desartisse, you will stay after school Tuesdays and Fridays until Easter

And you will copy out in German the complete works of Nietzsche...

...including drafts and notes.

That will give you time to meditate on the human condition.

But it wasn't me!

You can avoid this punishment by pointing out the real culprit. No?

Nothing to say? Punishment confirmed.

Desartisse didn't do anything, Sir! This is an injustice.

Really, Mr. Andergast? You know the author of this very dubious joke?

It was me. --You're mad! It's not true, Sir!

It was me, and I should be punished. --That's not true!

Mr. Andergast doesn't seem to be lying. So it's you, then.

Since you had such bad taste and stupidity...

...you will serve Mr. Desartisse's punishment.

Good day, gentlemen!

Nice going - now you're a martyr!

Andergast.

I don't quite understand; what is this about?

Mr. Teller always has a box of candy in the pocket of his overcoat. Yesterday...

One of you mixed laxatives into his candies, right?

Yes, sir.

The investigation was forced by blatant disrespect.

Mr. Teller was within his rights.

Did you participate in this farce, Andergast?

Mr. Teller abuses his power.

Punishing Desartisse was a deliberate injustice.

Do you think a lie will make up for it?

To accept injustice without revolting, makes one a coward.

Yes; for such opinions saints and heros have often spilled their blood.

Give my regards to your father.

Tell him how much I admired his remarks on the Hoffmann case.

Andergast!

Am I late? --Your coat is covered in mud!

Is my father in? --What happened to you? Look at this!

I was nearly run over. Luckily Tilman was there. I was crossing the road...

I don't like that Tilman, I've told you before.

I would prefer you to choose your friends from less vulgar backgrounds.

Have you anything to say?

Serve the dinner.

I saw Mr. Rath.

The headmaster.

Ah, yes - he's an idiot.

I like him; he's a very good man, who understands things.

What things? --Our aspirations, our problems.

He asked me to give you his regards. --Thank you.

He very much liked your remarks on... I forget the name.

It doesn't matter.

What does that old guy want?

What's wrong? You look like the devil is after you!

Your grandmother phoned. She expects you for tea tomorrow afternoon.

My name is Maurizius.

Goodnight, Father.

Goodnight. Going upstairs already? --I have some homework.

Who is this Maurizius, Father?

Why do you want to know?

Oh, nothing. I just met him and he seemed a funny old fellow. Who is he?

This is not a subject we can discuss.

Does that mean something, Maurizius? --What?

Do you know who Maurizius is?

Why are you bothering with it?

Go do your homework, or tomorrow morning you'll be white as a sheet.

Tell me, Grandmama, have you ever heard of a certain Maurizius?

Oh, don't talk about names!

You know my old Nanny - she was with me for 24 years.

But some days I'd say "Elise! Elise! don't you hear the bell?"

Even though her name was Maria.

What was the name? --Maurizius.

Ah, yes, yes. What made you think of that?

I just want to know. Did something happen?

Oh, it's a story from another world, it's so long ago.

That long ago?

Let me think; it was 18 years ago. Two years before you were born.

Father was involved? He had something to do with this Maurizius?

Yes, indeed.

He was really just a nobody back then.

Just a deputy prosecutor.

But this case put him in the spotlight and made him famous.

Oh, tell me!

The Maurizius Affair - it was a diabolical case.

You think that we live in a peaceful, quiet world.

If you'd seen it back then.

Especially you couldn't avoid the barricades.

People were pro-Maurizius and anti-Maurizius.

And they argued it out in cafes and clubs.

Was it that serious? --That Maurizius! What was his name?

Well, he was accused of having shot his wife to death.

There was a sensational trial.

I think I didn't miss a single hearing.

How long ago it was!

I see the people walking by, as if it were happening right now.

Yes, I see it clearly.

The day of the verdict there was a revolution.

When the public entered the courtroom, the atmosphere was electric.

The majority sympathized with the accused.

The accused will rise.

The Court of Assizes of the 2nd Arrondisement of Berne...

...based on its deliberations decrees that the accused - Maurizius, Leonard...

...is found guilty of the murder committed the night of October 22 1935.

Having with intent and premeditation killed his wife, Maurizius, Elisabeth...

...formerly Hensolt, nee Jahn, and is condemned to life imprisonment.

It's an outrage! He's sentenced to life in prison!

There had never been such riots in front of the bench.

I was covered with mud, and my blouse was ripped!

A beautiful one with lace I brought back from...

But why the riots?

Because Maurizius - Leonard - didn't look the part.

He wasn't the kind who'd commit murder.

He was an intellectual, very respected in his field.

Writing, I think - no, Professor of Art History.

And he killed his wife?

Oh, that was the thing! There was no formal proof.

It was all presumption.

They could convict a man purely on presumption?

Oh, it was a sad story; I've forgotten the details.

Everything was against him: men, things, space and time.

It all added up to an avalanche of presumption.

And your father connected everything to bring it to a certain conclusion.

A certainty that in fact didn't exist.

I never believed that such a refined man could say "I'm innocent!" when accused.

It didn't fool me. Or that he could shoot his wife, just like that.

But if there was doubt, then the judge who convicted him was a traitor!

Yes, that day I looked at your father.

Amid all the uproar, he remained silent.

Suddenly I'd discovered a stranger.

Since then he makes me afraid.

So we're talking about a man who could be innocent who was buried alive.

We're responsible for this crime, because it is a crime, isn't it?

He's still alive?

Oh, no doubt!

Was he a young man, Maurizius? --Twenty-five or 26.

Twenty five plus 18; he'd be 43 now.

So that old man... --What old man?

Nothing.

What's wrong with you today? You haven't had any cake!

Appeal of trial, presented by Pierre-Paul Maurizius.

On behalf of his son Leonard Maurizius, sentenced Dec. 14, 1935.

Rejected

It's not a mistake, Mr. Andergast; I knew you'd come.

The request you made to my father came into my hands.

The gods brought you to me!

The other day when I heard your name a voice said to me:

"Pierre-Paul Maurizius, the moment has come to write your 7th appeal.

You will send it to the Supreme Court, which tends not to be concerned.

Give the copy to that young man; the story will interest him."

But the young man wouldn't listen, so I gave it to the Chief Prosecutor.

I would like to speak to you about this subject - about your son.

I would like some information.

I know, I know. Come!

I have everything ready.

You're still too young to know how a scoundrel is made.

Well, you have one before you.

Yes sir, I am a scoundrel.

Without me, nothing would have happened.

Without me, no crime, no trial, no verdict.

The person responsible is me.

But I have been punished, for 18 years.

Reduced to poverty, I've sold everything.

I've got 70,000 francs saved for when he gets out of prison.

You live alone? --I had a wife, daughter, 3 sons.

In 1929 a typhus epidemic killed 4 of them; I was left alone with Leonard.

That must have been terrible.

I took up the challenge: Pierre-Paul Maurizius against Fate.

I still had Leonard - his triumph would pay for everything.

He was always my favorite.

Intelligent; just think, at 23 he was teaching at the university!

He could have gone far. How old are you, young man?

Sixteen.

And your father - he gives you money? --Not too much.

Leonard had whatever he wanted - it was my joy to pay for him.

He had friends and connections everywhere even in the most exclusive salons.

Women loved him, listened to him, adored him.

He was the son of Pierre-Paul Maurizius the cream of Swiss society.

Then...one day...

What happened?

I wanted to strike it rich.

A voice said to me, "Watch out! The stars are unfavorable!"

I wouldn't listen, I speculated and lost everything.

I told Leonard he had to cut back his lifestyle; I refused to pay his debts.

He was shaken, upset.

For 2 months he disappeared.

Then suddenly...that.

A letter? --From him.

Read it.

"Yesterday I married Elisabeth Hensolt."

That's how he told you?

Elisabeth Hensolt, widow of Hensolt, a small paper manufacturer, a nobody...

...a woman 15 years older than him, who'd offered herself for 80,000 francs.

A scandalous, dirty business.

I answered my son categorically - I refused to see that slut.

It was her or me: choose! It was her.

One day the sorrow was too much, I needed a break...

...so I took the funicular to Gurten Hill.