Plays by August Strindberg, Fourth Series
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Title: Plays by August Strindberg, Fourth Series
Author: August Strindberg
Translator: Edwin Björkman
Release date: November 27, 2013 [eBook #44302]
Most recently updated: October 23, 2024
Language: English
Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44302
Credits: Produced by Marc D'Hooghe (From images made available by the Google Books Project)
*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PLAYS BY AUGUST STRINDBERG, FOURTH SERIES ***
PLAYS
BY
AUGUST STRINDBERG
FOURTH SERIES
THE BRIDAL CROWN
THE SPOOK SONATA
THE FIRST WARNING
GUSTAVUS VASA
TRANSLATED WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY
EDWIN BJÖRKMAN
AUTHORIZED EDITION
NEW YORK
CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS
1916
CONTENTS
INTRODUCTION
THE BRIDAL CROWN
THE SPOOK SONATA
THE FIRST WARNING
GUSTAVUS VASA
MUSICAL APPENDIX TO "THE BRIDAL CROWN"
INTRODUCTION
The province of Dalecarlia has often been called the heart of Sweden.
It is a centrally located inland province, said to contain a sample
of everything the country can offer in the way of natural beauty. For
centuries it played a remarkable part in Swedish history, taking the
leadership time and again in the long struggle to rid the nation of a
perverted and abused union with Denmark and Norway. It has preserved
the original stock, the original language, and the original customs
of the race as no other province. The dialects used in Dalecarlia are
among the most difficult to understand for outsiders and have an air of
antiquity that irresistibly leads the thought back to old Norse. The
picturesque costumes characteristic of the different parishes are still
in use, and one of these--that of Rättvik--has almost become _the_
national costume of Sweden.
The people are simple and shrewd, stem and kindly, energetic and
obstinate, loyal and independent. They have much in common with the
old New England stock, but possess, in spite of their unmistakably
Puritanical outlook, a great store of spontaneous and pleasant joy
in life. They are thinkers in their own humble way, but not morbid.
In their attitude toward each other and toward the family they are
distinctly and quaintly patriarchal, and in this respect, too, they
preserve a quality that used to be characteristic of the whole
Scandinavian north. It is impossible to read "The Bridal Crown," with
its typical Dalecarlian atmosphere and setting, without being struck
at once by the extent to which the individual plays the part of a
link in the unbroken chain of generations rather than of an isolated,
all-important point of personality. And the same impression is obtained
from Selma Lagerlöf's contemporaneous novel, "Jerusalem."
Always a very religious race, though not always good church-goers, the
Dalecarlians have long had and still have the Puritanical closeness to
the Bible as _the_ book, and they talk naturally in quotations from
that source. At the same time the old Norse stores of legend and homely
wisdom survive among them to an extent that is perhaps paralleled only
in Iceland. And when Strindberg in this play makes his characters quote
the old poetic Edda he violates no law of probability, although it is
doubtful whether the expression in question would actually come in
just such a form from living lips. I mean that the sentiment of such
a phrase as "Vagrant women make bread of mould for their men as only
food" survives among the people, while it is likely to have gradually
changed into a form more wholly their own.
No matter from where the inspiration of their utterances may come,
the Dalecarlians are apt to express themselves picturesquely,
and this inclination to lapse into rhyme and alliteration is
noticeable--sometimes in quoting old saws dating back to heathen times
and sometimes in improvising. Strindberg has used this tendency in
both ways. When the old grandfather says to the bride that she is
"comely as he is homely," he is merely repeating a phrase dear to the
heart of a people strongly bound up in traditions. When, on the other
hand, he lets the fisherman in the last scene answer, "Krummedikke's
castle and Krummedikke's lake, Krummedikke's church, and soon it will
break," he is probably illustrating the tendency toward roughly rhymed
improvisations.
A typical feature of Dalecarlian life has always been the sending of
the cattle to upland pastures during the summer months in care of young
men and women, who, in communication among themselves as well as with
the people at the home farm, have availed themselves of the ancient
alpenhorn, or _lur_, made out of wood and birch bark, as well as of the
horn made out of the natural horn of the ox. And instinctively they
have realised that melodious utterance carries farther than ordinary
speech, and so they have come to sing or hum their communications.
Furthermore, they have grown accustomed to use some song already
familiar to the listener rather than what they might improvise, and
have thus learned to pass on simple pieces of news, or a mere mood,
perhaps, in what might be called a code.
Throughout Sweden such songs and snatches and tunes, made up in olden
days by some more than usually audacious village genius, survived until
far into the past century, and in Dalecarlia and a few neighbouring
provinces they have survived to the present day in actual use. With the
flaring up of a true historical interest that followed the Romantic
movement of the early nineteenth century came a recognition of the
beauty and value of those old songs and tunes. The first man in Sweden
to make a systematic collection of them was Richard Dybeck, who,
during the years 1842-50 published a periodical for lovers of the old
which he called _Runa_--"The Rune." In 1846 the same man published a
separate collection of the folk-material just referred to under the
name of _Svenska Vallvisor och Hornlåtar_--"Swedish Herd-Songs and
Horn-Melodies."
Both this little volume and the issues of "The Rune" must have come
under the attention of Strindberg at an early period, and to both he
remained strongly attached throughout life. In the pages of those
two Dybeck publications he found almost everything that makes "The
Bridal Crown" what it is--a remarkable picture of the external life and
internal spirit of the Dalecarlian people. The musical duet between
_Kersti_ and _Mats_ in the first scene is the basis of the whole play.
It is found in Dybeck's work just as Strindberg has used it--both the
music and the words. The legend has it that a young man and a young
woman, herding cattle in adjoining pastures, fell in love with each
other. The girl bore a child, which they nursed together as they best
could, having tried to legitimise it by going through a simple wedding
ceremony of their own improvisation. Once, when the girl could not get
back to the pasture at night, she used her alpenhorn to communicate
that fact to her lover and ask him to look after the baby. This legend
is found all over Sweden in very slightly modified form.
To the old legend Strindberg has added the still more ancient Montecchi
and Capuletti theme from "Romeo and Juliet," making the two lovers the
offspring of mutually jealous and hostile families, and thereby giving
the play the tragical twist which his mood required. How he was turned
in this direction I don't know, but his work on the historical play,
"Gustavus Vasa"--it was written in 1899, and "The Bridal Crown" seems
to have been completed in the winter of 1900-1--had taken his mind to
Dalecarlia, where its first act is laid. And the idea of a play built
on Swedish folk-themes seems to have been long present in his mind.
For folk-colour as well as for local verisimilitude, he drew freely
both on Dybeck and on other repositories of old Swedish lore and
legend and superstition. One of the beauties of the play is that so
many of the extranatural figures and elements introduced are common
to the whole country. The Neck, or the Man of the Rapids, or the
Brookman (_Necken, Forskarlen_, or _Bäckamannen_) exists in popular
fancy wherever a peasant has put his plough into Swedish soil. He
is a creature of the thousand rivers and brooks that beribbon the
land from the arctic circle down to the fertile planes of Scania, and
always he is associated with an unusual gift of music and with the
fallen angel's longing for the lost Paradise. From Norrland to Scania
is told the anecdote of the tot who heard the Neck sing the song
used by Strindberg--"I am hoping, I am hoping that my Redeemer still
liveth"--and who called out to him: "There is no Redeemer for you." On
returning home, the child told his parents of what had happened and
was ordered to go back with a less discouraging message to the wailing
spirit of the waters.
The _Midwife_, half human, half extranatural, is another familiar
figure, mostly called the Wood-Imp (_Skogsrå_). The queer snatches
uttered by her from time to time are old Swedish riddles or
"guess-rhymes," which Strindberg also found in Dybeck's work, and which
he has employed very effectively as spells or incantations. That quaint
dualistic revenant, which is called the _Mewler_ as an apparition,
and the _Mocker_ as a bodiless voice, exists in the imagination of
the people all over Sweden. It is a creation of the moral instinct,
designed for the discouragement of poor maidens who have born a child
"in hiding," as the old phrase puts it, and who may be tempted into
ridding themselves of such a burden--a crime that has figured too
frequently in the criminal annals of the country.
The word _Myling_, which I have had to translate as _Mewler,_ is said
to come from a verb meaning to kill, to choke, to bury, or to cover
up. It is related to _mylla_, mould, however, and when we find the
same term, _mylingar, Mewlings_, applied to the relatives of _Kersti_,
this characterises them not as "murtherlings," as Strindberg's German
translator would have it, but as "mouldings," as people delving in the
soil. In the original text, the name applied both to the apparition of
_Kersti's_ dead baby and to her relatives is the same. I have thought
this too confusing for English-speaking readers, and have made two
terms to get the needed dearness and distinction.
It remains finally to say a word about the keystone to the whole
dramatic conflict in the play--the desire of _Kersti_ to wear a crown
at her wedding--to be a "crown-bride," as the Swedish phrase and the
name of the original text both have it. The chief ornaments of a
Swedish bride have always been the crown, the wreath, and the veil--and
so they are to this very day. The wreath is generally made out of
myrtle. The crown is nowadays almost invariably made out of the same
material. But it used to be of metal, richly ornamented, and kept ready
for use in every country church throughout the land. It was another
device meant to encourage morality, the convention being that only
a chaste young woman could wear the crown at her wedding--only one
"worthy" of it, as the old phrase had-it. To go to church without that
ornament was, of course, a most humiliating confession, and tended to
detract largely from the riotous joy of the festivity which the Swedish
peasants have always placed above all others--the wedding. Originally
the crown also served another purpose, however. It was, as I have
already said, kept in the church and lent only with the sanction of the
clergy. In other words, it was reserved for the bride whose relatives
consented to have a church wedding at a time when the sacramental
character of the ceremony had not yet become popularly recognised. For
ages the Swedish wedding was wholly a secular ceremony based on the old
custom of bride-barter, and it took the Catholic Church many centuries
to turn it into a religious rite.
There are a few minor points that need some clearing up, too. The
position of _Kersti's_ father, the _Soldier_, must be a puzzle to
non-Swedish readers. The presence of the picture of King Charles XV on
the wall of the _Soldier's_ cottage indicates that the action takes
place in the eighteen-sixties, before the reorganisation of the Swedish
army on the basis of universal conscription had been carried out. At
that time each province had to furnish one or more regiments. The
maintenance of this soldiery fell directly on the small landholders,
and from two to ten of these formed a _rote_ or "file" having to
employ, equip, and maintain one soldier. Each soldier had a cottage
and a small patch of soil furnished him by the men responsible for his
up-keep. Under such circumstances the soldier would seem likely to fall
into the position of a servant living under his masters, but that was
not at all the case. The warlike qualities and traditions of the nation
probably counteracted tendencies in that direction. Instead the soldier
became one of the recognised honoratiores of his district, ranking next
to the sexton and often filling the place of that functionary when the
office was vacant.
The use of the name of Krummedikke in connection with the lake is
a mystery I have not been able to clear up. The noble family of
Krummedige or Krummedike belonged originally in the duchy of Holstein,
but moved from there into Denmark and spread gradually into southern
Sweden and Norway. During the period of Sweden's union with Denmark
and Norway two members of that family held the famous old fortress
of Baahus (now Bohus) on behalf of the Danish king. Other members
controlled fortified places in Småland and the province of Halland
along the west coast of present Sweden. But there is no record of any
Krummedike having a "castle" in the northern part of Sweden. Whether
legends connected with this family have actually spread from southern
Sweden to Dalecarlia or the name, simply happened to catch Strindberg's
fancy I cannot tell.
The play in its entirety is one of the most impersonal Strindberg ever
wrote. Echoes of his private life are very rare--which is remarkable,
considering how plentiful they are in such a work as the historical
drama "Gustavus Vasa." In this respect "The Bridal Crown" connects
logically with Strindberg's novels and stories from the islands outside
of Stockholm: "The People at Hemsö," "Fisher Folks," and "At the Edge
of the Sea." It seems that nothing helped more to take him out of
himself and his morbid introspection than a study of the life of the
common people.
How successful he was in that study is indicated by the wide popularity
of the novels and stories in question as well as by the stage history
of "The Bridal Crown." This play has been one of the most frequently
produced of all his dramatic works. The first performance took place
on September 14, 1907, at the Swedish Theatre, Stockholm, and since
that time it has been played more than one hundred times in Stockholm
alone--which is a great deal in Sweden.
* * * * *
The list of characters will suffice to indicate what a weird thing "The
Spook Sonata" is. Rarely has Strindberg's peculiar fancy carried him
further without bringing him to outright disaster. Mingling extreme
realism of portrayal with a symbolism that frequently borders on the
extravagant and the impossible, he has nevertheless produced a work
that bites into the consciousness of the reader and challenges his
thought to an unusual degree. The best characterisation of the play as
a whole might be to call it a symbolistic mosaic pieced together with
fragments of real life.
Reminiscences of the author's own life in all its periods recur
constantly, and yet the play cannot be called autobiographical in any
narrow sense. Not even its general tendency--if it can be said to have
one--is particularly tied up with Strindberg's view of his own fate.
No, the play is in all its aspects a generalisation along the lines
of "The Dream Play," but brought nearer to the level and superficial
appearance of every-day life.
One of its purposes is to illustrate the mysterious relationship
between seemingly disconnected things and events which Strindberg
during his latest period was so prone to discover everywhere.--When in
this super-Swedenborgian mood, he was inclined to regard the slightest
incident of daily life as a mere symbol meant to shadow or foreshadow
vaster incidents on higher levels. It would be dangerous to accept his
readings of life in this mood as so many formulations of truth, but,
on the other hand, it would be unwise to discard them as meaningless.
What must be remembered first and last in the study of Strindberg's
work is that he was primarily, if not wholly, a bearer of suggestions
rather than of final truths. We cannot go to him for knowledge of what
life actually is, but we may be sure of never reading one of his pages
without finding some new angle of approach, the use of which will help
our own thought to enlarge our knowledge of actual life. Those who
demand predigested thought will always be lost in the mazes of his
irresponsible fancy. Those who ask nothing more of literature than to
be set thinking will always find him one of the most fruitful writers
produced by modern times.
For this very reason it would be futile to attempt any explanatory
analysis of "The Spook Sonata." There must, in fact, be a separate
analysis of that kind for every thinking reader. One may say, of
course, that its name as well as the strange function which forms
its central scene, points to an interpretation of all human life as a
ghostly reflection of wasted and buried possibilities. But there is
charity as well as bitterness in the play, and it seems to preach the
lesson that we owe tolerance to every man but him who thinks himself
better than the rest. It warns, too, against that interference with
other lives which seems to have been one of the haunting spectres of
Strindberg's own existence. In other words, the play may be regarded as
a final passionate expression of his will to live his own life in his
own way and of his resentment against real or fancied efforts to balk I
that will.
Dramatically this play is well worthy of study, It contains some points
that, whether successful or no in this particular connection, should
not be passed over by future playwrights. Such a point, for instance,
is the continued presence on the stage of several dumb characters
during almost the entire first scene. I do not know whether it will
come home to readers of the play that, while the conversation is going
on between the _Student_ and _Old Hummel_, for example, the _Janitress_
and the _Dark Lady_ are all the time present in the background as
living reminders of the secret threads of human life underlying the
conflict between the two men that do the talking. And the idea of
trying to render simultaneous portrayal of life within and without a
human habitation has again been tried by Strindberg in this play with
very remarkable and suggestive results.
There are several signs which indicate that Strindberg changed his plan
of the play while he was writing it. There is one character present
on the list of characters in the Swedish text that never appears--the
_Janitor_. On the other hand, that list does not contain the name of
the _Cook_, who plays such a strange part in the final scene--a sort of
infernalised Greek chorus with a Japanese soy bottle for its Dionysian
emblem. The arrangement of the stage directions in the Swedish original
indicates, too, that he intended a single setting to serve for the
whole play. He hoped probably to be able to let the action laid within
the house be seen from the outside, but, warned by his strong sense of
theatrical feasibility, he changed his plans unhesitatingly, and with
them his scenery.
Several of the minor themes running through the play may to the reader
seem not only minor but hopelessly trivial. I am thinking principally
of the constantly recurring charge against servants that they take
the nourishment out of food before serving it to their masters. This
suspicion seems to have been one of Strindberg's fixed ideas, occurring
in almost every work where the relationship between masters and
servants is at all mentioned. I think he has harped too much on this
theme, both in "The Spook Sonata" and elsewhere. I think, too, that he
is wrong in placing the responsibility with the servants. On the other
hand, I think one of his services is that he works with modern science
to bring us a better realisation of the dose interrelation between
the material basis of our existences and the more important spiritual
overtones.
"The Spook Sonata" was written and published in 1907. It was played for
the first time on January 27, 1908, at the Intimate Theatre, Stockholm,
reaching a total of twelve performances.
* * * * *
The little scene named "The First Warning" is frankly autobiographical.
It relates an actual incident from Strindberg's first marriage, to
which, I think, he makes reference in "A Fool's Confession"--a work, by
the bye, which should really be named "A Fool's Plea" in English.
In spite of sinister undertones, "The First Warning" is distinctly
a comedy, and practically the only short thing in a lighter vein
written by Strindberg. At first he named it "The First Tooth," but he
had adopted the present title before the original publication--with
three other one-act plays--occurred, in 1893. In Germany the play is
known under the name "Signs of Autumn" (_Herbstzeichen_). Beginning on
September 10, 1910, it was given eight times in all at the Intimate
Theatre, Stockholm, but long before that time it had been played a
number of times on various German stages.
* * * * *
King Gustavus I, founder of the Vasa dynasty, which reigned over Sweden
until 1818, has rightly been called the "father" of his country and the
builder of modern Sweden. He finished the war of liberation, by which
the hampering and unsatisfactory union between Sweden and the other two
Scandinavian kingdoms was finally severed. But he did much more. He
reorganised the whole country, in all its departments, on such a basis
of efficiency that it became able to play the part of a great European
power for more than a century. Some have pictured him as a sort of
superman. Others have called him a mere country squire, applying the
methods of stable and barn to a whole country. Both those views of him
are probably correct as well as incorrect. He was undoubtedly first of
all an able and conscientious peasant on a large scale, but as such he
was very much in place at a time when agriculture was the only source
of income that could be called national. And his cares on behalf of
commerce and mining show him to have had a very broad and foresighted
view of husbandry.
The figure of the first Vasa took an early hold of Strindberg's
imagination. He introduced it in the first version of his first great
play, "Master Olov." But there the king was a subordinate character--so
much so, in fact, that he did not appear at all in the final metrical
version of the play, completed in 1877. At that time Strindberg was
more interested in _Master Olov_, the dreaming idealist who placed
religious reform above political and economical reorganisation. When,
in 1899, he returned to "old King Gustav," his interest had shifted,
and in this play, said to be his greatest historical drama--and one of
the greatest of its kind in the annals of modern literature--the royal
figure dominates absolute.
When I first contemplated a translation of this play I feared it would
be necessary to preface it with a condensed history of Sweden during
the early sixteenth century. Having finished my task, I find that an
elaborate historical introduction would merely be a duplication of the
work done by the playwright. Barring a few minor points that have been
illuminated by notes, all the history needed for the understanding of
the play will be found within the play itself. The truth of the matter
is that Strindberg was not writing history but poetry, and that he
was more anxious to portray human character than to set forth all too
familiar historical events.
He portrayed his main character in more than one way and sense,
however. The _King_, as we find him in the drama, is a wonderfully
vivid and faithful reconstruction of a great man that has writ
himself in large letters on the map of his country. But he is also
a symbolisation of a type that will always remain one of the most
fascinating of all that people the earth: that of the ruler who is
conscious both his mission and of the price that must be paid for its
fulfilment. The problem of Strindberg's play might be said to be this:
granted such a mission, how much has a man the right to pay for its
proper fulfilment? And as behoves a poet Strindberg has brought this
problem to no triumphant "Q.E.D." His ambiguous, yet tremendously
significant, answer seems to be: "Such a man has the right to do
whatever his mission demands, even though it may go against his grain
as an individual, but he must be humble about it and not confuse
himself with Providence." _Gustavus_ is humbled and made to suffer, not
because of this or that act, but because of an inclination to consider
his own mission the only one in sight.
A few words need to be said about the chronology of the play. In
accordance with his theories in regard to historical playwriting
Strindberg has dealt very freely with dates and facts. The play
occupies a period of about two years, which length of time separates
the first act from the four last. These take place within a few days.
The historical events that enter as material into the play were spread
over nearly twenty years, and Strindberg has not hesitated to introduce
them in reversed order either. This license must be considered in
the light of what I have already said about his intentions. His main
concern was to show how the principal character would act under certain
given circumstances, and to use those circumstances in the manner most
apt to throw light on the character in question. And in this respect he
has undoubtedly been successful.
The Swedes think so, at least. "Gustavus Vasa" has drawn grudging
approval from Strindberg's worst enemies among his own countrymen. The
first performance of the play, which took place on October 17, 1899,
at the Swedish Theatre, Stockholm, turned at the time into a national
event. The play has since then been revived several times, particularly
in connection with the celebration of its author's sixtieth and
sixty-third birthday anniversaries, in 1909 and 1912. In all, the play
has been performed about one hundred times in Stockholm alone, and it
has been given on several German stages with striking success.
* * * * *
A word should be said concerning the spelling of Swedish names used in
this volume. It can hardly be called a system at all. It is neither
Swedish nor English. It is a frank compromise, designed exclusively to
make the reading of the plays as easy as possible to English-speaking
readers. Some time in the future, when the knowledge of the
Scandinavian literatures and languages has reached a more advanced
stage in this country, I should like to see a revised edition with the
original Swedish spelling of all names preserved throughout.
THE BRIDAL CROWN
(KRONBRUDEN)
A FOLK-PLAY IN SIX SCENES
1902
CHARACTERS
MATS
KERSTI
_The_ MOTHER _of_ KERSTI
_The_ SOLDIER, _her father_
_The_ VERGER, _her grandfather_
BRITA, _the grown-up sister of_ MATS
_The_ GRANDFATHER }
_The_ GRANDMOTHER }
_The_ FATHER } _of_ MATS
_The_ MOTHER }
ANNA }
LIT-KAREN } _younger sisters of_ MATS
LIT-MATS, _the small brother of_ MATS
_The_ SHERIFF
_The_ PASTOR
_The_ FISHERMAN
_The_ MIDWIFE
_The_ NECK
_The_ CHILD IN WHITE
_The_ MEWLER (_Mylingen_), _an apparition_
_The_ MOCKER (_Skratten_), _a voice_
_The_ HEADSMAN
MATS'S RELATIVES, _called the_ MILL-FOLK
KERSTI'S RELATIVES, _called the_ MEWLINGS (_Mylingarne_)
FOUR BRIDESMAIDS
SIX SERVANT-GIRLS
TWO FIDDLERS
TWO SOLDIERS
SCENARIO
SCENE I. THE HILL PASTURE
SCENE II. THE FAMILY COUNCIL AT THE MILL
SCENE III. THE SOLDIER'S HOUSE ON THE EVE OF THE WEDDING
SCENE IV. THE WEDDING AT THE MILL
SCENE V. AT THE CHURCH: THE PENANCE OF KERSTI
SCENE VI. ON THE ICE OF THE LAKE
FIRST SCENE
_A hill pasture in Dalecarlia. A hut of rough-hewn boards,
painted red, Stands at the left. Beside it grow two birches
with trunks that are white clear down to the ground_.
_On the right-hand side appears a sloping hillside covered
with spruces. The hillside is cut by a large brook forming a
waterfall. At the foot of it is a tarn covered by water-lilies.
The background shows a big lake bordered by blue hills. A
church is visible across the lake_.
_A grindstone set in a wooden frame stands in the foreground by
the corner of the hut_.
_It is Sunday evening, about sunset time_.
KERSTI'S MOTHER _sits on a wooden block outside the hut,
smoking her pipe_.
KERSTI _enters with an alpenhorn in her hand. She stops in
front of her_ MOTHER.
MOTHER. Where have you been all this time, daughter?
KERSTI. In the woods, mother.
MOTHER. Picking strawberries, I suppose. Your lips are so red.
KERSTI. Why did you call me, mother?
MOTHER. The woods were full of noises, child, and of stealthy
footfalls. Could it be the bear?
KERSTI. Can't tell.
MOTHER. I thought I heard the strokes of an axe, but maybe I was
mistaken.
KERSTI. The bear uses no axe, mother.
MOTHER. Why dressed up in your best, daughter?
KERSTI. It's Sunday, mother.
MOTHER. There is milk on your tucker, child. Have you been milking
May-dew or Starbright?
KERSTI. Could I but milk the stars--and the moon, O!
MOTHER. While it's night, O!
KERSTI. Day and night!
MOTHER. Night and day!--Yes, I know! Beware of the bear!
KERSTI. Do you think he would tear my pet cow?
MOTHER. Have you lost her?
KERSTI. Shall I ask Anna?
MOTHER. You had better!
KERSTI. [_Picks up her alpenhorn and sounds a melody; see musical
appendix, Melody No_. 1. _Then she sings; see Melody No_. 2]
"Too-la-loo, Ann at Boorness!
Do you see my cosset cow
Over there at your place?"
MATS. [_Answering from a distance in a dear tenor voice; see musical
appendix, Melody No_. 3]
"Too-la-loo, so I do.
Come at once:
Cosset cow is here now!"
MOTHER. What a deep voice Anna has got!
KERSTI. She has been calling her cows since the sun began to set.
MOTHER. What do you hear down there in the valley, child?
KERSTI. The big bell of the cow, the low bell of the goat....
MOTHER. Oh, no!
KERSTI. I can hear the cock crowing and the dog barking, the gun
banging and the cart clanking, and the oars saying "duck-duck" in the
rowlocks.
MOTHER. Whose cock do you mean, and whose dog?
KERSTI. The miller's.
MOTHER. What's his name? Is it Anna?
KERSTI _looks embarrassed and does not answer_.
MOTHER. What do you see down there in the valley?
KERSTI. The water-wheel in the mill-race, the smoke from the chimney....
MOTHER. Whose chimney? The mill-folk's, I suppose?
KERSTI. It's growing dark, mother.
MOTHER. I _am_ going--before it grows still darker! [_She rises to her
feet_] This has been the longest Sunday in all my life!--What kind of a
smell is that?
KERSTI. I smell the woods; I smell the cattle; I smell the hay.
MOTHER. No, it was tattle-berries you were picking! [_For a while she
stands still, lost in thought; then she sings; see musical appendix,
Melody No_. 4]
"The joy that was mine
Has been turned into woe!"
KERSTI. It is growing dark, mother!
MOTHER. So I see, daughter mine. The darkness is coming down on us
heavy as a pall, and downward goes my path now--ever downward! But you
must stay to watch the curds. And trust me to see if you let the fire
go out.
KERSTI. Trust me to see that the fire won't go out, mother.
MOTHER. Good night, then. And don't forget your evening prayers!
KERSTI. Good night, mother.
MOTHER. "The joy that was mine has been turned into woe!" Don't forget
your evening prayers!
[_She goes out to the left_.
KERSTI _opens the door of the hut. A big pot is seen hanging over the
fire, on which she puts more wood; coming out again, she looks around
to make sure that her mother is gone; then she picks up the alpenhorn
and sounds another wordless melody on it. [See musical appendix, Melody
No_. 5.]
MATS. [_Is heard singing outside, on the right-hand side; see musical
appendix, Melody No_. 6]
"Kersti dearest,
Kersti dearest,
Baby sleeps in the forest."
KERSTI. [_Answers in the same way; see Melody No_. 7]
"Dillery-dell!
Fareth he well,
Fareth he well
Far in the forest?"
MATS. [_Answers as before; see Melody No_. 8]
"Nothing to fear!
Nothing to fear!
Baby sleeps in his cradle here,
Far, far, in the forest!"
KERSTI. [_Singing; see Melody No_. 9]
"Haste to the house and milk the cows,
And see that baby lacks nothing.
I cannot come, must stay at home,
Helping my folks with the baking."
MATS. [_Answers as before; see Melody No_. 10]
"Birches nod in the blowing breeze,
But baby slumbers in perfect peace,
Kersti, Kersti, dearest!"
_A strong wind springs up. The centre of the stage grows dark,
but the sun is still shining on the tops of spruces on the
hillside_.
_Very faintly at first, then more and more clearly, the yells
and cries of a gang of game beaters are heard. These are
followed by the snapping of branches, the baying of hounds, the
trampling of horses in trot and gallop, the cracking of guns,
the snarling of rattles, the crashing of trees that fall, and,
above all, the constantly rising roar of the waterfall_.
_Finally a canon is sounded by ten hunting-horns, the first
horn repeating its theme while the rest join in one by one.
[See musical appendix, Melody No_. 11.]
_Badly frightened_, KERSTI _stands staring in every direction
while the noise lasts. When it has died away in the distance
and the woods are silent again, she brings bunches of spruce
branches and spreads them on the ground, covering them at last
with a brightly coloured rag carpet. Next she fetches two young
spruce-trees that have been stripped of branches and bark, so
that only their tops remain green. These she places beside the
door of the hut, one on either side. Then she goes to the tarn
and picks a number of white water-lilies, which she binds into
a wreath_.
MATS _enters from the left, carrying a baby in a cradle of
leather with straps attached to it_.
KERSTI. Baby, baby darling! Is he still asleep?
MATS. Indeed he is!
KERSTI. Bring him here, and we'll let the trees rock him.
_They hang the cradle between the two birches that are swayed
gently by the wind_.
KERSTI. [_Humming_] "Birches nod in the blowing breeze, but baby
slumbers in perfect peace.".... Did you hear the hunt, Mats?
MATS. No hunt at this time of day, girl!
KERSTI. But I heard it!
MATS. Hardly!--What did your mother have to say?
KERSTI. She bothered me until I thought she would bother the life out
of me.
MATS. Yes, dear, there can be no peace or happiness for us until our
union has been hallowed and our baby baptised.
KERSTI. As long as the old folk resist there can be no wedding. But we
must pray the Lord to bless our union before we give baby a name.
MATS. So we have agreed, and now it may as well be done.
KERSTI. Everything is ready, as you see.
MATS. It's well done, but--we're a sorry couple for all that, and a
sorry wedding we're having.
KERSTI. Let the Lord look into our minds and hearts, and if they hold
no evil--what matters the rest? Have you brought the Book?
MATS. I have. But are you sure, dear, that what we mean to do is not
sinful?
KERSTI. Why should it be? Don't you know that the midwife can baptise
in case of need?
MATS. Well, that's the midwife!
KERSTI. [_Putting the wreath on her head_] Let us begin!
MATS. In the name of the Lord! And may we never come to regret it!
[_They kneel on the carpet, facing each other_; MATS _takes out a
ring, which they hold between them while he is reading out of the
prayer-book_] "I, Mats Anders Larsson, take you, Kersti Margaret
Hansdaughter, to be my wedded wife, whom I will love in good days and
bad, and in token thereof I give you this ring."
KERSTI. "I, Kersti Margaret Hansdaughter, take you, Mats Anders
Larsson, to be my wedded husband, whom I will love in good days and
bad, and in token thereof I give you this ring."
_They pray in silence for a while; then they rise and take hold
of each other's hands, but they do not kiss each other_.
MATS. Now you are mine in the sight of God, dear, and after this we
won't mind what people may say.
KERSTI. That remains to be seen.
MATS. And what have we to eat, dear.
KERSTI. Nothing at all, Mats.
MATS. Then there is nothing left but to smoke.
_They seat themselves on two small, three-legged stools and we
flint and steel to light their pipes_.
MATS. [_When they have smoked a while in silence_] What was that you
said about the hunt just now?
KERSTI. I haven't the heart to tell, Mats. I haven't the heart since I
guessed what folk they were.
MATS. Better not, maybe!... Look at the cradle--going as if it could
rock itself.
KERSTI. That's the wind, Mats; the wind in the birches.
MATS. But there is no wind in the spruces over there.
KERSTI. So I see. Surely the evil ones are abroad to-night.
MATS. Don't talk of them!
KERSTI. Do you see my smoke going northward?
MATS. And mine southward!
KERSTI. The gnats are dancing....
MATS. Which means a wedding....
KERSTI. Do you think we are happier now?
MATS. Hardly!
KERSTI. Do you hear the cry of the blackcock?
MATS. A sure sign of wedding....
KERSTI. But not a single church bell to be heard MATS. It's Sunday, and
the ringing during the day has made them tired What shall we call the
little one?
KERSTI. [_In wild rebellion_] Burden and Ill-luck and Un-asked and
crown-thief....
MATS. Why crown-thief?
KERSTI. Because and because and because Even if we get a real wedding,
I can wear no crown! What should he be called? Bride-spoil, Mother-woe,
Forest-find!
MATS. Badly fares who badly does!
KERSTI. Yes, that's for you to say!
_The_ MOTHER _of_ KERSTI _appears on the hillside among the spruces and
stands looking at_ MATS _and her daughter_.
MATS. There are evil eyes about!
KERSTI. And evil thoughts.... What you brew I have to drink. What you
grind I have to bake.
_The_ MOTHER _disappears_.
MATS. Can you tell what made our families hate each other so fiercely?
KERSTI. It had to do with land--with bought favours, and ill-gotten
gains, and corrupt judges, and--everything that's bad, bad, bad!
MATS. And then the hatred turned into liking, love, lust....
KERSTI. All of it poisoned....
MATS. How dark it turns when the hatred breaks through!
KERSTI. [_Throwing her wreath into the tarn_] Well may you say so! The
devil take the wreath, as I can't have a crown....
MATS. Don't say that!
KERSTI. We hold wedding like beggars, and rascals, and roving folk....
What is it you cannot eat or drink, but that tastes good for all that?
It's tobacco--and that's all you get for a wedding-feast! The fire
under the kettle is going out, Mats. Go and fetch some wood. It's all
the dancing there will be.
MATS. If tokens tell the truth, you were born to be a queen!
KERSTI. Maybe! Surely not to milk the cows!
MATS. And the baby, the baby, the dear little thing!
KERSTI. The poor dear! Oh, what will become of us? What can be in store
for us? Get some wood, Mats! Mother will beat me if the milk doesn't
curdle. Go, Mats!
MATS. There was a time when you served my father, KERSTI, and now it's
my turn to serve you. Because he was harsh to you, I'll be good to you!
KERSTI. Yes, Mats, you are good, but I am not. If I only were!
MATS. Try to be!
KERSTI. Try to be bad, Mats, and we'll see if you can.
MATS. You don't mean it!
KERSTI. Who can tell?--Get away from here, Mats, and hurry up! Somebody
is coming. I know her steps. It's mother!
MATS. Your mother?--And how about the baby?
KERSHI. [_Picks up the carpet and throws it across the cradle; then she
takes her sheepskin coat that has been hanging on the outside wall of
the hut and spreads it on top of the carpet_] Go, go, go!
MATS. Be careful about baby--be careful now!
[_He goes out_.
KERSTI. Of course, of course!
MOTHER. [_Entering from the left_] Was it Anna that was here?
KERSTI. It was.
MOTHER. [_Looking hard at_ KERSTI] And she left when I came?--What a
voice she has!
KERSTI. Yes, has she not?
MOTHER. And she cut the wedding poles, too, and spread the spruce?
KERSTI. What is strange about that?
MOTHER. [_Pulling_ KERSTI _by the hair_] Storyteller, hussy,
strumpet....
KERSTI. [_Raising her hand against her_ MOTHER] Take care!
MOTHER. Will you lay hand on your own mother, you trull? Is that what
Mats has been teaching you? His father drove us from house and home,
and now you take the son in your arms, daughter mine.... O!
KERSTI. That such things can be said.... O!
MOTHER. [_Pointing to the cradle_] What have you there?
KERSTI. Clothes to be aired.
MOTHER. Small ones, I guess.
KERSTI. Not so very.
MOTHER. And inside the cradle?
KERSTI. Small wash--not for small ones.
MOTHER. The child is there!
KERSTI. What child?
MOTHER. Yours!
KERSTI. There is no such thing!
MOTHER. Will you swear?
KERSTI. I swear! May the Neck get me if I lie!
MOTHER. You shouldn't swear by the evil one.
KERSTI. I will swear by no one else!
MOTHER. [_Seating herself_] There is talk in the village.
KERSTI. Indeed?
MOTHER. A queer sort of talk.
KERSTI. No, really?
MOTHER. They say that Mats is to have the mill.
KERSTI [_Rising_] Is it true?
MOTHER. As true as it is that rashness always gets into trouble.
KERSTI. So Mats gets the mill? Then he will marry, I guess?
MOTHER. They talk of that, too.
KERSTI. Whom do you think?
MOTHER. Whoever it be that his fancy will take--the crown she must
surely be able to wear.
KERSTI. Oh!
MOTHER. Oh, indeed!--There is gold on your finger.
KERSTI. There is.
MOTHER. Are you pledged?
KERSTI. I am.
MOTHER. And the crown? [KERSTI _does not reply_] Have you lost it?
KERSTI. [_Walking back and forth restlessly_] You know, it was foretold
that I should wear a crown.
MOTHER. Stuff and nonsense! A virgin's crown is more beautiful than a
queen's. And happy is she who wears it with honour!
KERSTI. Oh!
MOTHER. And oh, indeed!--Little we had. Wrong we suffered. Badly we
fared. Alas the day!
KERSTI. Little we had, but shall have plenty! Luck is near!
MOTHER. Race against race, hating and hated; fire and water: now it's
coming to a boil.
KERSTI. Water may cool what the fire has heated. All will be well!
MOTHER. [_Rising to leave_] "The joy that was mine has been turned into
woe." [_She goes toward the right_] There is a wreath floating on the
water--where's the crown?
[_She goes out_.
KERSTI. It will come, it will come!
NECK. [_Appears at the foot of the falls surrounded by a bright, white
light; he wears a red cap, and a silvery tunic fastened about the
waist with a green sash; he is young and fair, with blond hair that is
falling down his back; he has a fiddle of gold with a bow of silver,
and plays to his own singing; see musical appendix, Melody No_. 12] "I
am hoping, I am hoping that my Redeemer still liveth."
KERSTI. [_Who has been lost in thought, becomes aware of the_ Neck;
_when he has repeated his song twice, she remarks sneeringly_] There is
no redeemer for you, I can tell you!
_The_ NECK _pauses for a while and looks sadly at her; then he
repeats the same song twice again_.
KERSTI. If you'll keep quiet I'll let you play at my wedding.
_The_ NECK _nods assent and vanishes into the rock behind the
falls_.
MIDWIFE. [_Enters from behind the hut wearing a wide Hack cloak and a
close-fitting black hood; she carries a bag under her cloak, and she is
very careful never to let her back be seen_] Good evening, my dear. I
hope my visit is not inconvenient.
KERSTI. You are the midwife--Mrs. Larsson--are you not?
MIDWIFE. Of course, I am. It was I that helped you, my dear....
KERSTI. Oh, yes; but you promised never to speak of it.
MIDWIFE. And we won't! How--is the little one doing?
KERSTI. [_Impatiently_] Oh, well enough!
MIDWIFE. Better not be too impatient, dear....
KERSTI. Who says I am?
MIDWIFE. The snappy voice and the tap of the little foot! But now there
is gold on your finger, I see. Then I shall be asked to a wedding
shortly, I think.
KERSTI. You?
MIDWIFE. I am always at the baptism, but can never get to a
wedding--and I think it would be such fun!
KERSTI. No doubt it would!
MIDWIFE. Of all human virtues, there is one I value above the rest....
KERSTI. I don't suppose it is chastity.
MIDWIFE. What no one has, is beyond value. That which I put value on is
gratitude.
KERSTI. You were paid, were you not?
MIDWIFE. There are services that money can't pay.
KERSTI. And people you cannot get rid of.
MIDWIFE. Exactly, my dear, and of those I am one....
KERSTI. So I find.
MIDWIFE. And there is another,
KERSTI. Who can that be?
MIDWIFE. The Sheriff!
KERSTI. [_Startled_] The Sheriff?
MIDWIFE. Yes, the Sheriff. He is a very remarkable man, and I have
heard of no one who knows the law as he does, from cover to cover....
You and I could never get all that into our heads, but--there is
one chapter I have to know by heart, being a midwife.... And a
most remarkable chapter it is, with a most remarkable number of
paragraphs.... What's the matter?
KERSTI. [_Agitated_] Tell me what you know.
MIDWIFE. Nothing at all I am nothing but a poor old woman who has come
here to get lodging for the night....
KERSTI. Lodging here?
MIDWIFE. Right here.
KERSTI. Begone!
MIDWIFE. I can't be walking the woods in the dark of the night.
KERSTI. [_Threatening her with a stick_] If you won't walk, I'll make
you run.
MIDWIFE. [_Moving back a couple of steps without turning about_] Have
we got that far now? You had better leave the stick alone, or....
KERSTI. Or what?
MIDWIFE. The Sheriff, of course, and that chapter I spoke of....
KERSTI [_With the stick raised for a blow_] Go to the devil, you cursed
witch! [_The stick breaks into small pieces_.
MIDWIFE. Ha-ha! Ha-ha!
KERSTI. [_Picks up the flint and steel, and strikes fire_] In the name
of Christ and His Passion, get thee gone!
MIDWIFE. [_Turns and runs out with the galloping movement of a wild
thing; her back, which then becomes visible, looks like that of a fox
and ends in a sweeping, bushy tail; she hisses rather than speaks_]
We'll meet at the wedding, bid or unbid! And the Sheriff, too! Ad-zee!
Ad-zee! Ad-zee!
KERSTI _takes a few faltering steps in direction of the tarn,
as if she meant to throw herself into the water_.
_Then she begins to walk up and down in front of the cradle.
After a while she takes off the round Dalecarlian jacket she
is wearing and puts it on top of the clothing already covering
the cradle. Finally she sits down on one of the stools by the
corner of the hut and buries her face in her hands_.
_The grindstone begins to whirl with a hissing sound. Little
bells, like those worn by goats, are heard ringing in the
woods. Little white flames appear among the spruces on the
hillside. Cow-bells are heard dose by. The_ NECK _appears as
before and sings the same song_.
KERSTI _rises horror-stricken and stands like a statue_.
_Tones like those produced by a harmonica are heard from the
tarn. Unseen by_ KERSTI, _the_ CHILD IN WHITE _emerges from
among the water-lilies and goes to the cradle. Then all sounds
die out. The grindstone comes to a stop. The_ NECK _disappears.
All the will-o'-the-wisps but one go out_.
_Still unseen by_ KERSTI, _the_ CHILD IN WHITE _rocks the
cradle gently, puts his ear dose to it, and draws back with an
expression of great sadness. At last he bursts into tears and
covers his face with one arm. During this scene the beltlike
tones from the tarn continue_.
_The_ CHILD IN WHITE _picks several water-lilies to pieces and
strews them on the cradle, which he finally kisses before he
descends into the tarn again. Then the last will-o'-the-wisp
disappears and the harmonica can no longer be heard_.
MIDWIFE. [_Enters again, carrying her bag so that it can be seen_]
Perhaps I shall be more welcome this time. Does the fair maiden care to
see the midwife now?
KERSTI. What do you bring?
MIDWIFE. [_Taking a bridal crown from her bag_] This!
KERSTI. What do you take?
MIDWIFE. [_Pointing toward the cradle_] "You see it, I see it, the
whole world sees it, and yet it is not there."[1]
KERSTI. Take it, then!
MIDWIFE. [_Goes to the cradle_] I have it. [_She takes stealthily
something from the cradle and drops it into her bag, which she then
hides under her cloak again_] Can I come to the wedding now?
KERSTI. Yes, come.
MIDWIFE. You must say that I'll be welcome.
KERSTI. That would be a lie.
MIDWIFE. You must practise....
KERSTI. Welcome, then--if you'll only leave me now!
MIDWIFE. [_Withdrawing backwards_]
"Four that whirl and twirl;
Eight that hurl and purl;
Four that flip-flap in a row;
Four that question where to go."[2]
[_She disappears_.
MATS. [_Is heard singing triumphantly outside; see musical appendix,
Melody No_. 13] "Come, cosset, cosset, cosset; come, cosset, cosset!"
_As_ KERSTI _hears him a happy look comes into her face, and
she seems to swell with pride and new courage_. MATS _enters,
with an armful of wood, looking joyful_.
KERSTI. [_Going to meet him_] Did you see anybody?
MATS. I did!--Now for the wedding! [_He dumps the wood into the hut_]
Let the kettle boil over--I am boiling, too.
KERSTI. Was it your father?
MATS. Father and mother. And I get the mill!
KERSTI. [_Showing her crown_] Do you see what I...?
MATS. Where did you get it?
KERSTI. Mother brought it for me.
MATS. Has she been here?
KERSTI. Happy as anything!
MATS. But the baby, the baby!
KERSTI. Sit down, Mats! Sit down! You know I can always find a way!
MATS. [_Seating himself_] But the baby!
KERSTI. There now!--Listen! Now, when trouble is on the wane and life
is smiling, don't you think a little patience might carry us very
far....
MATS. If only the course be straight....
KERSTI. Of course, straight and short.
MATS. What are you after?
KERSTI. If the big fish is to be hooked, the small ones must be
overlooked.
MATS. Can't you talk plainly?
KERSTI. Wait a little!
MATS. I am waiting.
KERSTI. The old folks make conditions.
MATS. Yes, I know.
KERSTI. They want a croton bride. What does that mean if not a bride
that wears a crown?
MATS. And wears it with honour!
KERSTI. With or without! What no one sees and no one knows does not
exist.
MATS. Let me think. [_He sits silent for a few moments_] All right! And
furthermore?
KERSTI. To hook what's big, you must overlook what's less.
MATS. Which does not mean the little one!
KERSTI. Do you mean to prove false?
MATS. I don't! Not to you, Kersti!
KERSTI. Suppose now--the banns have been read, the wedding is under
way, but the little one sleeps in the forest. Who will haste to the
house, and milk the cows, and see that baby lacks nothing? Who, I ask?
MATS. Well may you ask! [_He broods a while_] If we only dared.... What
was that you said?
KERSTI. Not a word.
MATS. It seems to me.... If we only dared....
KERSTI. What? Say it!
MATS. Say it yourself!
KERSTI. No, it's for you!
MATS. Somebody must take care of the little one.
KERSTI. Who?
MATS. There is only one.
KERSTI. Then it's easy to guess who!
MATS. Tell whom you mean.
KERSTI. No, you must tell.
MATS. Beside ourselves, there is only one who knows about the baby.
KERSTI. Who is that?
MATS. If you know, why don't you tell?
KERSTI. Because I want you to tell.
MATS. It's the midwife. Was that what you said?
KERSTI. I said nothing, but you did--and, as you know, I do what you
say.
MATS. I have my doubts.
KERSTI. But what you said I have done already. The baby can't stay
in the woods. It must have shelter when the nights grow cold. And if
anything should happen, then comes--the Sheriff!
MATS. The Sheriff, you say? Yes, so he does!
KERSTI. [_Leaping to her feet_] Is he coming, you say?
MATS. Yes, if something should happen.... Well, where's the midwife to
be found?
KERSTI. Would you like to call her?
MATS. I wish she were here!
KERSTI. And what do you want her to do?
MATS. Give the baby a home.
KERSTI. With whom?
MATS. With herself.
KERSTI. For how long?
MATS. Till the wedding is over.
KERSTI. But if he were taken sick while with her?
MATS. Better than have him freeze in the woods--better than have him
freeze to death! Take a look at the cradle. I think I heard him!
KERSTI. No, he's asleep....
MATS. Hush--I heard him.
KERSTI. No, you didn't!
MATS. Yes, I did. [_He rises_.
KERSTI. [_Placing herself in front of the cradle_] Don't you wake him!
If he should cry, somebody might hear.
MATS. Oh.... Do you think any one has--that your mother may have heard
him? Oh, Kersti, we should never have done what we have!
KERSTI. Undone were better!
MATS. [_Dejectedly_] We must take him to the midwife to-night. I must
go to the village.
KERSTI. I'll take him!
MATS. [_Going to the cradle_] Do!
KERSTI. But don't wake him!
MATS. Can't I bid him good night?
KERSTI. Don't touch him!
MATS. Think if I should never see him again!
KERSTI. Then it would be the will of Him whose will we cannot change.
MATS. His will be done!
KERSTI. Now you have said it!
MATS. What have I said that could please you like that?
KERSTI. That--that--you submit to the will of Him that performeth all
things.
MATS. [_Simply_] Yes, whatever may happen is His will, of course.
KERSTI. Of course!
MATS. Good night, then, Kersti dear, and good night, baby! [_He goes
out_.
KERSTI. Good night, Mats.
KERSTI _loosens the empty cradle from its fastenings and drops
it into the tarn, from the waters of which the_ CHILD IN WHITE
_rises to threaten her with raised forefinger. At the sight of
him_ KERSTI _shrinks back._ NECK. [_Appears in the same spot as
before, but now bareheaded and carrying a golden harp, on which
he accompanies himself; he has a threatening look as he sings;
see musical appendix, Melody No_. 20]
"Stilled are the waters, dark grows the sky:
Dark grows the sky.
Once in the world of the ages I lived,
Blessed by the sun.
Gone is the light,
Conquered by night.
Deep is my sin,
Black as the tarn.
Joy there is none;
Plenty of woe.
Torture and Shame must I name my abode:
O!"
_While the_ NECK _is singing_, KERSTI _hides the bridal crown
in the hid. Then she puts out the fire under the pot. As she
does so, the smoke pours in large quantities from the chimney,
forming a dark background against which appear fantastically
shaped and vividly coloured snakes, dragons, birds, etc_.
_When_ KERSTI _comes out of the hut again, she has on a short
Dalecarlian jacket and is carrying a bag and the alpenhorn. She
locks the door of the hut and walks across the stage with proud
bearing and firm steps just as the_ NECK _is singing the last
line_.
_Curtain_.
[1] Old Swedish folk-riddle, the real solution of which is: the horizon.
[2] An old Swedish folk-riddle, the answer of which is: a carriage. The
four lines describe respectively: (1) the wheels; (2) the hoofs of the
horses; (3) their ears; (4) their eyes.
SECOND SCENE
_The living-room of the mill. Everything is covered by white
dust. In the background, on the right-hand side, is an open
trap-door, showing part of the water-wheel. The end of the
flour chute, with a bag attached to it, is protruding from the
right wall not far from the trap-door. Near it appears a lever
used for starting and stopping the water-wheel._
_Large gates occupy the centre of the real wall. Heavy wooden
shutters dose another opening farther to the left and half-way
from the floor_.
_In the foreground, at the right, is a huge open fireplace, in
which a coal-fire is burning. An iron pot is hanging over the
fire. On the left-hand side appear a bedstead, a hand-loom, a
bobbin, a red, and a spinning-wheel. There is a door in the
right wall_.
_The following members of the family are seated in a circle in
front of the fireplace: the_ GRANDFATHER; _the_ GRANDMOTHER;
_the_ FATHER _and_ MOTHER _of_ MATS; _his sisters_, BRITA, _who
is full-grown_, ANNA, _who is half-grown, and_ LIT-KAREN, _who
is still a child; and his brother_, LIT-MATS, _who is also a
mere boy. All are smoking out of small pipes with iron bowls
and looking very serious_. BRITA _is plaiting a chain out of
human hair_. LIT-KAREN _and_ LIT-MATS _are playing with two
dolls_.
BRITA. [_To_ LIT-KAREN] Where did you get the doll?
LIT-KAREN. Kersti gave it to me.
BRITA. [_Taking the doll from her_] Away with it! [_To_ LIT-MATS] Where
did you get your doll?
LIT-MATS. Kersti gave it to me.
BRITA. [_Taking the doll_] Out with it!
FATHER. Hush! Hush! Grandfather is thinking. [_Silence_.
MOTHER. [_To_ BRITA] What are you doing?
BRITA. A watch-chain, but there is hardly hair enough.
MOTHER. Where can you get any?
BRITA. I know where it ought to be pulled.
MOTHER. Horses pull.
BRITA. Hens are picked, pigs give bristles, and maidens are
combed.--Combed hair is good, but cut is better.
FATHER. Hush, hush, grandfather is thinking. [_Silence_.
ANNA. [_In a low voice to_ BRITA] What is he thinking of?
BRITA. You'll hear by and by. And all will have to swallow.
ANNA. Is it about Mats? [BRITA _makes no answer_] And Kersti? Will
there be a wedding?
FATHER. Hush, hush, grandfather is thinking. [_Silence_.
ANNA. [_To_ BRITA] I'll give you some of my hair.
BRITA. Not the right colour.
ANNA. Who's got it? [BRITA _does not answer_] Is it Kersti you mean?
BRITA. Don't mention her. [_Silence_.
GRANDMOTHER. [_To_ GRANDFATHER] Have you thought it out?
GRANDFATHER. [_Who has been sitting with the Bible and the hymn-book in
his lap, lost in thought, wakes up_] I have! [_He opens the hymn-book
at haphazard and says to the others_] It is No. 278, the fourth verse:
"All at birth and death." Let us have it!
ALL. [_Read in unison like children at school_]
"All at birth and death are equals,
As the graveyard bones proclaim,
Poor and rich and low and mighty
In the end appear the same;
And the naked new-born baby
Brings no evidence to prove
Whether poverty or fortune
Will attend its fated groove."
GRANDFATHER. It is settled! "He that hath an ear, let him hear."--Is it
settled?
GRANDMOTHER. Not yet.
FATHER. Not quite.
MOTHER. The Lord beholdeth!
BRITA. What does the Scripture, say?
ANNA. "Doth God pervert judgment, or doth the Almighty pervert justice?"
LIT-KAREN. What do you want me to say?
GRANDFATHER. You must give us your advice, child, although we may not
take it. Out of the mouth of babes may come the truth.... Shall Kersti
have Mats?
LIT-KAREN. If they want each other.
GRANDFATHER. Well spoken! [_To_ LIT-MATS] And you, Lit-Mats?
LIT-MATS. [_With his fingers in his mouth_] I want my doll!
GRANDFATHER. And Mats wants his. Shall he have her?
LIT-MATS. If it is Kersti, he may, for she gave me the doll.
BRITA. Listen to him!
GRANDFATHER. Let us search the Scripture. [_He opens the Bible and
reads_] Genesis, thirty-fourth chapter and eighth verse. "And Hamor
communed with them, saying, The soul of my son Shechem longeth for your
daughter: I pray you give her him to wife." Is that enough?
GRANDMOTHER. Enough and to spare!
FATHER. There wasn't anything about the mill.
MOTHER. Let His will be done!
BRITA. [_Abruptly_] Amen.
ANNA. Verily, it shall be done!
LIT-KAREN. I like Kersti because she's nice.
LIT-MATS. Me, too!
FATHER. Hush, hush, grandfather is thinking. [_Silence_.
GRANDFATHER. [_To_ FATHER] Ask your brother-in-law to come in.
_The_ FATHER _goes to the door in the background, where he
stops_.
GRANDFATHER. [_Goes to the bed, pulls a box from under it, takes a
bundle of papers from the box, and turns to the_ FATHER _again_] Let
him come!
FATHER. [_Opening the door in the background_] Come in, Stig Matsson.
SHERIFF. [_Enters, dressed in uniform_] The peace of God be with you!
ALL. [_Rising_] And his blessing on you!
GRANDFATHER. It is I who have called you, Stig Matsson, and you know
the reason. Kersti Margaret Hansdaughter--[_He sighs_]--is to become
the wife of Mats Anders Larsson, my grandson. The two families have
fought and fumed at each other for a long time--all too long! At
this late hour I have come to feel that an end should be put to all
strife and ill will before my eyes are closed and I am carried to my
last rest. Take a look at these papers. [_He hands the bundle to the_
SHERIFF, _who opens it and glances at some of the papers_] They are
legal documents, deeds, wills, receipts, authorisations--belonging to
suits that have been settled or are still unsettled. Have you looked
them over?
SHERIFF. I have.
GRANDFATHER. [_Takes back the bundle_] All right! Then I shall throw
them into the fire. There is a time to hate and a time to love. The
time of hatred must come to an end I am longing for peace. Therefore,
I beg you, my next of kin, to regard all that has happened in the
past as if it had not happened at all--and I ask you: Will you forget
everything, and will you meet your new relatives without grudge or
guile, and greet them as friends? Answer me!
ALL. We will!
GRANDFATHER. Then I shall let the fire consume what is left of past
evils. [_He throws the bundle of papers into the fire, pulls the iron
lid in front of the grate, and opens three small ventilators in the
lid_] Let us be seated!
_All seat themselves in front of the fireplace, staring at the
red glare from the three ventilators_.
ANNA. [_To_ BRITA, _in a low voice_] Do you hear it sing?
BRITA. No, it moans. And within me it's aching!
_The_ GRANDFATHER _rises. Then all the rest follow his example_.
GRANDFATHER. [_To the_ FATHER] Bring them in!
_The_ FATHER _goes to the door at the right and brings in_ MATS.
_The_ MOTHER _goes to the door in the rear and opens it_.
KERSTI _enters, accompanied by her_ MOTHER, _her father, the_
SOLDIER, _who is wearing the old full-dress uniform of the
Swedish infantry of the line, and her grandfather, the_ VERGER.
GRANDFATHER. May God bless you! And be seated, please!
_All seat themselves except_ MATS, KERSTI, _and the_ SHERIFF.
MATS _has taken hold of_ KERSTI _by both hands. Long silence_.
GRANDFATHER. When is the wedding to be?
MATS. In a fortnight, as soon as the banns have been read the third
time.
GRANDFATHER. What is the hurry?
KERSTI _shows evidence of being offended_.
MATS. Haven't we waited long enough?
GRANDFATHER. Maybe you have!
MATS. [_To his relatives_] Have you no word to say to Kersti? [_Pause_]
Not one of you?
SHERIFF. [_Goes to_ KERSTI _and takes her by the hands with evident
friendliness_] Let us welcome the new child!
_Panic-stricken_, KERSTI _tries to tear herself loose_.
SHERIFF. You are not afraid of me, are you?--Oh, no!--Look me in the
face, Kersti. I have dandled you on my knees when you were a little
child, and I have held your pretty head in my hands.... Yes, you have a
very pretty head, and a forehead that makes me think of a bull. That's
why you are having your own way now, I suppose.
[_He lets go of her_.
GRANDFATHER. Let us leave the young ones alone!
_Alt rise, walk past_ MATS _and_ KERSTI, _and disappear through
the door in the rear_.
BRITA. [_Who is the last to leave, spits scornfully as she passes_
KERSTI] Fie!
MATS. [_Spitting in the same way_] Fie yourself!
KERSTI _and_ MATS _are left alone_.
MATS. I hope you will feel at home with me, Kersti!
KERSTI. With you, yes!
MATS. What have you to do with the others?
KERSTI. That's the question.
MATS. You are not marrying the family.
KERSTI. But into it.
MATS. Of course, we are not very soft or cuddlesome.
KERSTI. That's plain.... Is this the place where we are to live?
MATS. Yes, what do you think of it?
KERSTI. Everything is white....
MATS. It's the flour, you see. Do you object?
KERSTI. And damp....
MATS. It's the mill-race....
KERSTI. And cold, too....
MATS. It's the water....
KERSTI. Shall we have new furniture?
MATS. There will be nothing new. Everything is handed down from one
generation to another.
KERSTI. But we can sweep, can't we?
MATS. No, we can't! The dust in a mill is like the coating in a pipe.
Mustn't be touched!
KERSTI. Is that the wheel?
MATS. That's the wheel.
_He pulls the lever, whereupon the rushing of the water through
the race is heard, and the wheel begins to turn_.
KERSTI. Ugh! Have we to listen to that noise?
MATS. It's ours! And we should be thankful as long as we hear it,
because that means we have grist for the mill.
KERSTI. And the sun never gets here?
MATS. Never! How could it?
KERSTI. And nothing grows here--except that green stuff on the wheel.
MATS. But we catch eels here and lampreys.
KERSTI. Ugh! I like it better in the pasture, where the wind is
blowing....
MATS. And the birches rock....
KERSTI. [_Covering her face with the apron and weeping_] Must I live in
a place like this, beneath the water, at the bottom of the sea?
MATS. I was born here.
KERSTI. And here we are to die--O!
MATS. Why "O"?
KERSTI. Stop the wheel at least.
MATS. Well, if you can't get along with the wheel, then....
KERSTI. [_Opening a trap-door in the floor_] What's down here?
MATS. The river.
KERSTI. Please stop that wheel!
MATS. [_Labours with the lever, but is unable to stop the wheel]_ Well!
There must be mischief abroad!--It won't stop!
KERSTI. I shall die here!
MATS. I must go outside to stop it! There is mischief abroad, I tell
you!
KERSTI. And at home?
MATS. Oh, dear!
KERSTI. "Meow, said the cat."[1]
MATS. What is the matter?
KERSTI. Merely that I have got what I wanted.
MATS. And it was not worth having? [_The noise made by the wheel has
become, deafening, and the wheel itself has begun to turn in the
opposite direction_] Christ Jesus, help! The wheel is turning backward!
[_He runs out through the rear door_.
KERSTI _remains alone_.
_The handloom starts. The bobbin, the reel, and the
spinning-wheel begin to turn, each one in its own manner. The
stage becomes brightly illumined as if with sunlight. Then
the room turns very dark. The fireplace swings around so that
the glare from the ventilators confronts_ KERSTI _like three
burning eyes. It looks as if the fireplace were chasing her.
Then it drops back into its accustomed place. The roar of the
water-wheel increases again. The_ NECK _appears in the wheel
with the red cap on his head, and the golden fiddle in his
hand. Be sings and plays as before, repeating the brief tune
several times_.
NECK. "I am hoping, I am hoping, that my Redeemer still liveth!"
KERSTI. [_Running out through the rear door_] Mats, Mats!
_The_ NECK _disappears, but his song is still heard for a
while, as it gradually dies away in the distance_.
MIDWIFE. [_Enters, opens the small trap-door in the floor, and drops
her leather bag through it_] "If you come back, it's all off, and if
you don't, it's all on!" Now that's done! And I shall dance at the
wedding!
_She takes some dance steps, but without letting her back be
seen. The hand-loom begins to rap in waltz time, accompanied by
the bobbin, the reel, and the spinning-wheel. Then the_ MIDWIFE
_disappears through the rear door, showing her back with the
fox tail for a brief moment. The handloom, the bobbin, the
reel, and the spinning-wheel keep right on as before_.
KERSTI _enters, and at once everything stops. A moment later
the_ VERGER _enters_.
KERSTI. Is that you, grandfather?
VERGER. Yes, girl, I forgot something.
_He picks up a large leather bag which he dropped on the bed at
his first entrance_.
KERSTI. What have you there?
VERGER. I come from the sacristy, and I am taking home the numbers to
be polished.
KERSTI. What numbers?
VERGER. Those that show the hymns you are to sing, don't you know?
KERSTI. Let me see!
VERGER. [_Takes out of his bag a small black board, such as is found
in every Swedish church; it has a number of nails on which are hung
numbers made of brass_] Here you can see.... What's the matter,
sweetheart?
KERSTI. I don't know, grandfather, but I think I should never have come
here....
VERGER. What talk is that, child?
KERSTI. There is mischief astir in this house....
VERGER. Oh, mercy, no...; No, my dear....
KERSTI. Oh, oh, oh! Everything has grown so strange all of a sudden....
VERGER. But how is this going to end, Kersti?
KERSTI. Yes, tell me, tell me!
VERGER. I must go now, child. I must go back to the church and get the
crown so I can send it to a goldsmith. It has to be cleaned with cream
of tartar....
KERSTI. All right, grandfather....
VERGER. It is for your sake the crown is to be cleaned--for your own
sake, don't you know?...
[_He goes out by the rear door_.
_The_ SOLDIER _enters immediately afterward_.
KERSTI. Is that you, father?
SOLDIER. Yes, it's only me. I want my chaco, which I left in here.
[_He picks up the chaco_.
KERSTI. Oh, father, father, I am so unhappy....
SOLDIER. [_Drily_] What has happened?
KERSTI. Nothing!
SOLDIER. Why should you be unhappy, then?
KERSTI. You don't understand!
SOLDIER. [_Brusquely, as he adjusts the chin-strap of the chaco_] Come
to your senses, child!
KERSTI. Don't go, father!
SOLDIER. The sorrows of love pass quickly--Come to your senses is my
advice. Do come to your senses! [_He goes out._
BRITA _enters_.
KERSTI. And what have _you_ forgotten?
BRITA. I never forget anything.
KERSTI. What are you looking for?
BRITA. You!
KERSTI. How kindly!
BRITA. Yes, is it not?
KERSTI. You hateful thing!
BRITA. You hussy!
KERSTI. You--sister-in-law!
BRITA. Who knows?
KERSTI. Are you telling my fortune, you witch?
BRITA. Yes--a rope!
KERSTI. Should not be mentioned in the house of a hanged man!
BRITA. [_Goes to the bag attached to the end of the flour chute_] Now
I shall tell your fortune! You get the mill, and the grist will be
accordingly. [_She takes from the bag a handful of black mould out of
which she forms a small mound on the floor; then she says_]
"Vagrant women
Grind for their men
Meal out of mould
As only food."[1]
KERSTI. A witch you are, indeed!
BRITA. Yes, and one who can find buried treasures! Perhaps you will let
me find a little treasure for you?
KERSTI. Take care, you witch! Have you no shame? It's mortal sin you
are practising now! You should be burned by fire, for I am sure you
would float if thrown in the water!
BRITA. [_Taking a pinch of mould from the bag and pouring it on_
KERSTI'S _head_] To the dust I wed you, and a crown of dirt shall you
wear, so that your shame may find you out!
KERSTI. Fie on you! Fie!
VOICE. [_Like that of a small child, repeats after her_] Fie!
KERSTI. Who was that?
VOICE. Who was that?
BRITA. Guess!--That was the Mocker!
KERSTI. Who is the Mocker?
VOICE. The Mocker!
BRITA. The Mocker is the Mocker. Don't you know the Mewler?
KERSTI. The Mewler, you say? What have I got to do with that one?
VOICE. With that one!
BRITA. The wages of sin is death!
KERSTI. [_Calling through the door_] Mats!
VOICE. Mats!
KERSTI. [_In despair_] Oh! Oh! [_She unfastens one of her red garters
and ties it about her own neck_] Let me die! Let me die!
BRITA. You shall have your wish!
KERSTI. Hang me to a tree!
VOICE. To a tree!
BRITA. Not I!
MATS. [_Is heard singing outside_] "Kersti dear, is baby asleep?"
BRITA. "Far in the forest!" Fie on you! [_She goes out_.
MATS. [_Enters, looking very happy_] "Far, far, in the forest!" [_He
comes up behind_ KERSTI _and puts his hands over her eyes_] Guess who
it is!
KERSTI. Oh, you hurt me!
MATS. [_Taking hold of the garter which is still about the neck of_
KERSTI] What kind of necklace is this?
KERSTI. Let go!
MATS. [_Pulling playfully at the garter_] Now I have you! Now you are
my prisoner, my dove, my goat that I bought for a groat! [_He leads
her about by the garter_] My little white kid! My little pet cow!
[_Singing_] "Come, cosset, cosset, cosset! Come, cosset, cosset!"
KERSTI. Yes, you can be happy, Mats!
MATS. I am, and guess why?
KERSTI. Can't any longer!
MATS. Because I met the midwife, and she brought word of the little one.
KERSTI. Did she?
MATS. She did! He's sleeping, she said, so quietly, so quietly.
KERSTI. Oh!
MATS. Far in the forest!--What's that in your hair?
KERSTI. Mould.
MATS. Have you been buried?
KERSTI. Yes, already!
MATS. [_Brushing the mould out of her hair_] Ugh! Who did that?
KERSTI. Can't you tell?
MATS. Brita with the evil eye?
KERSTI. Can't you blind it?
MATS. Not I! The only one who can is Jesus Christ!
_A church-bell sounds the call to even-song_.
KERSTI. Fray for me!
MATS. One must do that for oneself.
KERSTI. But suppose you can't?
MATS. You can if your conscience is clear.
KERSTI. But when _is_ it?
MATS. Do you hear the even-song bell?
KERSTI. No!
MATS. But I do; so you must hear it, too.
KERSTI. I don't, I don't! Alas the day!
MATS. Can you hear the rapids?
KERSTI. The roar of the rapids, the beat of the flail, the tinkle of
cowbells--but of holy bells not a sound!
MATS. That's a bad sign! I remember when the bells were rung at the
burial of our former sheriff--we could see them move, but not a sound
was heard. A bad sign!
KERSTI. Brita put a spell on me!
MATS. It will be worst for herself.
KERSTI. Come to the pasture! I must see the sun!
MATS. I will--Kersti dear!
KERSTI. Oh!
MATS. [_Putting his arms about her and pressing her head to his
breast_] Oh!
_Curtain_.
[1] Part of an old saw, the rest of which reads as follows: "when it
was spanked for licking up the cream."
THIRD SCENE
_The eve of the wedding. The house of_ KERSTI'S _parents_.
_Above the door in the rear hangs a smalt tin plate on
which are painted the_ SOLDIER'S _regimental number and the
coat-of-arms of Dalecarlia. There is a window on either side
of the door, both filled with potted plants. The floor is of
pine boards, full of knot-holes and nail-heads, but scrubbed
immaculately dean_.
_Half-way down the left wall is an open fireplace with a hood.
On the same side, nearer the footlights, stands a wooden seat
covered with brightly coloured home-made draperies_.
_Against the opposite wall stands a chest of drawers surmounted
by a mirror, over which a white veil has been draped. A pair of
candlesticks and a few simple ornaments are arranged in front
of the mirror. A table and a wooden seat are placed between the
chest and the footlights. On the wall above this seat hangs
the_ SOLDIER'S _old-fashioned musket, with stock of birch wood,
stained yellow, red leather sling, and percussion-lock. His
chaco, cartridge-case, and white bandoleer with bayonet are
grouped around the musket. Below appears a portrait of King
Charles XV of Sweden in full uniform_.
_A landscape with stacks of sheaves in the fields can be seen
through the windows and the open door in the rear_.
_When the curtain rises, a maid servant is at work by the
fireplace scouring and polishing copper pans, iron pots, and
coffee-kettles_.
_The_ VERGER _is seated at the table on the right-hand side
engaged in polishing the brass numbers of the hymn-board,
which is lying on the table beside him. There lies also the
collection-bag of red velvet with embroideries in silver and
a small bell attached to the bottom of it for the rousing of
sleeping worshippers_.
_The_ SOLDIER, _in undress uniform and forage-cap, is seated at
the same table, looking over some papers on which he is making
notes with a pencil, the point of which he wets from time to
time_.
LIT-KAREN _and_ LIT-MATS _stand beside the table, with their
chins resting on the edge of it, watching the_ VERGER. _Their
eyes are agog, and their fingers in their mouths. The_ VERGER
_smiles at them and strokes their hair from time to time. The_
MOTHER _is standing by the fireplace drying a couple of towels.
As the curtain rises, the merry singing of girls is heard from
the outside, but the atmosphere in the room is oppressive, and
everybody is trying to lose himself in what he has at hand,
forgetful of the rest_.
GIRLS. [_Singing outside; see musical appendix, Melody No_. 14]
"When I was a little lassie, herding on the hill,
One day I lost the bell-cow and Gossamer, too.
I stood upon a rock and called and cried with a will,
Till I heard Gossamer begin to moo
In a pasture far, far away.
'Hush,' said Pine-tree,
'She will surely find thee,'
Hemlock told me not to stumble;
Willow asked me not to grumble;
Birch-tree said I could not hope to miss a spanking."
SOLDIER. [_Looks up from his work and remarks phlegmatically to the_
MOTHER] Say, Mother!
MOTHER. We-ell?
SOLDIER. Was it three quarters we got off the place last year?
MOTHER. Yes, that's right.
VERGER. Haven't the girls come out of the bath yet?
MOTHER. No.... This business of the wedding takes a lot of people....
We should be bringing in the oats.... And it will soon be time to pick
berries....
VERGER. Yes, the dog-days are most over. You can see it on the flies;
they're kind of drowsy.... Will there be a lot of berries this year?
MOTHER. Yes. [_Silence_.
SOLDIER. Will those girls never come back?
MOTHER. I don't know what can be keeping them so long.
SOLDIER. It's hot.
VERGER. It must be bad in camp.
SOLDIER. Well, it isn't so very hard on the infantry....
VERGER. You were lucky to get leave.
SOLDIER. I guess I was!
MOTHER. Now they are coming.
SOLDIER. Did you see that they had something to eat and drink?
MOTHER. Yes, right in the bath, and plenty of it. [_Silence_.
_The girls are heard outside, talking and laughing_. KERSTI
_enters first, white-faced, with her wet hair streaming down
her back. She is followed by_ BRITA, ANNA, _and the four
bridesmaids_, ELSA, RICKA, GRETA, _and_ LISA. _The maids are
carrying jars and wine-glasses which they put down by the
fireplace_. KERSTI, BRITA, _and_ ANNA _carry long bath-towels
with coloured borders, which they hang up by the door_.
_The_ MOTHER _puts a chair in the middle of the floor and
makes_ KERSTI _sit on it_. KERSTI'S _hair having first been
carefully dried with towels, the_ MOTHER _begins to comb
it. The maids duster on the bench at the left_. BRITA _seats
herself so that she can stare at_ KERSTI. _No greetings are
exchanged, and no emotion of any hind is shown_.
MOTHER. Give me the mirror.
KERSTI. Don't! I don't want any mirror.
BRITA. You ought to look at yourself, as you won't let anybody else see
you.
KERSTI. What do you mean?
BRITA. Hard to tell, isn't it?--Nice hair you've got. Can I have it, if
it should come off?
KERSTI. No, you can't!
MOTHER. What would you do with it?
BRITA. Watch-chain for Mats.
MOTHER. [_To her daughter_] Won't you let Mats have it?
KERSTI. No, I won't!
BRITA. [_Taking from her skirt-bag the same piece of work on which she
was employed in the previous scene_] I'll never be able to match the
colour.
KERSTI. You can have it when I am dead.
BRITA. That's a promise, but will you keep it?
KERSTI. I will! [_Silence_.
SOLDIER. Say, Mother.... Please keep quiet a while, children.... Do you
know if the sergeant has been asked?
MOTHER. Vesterlund? Of course!
SOLDIER. It's to be at four o'clock in the church, isn't it?
MOTHER. That's right.
SOLDIER. [_Putting his papers together_] Then I'll go and see the
Pastor now.... And I'll go right on to the sexton.... [_To himself_]
Hm-hm! That was that! Hm-hm!
[_He goes out pensively without greeting anybody. Silence_.
VERGER. Now, my dears, I hope you won't touch anything.
LIT-KAREN. I'll look after Lit-Mats and see that he doesn't.
VERGER. So you're going to look after him, are you?
MOTHER. Where are you going, father?
VERGER. To the store to get the crown, which should be back from the
city by this time.
BRITA. [_Sneeringly_] Oh--the crown!
VERGER. [_Rising_] The goldsmith has had it, you know--to clean it with
cream of tartar. That's what you do with silver: you boil it in cream
of tartar.
BRITA. [_As before_] Ha-ha!
MOTHER. [_To the_ Verger] Wait a moment, and I'll go along to the store.
VERGER. Is it safe to leave the children alone?
BRITA. What do you fear might happen?
MOTHER. Why, they are grown-up people!
BRITA. And Kersti likes to be alone for that matter. She can't stand
having anybody look at her....
MOTHER. Now, now!
BRITA. When she is bathing, she doesn't want any company at all. But,
of course, she's grown-up, so she doesn't have to be afraid....
KERSTI _is turning and twisting to escape the stare of BRITA_.
MOTHER. Keep still, girl!
BRITA. No, she's no longer any child. She's outgrown that, and a lot
more. Perhaps the crown won't fit her even? Have you tried it on?
VERGER. [_Quietly_] That's what we are going to do in a little while.
_He goes out accompanied by the_ MOTHER. _Silence_.
KERSTI _seats herself at the table on the right-hand side and
begins to play with the brass numbers_.
BRITA. [_Pursuing_ KERSTI _with her stare_] A merry wedding eve, isn't
it?
KERSTI. Do you want to play games?
BRITA. We might play "papa and mamma and the children."
KERSTI. Would you like to guess riddles?
BRITA. I have already guessed....
KERSTI. Or sing?
BRITA. "Hush-a-bye, baby," I suppose you mean?... No, let us read the
Bible.
KERSTI. The Bible, you say?
BRITA. Yes--Genesis, thirty-fourth and eight.
KERSTI. About Shechem, you mean?
BRITA. Exactly, and about Dinah, for whom his heart was longing.... Do
you know who Dinah was?
KERSTI. She was the daughter of Jacob and Leah.
BRITA. That's right. And do you know what she was?
KERSTI. Is that a riddle?
BRITA. Not at all. Do you know what she was?
KERSTI. No.
BRITA. She was a little--spoiled!
KERSTI. Is that a play on words?
BRITA. More than that!
KERSTI _lets her head fall forward as if wishing to hide her
face_.
BRITA. Do you understand? [_Pause_] Is Mrs. Larsson the only one _you_
have asked?
KERSTI. Have I asked?... The midwife, you say?
BRITA. Well, so she says.
KERSTI. Then she is lying!
BRITA. As midwife she has been sworn, although I couldn't tell whether
her oath be false or fair. Just now she swears that she doesn't lie.
KERSTI _lets her head droop again_.
BRITA. Hold up your head! Can't you look people in the face?
KERSTI. [_To the other girls_] Say something, girls! [_Silence_.
BRITA. It's hard to say anything when one has seen nothing. But
nevertheless--one knows what one knows!
SHERIFF. [_Appearing in the doorway_] I am making free.... It won't matter
if an old fellow like me gets in to the girls--although the boys have
to keep out!
BRITA. [_Shaking her fist in the face of_ KERSTI] But you'll never wear
the crown!
KERSTI. You don't say!
BRITA _goes out_.
_The_ SHERIFF _pulls up a chair and sits down beside_ KERSTI.
_The girls sneak out of the room one by one_. LIT-MATS _stays
behind, clinging to the skirt of_ KERSTI.
_It is plain that the intentions of the_ SHERIFF _are kindly,
and so are his words, but the more discreet he tries to be,
the more awkward he becomes, and so all his words assume an
ambiguous meaning_.
SHERIFF. [_Taking one of_ KERSTI'S _hands and looking her straight in
the eyes_] What sort of a bride is this, looking so sad when she is
getting her heart's desire? What is the matter?
KERSTI. With what?
SHERIFF. Is that the way to answer an old friend who will be a kinsman
by this hour to-morrow? There is more than one lass who envies you, and
who would like to get to the altar ahead of you to-morrow.
KERSTI. Maybe there is.
SHERIFF. And there is the new life ahead of you, in mill and kitchen.
No more running about in the woods, where "birches nod in the blowing
breeze." No more dancing in the barns on Saturday nights. You'll be
busy 'tending your pots, and watching the cradle, and having the meals
on the table when Mats comes home, and--keeping an even temper when the
dark days arrive--for after sunshine there is sure to be a little rain.
Does it scare you to find life so serious, dear? It isn't as bad as it
looks. It merely helps to make life kind of solemn.
KERSTI. Oh!
SHERIFF. What are you oh-ing about, girl?--There seems to be something
in the air that has no place in the thoughts of a young girl--something
amiss. Now, my dear, let me see if I can't straighten it out.
[_Jestingly_] The guardian of the law knows how to get the truth out of
all sorts of people. What's on your mind, dear? Has Mats been nasty to
you?
KERSTI. Oh, mercy!
SHERIFF. Has the family been playing the high-and-mighty? What have you
to do with the family anyhow?
LIT-MATS _climbs into the lap of_ KERSTI, _puts his arms about
her, nestles up to her as close as he can get, and falls
asleep_.
SHERIFF. Look at that little chap now! He likes his sister-in-law, and
that's a good sign. Children always know their real friends. Are you
fond of children, Kersti?
KERSTI. [_Suspiciously_] Why do you ask?
SHERIFF. That's not the right kind of an answer!... Don't you think
it's nice to have a little thing like that--to hold it on your lap
and feel how it trusts you--just as if there could never be any harm
or deceit in the bosom that shelters it.... I think he's falling
asleep. Helpless as he is, he's not afraid of trusting his sleep to a
stranger--who means nothing but well by him, I am sure.
KERSTI. Have you seen anything of Mats?
SHERIFF. He was busy with the boys making the mill ready for the dance
to-morrow. [_Silence_] It's some time since we saw a crown bride in
this place.
KERSTI. Is that so?
SHERIFF. Yes, indeed. The old ways are gone, and new ones have come
in--from the cities and the camps....
KERSTI. [_Pertly_] They used to blame the fellows who came to buy the
timber.
SHERIFF. Yes, but if it hadn't been for them, there would have been no
mill....
KERSTI. They are always putting the blame on somebody else....
SHERIFF. You are getting a nice husband, Kersti....
KERSTI. Yes, he's fine--too fine for me!
SHERIFF. That's a bitter answer to a kind word!
KERSTI. There was nothing bitter about it--nothing but the truth....
SHERIFF. Why should it be so hard for us to understand each other? It
looks almost as if you didn't want us to be friends?
KERSTI. Why do you think so?
SHERIFF. What is well meant, you take badly, and the other way around.
Well--that happens frequently when there is something amiss.
KERSTI. What's amiss?
SHERIFF. I don't know.
KERSTI. Neither do I, but it isn't customary to say things like that to
a young girl.
SHERIFF. Now, now!--Where there's no sick conscience, you don't have to
walk in your stocking feet--but, but, but....
KERSTI. Has the examination begun already?
SHERIFF. I didn't mean....
KERSTI. The--"guardian of the law" doesn't know how to talk to ladies.
SHERIFF. [_Sharply_] Kersti!
KERSTI. What is it?
SHERIFF. [_Looking hard at her_] What do you mean? KERSTI. What do you
mean yourself?
SHERIFF. Lo and behold! That's just the kind of questions asked by _my_
ladies when they want to find out whether I know anything.
KERSTI. What could there be to know?
SHERIFF. Whew--is the wind in that corner? Well, well! [_Silence_]
Well--I guess I'll be going! Yes, I had better be going!
_He goes out by the rear door, stepping very softly and putting
his forefinger across his lips as if meaning to enforce silence
on himself_.
KERSTI, _left alone, kisses the head of the sleeping_ LIT-MATS.
MATS _appears at the right-hand window_.
_The twilight has come, but it is the lingering, luminous
twilight of the northern summer night_.
MATS. Hey!
KERSTI. Mats! Oh, come here!
MATS. I mustn't come in--I have promised.
KERSTI. Yes, do!
MATS. No, no!--Is the little one asleep?
KERSTI. This one--yes!--Hush! Hush!
_A bugle-call is faintly heard in the distance. It is the
summons to evening service in the camp of the regiment to
which_ KERSTI'S _father belongs. (See the musical appendix,
Melody No_. 15.)
KERSTI. [_Scared_] Are they hunting again?
MATS. No, who would be hunting at this time of day?
KERSTI. What is it?
MATS. A soldier's daughter you are, and don't know!
KERSTI. Tell me!
MATS. That's at the camp, you know. They are calling them to evening
prayers.
KERSTI. Of course--but everything seems strange and confused!
MATS. Come to the window, Kersti.
KERSTI. I think.... I'll just put the little one away.
MATS. The little one, you say?
KERSTI. [_Rises very carefully and carries_ LIT-MATS _to the bench by
the fireplace, where she pulls him down and covers him up_] Hushaby,
hushaby!
_The singing of a hymn in unison is heard from the camp_.
KERSTI _kneels beside the bench and tries to pray, bid merely
wrings her hands in despair. At last she kisses the shoes of
the sleeping child, struggles to her feet, and goes to window_.
MATS. There is something nice about children, isn't there?
KERSTI. Yes--yes!
MATS. Are you alone?
KERSTI. Yes, they left! Hating me--all of them!
MATS. To-morrow is our wedding-day!
KERSTI. Yes--think of it!
MATS. Yes, think of it--to-morrow is our wedding-day!
KERSTI. And I shall be living in the mill!
MATS. In the mill with me!
KERSTI. Till death us do part!
MATS. Which won't be soon!
KERSTI. Oh!
_Curtain_.
FOURTH SCENE
_The wedding. The living-room at the mill has been cleared
for the occasion. The big doors in the rear stand wide open.
Through the doorway is seen a large loft, where a number
of tables have been spread for the impending feast, of
which coffee is to form one of the principal features. The
shutters covering the rectangular opening to the left of the
main doorway are also open, disclosing a table with several
candlesticks on it. On this table the fiddlers subsequently
take up their position_.
_The opening to the water-wheel appears to the right of the
main door. The hand-loom, the bobbin, the reel, and the
spinning-wheel have disappeared_.
_On the floor, beneath the place reserved for the fiddlers,
stands the "old men's table," with a full equipment of jugs,
mugs, pipes, and playing-cards_.
_A number of chairs and benches occupy the middle of the floor,
and on these are spread clean white sheets, pillow-cases, and
towels for drying_.
_As the curtain rises, six servant-girls are busily grinding
coffee on as many hand-mills, while from the outside are heard
the ringing of church-bells and a bridal march played on
violins. When the coffee is ground, the girls begin to gather
up the linen and sing while they are doing so_.
GIRLS. [_Singing; see musical appendix, Melody No_. 16]
"Dillery-deering!
Twelve in the clearing:
Twelve men glare at me,
Twelve swords flare at me.
Kine they are slaughtering;
Sheep they are quartering;
Naught but my life they're leaving:
Dillery-deering!"
_The bridal procession is drawing near. The girls put the
benches and chairs where they belong and go out with their
burdens of linen_.
_The stage is left empty for a few moments, all the sounds
previously heard having died out_.
_Then the song of the_ NECK _is heard from the water-wheel,
while he himself remains unseen_.
NECK. [_Singing outside_] "I am hoping, I am hoping, that my Redeemer
still liveth."
_The trap-door in the floor is raised and the_ MEWLER _ascends
from the hole: a blurred mass of white veils beneath which
the outlines of a small infant in long clothes are barely
discernible. This apparition remains hovering above the opening
in the floor_.
_Then the bridal march is again heard outside. The song of
the_ NECK _ceases, and the_ MEWLER _disappears, the trap-door
falling back into its wonted position_.
_The bridal procession enters the room. First come the
fiddlers, then the bridesmaids and bridesmen. After these come
the bride and the groom, and then follow the_ PASTOR, _the
parents of the couple, the members of both families, friends,
and young people. Everybody seems depressed, and the entrance
is made in gloomy silence_.
_The bride is led to a chair in the middle of the floor, placed
so that she must face the trap-door in the floor. She is very
pale and does not look up at all. The guests pass in front of
her as in review. Now and then one stops and says a few words
to her. Little by little they disappear into the loft in the
rear_.
MATS. [_To_ KERSTI] Now the worst is over, Kersti.
[_He goes out_.
BRITA. [_Heading the bridesmaids, to_ KERSTI] You have got the
crown--see that you keep it! [_She and the maids go out_.
KERSTI'S MOTHER. [_Making sure that the crown is on straight_] Keep
your back straight and your head high, girl!
[_She goes out_.
SOLDIER. [_To_ KERSTI] God bless you! [_Goes out_.
VERGER. [_To_ KERSTI] And protect you! [_Goes out_.
MATS'S GRANDFATHER. [_To_ KERSTI] Comely you are as I am homely! [_Goes
out_.
MATS'S MOTHER. [_To_ KERSTI] Your new family bids you welcome! [_She
goes out_.
MATS'S FATHER. [_To_ KERSTI] _My_ daughter now--the old ties have been
loosed! [_He goes out_.
SHERUT. [_To_ KERSTI] Why so pale? What draws all the blood to your
heart? What is weighing on it?
KERSTI. [_Raising her head at last to give the_ SHERIFF _a furious
look_] Nothing!
SHERIFF. So little is a lot!
KERSTI. Go!
SHERIFF. When you ride, I'll go ahead of you--but we won't be headed
for the same place. When you kneel, I shall be standing, but the cold
steel you'll taste won't be in my hands.
KERSTI. Oh, I wish you'd break your neck!
SHERIFF. [_Putting the palm of his hand on her neck_] Take care of your
own! [_He goes out_.
_The rest of_ MATS'S _relatives file past her, greeting her
coldly_.
_The fiddlers have in the meantime taken their places, and
several old men have sat down at the table reserved for them
and begun to smoke. Now the fiddlers strike up an old Swedish
polka. (See the musical appendix, Melody No_. 17.)
_At the same time the_ NECK _begins to play the melody heard
in the first scene, but so powerfully that it sounds like two
violins. (See musical appendix, Melody No_. 18.)
_As soon as the dance music is heard, cries of_ "Off with
the crown!" _are raised, first in the loft, and then in the
living-room_.
KERSTI _becomes alarmed_.
_The_ PASTOR _goes up to her_.
FIDDLERS. [_Crying, as they become aware of the playing of the_ NECK]
Who is cutting in?
ALL. [_Repeat without looking at the water-wheel or knowing from whence
the strange music is heard_] Who is cutting in?
_Then the_ NECK _ceases playing, while the fiddlers continue.
The_ PASTOR _takes the bride by the hand and begins to lead her
around the room in a stately and solemn manner. Just as he puts
his arm about_ KERSTI'S _waist in order to open the dance with
her the_ NECK _begins to play again_.
KERSTI. [_Dropping the crown, which rolls into the mill-race_] Jesus
Christ!
_All the people in the living-room get on their feet and cry_:
"The crown's in the mill-race!"
_Those in the rear room shout back_: "What's up?"
_Those in the living-room repeat_: "The crown's in the
mill-race!"
_The fiddlers suddenly stop their playing. The whole place is
in wild commotion_.
MATS. [_Appearing in the doorway_] We must look for it!
ALL. We must look for it!
PASTOR. God help us and protect us!
ALL. God help us and protect us!
SHERIFF. Let us look for it!
ALL. Let us look for it!
MATS. Yes, let's look!
_All disappear by the rear door, leaving_ KERSTI _alone on the
stage. She seats herself on the same chair as before. In the
meantime the stage has gradually been darkened._
_The water-wheel begins to turn_.
NECK. [_Appears in the wheel with his harp, and sings_]
"Stilled are the waters, dark grows the sky:
Dark grows the sky.
Once in the world of the ages I lived,
Blessed by the sun.
Gone is the light,
Conquered by night.
Deep is my sin,
Black as the tarn.
Joy there is none;
Plenty of woe.
Torture and Shame must I name my abode:
O!"
_When the_ NECK _begins to sing, the trap-door flies open right
at the feet of_ KERSTI, _and the_ MEWLER _appears as before_.
_At first_ KERSTI _stares at the apparition with horror. Then
she seizes it and presses it to her breast_.
_The_ NECK _stops his song and disappears. Instead the voice of
a child (the_ MOCKER) _is heard from the opening in the floor_.
MOCKER. Cold is the river; warm is my mother's bosom. Nothing you gave
me in life: in death I take what is mine!
KERSTI. [_Who has been rocking the_ MEWLER _on her arm_, _puts a hand
to her breast as if feeling acute pain_] Oh, help! Save me!
MIDWIFE. [_Trips in fussily_] Here I am! Here I am! Mustn't take on
like that! [_She takes the_ MEWLER _from_ KERSTI _and drops it through
the hole in the floor_] I know how to handle little ones! I help them
into the world and out of it.... And I got to the wedding after all!
BRITA _has in the meantime appeared where the fiddlers were
seated before, and she has seen the_ MIDWIFE _hide something
under the floor_.
MIDWIFE. The Neck was also asked, I understand. Did he come?
KERSTI. What will you take to get out of here?
MIDWIFE. What you have lost!
KERSTI. You mean the crown?
MIDWIFE. Not exactly.... Hush!... I think I heard somebody! Then I'll
hide in the fireplace for a while.... I got here after all, as you see!
_She steps into the fireplace and closes the iron shutters
behind her_.
BRITA. [_Enters and goes up to_ KERSTI] Now it's you or me!
KERSTI. You, then!
BRITA. A present is waiting for you.
KERSTI. Let's see!
BRITA. Bracelets--but not from me! [_Silence_] Bracelets of steel!
[_She places herself on the trap-door_] Now my foot is on your head
and on your heart! Now I shall stamp your secret out of the earth, or
the water, or the fire--wherever it may be! [_Silence_] Now I shall
have your hair for my watch-chain, which is not what it seems. Where
is the Midwife? Where is the guest of honour at this virginal wedding?
You stole the crown, and the Neck stole it from you. You have stolen
the mill, but it will be returned. Shechem's Dinah has proved not only
spoiled, but soiled! The little one is asleep, not in the forest, but
in the river! You have put my brother to shame, and our whole family,
and the name that we bear! And now you shall die!
KERSTI. [_Submissively_] I am dead! I have been dying for days.... Are
you satisfied now?
BRITA. No, you shall go on dying for days to come! You shall die for
perjury, falsehood, murder, theft, slander, deceit! You shall die six
times over! And when you really die the seventh time, it will seem so
only! You shall not rest in consecrated ground! You shall have no black
coffin with stars of silver on it! You shall have no spruce strewn and
no bells rung....
KERSTI. I suppose not!
BRITA. Therefore.... [_Heavy steps are heard outside_] Do you hear
those steps? Count them! [_She counts in time with the approaching
steps of the_ SHERIFF] One, two, three, four, five, six....
_The_ SHERIFF _enters from the rear_. BRITA _goes to him and
whispers something in his ear_.
SHERIFF. It's here, you say?
BRITA. Not the crown, I guess!
SHERIFF. Something else, then! [_He raises the trap-door and looks
down_] No, it is not the crown! Poor Kersti! Did you put it there?
KERSTI. I did not!
SHERIFF. No?--Tell the truth!
KERSTI. I did not put it there!
BRITA. [_Striking her on the mouth_] The truth!
KERSTI. I did not put it there!
BRITA. [_Putting her hand in the_ SHERIFF'S _pocket and taking out a
pair of handcuffs_] On with the bracelets!
SHERIFF. [_To_ BRITA] Born executioner--that's what _you_ are! [_He
puts his hands to his face and weeps_] God have mercy on us!
PASTOR. [_Entering from the rear_] Has it been found?
SHERIFF. Not that, but....
PASTOR. Say no more! I know.... [_Putting his hands to his face and
weeping_] God have mercy on us!
SOLDIER. [_Entering from the rear_] Have you found the crown?
SHERIFF. Not that, but....
SOLDIER. Enough! I know....
[_Begins to weep, with his hands to his face_.
KERSTI'S MOTHER. [_Entering from the rear_] Have you found the crown?
SHERIFF. No, no!
MOTHER. Oh!
_She looks hard at_ KERSTI, _who is holding out her hands to
meet the handcuffs, which_ BRITA _puts on her_.
MOTHER. [_Screaming_] Oh!
_Snatching up a pair of shears, she cuts off_ KERSTI'S _hair
and throws it to_ BRITA, _who catches it and sniffs at it as if
enjoying its odour. The_ MOTHER _then strips her daughter of
the veil and other bridal ornaments. At last she throws a shawl
over her head_.
MATS. [_Entering from the rear, stops in front of_ KERSTI _and looks at
her in surprise_] Who is that?
BRITA. Look well!
MATS. [_Looking more closely at_ KERSTI] She reminds me of somebody!
BRITA. Look well!
MATS. I don't know her.
BRITA. Grant God you never had!
MATS. The eyes are different.... But the mouth--that sweet mouth--and
the little chin.... No, it is not she! [_He turns away from_ KERSTI
_and catches sight of the open trap-door_] What's that? You are
standing here as if it were a grave....
BRITA. It is a grave!
MATS. Of what?
BRITA. Of everything--everything that made your life worth while!
MATS. That means the little one!--Who did it?
BRITA. [_Pointing to_ KERSTI] She, and she, and she!
MATS. It is not true!
_All who were in the room at the beginning and who left to look
for the crown, have gradually returned, and are now crowded
together in the background, no one saying a word or making the
least noise_.
BRITA. It is true!
MATS. You liar!
SOLDIER. [_To_ BRITA] You liar born of liars!
MATS'S RELATIVES. [_Gathering on the left side of_ KERSTI] You liar
born of thieves and liars! That's you!
KERSTI'S RELATIVES [_Gathering on her right side_] No, that's you!
PASTOR. Peace! Peace! In the name of the Lord!
ALL. Peace.
SHERIFF. No one must be condemned untried!
ALL. Let us hear!
SHERIFF. Who brings the charge?
ALL. Who brings the charge?
BRITA. I, Brita Lisa Larsson.
ALL. Brita Lisa Larsson brings the charge. Against whom?
BRITA. Against Kersti Margaret Hansdaughter.
ALL. Against Kersti Margaret Hansdaughter!--What is the charge?
BRITA. If bride be spoiled, the crown is forfeit!
KERSTI'S RELATIVES. And your evidence?
BRITA. Two witnesses make valid evidence.
MATS'S RELATIVES. Two witnesses make valid evidence!
KERSTI'S RELATIVES. We challenge them!
SHERIFF. No challenging without good cause!
BRITA. "If unmarried woman puts away child that comes to its death, the
life of the mother shall be forfeit!"
MATS'S RELATIVES. Her life is forfeit!
KERSTI'S RELATIVES. [_Drawing closer with menacing gestures_]
"Empty-headed men and meanly tempered never know that they are far from
faultless."[1]--The fault is Mats's!
MATS'S RELATIVES. The fault is not Mats's!
KERSTI'S RELATIVES. The fault is his who did the deed!
MATS'S RELATIVES. [_With raised fists_] What deed? You had better ask
Kersti!
KERSTI'S RELATIVES. Ask her!
SHERIFF. [_To_ KERSTI] Did you kill the child?
KERSTI. I did!
MATS'S RELATIVES. There you hear!
KERSTI'S RELATIVES. God have mercy!
MATS'S RELATIVES. Now you can hear!
MATS _has been standing at the fireplace lost in thought, with
his back to the rest. Suddenly he tears off everything that
indicates his character of bridegroom. After a brief moment of
hesitation, he leaps like mad on the table in the rear and
disappears through the opening where the fiddlers were seated
before_.
PASTOR. [_Who has been weeping silently, with his hands covering his
face, goes to the open trap-door and says_]
"To the dead
Give peace, O Lord,
And console
The living!"[2]
_All bend their heads, shade their faces with one hand, and
pray in silence, as the custom is when the Lord's Prayer is
read in a Swedish church or at a grave_.
PASTOR. May the Lord bless you and protect you!
ALL. [_With their faces buried in their hands_] Amen!
_Everybody leaves silently and sadly. When_ KERSTI _alone
remains, the_ SHERIFF _locks the doors in the rear. Then he
fastens the shutters covering the opening where the fiddlers
were seated_.
_From the fireplace is heard a loud noise as of thunder_.
NECK. [_Appears in the water-wheel with his fiddle and plays and sings
as before_] "I am hoping, I am hoping that thy Redeemer still liveth."
_This he repeats several times, while_ KERSTI _is kneeling on
the floor with her handcuffed arms raised toward heaven._
_The_ CHILD IN WHITE _enters from behind the fireplace with a
basket full of spruce branches and flowers_.
_The_ NECK _stops singing and disappears_.
_The_ CHILD IN WHITE _strews the spruce branches on the floor
so that a green path is formed to the edge of the trap-door.
When he has reached this, he drops flowers into the hole, from
which the bell-like notes of the harmonica are heard_.
_Unseen by_ KERSTI, _he goes up to her, places his hands on her
head and stands still with upturned face as if in prayer_.
_The face of_ KERSTI, _which until then has shown deep despair,
assumes an expression of quiet happiness_.
_Curtain_.
[1] From the Poetic Edda: "The Song of the High One." See introduction.
[2] From the Poetic Edda: "The Song of the Sun." See introduction.
FIFTH SCENE
_The porch of a country church appears at the right in the
foreground. It is brilliantly white, with a roof of black
shingle_. Near the entrance is a sort of pillory, at the foot
of which KERSTI _lies in penitential garb, with the hood pulled
forward to cover her face_.
_A big lake, surrounded by a typical Dalecarlian landscape,
forms the background. At the foot of the open place before the
church is a boat-landing. A point of land projects into the
lake at the right, and there stands the scaffold, consisting
of a simple wooden platform with a block on it. Two soldiers,
fully armed, stand "at ease" by the entrance to the porch, from
within which an organ prelude is heard when the curtain rises_.
_Two large "church-boats" (of the kind used on Lake Siljan in
Dalecarlia) gliding slowly forward from opposite directions,
arrive at the landing simultaneously. The rowers have raised
their oars and appear to be disputing about the right of
landing_.
MATS'S RELATIVES _are in the boat at the left_; KERSTI'S
RELATIVES _in the boat at the right_.
MATS'S RELATIVES. Look out, Mewlings!
KERSTI'S RELATIVES. Look out, millers!
MATS'S RELATIVES. [_Raising their oars in menace_] Look out!
KERSTI'S RELATIVES. [_In the same way_] Look out!
MATS'S RELATIVES. Can you match us with eight pairs?
KERSTI'S RELATIVES. With sixteen, if needs be! Come on!
MATS'S RELATIVES. At 'em! At 'em!
_They begin to fight with the oars_.
PASTOR. [_Standing bareheaded in prow of the boat at the left_] Peace!
Peace in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ!
KERSTI'S RELATIVES. Peace!
MATS'S RELATIVES. War! War on life and death!
PASTOR. Peace!
MATS'S RELATIVES. War!
_The_ VERGER _comes running from the porch, seizes the
bell-rope and begins to toll the bell_.
_At the first stroke, all oars are lowered, the boats are
brought to the landing and tied up side by side. The_ PASTOR
_is the first one to leave the boat at the left. He is followed
by_ MATS, _who carries a small white coffin trimmed with lace.
Then the relatives and friends of_ MATS _gradually step on
shore_.
_The_ SOLDIER _leaves the other boat ahead of all the rest and
is followed by his wife. Then come the relatives and friends
of_ KERSTI.
_The people on both sides adjust their clothing while throwing
angry glances at their opponents_.
_At last_ MATS _with the coffin leads the way up to the church,
followed by the_ PASTOR.
MATS. [_Whose face shows intense despair, stops in front of_ KERSTI]
Here is the little one now. He's so light--as light as the mind of a
bad woman. He's asleep--and soon you will be sleeping, too.
KERSTI. [_Raising her head so that the hood falls back_] O!
Mats. "O," indeed! It's the end, while A is the beginning. Between
those two lie many letters, but the last one of all is O. Cry "O"
again--the last time of all--so that the little one may hear it. He
will tell the Lord and the Saviour, and ask them to forgive you! No?
Well, kiss his white coffin then--kiss it where his small feet are
resting--the small, small feet that never had a chance to tread this
sinful earth! [KERSTI _kisses the coffin_] That's right! Now we'll take
him into the church and play and sing and toll the bells over him--but
no clergyman can read him into his grave--because of you! I will speak
the words myself when we get to the grave. We'll plant him in the sod
like a seed in order that he may sprout and grow into a winged blossom.
Some day, perhaps, he will spread his wings and fly to heaven--lifted
by the wind when the midsummer sun is shining!
PASTOR. [_Taking_ MATS _by the arm and drawing him toward the church_]
That's enough, Mats! Come now!
MATS. I am coming.
_They disappear into the porch, followed gradually by the rest_.
SOLDIER. [_Stops in front of_ KERSTI, _shakes his head sadly and
tries to find words_] Well.... Well....
[_He goes into the church_.
KERSTI'S MOTHER. [_Speaking drily, with a vain attempt to show
emotion_] Yes, here we are now!--Was it bad in the Castle?
KERSTI _shakes her head_.
MOTHER. Is there anything you want? To eat or drink--you can have
it now, you know.... Did they give you any tobacco while you were in the
Castle?
KERSTI _shakes her head_.
MOTHER. Keep your head high, Kersti, and don't let the mill-folk put us
to shame. Don't weep so much either. Your father is a man of war, you
know, and he can't stand that kind of thing. [_Handing her daughter
a hymn-book_] Take this book--and read where I have put the mark. And
look at the mark--I got it from some one--some one who is thinking of
you in your moment of need. And it is a sure cure against the shakes
Farther than this I won't keep you company, Kersti.... I can't--I
really can't, being as old as I am....
KERSTI. Do what you feel like, mother. I have found my comforter! I
know that my Redeemer still liveth!
MOTHER. It's all right, then, child. That's all I wanted to know....
And you don't want me to go with you?
KERSTI. No, mother, you must spare yourself.... You have had enough
trouble on my account as it is.
MOTHER. Then I'll take your word for it, so that the mill-folk won't
have anything to talk about. I take your word for it, so that I can
tell them: "Kersti didn't want it--it was her own will, and of course
her last will was as good as law to me!" And that's just what it is!
[_She goes into the church._
BRITA. [_Stops in front of_ KERSTI _and points toward the scaffold_]
A queen you were, and a crown you wore: there's your throne now, with
heaven above and hell beneath!--Now you would be glad enough to be
milking cows! Now you wouldn't mind picking wood, and scouring pots,
and cleaning shoes, and rocking the cradle--now, when you have brought
shame on my family and your own, on our parish and our province, so
that the whole country is talking of it! Fie on you!
KERSTI _bends lower and lower over the hymn-book._
BRITA. My brother must carry your brat to the grave-_my_ brother! But
I shall keep you company to the block when you get spanked! I shall
be your bridesmaid when you're wedded to the axe! "There's a corpse
that isn't dead, and a babe that wasn't bred, and a bride without a
wedding!"
LIT-MATS. Hush up, Brita! Kersti is nice!
BRITA. Indeed!
LIT-MATS. Yes, she is! But I don't like her to have on that ugly
cloak.... That would be right for you, Brita! Oh, Kersti, why are
you lying here? Are you waiting for Communion? And why did you run
away from the wedding? Who is lying in the white box? Is all this a
fairy-tale? Do you know that I lost my doll--the one you gave me?...
Oh, Kersti dear, why are you so sorry?
[_He throws his arms about her neck_.
KERSTI. [_Taking him on her lap and kissing his shoes_] Oh, Lit-Mats,
Lit-Mats!
BRITA. [_To the soldiers_] Is that allowed?
_The soldiers stand at attention, but make no reply_.
BRITA. [_Taking_ LIT-MATS _away from_ KERSTI] Come on now!
KERSTI. [_To_ LIT-MATS] Go with your sister, Lit-Mats! And you had
better keep away from me!
[_She begins to read in a low voice out of the hymn-book_.
BRITA. [_To_ KERSTI] Shall I tell him?
KERSTI. For God's sake, don't tell the child!
BRITA. For the child's sake, I won't!
KERSTI. Thank you, Brita--for the child's sake!
BRITA _goes into the church with_ LIT-MATS. _The only ones that
remain outside are_ KERSTI _and the two soldiers_.
_The_ HEADSMAN _enters from the right, carrying a black box. He
keeps in the background and does not look in the direction of_
KERSTI.
KERSTI. [_Catching sight of him_] Christ Jesus, Saviour of the world,
help me for the sake of Thy passion and death!
MIDWIFE. [_Enters from the left and goes up to the_ HEADSMAN] Listen,
my dear man.... If it comes off, would you mind my getting quite close
to it?... I need a little of that red stuff, you know--for a sick
person--one who has the falling sickness....
_The_ HEADSMAN _goes out to the left without answering_.
MIDWIFE. Oh, he is of the kind that won't listen. [_Going to_ KERSTI]
Ah, there you are, my dear....
KERSTI. [_With a deprecatory gesture_] Begone!
MIDWIFE. [_Keeping behind the pillory so that she cannot be seen by the
soldiers_] Wait a little! Wait a little! Listen now, my dear! I can do
what others can't! The hour is near, and the black one is waiting!
KERSTI. In the name of Christ Jesus, begone!
MIDWIFE. Listen! I can do what others can't! I can set you free!
KERSTI. I have found my Saviour! His name is Christ Jesus!
MIDWIFE. I can make the judge as soft as wax....
KERSTI. He who shall judge the quick and the dead; He who is the
resurrection and the life: He has sentenced me to death in the flesh,
and to--life everlasting.
MIDWIFE. Look at the soldiers! They have gone to sleep! Take my cloak
and run!
KERSTI. Are the soldiers asleep?
MIDWIFE. Their eyes are closed!--Run, run, run!
KERSTI _rises and looks at the soldiers, who have closed their
eyes_.
MIDWIFE. Run, run, run!
KERSTI. [_Lying down again_] No, much better is it to fall into the
hands of the living God!--Depart from me!
_She raises the hymn-book so that the golden cross on its front
cover faces the_ MIDWIFE.
MIDWIFE. [_Shrinking back_] Shall we meet a Thursday night at the
crossroads?
KERSTI. On the path to the cross I shall meet with my Redeemer, but not
with you! Depart!
MIDWIFE. [_Drawing away_] There is a boat down at the shore--horse and
carriage are waiting on the other side Mats is there, but the Sheriff
not.... Run, run, run!
KERSTI [_Struggling with herself_] O Lord, lead us not into temptation,
but deliver us from evil!
MIDWIFE. Shash-ash-ash-ash! Horse and carriage!
KERSTI _seizes the bell-rope and pulls it three times. At the
third stroke of the bell, the_ MIDWIFE _takes flight_.
MIDWIFE. Ad-zee! Ad-zee! Ad-zee! [_She disappears_.
_The_ CHILD IN WHITE _comes forward from behind one of the
pillars of the porch. His dress is that worn by girls at
Rättvik, Dalecarlia (the one with liberty cap, white waist and
striped apron, which is probably more familiar to foreigners
than any other Swedish peasant costume), but all its parts are
white, including the shoes_.
KERSTI. [_As if blinded by his appearance_] Who are you, child--you who
come when the evil one departs?
_The_ CHILD IN WHITE _puts a finger across his lips_.
KERSTI. White as snow, and white as linen.... Why are you so white?
CHILD IN WHITE [_In a low voice_] Thy faith has saved thee! Out of
faith has sprung hope! [_He goes toward_ KERSTI.
KERSTI. Please, dear, don't step on the ant!
CHILD IN WHITE. [_Stoops and picks up something on a leaf_] But the
greatest of these be love--love of all living things, great or small!
Now I shall send this ant into the woods to tell the king of all the
ants, so that the little people may come here and gnaw the ropes to
pieces, and you will be set free.
KERSTI. No, no! Don't talk like that!
CHILD IN WHITE. Doubt not--but believe! Believe, Kersti!--Believe!
KERSTI. How can I?
CHILD IN WHITE. Believe!
_He steps behind the pillar again and disappears_.
_The stage grows darker_.
NECK. [_Appears with his harp in the middle of the lake and sings
to the same melody as before_] "I am hoping, I am hoping, that thy
Redeemer still liveth!"
KERSTI. He sings of _my_ Redeemer! He brings hope to me, who denied it
to him!
_The_ NECK _sinks beneath the waters_.
SHERIFF. [_Enters reading a document; he approaches a few steps at a
time, now looking at the ground, and now at the paper in his hand_]
Kersti!
KERSTI _looks up, only to drop her head at once_.
SHERIFF. [_Slowly and with frequent pauses_] Behold the Sheriff!--You
are only scared by him!--Do you think everybody feels like that?
Suppose that the Sheriff has been summoned to help some one in a moment
of dire need. Do you think he will be welcome then? Of course, he
will!... Did you ever see such a lot of ants, Kersti?
KERSTI _raises her head again and becomes attentive_.
SHERIFF. Look at them! Files of them, and whole hosts! Look!--Do you
know what that means? It is a good omen! But, of course, you never
expect anything good to come from me. You wouldn't believe it _that_
time either--and that's what led to your exposure! Look at those ants!
Look at them! They are making straight for you, Kersti. Are you not
afraid of them?
KERSTI. I used to be, but I am not.
SHERIFF. Big wood-ants, and I think the ant-king himself is with them.
Do you know what can be done by the King, and by no other authority?
Do you know that? All other authorities can pass judgment--all of them
can do that--harshly or mercifully; but there is only one that can
grant pardon. That's the King!--Shall we ask the antking if he will
grant pardon? [_He puts his hand to his ear as if to hear better_]
Would your Majesty be willing to pardon her--that is, in regard to the
worst part?... Did you hear what he answered? I thought he said yes.
But I may have been mistaken.... And being the Sheriff, I can't go by
hearsays, but must have everything in writing. Let us ask the ant-king
to write it down. He has plenty of pens--sharp as needles--and he has
ink of his own, that burns. If we could only find a piece of paper!
[_He pretends to search his pockets, and finally he brings out the
paper he was reading when he entered_] Oh, here we are! Look at this!
The King has written it with his own hand. Do you see? C-A-R-L, which
makes Carl. [_He raises his cap for a moment in salute_] You haven't
seen such big letters since you went to school, Kersti. And look at the
red seal--that smelled like resin in the woods when the sealing-wax
still was warm. And look at the silken cords, yellow and blue--and all
these lions and crowns.... That's royal, every bit of it!... Read it
yourself, Kersti, while I give my orders to the soldiers.
KERSTI _takes the paper from his hand and reads_.
_The_ SHERIFF _turns to the soldiers and says something that
cannot be heard by the public_.
_The soldiers leave_.
_When_ KERSTI _has finished reading she hands the document back
to the_ SHERIFF _in a quiet, dignified manner_.
SHERIFF. Are you glad, Kersti?
KERSTI. I am thankful that my family and yours will be spared the
greatest shame of all. I cannot be glad, for eternal life is better
than a life in fetters.
SHERIFF. Regard it as a time of preparation.
KERSTI. I will!
SHERIFF. Are you still afraid of me?
KERSTI. Having looked death in the face, I fear nothing else.
SHERIFF. Come with me, then.
KERSTI. You must set me free first.
_The_ SHERIFF _unties the ropes with which she has been bound_.
_An organ prelude is heard from the church_.
KERSTI _stretches her arms toward heaven_.
_Curtain_.
SIXTH SCENE
_The stage represents the frozen surface of a big lake, the
shores of which form the background. Deep snow covers the ice.
Tall pine branches stuck into the snow serve to mark the tracks
used in crossing the lake_.
_In the centre of the stage, toward the background, a large
rectangular opening has been cut in the ice. A number of small
spruce-trees have been set along the edges of it to warn
against danger_.
_Long-tailed ducks_ (Heralda glacialis _or_ Clangula glacialis)
_are floating on the open water. Now and then one of them
utters its peculiarly melodious cry. (See musical appendix,
Melody No_. 19.)
_A number of short fishing-rods are placed along the edges of
the open water, with their lines out_.
_A gloomy old structure with turrets and battlements appears on
the shore in the background. It is known as the "Castle", but
is in reality a penitentiary_.
_It is about daybreak_.
_The_ FISHERMAN _enters from the right dressed in a sheepskin
coat and hauling a sledge on which lies an ice-hook. All the
ducks dive when he comes in sight. He begins to examine his
fishlines_.
MIDWIFE. [_Entering from the left_] How dare you fish on Easter Sunday?
FISHERMAN. I am not fishing--I'm just looking.
MIDWIFE. Perhaps you, who are so clever, can also tell a poor, strayed
old woman where she is?
FISHERMAN. If you give me a light.
MIDWIFE. If you have flint and steel.
FISHERMAN. [_Handing her two pieces of ice_] Here they are.
MIDWIFE. Ice? Well, water is fire, and fire is water!
_She tears off a piece of her cloak to serve as tinder; then,
she strikes the two pieces of ice against each other; hiving
set the tinder on fire in that way, she hands it to the_
FISHERMAN, _who lights his pipe with it_.
FISHERMAN. Oh, you are that kind? Then I know where I am.
MIDWIFE. But where am I?
FISHERMAN. In the middle of Krummedikke's lake, and over there you see
his castle. He was a king who lived long, long ago, and, like Herod, he
caused all male babes to be slain because he was afraid for his crown.
But now his castle holds all the girls who have not been afraid for
theirs.
MIDWIFE. What are they doing in there?
FISHERMAN. Spinning flax.
MIDWIFE. That's the jail, then?
FISHERMAN. That's what it is.
MIDWIFE. And the lake?
FISHERMAN. Oh, it's a good one! There used to be dry land where the
lake is now, and on that piece of land stood a church, and that church
started a feud. It was a question of pews, you see. The mill-folk, who
thought themselves above the rest, wanted to sit next to the altar, but
the Mewlings were the stronger. One Easter Sunday it broke loose, right
in the nave, and blood was shed. The church was profaned so that it
could never be cleansed again. Instead it was closed up and deserted,
and by and by it sank into the earth, and now there are fifty feet of
water above the weathercock on the spire. By this time the lake has
been washing it and washing it these many hundred years, but as long
as mill-folk and Mewlings keep on fighting, the temple will never be
cleansed.
MIDWIFE. Why are they called Mewlings?
FISHERMAN. Because they are descended from Krummedikke, who slew the
infants.
MIDWIFE. And they are still fighting?
FISHERMAN. Still fighting, and still slaying.... You remember, don't
you, Kersti, the soldier's daughter?
MIDWIFE. Of course, I do.
FISHERMAN. She is in the Castle, but to-day she will be out to do her
yearly public penance at the church.
MIDWIFE. Is that so?
FISHERMAN. The Mewlings are coming to bring her over, and the mill-folk
are coming to look on.
MIDWIFE. Do you hear the ice tuning up?
FISHERMAN. I do.
MIDWIFE. Does it mean thaw?
FISHERMAN. Maybe.
MIDWIFE. Then the ice will begin to break from the shore?
FISHERMAN. Quite likely. But if the water should rise, the rapids down
there will carry it off.
MIDWIFE. Are the rapids far from here?
FISHERMAN. Naw! You can hear the Neck quite plainly. To-day he will be
up betimes, as he is expecting something.
MIDWIFE. What can he be expecting?
FISHERMAN. Oh, you know!
MIDWIFE. No, I don't. Please tell me.
FISHERMAN. This is what they tell: Every Easter Sunday morning, at
the hour when the Saviour ascended from his grave, the church of
Krummedikke rises out of the lake. And he who gets a look at it has
peace in his soul for the rest of the year.
MIDWIFE. [_Gallops out toward the right_] Ad-zee! Ad-zee! Ad-zee!
FISHERMAN. That was a bad meeting.... [_He lands a fish and takes it
from the hook_] I got you!
_The fish slips out of his hand and leaps into the water. The_
FISHERMAN _tries to catch it with his dip-net. Then a whole row
of fish-heads appear above the water_.
FISHERMAN. Dumb, but not deaf! "What roars more loudly than a crane?
What is whiter by far than a swan?"[1]
CHILD IN WHITE. [_Dressed as in the preceding scene, enters on skis,
carrying a torch_;] The thunder of heaven roars more loudly than the
crane, and he who does no evil is whiter than the swan.
_The fish-heads disappear_.
FISHERMAN. Who read my riddle?
CHILD IN WHITE. Who can free the prisoner from his bonds and set the
tongue of the fish talking?
FISHERMAN. No one!
CHILD IN WHITE. No man by man begotten, but one born of the
all-creative God.... He who has built the bridge of glass can break it,
too!... Beware!
[_He goes out to the right_.
_The_ FISHERMAN _begins to gather up his implements_.
_The_ MILL-FOLK (MATS'S _relatives) enter from the left; all
are on skis and carry long staffs_. MATS _carries a torch_.
MATS. Where is the winter road?
FISHERMAN. Do you mean the road of the fish in the water?
MATS. No, the road of the horse on the snow.
FISHERMAN. Does it lead to court or church?
MILL-FOLK. To church.
FISHERMAN. For the man who has lost his way, all roads lead to the
rapids. [_A rumbling noise is made by the ice_] The roof is cracking!
MILL-FOLK. Where is the road to the church?
FISHERMAN. Everywhere!
MILL-FOLK. Where is the church?
FISHERMAN. You are standing on it, and walking over it, and soon it
will be here.
MILL-FOLK. Is this Krummedikke's lake?
FISHERMAN. It's Krummedikke's castle and Krummedikke's lake; it's
Krummedikke's church, and soon it will break.
MILL-FOLK. Lord have mercy! [_They go out to the right_.
_The_ MEWLINGS (KERSTI'S _relatives) enter from the left_, on
_skis and carrying staffs. The_ SOLDIER _carries a torch_.
MEWLINGS. Is this the road to the church?
FISHERMAN. This is the road to the rapids! Turn back!
MEWLINGS. Ridges and open water everywhere! The floe is breaking loose!
FISHERMAN. Go eastward! The sun is tarrying.
MEWLINGS. Let's go eastward! [_They go out to the right_.
_The_ MILL-FOLK _return from the right_.
FISHERMAN. Turn back! The floe has broken loose down that way!
MILL-FOLK. And eastward, too! Let's turn northward!
FISHERMAN. There's the river!
MILL-FOLK. Southward, then!
FISHERMAN. There are the rapids!
MILL-FOLK. [_Leaning dejectedly on their staffs_] God have mercy on us!
MATS. The Mewlings put us on the wrong track.
BRITA. As they have always done!
FATHER. And they'll be first at church!
GRANDFATHER. Never mind! But I can't help regretting the day when I
burned the papers.
MOTHER. Will there ever be peace?
GRANDMOTHER. "Men who are mild and gentle live in peace and know but
little sorrow."[2]
MILL-FOLK. [_Raising their staffs_] The Mewlings!
MEWLINGS. [_Entering from the right, with raised staffs]_ Will you bide
now, mill-folk? You put us on the wrong track!
MILL-FOLK. You liars!
MEWLINGS. The same to you!
MILL-FOLK. Quibblers!
MEWLINGS. And what are you?
_The ice begins to crash and rumble_.
FISHERMAN. Peace in the name of Christ Jesus! The water is rising!
ALL. [_Crying aloud_] The water is rising!
MATS'S GRANDFATHER. The ice is sinking. Stay where you are!
MATS'S GRANDMOTHER. To-day we must die, and then comes the day of
judgment!
_The_ MILL-FOLK _embrace each other. The women pick up the
children into their arms. The_ MEWLINGS _do likewise_.
MATS'S MOTHER. [_To_ Mats] For the sake of your foolish fondness, we
must die!
KERSTI'S MOTHER. "Another's love should by no one be blamed: wise men
are often snared by beauty, but fools never."[2]
SOLDIER. "This fault of his should by no one be blamed: love, in its
might, will often turn the sons of men from wisdom to folly."[3]
MATS. [_Holding out his hand to the_ SOLDIER] Thank you for those
words! You are the man I named father for a brief while!
SOLDIER. "All at birth and death are equals."
MATS'S FATHER. There you took the word away from me! Your hand!
SOLDIER. [_Giving his hand after a little hesitation_] Here it is! We
are all Christians, and this is the great day of atonement. Let not the
sun rise on our wrath!
MEWLINGS. Let us have peace!
MILL-FOLK. Yes, let us have peace!
_The two parties are approaching each other with hands
stretched out, when a terrific crash is heard, and the ice
opens at their feet, separating them from each other_.
MATS'S GRANDFATHER. Parted in life and parted in death!
MATS'S GRANDMOTHER. The bridge has broken under the burden of crime.
MATS'S MOTHER. Where is Kersti?
MILL-FOLK. Where is Kersti?
MEWLINGS. Where is Kersti?
SOLDIER. "And lo, it was expedient that one should die for the people."
MATS'S GRANDFATHER. "Then said they unto him: What shall we do unto
thee, that the sea may be calm unto us?"
KERSTI'S MOTHER. "Take me up, and cast me forth into the sea: for I
know that for my sake this great tempest is upon you."
MATS'S GRANDMOTHER. Is it settled?
ALL. It is settled!
KERSTI'S MOTHER. "Behold the fire and the wood: but where is the lamb
for a burnt offering?"
MEWLINGS. Where is Kersti?
MILL-FOLK. Where is Kersti?
_The_ PASTOR _enters, followed by the_ VERGER.
PASTOR. [_To the_ Soldier] "And the Lord said: Lay not thine hand upon
the child, for now I know that thou fearest God, seeing thou hast not
withheld thine only child from me."
ALL. [_To the_ Minister] Save us!
PASTOR. "There is but one God, the Saviour!" Let us pray!
_All kneel on the ice_.
PASTOR. "Out of the depths I cry unto thee, O Lord!"
ALL. "Lord, hear my voice!"
PASTOR. O Lord, have mercy!
ALL. Christ, have mercy!
_The_ SHERIFF _enters from the rear with a torch in his hand.
He is followed by four soldiers, carrying the dead body of_
KERSTI _between them_.
_All get on their feet_.
PASTOR. Whom are you bringing with you?
SHERIFF. We are bringing the crown bride--Kersti!
PASTOR. Is she alive?
SHERIFF. She is dead. The waters took her!
PASTOR. May the Lord take her soul!
SOLDIER. O Lord, have respect unto our offering, as thou hast given
thyself for us an offering.
PASTOR. "For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten
Son!"
BRITA. The water is falling!
ALL. The water is falling!
_The gap in the ice is closed up again_.
MATS _and_ BRITA _walk over to the_ MEWLINGS, _break branches
from the spruces set in the snow, and spread these over the
body of_ KERSTI.
PASTOR. Will there be peace after this?
ALL. Peace and reconciliation!
PASTOR. [_Beside the body of_ KERSTI]
"To the dead
Give peace, O Lord,
And console
The living!"
_In the background a church is seen rising out of the lake:
first the gilded weathercock; then the cross resting on a
globe; and finally the spire, the roof covered with black
shingles, and the white walls of the round-arched church_.
NECK. [_Is heard playing and singing in the distance, but now his
melody has been transposed into D minor_] "I am hoping, I am hoping,
that my Redeemer still liveth."
PASTOR. Let us give praise and thanks unto the Lord!
ALL. We thank and praise thee, O Lord!
MATS _and_ BRITA _kneel beside the body of_ KERSTI. _All the rest kneel
around them and sing No_. 6 _from the "Old" _Swedish Hymn-Book_ (which
is a free rendering of Luther's_ "Herr Gott, dich loben wir," _and
practically identical with the Ambrosian_ "Te Deum laudamus").
ALL. [_Singing_]
"O God, we give thee praise! O Lord, we give thee thanks! Eternal
Father, whom the whole world worships!
Thy praise is sung by angels and all the heavenly powers; By Cherubim
and Seraphim thy praise is sung incessantly: Holy, holy, holy, Lord God
of Sabaoth!"
_Curtain_.
[1] Old Swedish folk-riddle, the expected answers to the questions
being respectively: the thunder and an angel.
[2] From the Poetic Edda: "The Song of the High One." See Introduction.
[3] id. note 2.
THE SPOOK SONATA
(SPÖK-SONATEN)
CHAMBER PLAYS: OPUS III
1907
CHARACTERS
OLD HUMMEL
_The_ STUDENT, _named Arkenholtz_
_The_ MILKMAID, _an apparition_
_The_ JANITRESS
_The_ GHOST _of the Consul_
_The_ DARK LADY, _daughter of the Consul and the_ JANITRESS
_The_ COLONEL
_The_ MUMMY, _wife of the_ COLONEL
_The_ YOUNG LADY, _supposedly the_ COLONEL'S _daughter_,
_but in reality the daughter of_ OLD HUMMEL
_The_ DANDY, _called Baron Skansenkorge and engaged to
the_ DARK LADY
JOHANSSON, _in the service of_ HUMMEL
BENGTSSON, _the valet of the_ COLONEL
_The_ FIANCÉE, _a white-haired old woman, formerly engaged
to_ HUMMEL
_The_ COOK
_A_ SERVANT-GIRL
BEGGARS
FIRST SCENE
_The stage shows the first and second stories of a modern
corner home. At the left, the house continues into the wings;
at the right, it faces on a street supposed to be running at
right angle to the footlights_.
_The apartment on the ground floor ends at the corner in a
round room, above which is a balcony belonging to the apartment
on the second floor. A flagstaff is fixed to the balcony_.
_When the shades are raised in the windows of the Round Room, a
statue of a young woman in white marble becomes visible inside,
strongly illumined by sunlight. It is surrounded by palms. The
windows on the left side of the Round Room contain a number of
flower-pots, in which grow blue, white, and red hyacinths_.
_A bedquilt of blue silk and two pillows in white cases are
hung over the railing of the balcony on the second floor. The
windows at the left of the balcony are covered with white
sheets on the inside_.
_A green bench stands on the sidewalk in front of the house.
The right corner of the foreground is occupied by a drinking
fountain; the corner at the left, by an advertising column_.
_The main entrance to the house is near the left wing. Through
the open doorway appears the foot of the stairway, with
steps of white marble and a banister of mahogany with brass
trimmings. On the sidewalk, flanking the entrance, stand two
laurel-trees in wooden tubs_.
_At the left of the entrance, there is a window on the ground
floor, with a window-mirror outside_.
_It is a bright Sunday morning_.
_When the curtain rises, the bells of several churches are
heard ringing in the distance_.
_The doors of the entrance are wide open, and on the lowest
step of the stairway stands the_ DARK LADY. _She does not make
the slightest movement_.
_The_ JANITRESS _is sweeping the hallway. Then she polishes the
brass knobs on the doors. Finally she waters the laurel-trees_.
_Near the advertising column_, OLD HUMMEL _is reading his
paper, seated in an invalid's chair on wheels. His hair and
beard are white, and he wears spectacles_.
_The_ MILKMAID _enters from the side street, carrying
milk-bottles in a crate of wire-work. She wears a light dress,
brown shoes, black stockings, and a white cap_.
_She takes off her cap and hangs it on the fountain; wipes the
perspiration from her forehead; drinks out of the cup; washes
her hands in the basin, and arranges her hair, using the water
in the basin as a mirror_.
_A steamship-bell is heard outside. Then the silence is broken
fitfully by a few bass notes from the organ in the nearest
church_.
_When silence reigns again, and the_ MILKMAID _has finished
her toilet, the_ STUDENT _enters from the left, unshaved and
showing plainly that he has spent a sleepless night. He goes
straight to the fountain. A pause ensues_.
STUDENT. Can I have the cup?
_The_ MILKMAID _draws back with the cup_.
STUDENT. Are you not almost done?
_The_ MILKMAID _stares at him with horror_.
HUMMEL. [_To himself_] With whom is he talking? I don't see anybody.
Wonder if he's crazy?
[_He continues to look at them with evident surprise_.
STUDENT. Why do you stare at me? Do I look so terrible--It is true
that I haven't slept at all, and I suppose you think I have been making
a night of it....
_The_ MILKMAID _remains as before_.
STUDENT. You think I have been drinking, do you? Do I smell of liquor?
_The_ MILKMAID _remains as before_.
STUDENT. I haven't shaved, of course.... Oh, give me a drink of water,
girl. I have earned it. [_Pause_] Well? Must I then tell you myself
that I have spent the night dressing wounds and nursing the injured?
You see, I was present when that house collapsed last night.... Now you
know all about it.
_The_ MILKMAID _rinses the cup, fills it with water, and hands
it to him_.
STUDENT. Thanks!
_The_ MILKMAID _stands immovable_.
STUDENT. [_Hesitatingly_] Would you do me a favour? [_Pause_] My eyes
are inflamed, as you can see, and my hands have touched wounds and
corpses. To touch my eyes with them would be dangerous.... Will you
take my handkerchief, which is clean, dip it in the fresh water, and
bathe my poor eyes with it?--Will you do that?--Won't you play the good
Samaritan?
_The_ MILKMAID _hesitates at first, but does finally what he
has asked_.
STUDENT. Thank you! [_He takes out his purse_.
_The_ MILKMAID _makes a deprecatory gesture_.
STUDENT. Pardon my absent-mindedness. I am not awake, you see....
_The_ MILKMAID _disappears_.
Hummel. [_To the_ STUDENT] Excuse a stranger, but I heard you mention
last night's accident.... I was just reading about it in the paper....
STUDENT. Is it already in the papers?
HUMMEL. All about it. Even your portrait. They are sorry, though, that
they have not been able to learn the name of the young student who did
such splendid work....
STUDENT. [_Glancing at the paper_] Oh, is that me? Well!
HUMMEL. Whom were you talking to a while ago?
STUDENT. Didn't you see? [_Pause_.
HUMMEL. Would it be impertinent--to ask--your estimable name?
STUDENT. What does it matter? I don't care for publicity. Blame is
always mixed into any praise you may get. The art of belittling is so
highly developed. And besides, I ask no reward....
HUMMEL. Wealthy, I suppose?
STUDENT. Not at all--on the contrary--poor as a durmouse!
HUMMEL. Look here.... It seems to me as if I recognised your voice.
When I was young, I had a friend who always said "dur" instead of
door. Until now he was the one person I had ever heard using that
pronunciation. You are the only other one.... Could you possibly be a
relative of the late Mr. Arkenholtz, the merchant?
STUDENT. He was my father.
HUMMEL. Wonderful are the ways of life.... I have seen you when you
were a small child, under very trying circumstances....
STUDENT. Yes, I have been told that I was born just after my father had
gone bankrupt.
HUMMEL. So you were.
STUDENT. May I ask your name?
HUMMEL. I am Mr. Hummel.
STUDENT. You are? Then I remember....
HUMMEL. Have you often heard my name mentioned at home?
STUDENT. I have.
HUMMEL. And not in a pleasant way, I suppose?
_The_ STUDENT _remains silent_.
HUMMEL. That's what I expected.--You were told, I suppose, that I had
ruined your father?--All who are ruined by ill-advised speculations
think themselves ruined by those whom they couldn't fool. [_Pause_]
The fact of it is, however, that your father robbed me of seventeen
thousand crowns, which represented all my savings at that time.
STUDENT. It is queer how the same story can be told in quite different
ways.
HUMMEL. You don't think that I am telling the truth?
STUDENT. How can I tell what to think? My father was not in the habit
of lying.
HUMMEL. No, that's right, a father never lies.... But I am also a
father, and for that reason....
STUDENT. What are you aiming at?
HUMMEL. I saved your father from misery, and he repaid me with the
ruthless hatred that is born out of obligation.... He taught his family
to speak ill of me.
STUDENT. Perhaps you made him ungrateful by poisoning your assistance
with needless humiliation.
HUMMEL. All assistance is humiliating, sir.
STUDENT. And what do you ask of me now?
HUMMEL. Not the money back. But if you will render me a small service
now and then, I shall consider myself well paid. I am a cripple, as you
see. Some people say it is my own fault. Others lay it to my parents.
I prefer to blame life itself, with its snares. To escape one of these
snares is to walk headlong into another. As it is, I cannot climb
stairways or ring door-bells, and for that reason I ask you: will you
help me a little?
STUDENT. What can I do for you?
HUMMEL. Give my chair a push, to begin with, so that I can read the
bills on that column. I wish to see what they are playing to-night.
STUDENT. [_Pushing the chair as directed_] Have you no attendant?
HUMMEL. Yes, but he is doing an errand. He'll be back soon. Are you a
medical student?
STUDENT. No, I am studying philology, but I don't know what profession
to choose....
HUMMEL. Well, well! Are you good at mathematics?
STUDENT. Reasonably so.
HUMMEL. That's good! Would you care to accept a position?
STUDENT. Yes, why not?
HUMMEL. Fine! [_Studying the playbills_] They are playing "The Valkyr"
at the matinee.... Then the Colonel will be there with his daughter,
and as he always has the end seat in the sixth row, I'll put you next
to him.... Will you please go over to that telephone kiosk and order a
ticket for seat eighty-two, in the sixth row?
STUDENT. Must I go to the opera in the middle of the day?
HUMMEL. Yes. Obey me, and you'll prosper. I wish to see you happy,
rich, and honoured. Your début last night in the part of the brave
rescuer will have made you famous by to-morrow, and then your name
will be worth a great deal.
STUDENT. [_On his way out to telephone_] What a ludicrous adventure!
HUMMEL. Are you a sportsman?
STUDENT. Yes, that has been my misfortune.
HUMMEL. Then we'll turn it into good fortune.--Go and telephone now.
_The_ STUDENT _goes out_. HUMMEL _begins to read his paper
again. In the meantime the_ DARK LADY _has come out on the
sidewalk and stands talking to the_ JANITRESS. HUMMEL _is
taking in their conversation, of which, however, nothing is
audible to the public_. _After a while the_ STUDENT _returns_.
HUMMEL. Ready?
STUDENT. It's done.
HUMMEL. Have you noticed this house?
STUDENT. Yes, I have been watching it.... I happened to pass by
yesterday, when the sun was making every window-pane glitter.... And
thinking of all the beauty and luxury that must be found within, I
said to my companion: "Wouldn't it be nice to have an apartment on the
fifth floor, a beautiful young wife, two pretty little children, and an
income of twenty thousand crowns?"...
HUMMEL. So you said that? Did you really? Well, well! I am very fond of
this house, too....
STUDENT. Do you speculate in houses?
HUMMEL. Mm-yah! But not in the way you mean.
STUDENT. Do you know the people who live here?
HUMMEL. All of them. A man of my age knows everybody, including
their parents and grandparents, and in some manner he always finds
himself related to every one else. I am just eighty--but nobody knows
_me_--not through and through. I am very much interested in human
destinies.
_At that moment the shades are raised in the Round Room on the
ground floor, and the_ COLONEL _becomes visible, dressed in
civilian clothes. He goes to one of the windows to study the
thermometer outside. Then he turns back into the room and stops
in front of the marble statue_.
HUMMEL. There's the Colonel now, who will sit next to you at the opera
this afternoon.
STUDENT. Is _he_--the Colonel? I don't understand this at all, but it's
like a fairy-tale.
HUMMEL. All my life has been like a collection of fairy-tales, my dear
sir. Although the tales read differently, they are all strung on a
common thread, and the dominant theme recurs constantly.
STUDENT. Whom does that statue represent?
HUMMEL. His wife, of course.
STUDENT. Was she very lovely?
HUMMEL. Mm-yah--well....
STUDENT. Speak out.
HUMMEL. Oh, we can't form any judgment about people, my dear boy. And
if I told you that she left him, that he beat her, that she returned to
him, that she married him a second time, and that she is living there
now in the shape of a mummy, worshipping her own statue--then you would
think me crazy.
STUDENT. I don't understand at all.
HUMMEL. I didn't expect you would. Then there is the window with the
hyacinths. That's where his daughter lives? She is out for a ride now,
but she will be home in a few moments.
STUDENT. And who is the dark lady talking to the janitress?
HUMMEL. The answer is rather complicated, but it is connected with the
dead man on the second floor, where you see the white sheets.
STUDENT. Who was he?
HUMMEL. A human being like you or me, but the most conspicuous thing
about him was his vanity.... If you were born on a Sunday, you might
soon see him come down the stairway and go out on the sidewalk to make
sure that the flag of the consulate is half-masted. You see, he was
a consul, and he revelled in coronets and lions and plumed hats and
coloured ribbons.
STUDENT. You spoke of being born on a Sunday.... So was I, I understand.
HUMMEL. No! Really?... Oh, I should have known.... The colour of your
eyes shows it.... Then you can see what other people can't. Have you
noticed anything of that kind?
STUDENT. Of course, I can't tell what other people see or don't see,
but at times.... Oh, such things you don't talk of!
HUMMEL. I was sure of it! And you can talk to me, because I--I
understand--things of that kind....
STUDENT. Yesterday, for instance.... I was drawn to that little side
street where the house fell down afterward.... When I got there, I
stopped in front of the house, which I had never seen before....
Then I noticed a crack in the wall.... I could hear the floor beams
snapping.... I rushed forward and picked up a child that was walking
in front of the house at the time.... In another moment the house came
tumbling down.... I was saved, but in my arms, which I thought held
the child, there was nothing at all....
HUMMEL. Well, I must say!... Much as I have heard.... Please tell me
one thing: what made you act as you did by the fountain a while ago?
Why were you talking to yourself?
STUDENT. Didn't you see the Milkmaid to whom I was talking?
HUMMEL. [_Horrified_] A milkmaid?
STUDENT. Yes, the girl who handed me the cup.
HUMMEL. Oh, that's what it was.... Well, I haven't that kind of sight,
but there are other things....
_A white-haired old woman is seen at the window beside the
entrance, looking into the window-mirror_.
HUMMEL. Look at that old woman in the window. Do you see her?--Well,
she was my fiancée once upon a time, sixty years ago.... I was twenty
at that time.... Never mind, she does not recognise me. We see each
other every day, and I hardly notice her--although once we vowed to
love each other eternally.... Eternally!
STUDENT. How senseless you were in those days! We don't talk to our
girls like that.
HUMMEL. Forgive us, young man! We didn't know better.--Can you see
that she was young and pretty once?
STUDENT. It doesn't show.... Oh, yes, she has a beautiful way of
looking at things, although I can't see her eyes clearly.
_The_ JANITRESS _comes out with a basket on her arm and begins
to cover the sidewalk with chopped hemlock branches, as is
usual in Sweden when a funeral is to be held_.
HUMMEL. And the Janitress--hm! That Dark Lady is her daughter and the
dead man's, and that's why her husband was made janitor.... But the
Dark Lady has a lover, who is a dandy with great expectations. He is
now getting a divorce from his present wife, who is giving him an
apartment-house to get rid of him. This elegant lover is the son-in-law
of the dead man, and you can see his bedclothes being aired on the
balcony up there.... That's a bit complicated, I should say!
STUDENT. Yes, it's fearfully complicated.
HUMMEL. It certainly is, inside and outside, no matter how simple it
may look.
STUDENT. But who was the dead man?
Hummel. So you asked me a while ago, and I answered you. If you could
look around the corner, where the servants' entrance is, you would see
a lot of poor people whom he used to help--when he was in the mood....
STUDENT. He was a kindly man, then?
HUMMEL. Yes--at times.
STUDENT. Not always?
HUMMEL. No-o.... People are like that!--Will you please move the chair
a little, so that I get into the sunlight? I am always cold. You see,
the blood congeals when you can't move about.... Death isn't far away
from me, I know, but I have a few things to do before it comes.... Just
take hold of my hand and feel how cold I am.
STUDENT. [_Taking his hand_] I should say so!
[_He shrinks back_.
HUMMEL. Don't leave me! I am tired now, and lonely, but I haven't
always been like this, you know. I have an endlessly long life back
of--enormously long.... I have made people unhappy, and other people
have made me unhappy, and one thing has to be put against the other,
but before I die, I wish to see you happy.... Our destinies have become
intertwined, thanks to your father--and many other things....
STUDENT. Let go my hand! You are taking all my strength! You are
freezing me! What do you want of me?
HUMMEL. Patience, and you'll see, and understand.... There comes the
Young Lady now....
STUDENT. The Colonel's daughter?
HUMMEL. His daughter--yes! Look at her!--Did you ever see such a
masterpiece?
STUDENT. She resembles the marble statue in there.
HUMMEL. It's her mother.
STUDENT. You are right.... Never did I see such a woman of woman
born!--Happy the man who may lead her to the altar and to his home!
HUMMEL. You see it, then? Her beauty is not discovered by everybody....
Then it is written in the book of life!
_The_ YOUNG LADY _enters from the left, wearing a close-fitting
English riding-suit. Without looking at any one, she walks
slowly to the entrance, where she stops and exchanges a few
words with the_ JANITRESS. _Then she disappears into the house.
The_ STUDENT _covers his eyes with his hand_.
HUMMEL. Are you crying?
STUDENT. Can you meet what is hopeless with anything but despair?
HUMMEL. I have the power of opening doors and hearts, if I can only
find an arm to do my will.... Serve me, and you shall also have
power....
STUDENT. Is it to be a bargain? Do you want me to sell my soul?
HUMMEL. Don't sell anything!... You see, all my life I have been used
to _take_. Now I have a craving to give--to give! But no one will
accept.... I am rich, very rich, but have no heirs except a scamp who
is tormenting the life out of me.... Become my son! Inherit me while
I am still alive! Enjoy life, and let me look on--from a distance, at
least!
STUDENT. What am I to do?
HUMMEL. Go and hear "The Valkyr" first of all.
STUDENT. That's settled--but what more?
HUMMEL. This evening you shall be in the Round Room.
STUDENT. How am I to get there?
HUMMEL. Through "The Valkyr."
STUDENT. Why have you picked me to be your instrument? Did you know me
before?
HUMMEL. Of course, I did! I have had my eyes on you for a long
time.... Look at the balcony now, where the Maid is raising the flag
at half-mast in honour of the consul.... And then she turns the
bedclothes.... Do you notice that blue quilt? It was made to cover
two, and now it is only covering one.... [_The_ YOUNG LADY _appears
at her window, having changed dress in the meantime; she waters the
hyacinths_] There is my little girl now. Look at her--look! She is
talking to her flowers, and she herself looks like a blue hyacinth.
She slakes their thirst--with pure water only--and they transform the
water into colour and fragrance.... There comes the Colonel with the
newspaper! He shows her the story about the house that fell down--and
he points at your portrait! She is not indifferent--she reads of your
deeds.... It's clouding up, I think.... I wonder if it's going to
rain? Then I shall be in a nice fix, unless Johansson comes back soon
[_The sun has disappeared, and now the stage is growing darker; the
white-haired old woman closes her window_] Now my fiancée is closing
her window.... She is seventy-nine--and the only mirror she uses is
the window-mirror, because there she sees not herself, but the world
around her--and she sees it from two sides--but it has not occurred to
her that she can be seen by the world, too.... A handsome old lady,
after all....
_Now the_ GHOST, _wrapped in winding sheets, comes out of the
entrance_.
STUDENT. Good God, what is that I see?
HUMMEL. What _do_ you see?
STUDENT. Don't _you_ see?... There, at the entrance.... The dead man?
HUMMEL. I see nothing at all, but that was what I expected. Tell me....
STUDENT. He comes out in the street.... [_Pause_] Now he turns his head
to look at the flag.
HUMMEL. What did I tell you? And you may be sure that he will count the
wreaths and study the visiting-cards attached to them.... And I pity
anybody that is missing!
STUDENT. Now he goes around the corner....
HUMMEL. He wants to count the poor at the other entrance.... The poor are
so decorative, you know.... "Followed by the blessings of many".... But
he won't get any blessing from me!--Between us, he was a big rascal!
STUDENT. But charitable....
HUMMEL. A charitable rascal, who always had in mind the splendid
funeral he expected to get.... When he knew that his end was near, he
cheated the state out of fifty thousand crowns.... And now his daughter
goes about with ... another woman's husband, and wonders what is in his
will.... Yes, the rascal can hear every word we say, and he is welcome
to it!--There comes Johansson now.
JOHANSSON _enters from the left_.
HUMMEL. Report!
JOHANSSON _can be seen speaking, but not a word of what he says
is heard_.
HUMMEL. Not at home, you say? Oh, you are no good!--Any telegram?--Not
a thing.... Go on!--Six o'clock to-night?--That's fine!--An extra, you
say?--With his full name?--Arkenholtz, a student, yes.... Born....
Parents.... That's splendid! I think it's beginning to rain.... What
did he say?--Is that so?--He won't?--Well, then he must!--Here comes
the Dandy.... Push me around the corner, Johansson, so I can hear what
the poor people have to say.... [_To the_ STUDENT] And you had better
wait for me here, Arkenholtz.... Do you understand?--[_To_ JOHANSSON]
Hurry up now, hurry up!
JOHANSSON _pushes the chair into the side street and out of
sight. The_ STUDENT _remains on the same spot, looking at the_
YOUNG LADY, _who is using a small rake to loosen up the earth
in her pots. The_ DANDY _enters and joins the_ DARK LADY, _who
has been walking back and forth on the sidewalk. He is in
mourning_.
DANDY. Well, what is there to do about it? We simply have to wait.
DARK LADY. But I can't wait!
DANDY. Is that so? Then you'll have to go to the country.
DARK LADY. I don't want to!
DANDY. Come this way, or they'll hear what we are saying.
_They go toward the advertising column and continue their talk
inaudibly_.
JOHANSSON. [_Entering from the right; to the_ STUDENT] My master asks
you not to forget that other thing.
STUDENT. [_Dragging his words_] Look here.... Tell me, please.... Who
_is_ your master?
JOHANSSON. Oh, he's so many things, and he has been everything....
STUDENT. Is he in his right mind?
JOHANSSON. Who can tell?--All his life he has been looking for one born
on Sunday, he says--which does not mean that it must be true....
STUDENT. What is he after? Is he a miser?
JOHANSSON. He wants to rule.... The whole day long he travels about in
his chair like the god of thunder himself He looks at houses, tears
them down, opens up new streets, fills the squares with buildings....
At the same time he breaks into houses, sneaks through open windows,
plays havoc with human destinies, kills his enemies, and refuses to
forgive anything.... Can you imagine that a cripple like him has been a
Don Juan--but one who has always lost the women he loved?
STUDENT. How can you make those things go together?
JOHANSSON. He is so full of guile that he can make the women leave
him when he is tired of them.... Just now he is like a horse thief
practising at a slave-market.... He steals human beings, and in all
sorts of ways.... He has literally stolen me out of the hands of the
law.... Hm.... yes.... I had been guilty of a slip. And no one but he
knew of it. Instead of putting me in jail, he made a slave of me. All I
get for my slavery is the food I eat, which might be better at that....
STUDENT. And what does he wish to do in this house here?
JOHANSSON. No, I don't want to tell! It's too complicated....
STUDENT. I think I'll run away from the whole story....
_The_ YOUNG LADY _drops a bracelet out of the window so that it
falls on the sidewalk_.
JOHANSSON. Did you see the Young Lady drop her bracelet out of the
window?
_Without haste, the_ STUDENT _picks up the bracelet and hands
it to the_ YOUNG LADY, _who thanks him rather stiffly; then he
returns to_ JOHANSSON.
JOHANSSON. So you want to run away? That is more easily said than done
when _he_ has got you in his net.... And he fears nothing between
heaven and earth except one thing or one person rather....
STUDENT. Wait--I think I know!
JOHANSSON. How could you?
STUDENT. I can guess! Is it not--a little milkmaid that he fears?
JOHANSSON. He turns his head away whenever he meets a milk wagon....
And at times he talks in his sleep.... He must have been in Hamburg at
one time, I think....
STUDENT. Is this man to be trusted?
JOHANSSON. You may trust him--to do anything!
STUDENT. What is he doing around the corner now?
JOHANSSON. Watching the poor dropping a word here and a word there....
loosening a stone at a time ... until the whole house comes tumbling
down, metaphorically speaking.... You see, I am an educated man, and I
used to be a book dealer.... Are you going now?
STUDENT. I find it hard to be ungrateful.... Once upon a time he saved
my father, and now he asks a small service in return....
JOHANSSON. What is it?
STUDENT. To go and see "The Valkyr"....
JOHANSSON. That's beyond me.... But he is always up to new tricks....
Look at him now, talking to the police-man! He is always thick with the
police. He uses them. He snares them in their own interests. He ties
their hands by arousing their expectations with false promises--while
all the time he is pumping them.... You'll see that he is received in
the Round Room before the day is over!
STUDENT. What does he want there? What has he to do with the Colonel?
JOHANSSON. I think I can guess, but know nothing with certainty. But
you'll see for yourself when you get there!
STUDENT. I'll never get there.
JOHANSSON. That depends on yourself!--Go to "The Valkyr."
STUDENT. Is that the road?
JOHANSSON. Yes, if he has said so--Look at him there--look at him in
his war chariot, drawn in triumph by the Beggars, who get nothing for
their pains but a hint of a great treat to be had at his funeral.
OLD HUMMEL _appears standing in his invalid's chair, which is
drawn by one of the_ BEGGARS, _and followed by the rest_.
HUMMEL. Give honour to the noble youth who, at the risk of his
own, saved so many lives in yesterday's accident! Three cheers for
Arkenholtz!
_The_ BEGGARS _bare their heads, but do not cheer. The_ YOUNG
LADY _appears at her window, waving her handkerchief. The_
COLONEL _gazes at the scene from a window in the Round Room.
The_ FIANCÉE _rises at her window. The_ MAID _appears on the
balcony and hoists the flag to the top_.
HUMMEL. Applaud, citizens! It is Sunday, of course, but the ass in the
pit and the ear in the field will absolve us. Although I was not born
on a Sunday, I have the gift of prophecy and of healing, and on one
occasion I brought a drowned person back to life.... That happened in
Hamburg on a Sunday morning just like this....
_The_ MILKMAID _enters, seen only by the_ STUDENT _and_ HUMMEL.
_She raises her arms with the movement of a drowning person,
while gazing fixedly at_ HUMMEL.
HUMMEL. [_Sits down; then he crumbles in a heap, stricken with horror_]
Get me out of here, Johansson! Quick!--Arkenholtz, don't forget "The
Valkyr!"
STUDENT. What is the meaning of all this?
JOHANSSON. We'll see! We'll see!
_Curtain_.
SECOND SCENE
_In the Round Room. An oven of white, glazed bricks occupies
the centre of the background. The mantelpiece is covered by a
large mirror. An ornamental clock and candelabra stand on the
mantelshelf_.
_At the right of the mantelpiece is a door leading into a
hallway, back of which may be seen a room papered in green,
with mahogany furniture. The_ COLONEL _is seated at a
writing-desk, so that only his back is visible to the public_.
_The statue stands at the left, surrounded by palms and with
draperies arranged so that it can be hidden entirely_.
_A door at the left of the mantelpiece opens on the Hyacinth
Room, where the_ YOUNG LADY _is seen reading a book_.
BENGTSSON, _the valet, enters from the hallway, dressed in
livery. He is followed by_ JOHANSSON _in evening dress with
white tie_.
BENGTSSON. Now you'll have to do the waiting, Johansson, while I take
the overclothes. Do you know how to do it?
JOHANSSON. Although I am pushing a war chariot in the daytime, as you
know, I wait in private houses at night, and I have always dreamt of
getting into this place.... Queer sort of people, hm?
BENGTSSON. Yes, a little out of the ordinary, one might say.
JOHANSSON. Is it a musicale, or what is it?
BENGTSSON. The usual spook supper, as we call it. They drink tea and
don't say a word, or else the Colonel does all the talking. And then
they munch their biscuits, all at the same time, so that it sounds like
the gnawing of a lot of rats in an attic.
JOHANSSON. Why do you call it a spook supper?
BENGTSSON. Because they look like spooks.... And they have kept this
up for twenty years--always the same people, saying the same things or
keeping silent entirely, lest they be put to shame.
JOHANSSON. Is there not a lady in the house, too?
BENGTSSON. Yes, but she is a little cracked. She sits all the time in a
closet, because her eyes can't bear the light. [_He points at a papered
door_] She is in there now.
JOHANSSON. In there, you say?
BENGTSSON. I told you they were a little out of the ordinary....
JOHANSSON. How does she look?
BENGTSSON. Like a mummy.... Would you care to look at her? [_He opens
the papered door_] There she is now!
JOHANSSON. Mercy!
MUMMY. [_Talking baby talk_] Why does he open the door? Haven't I told
him to keep it closed?
BENGTSSON. [_In the same way_] Ta-ta-ta-ta! Polly must be nice now.
Then she'll get something good. Pretty polly!
MUMMY. [_Imitating a parrot_] Pretty polly! Are you there, Jacob?
Currrrr!
BENGTSSON. She thinks herself a parrot, and maybe she's right [_To the_
MUMMY] Whistle for us, Polly.
_The_ MUMMY _whistles_.
JOHANSSON. Much I have seen, but never the like of it!
BENGTSSON. Well, you see, a house gets mouldy when it grows old, and
when people are too much together, tormenting each other all the time,
they lose their reason. The lady of this house.... Shut up, Polly!...
That mummy has been living here forty years--with the same husband, the
same furniture, the same relatives, the same friends.... [_He closes
the papered door_] And the happenings this house has witnessed! Well,
it's beyond me.... Look at that statue. That's the selfsame lady in her
youth.
JOHANSSON. Good Lord! Can that be the Mummy?
BENGTSSON. Yes, it's enough to make you weep!--And somehow, carried
away by her own imagination, perhaps, she has developed some of the
traits of the talkative parrot.... She can't stand cripples or sick
people, for instance.... She can't bear the sight of her own daughter,
because she is sick....
JOHANSSON. Is the Young Lady sick?
BENGTSSON. Don't you know that?
JOHANSSON. No.--And the Colonel--who is he?
BENGTSSON. That remains to be seen!
JOHANSSON. [_Looking at the statue_] It's horrible to think that....
How old is she now?
BENGTSSON. Nobody knows. But at thirty-five she is said to have looked
like nineteen, and that's the age she gave to the Colonel.... In this
house.... Do you know what that Japanese screen by the couch is used
for? They call it the Death Screen, and it is placed in front of the
bed when somebody is dying, just as they do in hospitals....
JOHANSSON. This must be an awful house! And the Student was longing for
it as for paradise....
BENGTSSON. What student? Oh, I know! The young chap who is coming here
to-night.... The Colonel and the Young Lady met him at the opera and
took a great fancy to him at once.... Hm!... But now it's my turn to
ask questions. Who's your master? The man in the invalid's chair?...
JOHANSSON. Well, well! Is he coming here, too?
BENGTSSON. He has not been invited.
JOHANSSON. He'll come without invitation--if necessary.
OLD HUMMEL _appears in the hallway, dressed in frock coat and
high hat. He uses crutches, but moves without a noise, so that
he is able to listen to the two servants._
BENGTSSON. He's a sly old guy, isn't he?
JOHANSSON. Yes, he's a good one!
BENGTSSON. He looks like the very devil.
JOHANSSON. He's a regular wizard, I think because he can pass through
locked doors....
HUMMEL. [_Comes forward and pinches the ear of_ JOHANSSON] Look out,
you scoundrel! [_To_ BENGTSSON] Tell the Colonel I am here.
BENGTSSON. We expect company....
HUMMEL. I know, but my visit is as good as expected, too, although not
exactly desired, perhaps....
BENGTSSON. I see! What's the name? Mr. Hummel?
HUMMEL. That's right.
BENGTSSON _crosses the hallway to the Green Room, the door of
which he closes behind him_.
HUMMEL. [_To_ JOHANSSON] Vanish!
JOHANSSON _hesitates_.
HUMMEL. Vanish, I say!
JOHANSSON _disappears through the hallway_.
HUMMEL. [_Looking around and finally stopping in front of the statue,
evidently much surprised_] Amelia!--It is she!--She!
_He takes another turn about the room, picking up various
objects to look at them; then he stops in front of the mirror
to arrange his wig; finally he returns to the statue_.
MUMMY. [_In the closet_] Prrretty Polly!
HUMMEL. [_Startled_] What was that? Is there a parrot in the room? I
don't see it!
MUMMY. Are you there, Jacob?
HUMMEL. The place is haunted!
MUMMY. Jacob!
HUMMEL. Now I am scared!... So that's the kind of secrets they have
been keeping in this house! [_He stops in front of a picture with his
back turned to the closet_] And that's he.... He!
MUMMY. [_Comes out of the closet and pulls the wig of_ HUMMEL] Currrrr!
Is that Currrrr?
HUMMEL. [_Almost lifted off his feet by fright_] Good Lord in
heaven!... Who are you?
MUMMY. [_Speaking in a normal voice_] Is that you, Jacob?
HUMMEL. Yes, my name is Jacob....
MUMMY. [_Deeply moved_] And my name is Amelia!
HUMMEL. Oh, no, no, no!--Merciful heavens!...
MUMMY. How I look! That's right!--And _have_ looked like that!
[_Pointing to the statue_] Life is a pleasant thing, is it not?... I
live mostly in the closet, both in order to see nothing and not to be
seen.... But, Jacob, what do you want here?
HUMMEL. My child our child....
MUMMY. There she sits.
HUMMEL. Where?
MUMMY. There--in the Hyacinth Room.
HUMMEL. [_Looking at the_ YOUNG LADY] Yes, that is she! [_Pause_] And
what does her father say.... I mean the Colonel.... your husband?
MUMMY. Once, when I was angry with him, I told him everything....
HUMMEL. And?...
MUMMY. He didn't believe me. All he said was: "That's what all women
say when they wish to kill their husbands."--It is a dreadful crime,
nevertheless. His whole life has been turned into a lie--his family
tree, too. Sometimes I take a look in the peerage, and then I say to
myself: "Here she is going about with a false birth certificate, just
like any runaway servant-girl, and for such things people are sent to
the reformatory."
HUMMEL. Well, it's quite common. I think I recall a certain
incorrectness in regard to the date of your own birth.
MUMMY. It was my mother who started that.... I was not to blame for
it.... And it was you, after all, who had the greater share in our
guilt....
HUMMEL. No, what wrong we did was provoked by your husband when he took
my fiancée away from me! I was born a man who cannot forgive until he
has punished. To punish has always seemed an imperative duty to me--and
so it seems still!
MUMMY. What are you looking for in this house? What do you want? How
did you get in?--Does it concern my daughter? If you touch her, you
must die!
HUMMEL. I mean well by her!
MUMMY. And you have to spare her father!
HUMMEL. No!
MUMMY. Then you must die ... in this very room ... back of that
screen....
HUMMEL. Perhaps.... but I can't let go when I have got my teeth in a
thing....
MUMMY. You wish to marry her to the Student? Why? He is nothing and has
nothing.
HUMMEL. He will be rich, thanks to me.
MUMMY. Have you been invited for to-night?
HUMMEL. No, but I intend to get an invitation for your spook supper.
MUMMY. Do you know who will be here?
HUMMEL. Not quite.
MUMMY. The Baron--he who lives above us, and whose father-in-law was
buried this afternoon....
HUMMEL. The man who is getting a divorce to marry the daughter of the
Janitress.... The man who used to be--your lover!
MUMMY. Another guest will be your former fiancée, who was seduced by my
husband....
HUMMEL. Very select company!
MUMMY. If the Lord would let us die! Oh, that we might only die!
HUMMEL. But why do you continue to associate?
MUMMY. Crime and guilt and secrets bind us together, don't you know?
Our ties have snapped so that we have slipped apart innumerable times,
but we are always drawn together again....
HUMMEL. I think the Colonel is coming.
MUMMY. I'll go in to Adèle, then.... [_Pause_] Consider what you do,
Jacob! Spare him....
[_Pause; then she goes out_.
COLONEL. [_Enters, haughty and reserved_] Won't you be seated, please?
HUMMEL _seats himself with great deliberation; pause_.
COLONEL. [_Staring at his visitor_] You wrote this letter, sir?
HUMMEL. I did.
COLONEL. Your name is Hummel?
HUMMEL. It is. [_Pause_.
COLONEL. As I learn that you have bought up all my unpaid and overdue
notes, I conclude that I am at your mercy. What do you want?
HUMMEL. Payment--in one way or another.
COLONEL. In what way?
HUMMEL. A very simple one. Let us not talk of the money. All you have
to do is to admit me as a guest....
COLONEL. If a little thing like that will satisfy you....
HUMMEL. I thank you.
COLONEL. Anything more?
HUMMEL. Discharge Bengtsson.
COLONEL. Why should I do so? My devoted servant, who has been with me a
lifetime, and who has the medal for long and faithful service.... Why
should I discharge him?
HUMMEL. Those wonderful merits exist only in your imagination. He is
not the man he seems to be.
COLONEL. _Who is_?
HUMMEL. [_Taken back_] True!--But Bengtsson must go!
COLONEL. Do you mean to order my household?
HUMMEL. I do ... as everything visible here belongs to me ...
furniture, draperies, dinner ware, linen and other things!
COLONEL. What other things?
HUMMEL. Everything! All that is to be seen is mine! I own it!
COLONEL. Granted! But for all that, my coat of arms and my unspotted
name belong to myself.
HUMMEL. No--not even that much! [_Pause_] You are not a nobleman!
COLONEL. Take care!
HUMMEL. [_Producing a document_] If you'll read this extract from the
armorial, you will see that the family whose name you are using has
been extinct for a century.
COLONEL. [_Reading the document_] I have heard rumours to that effect,
but the name was my father's before it was mine.... [_Reading again_]
That's right! Yes, you are right--I am not a nobleman! Not even
that!--Then I may as well take off my signet-ring.... Oh, I remember
now.... It belongs to you.... If you please!
HUMMEL. [_Accepting the ring and putting it into his pocket_] We had
better continue. You are no colonel, either.
COLONEL. Am I not?
HUMMEL. No, you have simply held the title of colonel in the American
volunteer service by special appointment. After the war in Cuba and the
reorganisation of the army, all titles of that kind were abolished....
COLONEL. Is that true?
HUMMEL. [_With a gesture toward his pocket_] Do you wish to see for
yourself?
COLONEL. No, it won't be necessary.--Who are you, anyhow, and with what
right are you stripping me naked in this fashion?
HUMMEL. You'll see by and by. As to stripping you naked--do you know
who you are in reality?
COLONEL. How dare you?
HUMMEL. Take off that wig, and have a look at yourself in the mirror.
Take out that set of false teeth and shave off your moustache, too. Let
Bengtsson remove the iron stays--and perhaps a certain X Y Z, a lackey,
may begin to recognise himself--the man who used to visit the maid's
chamber in a certain house for a bite of something good....
_The_ COLONEL _makes a movement toward a table on which stands
a bell, but is checked by_ HUMMEL.
HUMMEL. Don't touch that bell, and don't call Bengtsson! If you do,
I'll have him arrested.... Now the guests are beginning to arrive....
Keep your composure, and let us continue to play our old parts for a
while.
COLONEL. Who are you? Your eyes and your voice remind me of somebody....
HUMMEL. Don't try to find out! Keep silent and obey!
STUDENT. [_Enters and bows to the_ COLONEL] Colonel!
COLONEL. I bid you welcome to my house, young man. Your splendid
behaviour in connection with that great disaster has brought your name
to everybody's lips, and I count it an honour to receive you here....
STUDENT. Being a man of humble birth, Colonel and considering your name
and position....
COLONEL. May I introduce?--Mr. Arkenholtz--Mr. Hummel. The ladies are
in there, Mr. Arkenholtz--if you please--I have a few more things to
talk over with Mr. Hummel....
_Guided by the_ COLONEL, _the_ STUDENT _goes into the Hyacinth
Room, where he remains visible, standing beside the_ YOUNG LADY
_and talking very timidly to her_.
COLONEL. A splendid young chap--very musical--sings, and writes
poetry.... If he were only a nobleman--if he belonged to our class, I
don't think I should object....
HUMMEL. To what?
COLONEL. Oh, my daughter....
HUMMEL. _Your_ daughter, you say?--But apropos of that, why is she
always sitting in that room?
COLONEL. She has to spend all her time in the Hyacinth Room when she is
not out. That is a peculiarity of hers.... Here comes Miss Betty von
Holstein-Kron--a charming woman--a Secular Canoness, with just enough
money of her own to suit her birth and position....
Hummel. [_To__himself_] My fiancée!
_The_ FIANCÉE _enters. She is white-haired, and her looks
indicate a slightly unbalanced mind_.
COLONEL. Miss von Holstein-Kron--Mr. Hummel.
_The_ FIANCÉE _curtseys in old-fashioned manner and takes a
seat. The_ DANDY _enters and seats himself; he is in mourning
and has a very mysterious look._
COLONEL. Baron Skansenkorge....
HUMMEL. [_Aside, without rising_] That's the jewelry thief, I think....
[_To the_ COLONEL] If you bring in the Mummy, our gathering will be
complete.
COLONEL. [_Going to the door of the Hyacinth Room_] Polly!
MUMMY. [_Enters_] Currrrr!
COLONEL. How about the young people?
HUMMEL. No, not the young people! They must be spared.
_The company is seated in a circle, no one saying a word for a
while_.
COLONEL. Shall we order the tea now?
HUMMEL. What's the use? No one cares for tea, and I can't see the need
of pretending. [_Pause_.
COLONEL. Shall we make conversation?
HUMMEL. [_Speaking slowly and with frequent pauses._] Talk of the
weather, which we know all about? Ask one another's state of health,
which we know just as well? I prefer silence. Then thoughts become
audible, and we can see the past. Silence can hide nothing--but words
can. I read the other day that the differentiation of languages had its
origin in the desire among savage peoples to keep their tribal secrets
hidden from outsiders. This means that every language is a code, and
he who finds the universal key can understand every language in the
world--which does not prevent the secret from becoming revealed without
any key at times, and especially when the fact of paternity is to be
proved--but, of course, legal proof is a different matter. Two false
witnesses suffice to prove, anything on which they agree, but you don't
bring any witnesses along on the kind of expedition I have in mind.
Nature herself has planted in man a sense of modesty, which tends to
hide that which should be hidden. But we slip into situations unawares,
and now and then a favourable chance will reveal the most cherished
secret, stripping the impostor of his mask, and exposing the villain....
_Long pause during which everybody is subject to silent
scrutiny by all the rest_.
HUMMEL. How silent everybody is! [_Long silence_] Here, for instance,
in this respectable house, this attractive home, where beauty and
erudition and wealth have joined hands.... [_Long silence_] All of
us sitting here now--we know who we are, don't we? I don't need to
tell.... And all of you know me, although you pretend ignorance.... In
the next room is my daughter--_mine_, as you know perfectly well. She
has lost the desire to live without knowing why.... The fact is that
she has been pining away in this air charged with crime and deceit and
falsehood of every kind.... That is the reason why I have looked for
a friend in whose company she may enjoy the light and heat radiated
by noble deeds [_Long silence_] Here is my mission in this house: to
tear up the weeds, to expose the crimes, to settle all accounts, so
that those young people may start life with a clean slate in a home
that is my gift to them. [_Long silence_] Now I grant you safe retreat.
Everybody may leave in his due turn. Whoever stays will be arrested.
[_Long silence_] Do you hear that clock ticking like the deathwatch
hidden in a wall? Can you hear what it says?--"It's time! It's
time!"--When it strikes in a few seconds, your time will be up, and
then you can go, but not before. You may notice, too, that the clock
shakes its fist at you before it strikes. Listen! There it is! "Better
beware," it says.... And I can strike, too [_He raps the top of a table
with one of his crutches_] Do you hear?
_For a while everybody remains silent_.
MUMMY. [_Goes up to the dock and stops it; then she speaks in a normal
and dignified tone_] But I can stop time in its course. I can wipe
out the past and undo what is done. Bribes won't do that, nor will
threats--but suffering and repentance will [_She goes to_ HUMMEL] We
are miserable human creatures, and we know it. We have erred and we
have sinned--we, like everybody else. We are not what we seem, but
at bottom we are better than ourselves because we disapprove of our
own misdeeds. And when you, Jacob Hummel, with your assumed name,
propose to sit in judgment on us, you merely prove yourself worse than
all the rest. You are not the one you seem to be--no more than we!
You are a thief of human souls! You stole mine once upon a time by
means of false promises. You killed the Consul, whom they buried this
afternoon--strangling him with debts. You are now trying to steal the
soul of the Student with the help of an imaginary claim against his
father, who never owed you a farthing....
_Having vainly tried to rise and say something_, HUMMEL _sinks
back into his chair; as the_ MUMMY _continues her speech he
seems to shrink and lose volume more and more_.
MUMMY. There is one dark spot in your life concerning which I am not
certain, although I have my suspicions.... I believe Bengtsson can
throw light on it.
[_She rings the table-bell_.
HUMMEL. No! Not Bengtsson! Not him!
MUMMY. So he _does_ know? [_She rings again_.
_The_ MILKMAID _appears in the hallway, but is only seen by_
HUMMEL, _who shrinks back in horror. Then_ BENGTSSON _enters,
and the_ MILKMAID _disappears_.
MUMMY. Do you know this man, Bengtsson?
BENGTSSON. Oh yes, I know him, and he knows me. Life has its ups and
downs, as you know. I have been in his service, and he has been in
mine. For two years he came regularly to our kitchen to be fed by our
cook. Because he had to be at work at a certain hour, she made the
dinner far ahead of time, and we had to be satisfied with the warmed-up
leavings of that beast. He drank the soup-stock, so that we got nothing
but water. Like a vampire, the sucked the house of all nourishment,
until we became reduced to mere skeletons--and he nearly got us into
jail when we dared to call the cook a thief. Later I met that man in
Hamburg, where he had another name. Then he was a money-lender, a
regular leech. While there, he was accused of having lured a young girl
out on the ice in order to drown her, because she had seen him commit a
crime, and he was afraid of being exposed....
MUMMY. [_Making a pass with her hand over the face of_ HUMMEL _as if
removing a mask_] That's you! And now, give up the notes and the will!
JOHANSSON _appears in the hallway and watches the scene with
great interest, knowing that his slavery will now come to an
end_.
HUMMEL _produces a bundle of papers and throws them on the
table_.
MUMMY. [_Stroking the back of_ HUMMEL] Polly! Are you there, Jacob?
HUMMEL. [_Talking like a parrot_] Here is Jacob!--Pretty Polly! Currrr!
MUMMY. May the clock strike?
HUMMEL. [_With a clucking noise like that of a clock preparing to
strike_] The dock may strike! [_Imitating a cuckoo-clock]_ Cuckoo,
cuckoo, cuckoo....
MUMMY. [_Opening the closet door_] Now the clock has struck! Rise and
enter the closet where I have spent twenty years bewailing our evil
deed. There you will find a rope that may represent the one with which
you strangled the Consul as well as the one with which you meant to
strangle your benefactor.... Go!
HUMMEL _enters the closet_.
MUMMY. [_Closes the door after him_] Put up the screen, Bengtsson....
The Death Screen!
BENGTSSON _places the screen in front of the door._
MUMMY. It is finished! God have mercy on his soul!
ALL. Amen!
_Long silence. Then the_ YOUNG LADY _appears in the Hyacinth
Room with the_ STUDENT. _She seats herself at a harp and begins
a prelude, which changes into an accompaniment to the following
recitative_:
STUDENT. [_Singing_]
"Seeing the sun, it seemed to my fancy
That I beheld the Spirit that's hidden.
Man must for ever reap what he planted:
Happy is he who has done no evil.
Wrong that was wrought in moments of anger
Never by added wrong can be righted.
Kindness shown to the man whose sorrow
Sprang from your deed, will serve you better.
Fear and guilt have their home together:
Happy indeed is the guiltless man!"
_Curtain_.
THIRD SCENE
_A room furnished in rather bizarre fashion. The general effect
of it is Oriental. Hyacinths of different colours are scattered
everywhere. On the mantelshelf of the fireplace is seen a huge,
seated Buddha, in whose lap rests a bulb. From that bulb rises
the stalk of a shallot_ (Allium Ascalonicum), _spreading aloft
its almost globular cluster of white, starlike flowers_.
_An open door in the rear wall, toward the right-hand side,
leads to the Round Room, where the_ COLONEL _and the_ MUMMY
_are seated. They don't stir and don't utter a word. A part of
the Death Screen is also visible_.
_Another door, at the left, leads to the pantry and the
kitchen. The_ YOUNG LADY _[Adèle] and the_ STUDENT _are
discovered near a table. She is seated at her harp, and he
stands beside her_.
YOUNG LADY. Sing to my flowers.
STUDENT. Is this the flower of your soul?
YOUNG LADY. The one and only.--Are you fond of the hyacinth?
STUDENT. I love it above all other flowers. I love its virginal shape
rising straight and slender out of the bulb that rests on the water and
sends its pure white rootlets down into the colourless fluid. I love
the colour of it, whether innocently white as snow or sweetly yellow
as honey; whether youthfully pink or maturely red; but above all if
blue--with the deep-eyed, faith-inspiring blue of the morning sky. I
love these flowers, one and all; love them more than pearls or gold,
and have loved them ever since I was a child. I have always admired
them, too, because they possess every handsome quality that I lack....
And yet....
YOUNG LADY. What?
STUDENT. My love is unrequited. These beautiful blossoms hate me.
YOUNG LADY. How do you mean?
STUDENT. Their fragrance, powerful and pure as the winds of early
spring, which have passed over melting snow--it seems to confuse my
senses, to make me deaf and blind, to crowd me out of the room, to
bombard me with poisoned arrows that hurt my heart and set my head on
fire. Do you know the legend of that flower?
YOUNG LADY. Tell me about it.
STUDENT. Let us first interpret its symbolism. The bulb is the earth,
resting on the water or buried in the soil. From that the stalk rises,
straight as the axis of the universe. At its upper end appear the
six-pointed, starlike flowers.
YOUNG LADY. Above the earth--the stars! What lofty thought! Where did
you find it? How did you discover it?
STUDENT. Let me think.... In your eyes!--It is, therefore, an image of
the Cosmos. And that is the reason why Buddha is holding the earth-bulb
in his lap, brooding on it with a steady gaze, in order that he may
behold it spread outward and upward as it becomes transformed into a
heaven.... This poor earth must turn into a heaven! That is what Buddha
is waiting for!
YOUNG LADY. I see now.... Are not the snow crystals six-pointed, too,
like the hyacinth-lily?
STUDENT. You are right! Thus the snow crystal is a falling star....
YOUNG LADY. And the snowdrop is a star of snow--grown out of the snow.
STUDENT. But the largest and most beautiful of all the stars in the
firmament, the red and yellow Sirius, is the narcissus, with its
yellow-and-red cup and its six white rays....
YOUNG LADY. Have you seen the shallot bloom?
STUDENT. Indeed, I have! It hides its flowers within a ball, a globe
resembling the celestial one, and strewn, like that, with white
stars....
YOUNG LADY. What a tremendous thought! Whose was it?
STUDENT. Yours!
YOUNG LADY. No, yours!
STUDENT. Ours, then! We have jointly given birth to something: we are
wedded....
YOUNG LADY. Not yet.
STUDENT. What more remains?
YOUNG LADY. To await the coming ordeal in patience!
STUDENT. I am ready for it. [_Pause_] Tell me! Why do your parents sit
there so silently, without saying a single word?
YOUNG LADY. Because they have nothing to say to each other, and because
neither one believes what the other says. This is the way my father
puts it: "What is the use of talking, when you can't fool each other
anyhow?"
STUDENT. That's horrible....
YOUNG LADY. Here comes the Cook.... Look! how big and fat she is!
STUDENT. What does she want?
YOUNG LADY. Ask me about the dinner.... You see, I am looking after the
house during my mother's illness.
STUDENT. Have we to bother about the kitchen, too?
YOUNG LADY. We must eat.... Look at that Cook.... I can't bear the
sight of her....
STUDENT. What kind of a monster is she?
Young Lady. She belongs to the Hummel family of vampires. She is eating
us alive.
STUDENT. Why don't you discharge her?
YOUNG LADY. Because she won't leave. We can do nothing with her, and
we have got her for the sake of our sins.... Don't you see that we are
pining and wasting away?
STUDENT. Don't you get enough to eat?
YOUNG LADY. Plenty of dishes, but with all the nourishment gone from
the food. She boils the life out of the beef, and drinks the stock
herself, while we get nothing but fibres and water. In the same way,
when we have roast, she squeezes it dry. Then she eats the gravy and
drinks the juice herself. She takes the strength and savour out of
everything she touches. It is as if her eyes were leeches. When she has
had coffee, we get the grounds. She drinks the wine and puts water into
the bottles....
STUDENT. Kick her out!
YOUNG LADY. We can't!
STUDENT. Why not?
YOUNG LADY. We don't know! But she won't leave! And nobody can do
anything with her. She has taken all our strength away from us.
STUDENT. Will you let me dispose of her?
YOUNG LADY. No! It has to be as it is, I suppose.--Here she is now. She
will ask me what I wish for dinner, and I tell her, and then she will
make objections, and in the end she has her own way.
STUDENT. Why don't you leave it to her entirely?
YOUNG LADY. She won't let me.
STUDENT. What a strange house! It seems to be bewitched!
YOUNG LADY. It is!--Now she turned back on seeing you here.
COOK. [_Appearing suddenly in the doorway at that very moment_] Naw,
that was not the reason.
[_She grins so that every tooth can be seen_.
STUDENT. Get out of here!
COOK. When it suits me! [_Pause_] Now it does suit me!
[_She disappears_.
YOUNG LADY. Don't lose your temper! You must practise patience.
She is part of the ordeal we have to face in this house. We have a
chambermaid, too, after whom we have to put everything back where it
belongs.
STUDENT. Now I am sinking! _Cor in aethere!_ Music!
YOUNG LADY. Wait!
STUDENT. Music!
YOUNG LADY. Patience!--This is named the Room of Ordeal.... It is
beautiful to look at, but is full of imperfections.
STUDENT. Incredible! Yet such things have to be borne. It is very
beautiful, although a little cold. Why don't you have a fire?
YOUNG LADY. Because the smoke comes into the room.
STUDENT. Have the chimney swept!
YOUNG LADY. It doesn't help.--Do you see that writing-table?
STUDENT. Remarkably handsome!
YOUNG LADY. But one leg is too short. Every day I put a piece of cork
under that leg. Every day the chambermaid takes it away when she sweeps
the room. Every day I have to cut a new piece. Both my penholder and my
inkstand are covered with ink every morning, and I have to clean them
after that woman--as sure as the sun rises. [_Pause]_ What is the worst
thing you can think of?
STUDENT. To count the wash. Ugh!
YOUNG LADY. That's what I have to do. Ugh!
STUDENT. Anything else?
YOUNG LADY. To be waked out of your sleep and have to get up and dose
the window--which the chambermaid has left unlatched.
STUDENT. Anything else?
YOUNG LADY. To get up on a ladder and tie on the cord which the
chambermaid has torn from the window-shade.
STUDENT. Anything else?
YOUNG LADY. To sweep after her; to dust after her; to start the fire
again, after she has merely thrown some wood into the fireplace! To
watch the damper in the fireplace; to wipe every glass; to set the
table over again; to open the wine-bottles; to see that the rooms are
aired; to make over your bed; to rinse the water-bottle that is green
with sediment; to buy matches and soap, which are always lacking; to
wipe the chimneys and cut the wicks in order to keep the lamps from
smoking and in order to keep them from going out when we have company,
I have to fill them myself....
STUDENT. Music!
YOUNG LADY. Wait! The labour comes first--the labour of keeping the
filth of life at a distance.
STUDENT. But you are wealthy, and you have two servants?
YOUNG LADY. What does that help? What would it help to have three? It
is troublesome to live, and at times I get tired.... Think, then, of
adding a nursery!
STUDENT. The greatest of joys....
YOUNG LADY. And the costliest.... Is life really worth so much trouble?
STUDENT. It depends on the reward you expect for your labours.... To
win your hand I would face anything.
YOUNG LADY. Don't talk like that. You can never get me.
STUDENT. Why?
YOUNG LADY. You mustn't ask.
[_Pause_.
STUDENT. You dropped your bracelet out of the window....
YOUNG LADY. Yes, because my hand has grown too small....
[_Pause_.
_The_ COOK _appears with a bottle of Japanese soy in her hand_.
YOUNG LADY. There is the one that eats me and all the rest alive.
STUDENT. What has she in her hand?
COOK. This is my colouring bottle that has letters on it looking like
scorpions. It's the soy that turns water into bouillon, and that takes
the place of gravy. You can make cabbage soup out of it, or mock-turtle
soup, if you prefer.
STUDENT. Out with you!
COOK. You take the sap out of us, and we out of you. We keep the blood
for ourselves and leave you the water--with the colouring. It's the
colour that counts! Now I shall leave, but I stay just the same--as
long as I please!
[_She goes out_.
STUDENT. Why has Bengtsson got a medal?
YOUNG LADY. On account of his great merits.
STUDENT. Has he no faults?
YOUNG LADY. Yes, great ones, but faults bring you no medals, you know.
[_Both smile_.
STUDENT. You have a lot of secrets in this house....
YOUNG LADY. As in all houses.... Permit us to keep ours! [_Pause_.
STUDENT. Do you care for frankness?
YOUNG LADY. Within reason.
STUDENT. At times I am seized with a passionate craving to say all
I think.... Yet I know that the world would go to pieces if perfect
frankness were the rule. [_Pause_ I attended a funeral the other
day--in one of the churches--and it was very solemn and beautiful.
YOUNG LADY. That of Mr. Hummel?
STUDENT. Yes, that of my pretended benefactor. An elderly friend of the
deceased acted as mace-bearer and stood at the head of the coffin. I
was particularly impressed by the dignified manner and moving words of
the minister. I had to cry--everybody cried.... A number of us went to
a restaurant afterward, and there I learned that the man with the mace
had been rather too friendly with the dead man's son....
_The_ YOUNG LADY _stares at him, trying to make out the meaning
of his words_.
STUDENT. I learned, too, that the dead man had bo
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