Three Dramas
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Title: Three Dramas
Author: Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson
Translator: R. Farquharson Sharp
Release date: April 1, 2005 [eBook #7844]
Most recently updated: August 11, 2009
Language: English
Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/7844
Credits: Produced by Nicole Apostola, and David Widger
*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THREE DRAMAS ***
Produced by Nicole Apostola
THREE DRAMAS
THE EDITOR--THE BANKRUPT--THE KING
By Bjornstjerne Bjornson
CONTENTS
THE EDITOR
THE BANKRUPT
THE KING
INTRODUCTION
The three plays here presented were the outcome of a period when
Bjornson's views on many topics were undergoing a drastic revision and
he was abandoning much of his previous orthodoxy in many directions. Two
of them were written during, and one immediately after, a three years'
absence from Norway--years spent almost entirely in southern Europe.
[Note: Further details respecting Bjornson's life will be found in the
Introduction to Three Comedies by Bjornson, published in Everyman's
Library in 1912.] For nearly ten years previous to this voluntary
exile, Bjornson had been immersed in theatrical management and political
propagandism. His political activities (guided by a more or less
pronounced republican tendency) centred in an agitation for a truer
equality between the kingdoms of Sweden and Norway, his point of view
being that Norway had come to be regarded too much as a mere appanage
of Sweden. Between that and his manifold and distracting cares as
theatrical director, he had let imaginative work slide for the time
being; but his years abroad had a recuperative effect, and, in addition,
broadened his mental outlook in a remarkable manner. Foreign travel, a
wider acquaintance with differing types of humanity, and, above all,
a newly-won acquaintance with the contemporary literature of other
countries, made a deep impression upon Bjornson's vigorously receptive
mind. He browsed voraciously upon the works of foreign writers. Herbert
Spencer, Darwin, John Stuart Mill, Taine, Max-Mueller, formed a portion
of his mental pabulum at this time--and the result was a significant
alteration of mental attitude on a number of questions, and a
determination to make the attempt to embody his theories in dramatic
form. He had gained all at once, as he wrote to Georg Brandes, the
eminent Danish critic, "eyes that saw and ears that heard." Up to this
time the poet in him had been predominant; now it was to be the
social philosopher that held the reins. Just as Ibsen did, so Bjornson
abandoned historical drama and artificial comedy for an attempt at
prose drama which should have at all events a serious thesis. In this
he anticipated Ibsen; for (unless we include the satirical political
comedy, _The League of Youth_, which was published in 1869, among
Ibsen's "social dramas") Ibsen did not enter the field with _Pillars of
Society_ [Note: Published in _The Pretenders and Two Other Plays_, in
Everyman's Library, 1913.] until 1877, whereas Bjornson's _The Editor_,
_The Bankrupt_, and _The King_ were all published between 1874 and 1877.
Intellectual and literary life in Denmark had been a good deal stirred
and quickened in the early seventies, and the influence of that
awakening was inevitably felt by the more eager spirits in the other
Scandinavian countries. It is amusing to note, as one Norwegian writer
has pointed out, that this intellectual upheaval (which, in its turn,
was a reflection of that taking place in outer Europe) came at a time
when the bulk of the Scandinavian folk "were congratulating themselves
that the doubt and ferment of unrest which were undermining the
foundations of the great communities abroad had not had the power to
ruffle the placid surface of our good, old-fashioned, Scandinavian
orthodoxy." Bjornson makes several sly hits in these plays (as does
Ibsen in _Pillars of Society_) at this distrust of the opinions and
manners of the larger communities outside of Scandinavia, notably
America, with which the Scandinavian countries were more particularly in
touch through emigration.
Brandes characterises the impelling motive of these three plays as a
passionate appeal for a higher standard of truth--in journalism, in
finance, in monarchy: an appeal for less casuistry and more honesty.
Such a motive was characteristic of the vehement honesty of Bjornson's
own character; he must always, as he says in one of his letters, go
over to the side of any one whom he believed to "hold the truth in his
hands."
_The Editor_ (_Redaktoeren_) was written while Bjornson was in Florence,
and was published at Copenhagen in 1874. It was at first not accepted
for performance at Christiania or Copenhagen, though an unauthorised
performance of it was given at one of the lesser Christiania theatres
in 1875, Meanwhile a Swedish version of it had been produced,
authoritatively, at Stockholm in February of that year. The play
eventually made its way on the Norwegian and Danish stage; but, before
that, it had been seen in German dress at Munich and Hamburg. As an
inevitable result of his recent activities as a political speaker and
pamphleteer, Bjornson had come in for a good deal of vituperation in the
press, a fact which no doubt added some gall to the ink with which he
drew the portrait of the journalist in this play. The Stockholm critics,
indeed, had condemned _The Editor_ as merely a pamphleteering attack on
the editor of a well-known journal. In answer to this criticism
Bjornson wrote from Rome in March, 1875: "It is said that my play is a
pamphleteering attack on a certain individual. That is a deliberate lie.
I have studied the journalist type, which is here represented, in many
other countries besides my own. The chief characteristic of this type
is to be actuated by an inordinate egotism that is perpetually being
inflamed by passion; that makes use of bogeys to frighten people,
and does this in such a way that, while it makes all its honest
contemporaries afraid of any freedom of thought, it also produces the
same result on every single individual by means of reckless persecution.
As I wished to portray that type, I naturally took a good deal of the
portrait from the representative of the type that I knew best; but, like
every artist who wishes to produce a complete creation, I had to build
it up from separate revelations of itself. There can, therefore, be no
question of any individual being represented in my play except in so far
as he may partially agree with the type."
However much Bjornson may have written _The Editor_ with a "purpose,"
his vivid dramatic sense kept him from becoming merely didactic. The
little tragedy that takes place amongst this homely group of people
makes quite a moving play, thanks to the skill with which the types
are depicted--the bourgeois father and mother, with their mixture of
timidity and self-interest; the manly, straightforward young politician,
resolute to carry on the work that has sapped his brother's life; the
warped, de-humanised nature of the journalist; the sturdy common-sense
of the yeoman farmer; and the doctor, the "family friend," as a sort of
mocking chorus. Besides its plea for a higher regard for truth, the play
also attacks the precept, preached by worldly wisdom, that we ought to
harden our natures to make ourselves invulnerable; a proposition
which was hateful to one of Bjornson's persistently impressionable
and ingenuous nature. The fact remains, as Brandes grimly admits, that
"nowadays we have only a very qualified sympathy with public characters
who succumb to the persecution of the press." Brandes sees in the play,
besides its obvious motive, an allegory. Halvdan Rejn, the weary and
dying politician, is (he says) meant for Henrik Wergeland, a Norwegian
poet-politician who had similar struggles, sank under the weight of
similar at tacks, died after a long illness, and was far higher reputed
after his death than during his life. In Harald Rejn, with his honest
enthusiasm and misjudged political endeavours Brandes sees Bjornson
himself; while the yeoman brother, Haakon, seems to him to typify the
Norwegian people.
_The Bankrupt_ (_En Fallit_: literally _A Bankruptcy_) was partly
written in Rome, partly in Tyrol, and published at Copenhagen in 1875.
It was a thing entirely new to the Scandinavian stage for a dramatist
to deal seriously with the tragi-comedy of money, and, while making
a forcible plea for honesty, to contrive to produce a stirring and
entertaining play on what might seem so prosaic a foundation as business
finance. Some of the play's earliest critics dismissed it as "dry,"
"prosaic," "trivial," because of the nature of its subject; but it made
a speedy success on the boards, and very soon became a popular item in
the repertories of the Christiania, Bergen and Copenhagen theatres. It
was actually first performed, in a Swedish translation, at Stockholm, a
few days before it was produced at Christiania. Very soon, too, the play
reached Berlin, Munich, Vienna, and other German and Austrian theatres.
It was played in Paris, at the Theatre Libre in 1894. The character of
Berent, the lawyer, which became a favourite one with the famous Swedish
actor Ernst Possart, was admittedly more or less of a portrait of a
well-known Norwegian lawyer, by name Dunker. When Bjornson was writing
the play, he went to stay for some days with Dunker, who was to instruct
him as to the legal aspect of bankruptcy. Bjornson took the opportunity
of studying the lawyer as well as the law.
_The King_ (_Kongen_) was written at Aulestad, the Norwegian home in
which Bjornson settled after his return from abroad, and was published
at Copenhagen in 1877. It is perhaps not surprising that the play, with
its curious blend of poetry and social philosophy, and its somewhat
exuberant (though always interesting) wordiness, was not at first
a conspicuous success on the stage; but the interest aroused by
the published book was enormous. It was widely read and vigorously
discussed, both in Scandinavia and abroad; and while, on the one hand,
it brought upon Bjornson the most scurrilous abuse and the harshest
criticism from his political opponents, on the other hand a prominent
compatriot of his (whose opinion was worth having) gave it as his
verdict, at a political meeting held soon after the play's publication,
that "the most notable thing that has happened in Norway of late--or at
any rate, one of the most notable--in my opinion is this last book of
Bjornson's--_The King_."
The idea of a "democratic monarchy"--a kind of reformed constitutional
monarchy, that should be a half-way house on the road to
republicanism--was not entirely new; Bjornson's success was in
presenting the problem as seen from the _inside_--that is to say, from
the king's point of view. His opponents, of course, branded him as a
red-hot republican, which he was not. In a preface he wrote for a later
edition of the play, he says that he did not intend the play mainly as
an argument in favour of republicanism, but "to extend the boundaries of
free discussion"; but that, at the same time, he believed the republic
to be the ultimate form of government, and all European states to be
proceeding at varying rates of speed towards it.
_The King_ is composed of curiously incongruous elements. The railway
meeting in the first act is pure comedy of a kind to compare with the
meeting in Ibsen's _An Enemy of Society_; the last act is melodrama
with a large admixture of remarkably interesting social philosophy; the
intervening acts betray the poet that always underlay the dramatist
in Bjornson. The crudity, again, of the melodramatic appearance of the
wraith of Clara's father in the third act, contrasts strangely with the
mature thoughtfulness of much of the last act and with the tender charm
of what has gone before: And--strangest incongruity of all in a play
so essentially "actual"--there is in the original, between each act,
a mysterious "mellemspil," or "interlude," in verse, consisting of
somewhat cryptic dialogues between Genii and Unseen Choirs in the
clouds, between an "Old Grey Man" and a "Chorus of Tyrants" in a
desolate scene of snow and ice, between Choruses of Men, Women, and
Children in a sylvan landscape, and so forth--their utterances being of
the nature of the obscurest choruses in the Greek dramatists, but for
the most part with a less obvious relevance to the play itself. Such
a device leads the present-day reader's thoughts inevitably to the use
made of the "unseen chorus," in a similar way, by Thomas Hardy in _The
Dynasts_; but Hardy's interludes are closely relevant to his drama and
help it on its way, which Bjornson's do not. They have been entirely
omitted in the present translation, on the ground of their complete
superfluity as well as from the extreme difficulty of retaining their
"atmosphere" in translation.
None of the three plays in the present volume have previously been
translated into English. German, French, and Swedish versions of _The
Editor_ are extant; German, Swedish, Finnish, French, and Hungarian of
_The Bankrupt_; French and Spanish of _The King_.
R. FARQUHARSON SHARP.
The following is a list of the works of Bjornstjerne Bjornson:--
DRAMATIC AND POETIC WORKS.--Mellem Slagene (Between the Battles), 1857.
Halte-Hulda (Lame Hulda), 1858. Kong Sverre (King Sverre), 1861. Sigurd
Slembe (Sigurd the Bastard), 1862; translated by W. M. Payne, 1888.
Maria Stuart i Skotland, 1864. De Nygifte (The Newly-Married Couple),
1865; translated by T. Soelfeldt, 1868; by S. and E. Hjerleid, 1870; as
A Lesson in Marriage, by G. I. Colbron, 1911. Sigurd Jorsalfar (Sigurd
the Crusader), 1872. Redaktoeren (The Editor), 1874. En Fallit (A
Bankruptcy), 1874. Kongen (The King), 1877. Leonarda, 1879. Det
ny System (The New System), 1879. En Hanske, 1883; translated as A
Gauntlet, by H. L. Braekstad 1890; by Osman Edwards 1894. Over AEvne
(Beyond our Strength), Part I., 1883; translated as Pastor Sang, by
W. Wilson, 1893; Part II., 1895. Geografi og Kaerlighed (Geography and
Love), 1885; Paul Lange og Tora Parsberg, 1898; translated by H. L.
Braekstad, 1899. Laboremus, 1901; translation published by Chapman and
Hall, 1901. Paa Storhove (At Storhove), 1904; Daglannet, 1904; Naar
den ny Vin blomstrer (When the Vineyards are in Blossom), 1909; The
Newly-Married Couple, Leonarda, and A Gauntlet, translated by R.
Farquharson Sharp (Everyman's Library), 1912.
Digte og Sange (Poems and Songs), 1870; Arnljot Gelline, 1870.
FICTION.--Synnoeve Solbakken 1857; translated as Trust and Trial, by Mary
Howitt, 1858; as Love and Life in Norway, by Hon. Augusta Bethell and A.
Plesner, 1870; as The Betrothal, in H. and A. Zimmern's Half-hours with
Foreign Novelists, 1880; also translated by Julie Sutter, 1881; by R. B.
Anderson, 1881. Arne, 1858; translated by T. Krag, 1861; by A. Plesner
and S. Rugeley-Powers, 1866; by R. B. Anderson, 1881; by W. Low (Bohn's
Library), 1890. Smaastykker (Sketches), 1860. En glad Gut, 1860;
translated as Ovind, by S. and E. Hjerleid 1869; as The Happy Boy, by
R. B. Anderson, 1881; as The Happy Lad (published by Blackie), 1882.
Fiskerjenten, 1868 translated as The Fisher Maiden, by M. E. Niles,
1869; as The Fishing Girl, by A. Plesner and F. Richardson, 1870; as The
Fishing Girl, by S. and E. Hjerleid, 1871; as The Fisher Maiden, by R.
B. Anderson, 1882. Brude-Slaatten, 1873; translated as The Bridal March,
by R. B. Anderson, 1882; by J. E. Williams, 1893. Fortaellinger (Tales),
1872. Magnhild, 1877; translated by R. B. Anderson, 1883. Kaptejn
Mansana, 1879; translated as Captain Mansana by R. B. Anderson, 1882.
Det flager i Byen og paa Havnen (Flags are Flying in Town and Port),
1884; translated as The Heritage of the Kurts, by C Fairfax 1892. Paa
Guds Veje, 1889; translated as In God's Way, by E. Carmichael, 1890.
Nye Fortaellinger (New Tales), 1894; To Fortaelinger (Two Tales), 1901;
Mary, 1906. Collected edition of the Novels, translated into English,
edited by E. Gosse, 13 vols., 1895-1909.
[See Life of Bjornson by W. M. Payne, 1910; E. Gosse's Study of the
Writings of Bjornson, in edition of Novels, 1895; H. H. Boyesen's Essays
on Scandinavian Literature, 1895; G. Brandes' Critical Studies of Ibsen
and Bjornson, 1899.]
THE EDITOR
A PLAY IN FOUR ACTS
DRAMATIS PERSONAE
EVJE, a prosperous distiller.
MRS. EVJE. GERTRUD, their daughter, engaged to
HARALD REJN.
The DOCTOR.
The EDITOR.
HAAKON REJN, a yeoman farmer.
HALVDAN REJN and HARALD REJN, his brothers.
The DOCTOR'S ASSISTANT.
INGEBORG, maid to the Evjes.
JOHN, coachman to the Evjes.
HALVDAN REJN's HOUSEKEEPER.
HALVDAN REJN's MAID.
A Lamplighter.
The action takes place in a town in Norway.
ACT I
(SCENE.--The breakfast-room at the EVJES' house. A glass-cupboard, in
two partitions, stands against the left-hand wall, well forward. On the
top of it stand a variety of objects. Beyond it, a stove. At the back of
the room, a sideboard. In the middle of the room a small round folding
table, laid for four persons. There is an armchair by the stove; a sofa
on the right; chairs, etc. A door at the back of the room, and another
in the left-hand wall. There are paintings on the walls, and the general
impression of the room is one of snug comfort. EVJE, MRS. EVJE, and
GERTRUD are seated at the table. INGEBORG is standing by the sideboard.
Breakfast is proceeding in silence as the curtain rises. INGEBORG takes
away EVJE'S cup and re-fills it. As she brings it back to him, a ring is
heard at the bell. GERTRUD gets up.)
Evje. Sit still; John will go to the door. (GERTRUD sits down again.
Directly afterwards, another ring is heard.)
Mrs. Evje. What can John be doing?
Ingeborg. I will go. (Goes out. She comes back, showing in HARALD REJN,
who hangs up his hat and coat in the hall before coming in.)
Harald. Good morning!
Evje and Mrs. Evje. Good morning! (HARALD shakes hands with them.)
Harald (to GERTRUD, who is sitting on the right). Good morning, Gertrud!
Am I a bit late to-day? (GERTRUD, who has taken his hand, looks lovingly
at him but says nothing.)
Mrs. Evje. Yes, I suppose you have been for a long constitutional,
although the weather is none of the best.
Harald. It is not; I expect we shall have a thick fog by the afternoon.
Evje. Did you have breakfast before you went out?
Harald. I did, thanks. (To INGEBORG, who has come forward with a cup of
coffee.) No, thank you. I will sit down here while you are finishing.
(Sits down on the sofa behind GERTRUD.)
Mrs. Evje. How is your brother Halvdan?
Harald. A little better to-day, thanks--but of course we cannot build on
that.
Evje. Is your eldest brother coming to see him?
Harald. Yes, we expect him every day. Probably his wife has come with
him, and that has been the reason of the delay; she finds it difficult
to get away.
Mrs. Evje. Halvdan so often talks of her.
Harald. Yes, I believe she is the best friend he has.
Evje. No wonder, then, that she wants to come and say good-bye to him.
By the way, have you seen how the paper bids him good-bye to-day?
Harald. Yes, I have seen it.
Mrs. Evje (hurriedly). I hope Halvdan has not seen it?
Harald (smiling). No, it is a long time now since Halvdan read a
newspaper. (A pause.)
Evje. Then I suppose you have read what they say about you too?
Harald. Naturally.
Mrs. Evje. It is worse than anything they have said about you before.
Harald. Well--of course, you know, my election meeting comes on this
evening.
Evje. I can tell you it has upset _us_.
Mrs. Evje. Day after day we wake up to find our house invaded by these
abominations. That is a nice thought to begin your day's work with!
Harald. Is it so indispensable, then, to educated people to begin their
day by reading such things?
Mrs. Evje. Well--one must have a paper.
Evje. And most people read it. Besides, one can't deny that a lot of
what is in it is true, although its general tendency is to run everyone
down.
Harald (getting up). Quite so, yes. (Leans over GERTRUD'S shoulder.)
Gertrud, have you read it?
Gertrud (does not look at him, and hesitates for a moment; then says
gently): Yes.
Harald (under his breath). So that is it! (Walks away from her.)
Evje. We have had a little bit of a scene here, I must tell you.
Harald (walking up and down). Yes, I can understand that.
Evje. I will repeat what I have said already: they write about _you_,
and _we_ have to suffer for it.
Mrs. Evje. Yes, and Gertrud especially.
Gertrud. No--I don't want anyone to consider me in the matter at all.
Besides, it is not what they say of you in the paper that hurts me--.
(Stops abruptly.)
Harald (who has come up to her). But what your parents are feeling about
it? Is that it? (GERTRUD does not answer.)
Evje (pushing back his plate). There, I have finished! (They rise from
the table. MRS. EVJE helps INGEBORG to clear away the things, which
INGEBORG carries out of the room.)
Mrs. Evje. Couldn't you wash your hands of politics, Harald? (GERTRUD
goes out to the left.)
Evje (who has followed GERTRUD with his eyes). We cannot deny that it
pains us considerably that in our old age our peaceful home should be
invaded by all this squabbling and abomination.
Mrs. Evje (who rung for INGEBORG to move the table). You have no need
to do it, either, Harald! You are a grown man, and your own master.
(INGEBORG comes in. HARALD helps her to move the table.)
Evje (to his wife). Don't let Ingeborg hear. Come along, we will go into
my room.
Mrs. Evje. You forget, all the windows are open there. I have had the
fire lit here, so that we could stay here.
Evje. Very well--then we will sit here. (Sits down by the fire.) Will
you have a cigar?
Harald. No, thanks. (INGEBORG goes out.)
Evje (taking a cigar and lighting it). As my wife said just
now--couldn't you wash your hands of politics, Harald? You, who have
both talent and means, need not be at a loss for a vocation in life.
Harald (sitting down on the sofa). If I have any talent, it is for
politics--and so I intend to devote my means to that.
Evje. What do you propose to gain by it?
Harald. What any one who believes in a cause hopes to gain--that is to
say, to help it on.
Evje. And to become a cabinet minister?
Harald. I certainly can't do that any other way; well, I admit--that
_is_ my idea.
Evje. You will not be elected now.
Harald. That we shall see.
Evje. But suppose you are not re-elected to-morrow?
Harald. Then I must find some other way.
Evje. Always with the same object?
Harald. Always with the same object. (EVJE sighs.)
Mrs. Evje (who has taken her sewing and sat down by the fire). Oh, these
politics!
Harald. At any rate, they are the most prominent factors in life just
now.
Evje. We do not suppose we can exercise any influence over you. But
at any rate it is possible that you yourself have not considered the
position into which you have put the whole of us. (Both he and his wife
avoid looking at HARALD during this discussion.)
Mrs. Evje. Say what you really mean, dear--that he is making us all
thoroughly unhappy, and that is the truth!
Harald (getting up, and walking up and down). Well, look here--I have
a proposal to make. It is, that you should abandon all opposition to
Gertrud's marrying me at once. To-day again my brother has expressed the
wish that we should be married by his bedside; so that he should be able
to take part in it. I scarcely need add how happy it would make me.
Evje. But whether she is here at home or married to you, you know, her
parents' distress would be just as great every time their child was
persecuted.
Mrs. Evje. Surely you can appreciate that!
Harald. But what answer am I to give to my brother's request?--most
likely the last he will ever--. (Stops.)
Evje (after a pause). He is very kind to wish it, as he always is.
Nothing would make us happier; but we who are her parents do not
consider that you could make our daughter happy as long as you remain in
politics and on the lines on which you are now travelling.
Harald (after a pause, during which he has stood still). That is to say,
you contemplate breaking off our engagement?
Evje (looking at him quickly). Far from it!
Mrs. Evje (at the same time). How can you say such a thing?
Evje (turning towards the fire again). We have spoken about it to
Gertrud to-day--as to whether it would not be possible to induce you to
choose some other career.
Mrs. Evje. You understand now, why you found Gertrud upset. You must
listen to us now, as she did, in all friendliness.
Evje (getting up and standing with his back to the fire). The first
thing I do in the morning is to read my paper. You know what was in it
to-day--the same as is in it now every day.
Mrs. Evje. No; I am sure it has never been as bad as to-day.
Harald (walking up and down again). The election is just at hand!
Evje. Well--it is just as painful to us, her father and mother, whether
it is before or after the election. We are not accustomed to associate
with any one who has not first-class credentials--and now we have to
endure seeing doubt cast upon our own son-in-law's. Do not misunderstand
me; to my mind, for credentials to be first-class they must not only
actually be so, but must also be considered to be so by people in
general. (HARALD begins to walk up and down again.) The second thing I
do in the morning is to open my letters. Amongst to-day's were several
from friends we had invited to a party we thought of giving--if, that
is to say, your brother's illness took no sudden turn for the worse. No
fewer than ten of them refuse our invitation--most of them making some
excuse, and a few with a little more show of a real reason; but one of
them speaks straight out, and I have his letter here. (Takes it from his
pocket.) I have kept it for you. It is from my father's old friend,
the bishop. I haven't my spectacles--and for me to have mislaid my
spectacles will show you what a state of mind I am in. I don't think I
have done such a thing for--. Here, read it yourself! Read it aloud!
Harald (taking the letter). "My dear Mr. Evje. As you are my poor dear
friend's son, you must listen to the truth from me. I cannot willingly
come to your house while I might meet there a certain person who,
certainly, is one of you, but nevertheless is a person whom I cannot
hold in entire respect."
Mrs. Evje. Well, Harald, what do you think our feelings must be when we
read things like that?
Evje. Do not imagine that, in spite of that, _we_ do not hold you in
entire respect. We only ask you to ensure our daughter's happiness. You
can do that with a word.
Mrs. Evje. We know what you are, whatever people say--even if they are
bishops. But, in return, you ought to have confidence in our judgment;
and our advice to you is, have done with it! Marry Gertrud at once, and
go away for your honeymoon; by the time you come back, people will have
got something else to talk about--and you will have found something else
to occupy you as well.
Evje. You must not misunderstand us. We mean no coercion. We are
not insisting on this alternative. If you wish to be married, you
shall--without feeling yourself obliged to change your vocation for
_our_ sakes. We only want to make it clear that it would pain us--pain
us very deeply.
Mrs. Evje. If you want to take time to think it over, or want to talk it
over with Gertrud or with your brother, do! (GERTRUD comes in and goes
about the room looking for something.)
Evje. What are you looking for, dear?
Gertrud. Oh, for the--.
Mrs. Evje. I expect it is the newspaper; your grandfather has been
asking for it.
Evje. Surely there is no need for _him_ to read it?
Mrs. Evje. He asked me for it, too. He knows quite well what has made us
all unhappy.
Evje. Can't you tell him? No, that wouldn't do.
Mrs. Evje (to GERTRUD). I suppose you have had to confess to him what is
the matter?
Gertrud (trying to conceal an emotion that is almost too much for her).
Yes. (Finds the paper, and goes out.)
Mrs. Evje (when GERTRUD has gone). Poor child!
Evje. Does not what she is carrying to him, with all that it says about
you and about your brother, seem to you like an omen? I will tell you
how it strikes me. Your brother is a very much more gifted man than I
am; and although it is true, as that paper says, that nothing of all
that he has worked for has ever come to anything, still perhaps he may
nevertheless have accomplished more than either you or me, although we
have done a good deal between us to increase the prosperity of our town.
I feel that to be so, although I cannot express what I mean precisely.
But consider the reputation he will leave behind him. All educated
people will say just what that paper says to-day--and to-morrow he will
be forgotten. He will scarcely find a place in history, for history only
concerns itself with the great leaders of men. What does it all come
to, then? Neither present nor posthumous fame; but death--death all the
time. He is dying by inches now, dying of the most horrible persecution;
and the emotion that his end will cause among a few individuals cannot
be called posthumous fame. (HARALD begins to speak, but checks himself.)
Can _you_ hope to make a better fight of it? You think you are stronger?
Very well; perhaps you may have the strength to endure it until other
times come and other opinions with them. But there will be one by
your side who will not have the strength to endure it. Gertrud is not
strong--she could never stand it; indeed now--already--. (Is stopped by
his emotion.)
Mrs. Evje. She hides it from you, but she cannot hide it from us.
Besides, a friend of ours--our dear doctor--said only yesterday--.
(Breaks off in tears.)
Evje. We never told you, but he warned us some time ago; we had no
idea it was so serious, or that it had anything to do with this.
But yesterday he frightened us; he said she--. Well, you can ask him
yourself. He will be here directly. (HARALD fills a glass of water and
raises it to his lips, but sets it down again untasted.)
Mrs. Evje (going to him). I am so sorry for you, Harald! To have this
come on you just now--when your splendid brother is at the point of
death, and you yourself are being persecuted! (A ring is heard at the
bell.)
Evje. But it should be a warning to you! Sometimes a single movement
will change the course of a whole life.
Mrs. Evje. And do have a little confidence in us! (A ring is heard
again.)
Evje. What on earth has become of John to-day? That is the second time
the bell has rung.
Mrs. Evje. One of the maids is opening the door, I can hear.
Evje. I expect it is the doctor.
Mrs. Evje. Yes, it is he--I know his ring. (A knock is heard at the
door.)
Evje. Come in! (The DOCTOR comes in.)
The Doctor. Good morning! (Lays down his hat and stick.) Well, so I hear
John has been up to his pranks again? The rascal is in bed.
Evje and Mrs. Evje. In bed?
The Doctor. Came home at four o'clock in the morning, drunk. Ill to-day,
naturally. Ingeborg asked me to go in and see him.
Evje. Well!--I am determined to put an end to it!
Mrs. Evje. Yes, I have never been able to understand why you were so
lenient with John.
Evje. He has been with us five years; and, besides, it makes people talk
so, if you have to send your servants away.
Mrs. Evje. But surely this sort of thing makes them talk much worse!
Evje. Well--he shall leave this very day.
The Doctor (to HARALD). How are you, Rejn?--Oho! I understand. I have
come at an inopportune moment with my complaints of John? You have all
got something more serious on your minds?
Mrs. Evje. Yes, we have had it out, as we agreed yesterday.
The Doctor. You must forgive me, my dear Rejn, for having told my old
friends the whole truth yesterday. She (pointing to MRS. EVJE) was an
old playfellow of mine, and her husband and I have been friends from
boyhood; so we have no secrets from each other. And Gertrud's condition
makes me very uneasy.
Harald. Why have you never told me that before?
The Doctor. Goodness knows I have often enough given her parents hints
that she was not well; but they have only made up their minds that her
happiness in her engagement would quite cure her. They are a considerate
couple, these two dear people, you know; they didn't want to seem
interfering.
Harald. Their consideration--which I appreciate and have lately had
constant reason to be grateful for--has all at once become a more
powerful weapon than open opposition. It makes a duty of what I should
otherwise have felt to be unfair coercion. But now the situation is such
that I can neither go forward nor back. After what I have gone through,
you must see that I cannot withdraw on the very eve of the election--and
after the election it will be too late. On the other hand--(with
emotion)--I cannot, I dare not, go on with it if it is to cost me--.
(Breaks off.)
Evje (standing in front of the fire). There, there! Take time to think
it over, my dear boy; talk it over with her and with your brother.
The Doctor (who has sat down on a chair to the left, a little away from
the others). I have just been to see your brother. A remarkable man! But
do you know what occurred to me as I sat there? He is dying because he
_is_ a man. The only people that are fit for political life nowadays are
those whose hearts have been turned to stone. (Picks up something from
the table and gets up.) Ah, just look here! Here is a fine specimen
of petrifaction. It is a fragment of palm leaf of some kind, found
impressed in a bit of rock from Spitzbergen. I sent it you myself, so
I know it. That is what you have to be like to withstand arctic
storms!--it will take to harm. But your brother--well, his life had been
like that of the original palm tree, with the air sighing through its
branches; the change of climate was too sudden for him. (Goes up to
HARALD.) You have still to try it. Shall you be able to kill all the
humanity that is in you? If you can make yourself as insensate a thing
as this stone, I daresay you will be able to stand the life. But are you
willing to venture upon political life at such a price? If you are--so
be it; but remember that in that case you must also kill all humanity
in Gertrud--in these two--in every one that is dear to you. Otherwise no
one will understand you or follow you. If you cannot do that, you will
never be more than a dabbler in politics--a quarter, an eighth part, of
a politician--and all your efforts, in what you consider your vocation,
will be pitiable!
Mrs. Evje (who has been occupied at the back of the room, but now sits
down by the fare). That is quite true! I know cases of petrifaction like
that--and God preserve anyone that I love from it!
Evje (coming forward towards HARALD). I don't want to say anything to
hurt your feelings--least of all just now. But I just want to add my
warning, because I believe I have discovered that there is a danger that
persecution may make you hard.
Harald. Yes!--but do you suppose it is only politics that offer that
dangerous prospect?
The Doctor. You are quite right! It is all the cry nowadays, "Harden
yourself!" It isn't only military men and doctors that have to be
hardened; commercial men have to be hardened, civil servants have to be
hardened, or dried up; and everybody else has to be hardened for life,
apparently. But what does it all mean? It means that we are to drive out
all warmth from our hearts, all desire from our imaginations. There is a
child's heart at the bottom of every one of our hearts-ever young, full
of laughter and tears; and that is what we shall have killed before we
are "fitted for the battle of life," as they put it. No, no--that is
what we ought to preserve; we were given it for that! (HARALD hides his
face in his hands, and sits so for some time.)
Mrs. Evje. Any mother or any wife knows that.
Evje (standing with his back to the fire). You want to bring back the
age of romance, doctor!
The Doctor (with a laugh). Not its errors--because in those days unclean
minds brought to birth a great deal that was unclean. (Seriously.) But
what is it, when all is said and done, but a violent protest on the
part of the Teutonic people against the Romanesque spirit and school--a
remarkable school, but not _ours_. To us it seems a barren, merely
intellectual school--a mere mass of formulas which led to a precocious
development of the mind. And that was the spirit it bred--critical and
barren. But these schools of thought are now all we have, and both of
them are bad for us! They have no use for the heart or the imagination;
they do not breed faith or a longing for high achievement. Look at _our_
life! Is our life really our own?
Mrs. Evje. No. You have only to think of our language, our tastes, our
society, our--
The Doctor (interrupting her). Those are the externals of our life,
merely the externals! No, look within--look at such a view of life as
we were talking about, clamouring for "hardening"--is that ours? Can we,
for all our diligence, make as much way in it as, for instance, a born
Parisian journalist?--become like a bar of steel with a point at each
end, a pen-point and a sword-point? _We_ can't do that; the Teutonic
temperament is not fitted for it.
Evje. Oh, we are well on the way towards it. Look at the heartless
intolerance in our politics; it will soon match what you were
describing.
Harald. Everyone that disagrees with you is either an ambitious
scoundrel, or half mad, or a blockhead.
The Doctor (laughing). Yes, and here in the north, in our small
communities, where a man meets all his enemies in the same barber's
shop, we feel it as keenly as if we were digging our knives into each
other! (Seriously.) We may laugh at it, but if we could add up the sum
of suffering that has been caused to families and to individuals--if we
could see the concrete total before us--we should be tempted to believe
that our liberty had been given to us as a curse! For it _is_ a cursed
thing to destroy the humanity that is in us, and make us cruel and hard
to one another.
Harald (getting up, but standing still). But, my good friends, if you
are of the same mind about that, and I with you--what is the next thing
to do?
The Doctor. The next thing to do?
Harald. Naturally, to unite in making an end of it.
Mrs. Evje (as she works). What can _we_ do?
Evje. I am no politician and do not wish to become one.
The Doctor (laughing, and sitting down). No, a politician is a
principle, swathed round with a printed set of directions for use. I
prefer to be allowed to be a human being.
Harald. No one can fairly insist on your taking up any vocation to which
you do not feel you have a calling.
The Doctor. Of course not.
Harald. But one certainly might insist on your not helping to maintain a
condition of affairs that you detest.
All. We?
Harald. This newspaper, which is the ultimate reason of all this
conversation we have had--you take it in.
Evje. Why, you take it in yourself!
Harald. No. Every time there is anything nasty in it about me or mine,
it is sent to me anonymously.
The Doctor (with a laugh). I don't take it in; I read my hall-porter's
copy.
Harald. I have heard you say that before. I took an opportunity to ask
your hall-porter. He said _he_ did not read it, and did not take it in
either.
The Doctor (as before). Then I should like to know who does pay for it!
Evje. A newspaper is indispensable to a business man.
Harald. An influential business man could by himself, or at any rate
with one or two others, start a paper that would be as useful again to
him as this one is.
Evje. That is true enough; but, after all, if we agree with its
politics?
Harald. I will accept help from any one whose opinions on public affairs
agree with my own. Who am I that I should pretend to judge him? But I
will not give him my help in anything that is malicious or wicked.
The Doctor. Pshaw!
Harald. Everyone who subscribes to, or contributes to, or gives any
information to a paper that is scurrilous, is giving his help to what
is wicked. And, moreover, every one who is on terms of friendship with a
man who is destroying public morality, is helping him to do it.
The Doctor (getting up). Does he still come here? (A silence.)
Evje. He and I are old schoolfellows--and I don't like breaking with old
acquaintances.
Mrs. Evje. He is a most amusing man, too--though I can't deny that he is
malicious. (The DOCTOR sits down again, humming to himself.)
Harald. But that is not all. Both you and the Doctor have--with some
eloquence--
The Doctor (with a laugh). Thank you!
Harald.--expressed your abhorrence of certain political tendencies with
which neither you nor I have any sympathy--which affront our ideas of
humane conduct. You do not feel called upon to enter actively into the
lists against them; but why do you try to prevent those who do feel so
called upon? You lament the existing state of things--and yet you help
to maintain it, and make a friend of the man who is its champion!
The Doctor (turning his head). Apparently we are on our defence, Evje!
Harald. No--I am. I was told a little while ago that I was in a fair way
to become hardened and callous, and that I must abandon my career--and
that I must do so for Gertrud's sake, too, because she would never be
able to share the fight with me. I was told this at one of the bitterest
moments in my life. And that made me hesitate for a moment. But now I
have turned my face forward again, because you have enlightened me! (A
short, sharp cough is heard in the hall.)
Mrs. Evje (getting up). That is he! (A knock is heard at the door; the
DOCTOR gets up and pushes his chair back. The EDITOR comes in.)
The Editor. Good morning, my children! How are you?
Mrs. Evje (sitting down). I did not hear the bell.
The Editor. I don't suppose you did--I came in by the back door. I took
you by surprise, eh? Discussing me, too--what? (Laughs.)
Evje. You have given us enough reason to, to-day, any way.
The Editor. Yes, haven't I? Such a thing for a man to do to his best
friends--eh?
Evje. That is true.
The Editor. To his old schoolfellows--his neighbours--eh? I expect it
has disturbed your natural moderation--eh?
Evje. I pride myself on my moderation.
The Editor. As much as on your brandy!
Evje. Are you going to begin your nonsense again?
The Editor. Good-morning, Doctor! Have you been making them a fine
speech this morning?--about my paper? or about humanity?--romanticism?
or catholicism?--eh? (Laughs.)
The Doctor (laughing). Certainly one of us two has made a fine speech
this morning!
The Editor. Not me; mine was made yesterday!--How is your hall-porter?
The Doctor (laughing). Quite well, I am ashamed to say.
The Editor. There's a faithful subscriber to my paper, if you like! (The
DOCTOR laughs.) Well, Mrs. Evje, I can give you news of your man, Master
John!
Mrs. Evje. Can you? It is more than I can.
The Editor. Yes--he is in bed still. That is why I came in the back
way--to enquire after his health.
Mrs. Evje. But how--?
The Editor. How is he after last night?
Mrs. Evje. Really, I believe you know everything. We had no idea he was
out last night.
The Editor. Oh, that is the very latest intelligence! He has been
figuring as a speaker--he was drunk, of course--before the Association
founded by his master's future son-in-law. And he made a most effective
speech--indeed, the speakers at that Association always make most
effective speeches! It was all about a Sliding Scale of Taxation,
Profit-Sharing for Workers, the necessity for a Labour majority in
Parliament, etc., etc., all the usual Socialist rhodomontade. You see
how infectious intellectual ideas are!
Evje. Well!--I shall turn him out of the house to-day!
The Editor. But that is not in accordance with your love of moderation,
Evje!
Evje. It is a scandal.
The Editor (to EVJE). But not the worst. Because, if you want to avoid
that sort of thing, there are others you must turn out of the house.
(Glances towards HARALD.)
Evje. You seem determined to quarrel to-day?
The Editor. Yes, with your "moderation."
Evje. You would be none the worse of a little of it.
The Editor. "Brandy and Moderation" is your watchword--eh?
Evje. Do stop talking such nonsense!--I know one thing, and that is that
you seem to find the brandy from my distillery remarkably to your taste!
The Doctor (interrupting them). When you are in these provoking moods
there is always some grievance lurking at the back of your mind. Out
with it! I am a doctor, you know; I want to get at the cause of your
complaint!
The Editor. You were not very successful in that, you know, when you
said my maid had cholera, and she really only was--. (Laughs.)
The Doctor (laughing). Are you going to bring that story up again? Every
one is liable to make mistakes, you know--even you, my boy!
The Editor. Certainly. But before making a mistake this time--ahem!--I
wanted first of all to enquire whether--
The Doctor. Ah! now it is coming!
The Editor--whether you have any objection to my mentioning John in my
paper?
Mrs. Evje. What has John to do with us?
The Editor. Just as much as the Association, where he delivered his
speech, has; it--ahem!--is one of the family institutions!
Evje. I have had no more to do with making John what he is than I have
had with making that Association what it is.
The Editor. Your future son-in-law made the Association what it is, and
the Association has made John what he is.
The Doctor. Or, to put it the other way round: John is Mr. Evje's
servant; John has become an active member of the Association; therefore
Mr. Evje is a patron of the Association.
The Editor. Or this way: John, being the well-known Mr. Evje's servant,
has for that reason become an active member of the Association which--as
he expressed it--his employer's future son-in-law "has had the honour to
found!"
Mrs. Evje. Surely you never mean to put that in the paper?
The Editor (laughing). They are John's own words.
Mr. Evje. Of course, he would never put a tipsy man's maunderings into
the paper. (To his wife.) Don't you understand that he is joking?
The Editor (clearing his throat). It is already in type.
The Doctor. Oh, nonsense!
The Editor. The scene afforded an opportunity for an extremely amusing
sketch, without mentioning any names.
Mr. Evje. I sincerely hope that
The Doctor (to EVJE). Oh, he is only teasing you! You know him.
The Editor. What do you think of this? "Those who indirectly support
so dangerous an institution will have to face exposure."--I quite agree
with it.
Mrs. Evje (getting up). What do you mean? Do you mean that my husband--?
The Editor. A little fright will be a good discipline for him!
Evje. Is what you quoted meant as an accusation against us--whether you
are serious or whether you are joking?
The Doctor. He is only trying to frighten you with a bogey; it is not
the first time, you know!
Evje. Yes, but what have _I_ to be frightened of? I don't belong to the
Association.
The Editor. But persons who do belong to it frequent your house. A man
is known by the company he keeps.
Mrs. Evje. I really begin to think he _does_ mean it seriously.
The Editor. It is too ugly a thing to jest about, you mean?
Evje. Is it possible that you seriously mean to allude to John as my
servant?
The Editor. Isn't he your servant?
Evje. And to put that in the paper for every one to read?
The Editor. No--only for those who read the paper.
Evje. And you have come here to tell us that?
The Editor. Do you suppose I would do it without telling you?
Mrs. Evje. It is perfectly shameless!
The Editor. It certainly is.
Evje. Is it your intention to quarrel with me?
The Editor. Of course!
Evje. With your own schoolfellow?--one who has been it true friend to
you in all your ups and downs? It is abominable!
The Editor. Perhaps it was to ensure my holding my tongue that you have
been my friend!
Mrs. Evje. You _couldn't_ behave in such a fashion to a friend!
The Editor (drily). To my own brother, if he stood in my way!
Harald (to himself). This is too much! (Comes forward.) Is your hatred
for me so bitter that on my account you must persecute even my future
parents-in-law, your own old friends?
The Editor (who, as soon as HARALD came forward, has turned away to
the DOCTOR). Have you heard how people are being beaten up to go to
the meeting of electors to-night? The last political speeches of the
campaign must be made with red fire burning at the wings! (Laughs.)
Mrs. Evje (coming up to him). No, you are not going to get out of it by
changing the subject. Is it really your intention to put my husband in
your paper?
The Editor. He is putting himself there.
Evje. I, who all my life have avoided being drawn into any political
party?
The Doctor. What has Evje to do with Harald Rein's politics?
The Editor. He endorses them!
Mrs. Evje. No!--a thousand times no!
Evje. Why, only to-day
The Doctor. I can bear witness to that!
The Editor. It is no use protesting!
Evje. But you must believe our protestations!
The Editor. Bah! You will see something more to-morrow--
Evje. Something more?
Mrs. Evje. Against my husband?
The Editor. That scandal about the Stock Exchange Committee. No
less than three Letters to the Editor about it have been lying in my
pigeon-holes for some time.
Evje (in bewilderment). Are you going to put nonsense of that sort in
your paper? The most respected men on the Exchange--?
Mrs. Evje. Members of the Committee--?
The Editor. They are only respected men so long as they respect
themselves. When their chairman enters into connections which offend
public opinion, the whole crew of them must be made to feel what sort of
a man it is they are associating with.
The Doctor. So on Mr. Rejn's account you are going to expose Evje, and
on Evje's account the Stock Exchange Committee? I suppose my turn will
come soon!
The Editor. It will come.
The Doctor. Indeed!
The Editor. The letters that have been sent to me are all from highly
respected men. That shows that public opinion has turned round; and
public opinion must be obeyed! (Throws out his hands.)
Evje (in a troubled voice). It is quite true that I have noticed in
several little ways that their temper--. (Looks round him, and checks
himself. Then speaks more confidently.) But it was just at such a time
that I looked for help from you, my friend. That is why I did not bother
myself much about it.
The Editor (to EVJE). But you know it is you that are attacking me now!
Evje. I?
Mrs. Evje. He?
The Editor. And, besides, I have no choice in the matter. You have made
your bed, and must lie on it.
Evje (growing angry again). But do you really mean that you don't feel
yourself how shocking such behaviour in an old friend is?
The Editor. "Old friend," "old schoolfellow," "neighbour,"--out with the
whole catalogue!
Mrs. Evje. I am sure you don't deserve to be either one or the other!
(The EDITOR laughs.) Think what you wrote to-day about Halvdan Rejn, who
is dying. A man could only write that who--who--
The Editor. Well?--who?
Mrs. Evje. Who has not an atom of heart.
The Editor. Ha, ha! "The natural affections!"--"family considerations!"
Truth, my dear lady, has no family ties; it has no respect even for a
"dying man."
Mrs. Evje. Yes, indeed--every decent man has some respect for suffering,
and even wicked men are silent in the presence of death!
The Editor. "Sufferer"--"dying man"--"martyr," I suppose! Oh, we know
all that old story!
Harald (coming forward). Let me tell you that you are a--person with
whom I will not condescend to argue. (Walks away from him.)
The Editor (who has at once crossed the room). This theatrical flaunting
of the "dying man" before people's eyes, that a calculating brother has
permitted himself, is of course what is really shocking in the whole
affair. But I will tear the mask off him.
The Doctor (following him). Listen to me, now; listen! We are
gentlefolk, you know! And even if Mr. Rejn has let himself be so carried
away as to mention his dying brother on a public occasion--well, I am
not going to say that I approve of it, but surely it is excusable and--
Harald (coming forward). I want none of your defence, thank you!
The Doctor. The one of you is just as mad as the other! (To the EDITOR.)
But what has all this to do with Evje, seeing that, after all, the whole
of this affair of the Rejns'--
Evje (to the EDITOR, eagerly). I give you my word of honour that I have
never approved of Harald's utterances about his brother, either. I am a
man of moderation, as you know; I do not approve of his politics. Only
to-day--
Mrs. Evje. And what on earth have politics to do with the Stock Exchange
Committee?
The Doctor. Or with Evje's coachman!
Evje. You might just as well take it into your head to write about my
clerks, or my workmen, or--
The Doctor. His carpenters, or his brewers--or his horses!
The Editor (stands suddenly still and says, drily): You may assure
yourselves that things are quite sufficient as they are! (Begins to
button up his coat.)
Evje. Is it so bad as all that!
Mrs. Evje. Good gracious!--what is it then?
The Editor (taking up his hat). You will be able to read it to-morrow,
together with some more about the "dying man." Good-bye!
Evje and Mrs. Evje (together.) But before you go--
The Doctor. Hush, hush! Let us remember we are gentlefolk! What will you
bet that the whole thing is not just a bogey to frighten you?
The Editor (holding out his hand towards the DOCTOR). I hold Mr. Evje's
position in the town in the hollow of my hand!
Evje (fuming). Is your object to ruin _that_, then?
Mrs. Evje. You will never succeed in that!
The Doctor. Hush, hush! let us remember we are gentlefolk!
Evje. In my own house--my old schoolfellow--that he should have the
audacity--!
The Editor. I have told you the truth openly. And, as far as that goes,
you have stood more than that from me in your own house, my boy. Because
the misfortune is that you are a coward.
Evje. _I_ a coward?
The Doctor (laughing). Hush, hush! Let us remember we are gentlefolk!
Evje. Yes, I have been weak enough to be afraid of scandal, especially
in the newspapers, it is true; that is why I have put up with you too
long! But now you shall see that I am not a coward. Leave my house!
Mrs. Evje. That's right!
The Doctor. But you must part like gentlefolk, you know.
The Editor. Pooh! You will be sending me a message directly, to call me
back!
Evje. You have the face to say that?
Mrs. Evje (to EVJE). Come, dear, don't provoke him any more!
The Editor (turning to go). You daren't do otherwise.
The Doctor. But part like gentlefolk--!
Evje (following the EDITOR). No, as sure as I live--
The Editor. You will be sending a message to call me back! Ha, ha, ha!
Evje. Never, never!
Mrs. Evje. My dear--!
The Editor. Yes, you will--directly--this very day! Ha, ha, ha!
The Doctor. Don't part like that! Part like gentle--
Evje. No, I tell you!
The Editor (laughing all the time). Yes!
Mrs. Evje. My dear-remember you may bring on one of your attacks!
The Editor (at the door). You are too much of a coward! Ha! ha! (Goes
out.)
Evje (in a rage). No!
The Editor (sticking his head in at the door). Yes! (Goes away.)
The Doctor. What a visit! I cannot help laughing, all the same! Ha, ha,
ha, ha!
Evje. Do you dare to laugh at that?
The Doctor. "Old schoolfellows"--ha, ha! "Moderation"--ha, ha! "The same
party"--ha, ha, ha!
Mrs. Evje. Oh, my husband is ill!
Evje (faintly). Yes--a little water!
Mrs. Evje. Water, water, Harald!
The Doctor. One of his attacks--that is another affair altogether. Here
(takes a bottle from his pocket)--smell this! That's it! Now, a little
water! (Gives him some.) No danger this time. Cheer up, old boy!
Evje. What a scandal!
Mrs. Evje. Yes, you will never be able to bear it, dear; I told you so.
Evje. To think of _my_ name appearing in the papers, when all my life I
have--
Mrs. Evje.--done everything you could to keep clear of such things! And
you such a dear, good, upright man!--Oh, these politics are the curse of
the world!
The Doctor (laughing). As I told you, you must go through a special
process of hardening before you can stand them.
Evje. And think of public opinion--my position--my connections! It is
more than I can bear!
Mrs. Evje (to the Doctor). I am sure the first time he reads something
about himself in the paper, it will make him really ill! He won't be
able to stand it, I know.
The Doctor. Oh, he will get over it.
Mrs. Evje. No, he won't. I am frightened at the mere thought of it. He
will never be able to bear it, never!
Evje. When all my life I have tried to keep clear of such things--!
Mrs. Evje. And now in your old age, though you deserve it no more than
a child does, to be dragged into it! If I could prevent that, I would
willingly take on my own shoulders whatever--
Evje. No, no--not you! Not you!
The Doctor. But the thing is not necessarily done because he threatened
he would do it.
Evje. Do you think--?
The Doctor. He is so dreadfully hot-headed, but I am sure he will think
twice--
Mrs. Evje.--before he attacks a lifelong friend! Yes, that is so, isn't
it!
Evje. Do you really think that there is any possibility then--?
The Doctor. I really can't say!
Mrs. Evje. Nothing in the world is impossible!
Evje. We were both so hot-headed.
The Doctor. Yes, it will have to be a more peaceable conversation than
that of a few minutes ago!
Evje. I don't know how it is--there is something so provoking about him.
Mrs. Evje. Yes, and you have not been very well lately, either. I have
often said so to you.
Evje. No, I haven't. It has been just one thing after another! And all
my life I have tried to keep clear of such things!
The Doctor. I will tell you what, old friend; I am sure the best thing
to do would be--
Evje. What?
The Doctor. I am sure you will not be easy in your mind until someone
has talked to him.
Mrs. Evje. Yes, couldn't that be done? Good gracious, that is not
sending a message to him!
Evje. But who would--? (A short silence.)
The Doctor. I don't know who would be best.
Mrs. Evje. All our old friends have deserted us; we shall soon have
none.
The Doctor. Well, at all events, you have me.
Evje. Would you really be willing to--? Do you mean it? (Grasps his
hand.)
The Doctor. Of course I will! He can't eat me!
Mrs. Evje. How good you are! Of course you only need tell him--what is
quite true--that my husband would never be able to bear it! He, who all
these years--
Evje.--have put up with an incredible amount for his sake, both from
himself and from others!
Mrs. Evje. Yes, that is true! And now you will go, dear friend--our only
friend!--and talk to him quite amicably and sensibly, won't you?
Evje. But don't delay! He is so hot-headed that we must find him
before--
The Doctor. Oh, I will find him; he is always about the town.
Evje. And tell him--ask him--
The Doctor. Oh, I know what to say to him.
Mrs. Evje. That is right!
Evje. Thank you! I shall never forget how, at a moment when everything
threatened to overwhelm me, you were the only one to stand by me! Ah, I
feel as if a load had fallen off my shoulders! I feel all at once quite
happy again!
The Doctor. That's right. You pull yourself together! I will see to
everything else.
Evje. Thanks, thanks! But make haste!
The Doctor. I am off! My hat? (Turns, and sees HARALD, and says to
himself.) A-ha! He looks as if he had had about enough of this. It would
have been a joke to--
Evje. Oh, do make haste, my friend!
The Doctor. Yes, yes--if only I could find my hat.
Mrs. Evje. It is on the table.
The Doctor. So it is!
Evje. Good luck to you!
Mrs. Evje. And do it very tactfully!
The Doctor (meaningly). And I hope you three will enjoy yourselves!
(Goes out.)
Evje. What a morning!
Mrs. Evje. We, who have always endeavoured to take everything quietly
and indulgently--
Evje. Yes, and to conduct our family affairs peaceably and
affectionately! (Jumps up and turns to HARALD.) The whole thing is
_your_ fault!
Mrs. Evje. Yes, it is Harald's fault! From the day this unfortunate
engagement came about, we have scarcely had a moment's peace here.
Evje. No, no, that is not the case! We must be reasonable. At first,
when Mr. Rejn had a fine future before him, when people vied with one
another to catch him, then the engagement was an honour to us as well
as to our daughter. But from the moment he took up these wretched
politics--that is to say, from the time his brother fell ill--well, he
can see for himself what the result has been to us!
Mrs. Evje. And he certainly must admit that it is not what we have
deserved; indeed it is more than a respected and well-bred family can
put up with.
Harald. I quite agree that it is more than a respected and well-bred
family _ought_ to put up with.
Mrs. Evje. Oh, so _you_ feel that too?
Harald. Certainly. And the only excuse I can see is that there are many
more in the same case. It is only in that way that such things become
possible.
Evje. I do not understand. Many more like--?--like whom?
Harald. Like you!
Mrs. Evje. In what respect?
Harald. I will explain. Most of the successful politicians nowadays have
not gained their position by means of any greatness of their own, but
by the pitiable weakness of others. Another age will form a different
estimate of them--see them in their proper perspective, and find them to
be much smaller men!
Evje. But what has that to do with us?
Harald. Well, just try to size up that man whom a little while ago you
turned out of your house and afterwards sent a message to--
Evje. We sent _no_ message to him!
Mrs. Evje. A friend of ours has gone to talk to him. That is quite a
different thing!
Harald. Well, take his measure by yours and yours by his! He went away,
and he will come back like a conquering hero. Will that be thanks to
his greatness, or his talent--to the loftiness of his opinions or his
feelings? No,--it will be thanks to your pitiable weakness.
Mrs. Evje. Upon my word!
Evje. Well, I--!
Harald. Do you think any one who has any pluck in his disposition would
consent to be a party to such a contemptible state of things? Think of
your own daughter, educated by that good old man who lies in there, but
an obedient child to you; think how she must be perpetually torn between
what she loves and respects and what she sees going on here! No wonder
she is ill! But remember this--she is not ill because she sticks to me;
she is ill because of your pitiable weakness!
Mrs. Evje. How can you dare to say such things! So you too--!
Evje. Such an absolute want of respect!
Harald. Listen to me, once for all. I intend, God helping me, to take
up the fight that has killed my brother, the noblest man I know! And
Gertrud is going to take up _her_ share in the fight, as I do mine. But
to come to this house as long as _he_ comes here--to go through what I
have gone through to-day--sullies my self-respect to such an extent,
and offends my better feelings so deeply, that either he never sets foot
here again, or I do not!
Evje and Mrs. Evje. But--!
Harald (quietly). When I came here to-day, I thought we should be able
to arrange matters without my speaking out; but there is nothing else
for it, so good-bye! (Goes out. A moment's silence follows.)
Mrs. Evje. Is _he_ giving _us_ our dismissal? Or does he not really mean
to break with us?--My dear, what is the matter? (Goes to her husband's
side.)
Evje (without moving). Tell me, my dear--am I a bad man?
Mrs. Evje. You, a bad man?
Evje. Because, if I were not a bad, wicked man, they could not behave in
such a way to me, one after the other.
Mrs. Evje. But, my dear, you are the best and dearest and most
considerate of men! And they are shameless traitors to you, my dear
husband!
Evje. But how on earth, then, could it come about that I, who all my
life have tried to keep clear of such things--for I have, haven't I?
Mrs. Evje. Every one knows that, that knows anything about you.
Evje. How could it come about that in my old age I should be despised
and forsaken by everybody? Surely it is no crime to want to live in
peace, apart from all that sort of thing?
Mrs. Evje. No, indeed; that is what all decent people want to do.
Evje. Yes, I thought so too. But now you see!
Mrs. Evje. But _you_ have been dreadfully unfortunate.
Evje. Why should I have been just the one to be dreadfully unfortunate?
Most people escape such things altogether.
Mrs. Evje (starting). Here is Gertrud.
Evje. Poor child!
Mrs. Evje. What on earth are we to say to her?
Evje. Be careful, my dear! be careful! (GERTRUD comes in quietly and
comes forward to them.)
Gertrud. Did I see Harald go away?
Mrs. Evje. Yes, my child, he--he went away.
Gertrud. Without saying good-bye to me?
Evje. That's true, he didn't say good-bye to you.
Mrs. Evje. Were you expecting him to come into grandfather's room to say
good-bye to you?
Gertrud. Yes. Tell me how things went here?
Evje. Why were you not here, dear?
Gertrud (in astonishment). I here? You said you did not want me to be
present--
Evje. I remember, yes; we thought it would not be advisable.
Gertrud (still speaking quietly, but in growing alarm). But how did
things go, then?
Evje. How did they go? Badly.
Mrs. Evje (hurriedly). That is to say, he did not behave at all well.
You must prepare yourself for the worst, my child!
Gertrud. Is it something very bad, then?
Evje. You know he is a little hasty just now, when he has so much on his
hands. He lacks a proper sense of moderation--but he will learn it, sure
enough.
Gertrud (almost inaudibly). But what does it mean? Is he never coming
back?
Evje. Never coming back? What an extraordinary question! Of course he
will come back. He was only a little over-hasty, you know--
Gertrud. And said he would never come back?
Mrs. Evje. Come, come, my dear--you mustn't be alarmed.
Evje. He talked such a lot, you know, that we must not attach any
particular importance to anything he said.
Gertrud. So that is how it is!
Mrs. Evje. We must make allowances for all that he is going through just
now--
Evje (suddenly). My child, you look so pale--
Mrs. Evje (going to her). Gertrud!
Gertrud (with a quiet movement of protest). I must give grandfather his
drink; that was really what I came for. And that was how I happened to
see Harald through the window. I will take grandfather his drink. (The
curtain falls as she goes out of the room.)
ACT II
(SCENE.--A street in the "villa quarter" of the town. Between it and
another street running parallel with it in the background, are two
houses standing in gardens, half of the facade of one of them projecting
into the stage on the right. On the left a third street runs at right
angles to the others, to the back of the stage. The left side of this
third street opens onto a well-wooded park. The house in the foreground
on the right is in two stories. There is a narrow strip of garden in
front of it, enclosed by an iron railing with a gate in it. The gate is
standing open. The entrance door to the house is immediately behind this
gate. There is light in a small window by the door; the ground floor
windows are in darkness; in those of the upper floor, light is visible
through heavy curtains. It is a wintry evening, and everything is
swathed in an unusually thick fog, in which the gas lamps in the streets
show dimmer and dimmer as they recede in the distance. As the curtain
goes up, a lamplighter is seen descending his ladder from a lamp-post,
where he has just lit the lamp at the corner of the house.)
The Lamplighter (as he reaches the ground). It's all one whether the
lamps are lit or not, in such a fog as this. (MRS. EVJE is seen drawing
back the curtain at a window on the first floor. She opens the window
and looks out.)
Mrs. Evje. The fog is so thick, my dear, that I can't see across the
street.
Evje (coming to the window, with fur coat and cap on). So it is!--Well,
so much the better, my dear! (They withdraw into the room; the window is
shut and the curtains drawn. Two passers-by come along the street from
the right, talking.)
First Passer-by. The Land of Fogs--the old idea of the land of Fogs was
that of a vision of confused and faint sensation, with the light of the
intelligence dimmed and blurred like these gas lamps in the fog.
Second Passer-by. It would be that, if our hearts did not often act as
guiding lights to our befogged intelligences. Look at this house behind
us--the brandy distiller's. The devilish workings of his intelligence
have befogged the whole country--befogged it with brandy--and some such
guiding light is much needed there.
First Passer-by. Ah, well,--the old idea of the Land of Fogs was that
fogs were--. (The sound of their conversation dies away as they pass
into the park on the left. GERTRUD, closely veiled and wrapped in furs,
comes slowly out of the park. She stops at the corner and looks down the
street, then passed slowly along to the right, looking up at the house
as she goes. She is scarcely out of sight when the house-door opens and
EVJE comes out.)
Evje. This is about the time he comes home--I daren't go to his house
and ask for him; I don't know if he would admit me. I daren't trust to
the Doctor alone.--This uncertainty is dreadful! (He starts at seeing
GERTRUD, whom he does not recognise in the fog, walking towards him. She
turns suddenly and walks back the way she came.) Who was that? She gave
me quite a fright in this fog! Her furs seemed rather like--no, no,
it couldn't be. I must not let any one recognise me. (Puts up the high
collar of his coat, so that only his nose is visible.) Both of them
called me a coward, but they are very much mistaken. It is not cowardice
for a man who is respected and honoured to try and avoid scandal. Hm!
Naturally those who trade in scandals think otherwise!--To act without
attaching weight to the opinion of others, to disregard one's own
predilections, to put up with being laughed at--all for the sake of
preventing a scandal--that is to be strong and courageous. And it _is_
admirable, too; for it is admirable to act fearlessly in the interest
of one's family, and of one's business, and of propriety. (Starts as he
hears his door opened. JOHN has come along the street and gone into the
house.) Is that some one coming out of my house? No, it is a man going
in. And then to think of Harald Rejn beginning that nonsense about my
being a coward, because I refused to become a party man! Every one
ought to take sides in politics--that is their cry. Hm! I should say it
required rather more courage nowadays to _refrain_ from taking sides.
(Starts again.) Who is that? Oh, only that woman again. She is waiting
for some one too. I expect we shall both catch bad colds. (Walks up and
down.) It is an odd sensation to be walking up and down on the watch
outside one's own house. Cowardice? Pshaw! To let one's self be abused
in a public street without stirring a finger to prevent it, _that_ would
be cowardice. I only hope he has not gone round the other way? There is
much more traffic in that street, and some one might easily--. I think I
will take a turn towards the town, and turn back when I am a little way
from here; it will look less suspicious. I must catch him, because his
paper will be going to press. (Looks up at his house.) My poor wife,
sitting up there dreadfully alarmed on my account! (Goes out to the
right. As soon as he has gone, the house-door opens and JOHN comes
warily out.)
JOHN. So he has gone out, has he! Oh, well, he is bound to come in
again! I will wait and catch him, that I will! Tra, la, la, la, la! I
can play about here in the fog till he comes back; I have nothing to
lose! And it will be best to catch him in the street; he will make less
fuss, and can't run away from me! Tra, la, la, la, la! (Lounges out to
the right. A moment later, HARALD comes out of the park. He is dressed
much as EVJE is, but has not his coat-collar turned up.)
Harald. There is a light in her window! Then she is alone in her room.
What am I going to do now? Twice already I have come to look at that
light; now I have seen it--and must go away! Good-bye, my darling! Be
patient, and wait! I know your thoughts are with me now; and I know you
feel that mine are with you! (As he turns away from the house he sees
the veiled figure of GERTRUD, who, as soon as she has come nearer,
rushes to him, throws up her veil, and falls into his arms in a glad
embrace.)
Gertrud. I was certain that, if you could not go into the house again,
you would be out here! I knew you would not go away from me, dear!
Harald. No--neither now nor ever.
Gertrud. And, while I was walking up and down here in the fog, I felt
that though there might be all this gloom tend cold around us outside,
there was the brightness and warmth of certainty in our hearts.
Harald. Yes, our love is the one certainty for me! Fog may obscure the
goal I aim at, the road I have to I read, the very ground I stand on;
doubts may even for a while attack my faith; but my love for you shines
clear through it all!
Gertrud. Thank you, my darling! If that is so, there is nothing that we
cannot overcome!
Harald. Of course, you know what took place to-day?
Gertrud. I can guess.
Harald. Is it true that you are ill? Why did you never tell me?
Gertrud. No, the doctor is not telling the truth; I am not ill! Even
if I were, what matter? I should go on living as long as I could--and
should have done my duty before I gave in!
Harald. That is the way to look at it!
Gertrud. But I am not ill! I suffer, it is true--and am likely to--every
time you are persecuted, or my parents on my account. Because _I_ have
drawn them into all this that, they are so unfitted for, and that is why
it pains me so to see how unprepared it finds them--most of all when,
out of tenderness for me, they try to conceal it. But I can't alter
things. We are fighting for a cause that you believe to be right, and
so do I; surely that is better than never to suffer at all in any good
cause. Try me! Let me share the fight with you! I am not weak; it is
only that my heart is sore for those I love.
Harald. You splendid, loyal creature!--and you are mine! (Embraces her.)
Gertrud. You should hear what grandfather says!
Harald. Yes, how is the dear old gentleman?
Gertrud. Pretty well, thanks, though he never gets out now. But he is
following your work, and he says that what you are aiming at is right,
if you ask for God's guidance on your way. Harald--you will always be
the same as you are now--good and genuine--won't you, dear? Not like
the rest of them--nothing but bitterness and malice, always talking of
principles and consequences and all the rest of it, and always attacking
others? If one were obliged to be like that, it would be a curse to be a
politician.
Harald. I will be what you make me! I think that behind every man's
public life you can see his private life--whether he has a real home,
and what it is like, or whether he only has a place he lives in--that is
to say, no real home.
Gertrud. With God's help I shall try to make a bright, snug and cosy
home for you! And this fog is delightful, because it only makes the
thought of such a home all the cosier and snugger! It makes us seem so
alone, too; no one is out driving or walking; and we can talk as loud as
we please, because the fog deadens the sound of our voices. Oh, I
feel so happy again now! Do you know, I think it is rather nice to be
persecuted a little; it makes our meetings so much more precious!
Harald. But, you know dear, to meet you like this--and just now--
Gertrud (as they walk up and down together). Yes, of course! I had
altogether forgotten how much you have to bear just now; I have been
chattering away--. Oh, I don't know how I could feel so happy, because
I am really dreadfully distressed. But, you know, I sit the whole
play beside grandfather, thinking, without even being able to talk.
I generally read aloud to him; now and then he makes a remark, but he
really lives more in the next world than in this one now. (They hear a
cough in the distance, and give a start, because they recognise it. The
EDITOR and EVJE, walking along together, EVJE apparently talking very
earnestly, are seen, indistinctly through the fog, in the street running
parallel with the one HARALD and GERTRUD are in. JOHN is seen following
them cautiously. They disappear into the park.)
Harald. I hear the enemy! I am sure I caught a glimpse of him over there
through the fog, talking to another man.
Gertrud. Is he always about the streets even in weather like this?
Harald. Well, we won't let him disturb us. (They begin walking up and
down again in front of the house.)
Gertrud. Do you know whom I met out here? Father!
Harald. Really? Then it is as I thought; the other man over there was
your father!
Gertrud. Do you think it was? Poor father!
Harald. Yes, he is weak.
Gertrud. But you must be good to him. He is so good himself. Think how
mother loves him; she is absolutely wrapped up in him, because he is so
good!
Harald. He is a good man, and an able man. But, but, but--
Gertrud. They have lived a very tranquil life. We of the younger
generation try to undertake heavier duties and greater responsibilities
than the older generation did. But we must not be angry with them.
Harald. I am afraid it is only too easy to feel angry with them.
Gertrud. No, do as grandfather does! If he thinks any one is going to
be amenable to it, he talks to them quietly; if not, he only behaves
affectionately to them. Do you understand, dear?--just affectionately.
Harald. Well, to-day--ought I to have put up with their allowing
themselves to be treated in such an unseemly way, and their treating me
in such an unseemly way?
Gertrud. Was it really as bad as that?
Harald. You would not believe what it was like, I assure you!
Gertrud (standing still). Poor father! Poor father! (Throws her arms
round HARALD'S neck.) Be good to them, Harald!--just because of
their faults, dear! We are their children, you know, and it is God's
commandment, even if we were not their children.
Harald. If only I could take you up in my arms and carry you off home
with me now! Your love takes possession of my heart and my will, and
purifies both of them. I am at a crisis in my life now--and now you
should be on my side!
Gertrud. Listen!--to begin with, I will go with you to your meeting
to-night!
Harald. Yes, yes,--I will come and fetch you!
Gertrud. Down at the door here!
Harald. Yes!
Gertrud. And, in the next place, I am going to walls into the town with
you now.
Harald. But then I shall have to see you home again.
Gertrud. Do you object?
Harald. No, no! And you shall teach me a lot of things on the way!
Gertrud. Yes, you will be so wise before we get back! (They go out to
the right.)
(The EDITOR and EVJE come out of the park. JOHN follows them, unseen by
them, and slips past them to the right when they stop for a moment. The
following conversation is carried on in hurried tones, and every time
the EDITOR raises his voice EVJE hushes him, and speaks himself in a
persistently lowered voice.)
Evje. But what concern of yours--or of the public's--are my private
affairs? I don't want to have anything to do with politics.
The Editor, Well, then, you ought not to have had anything to do with
_him_.
Evje. When I first made his acquaintance he was not a politician.
The Editor. Then you ought to have dropped him when he became one.
Evje. Ought I to have dropped you too, when you became one?
The Editor. Let me repeat, for the last time, that we are not talking
about me!
Evje. Hush, hush! What a fellow you are! You get into a rage if any one
chaffs you. But you want to hit out at everybody all round!
The Editor. Do you suppose I am myself?
Evje. Who the devil are you, if you are not yourself?
The Editor. I am merely the servant of the public.
Evje. The public executioner, that is to say?
The Editor. Well, yes, if you prefer it. But you shall pay for that word
some day.
Evje. There--you see! Always talking of paying for things!--of revenge!
The Editor. You shall pay for it, I tell you!
Evje. You are absolutely mad!--Poof! I am sweating as if it were the dog
days! (Changes his tone.) Think of the time when we used to go to school
together--when you never could go to bed without first coming to thank
me for the jolly times we were having together!
The Editor. None of that nonsense! I am accustomed to be hated,
despised, spit upon, scourged; if any one speaks kindly to me, I do not
trust them!
Evje. You must trust me!
The Editor. No--and, besides, I observed very clearly to-day that you
had counted on having me in reserve if ever you got into a scrape.
Evje. Well, who doesn't count on his friends? Doesn't every one take
them into his reckoning?
The Editor. I don't; I have no friends.
Evje. Haven't you me? Do you think I would leave you in the lurch?
The Editor. That is hypocrisy! At times when I have needed it, the very
last thing you have thought of has been to give me any help!
Evje. Have I not helped you?
The Editor. That is hypocrisy, too-to pretend you think I am speaking
of money. No; when I have been accused of being dishonourable--of
lying--you, the "old schoolfellow," the "old friend," the "neighbour,"
have never once had the courage to come forward on my behalf.
Evje. I never meddle with politics.
The Editor (with rising temper). More hypocrisy! Another of your damned
evasions!
Evje. Hush, hush, hush!
The Editor. You try to excuse yourself with a lie! You are doubly a
traitor!--And then you expect me to have compassion on you!
Evje. As sure as I stand here, I have never thought of deserting you,
however bad things were.
The Editor. And you have the face to take credit to yourself for that?
It is all calculation from beginning to end! You thought it would be the
best way of making me remember your loyalty, and reward you for it.
Evje. This is abominable!
The Editor. Oh, you are cunning enough! You represent wealth of another
kind, which at first was not entirely irreproachably come by--
Evje. There you go again!
The Editor.--and want to give it the cachet of good society; so you take
care to keep friends with a newspaper that may be able to give you a
helping hand in gaining what you want. Can you deny it?
Evje. There may be a slight tinge of calculation even in our highest
purposes. But the misfortune about you is that you can see nothing but
the calculation, though it may be only an infinitesimal part of the
whole thing.
The Editor. Oho--I have had experience of you!
Evje. Then you must have had experience of your party's loyalty, too.
The Editor. My party's loyalty!
Evje. Well, after all, it keeps you where you are to-day.
The Editor. _It_ keeps me there?
Evje. And you have friends in that party-myself amongst others--who
certainly would rather stand outside altogether, but nevertheless give
you their advice and support when you are in difficulties. You cannot
deny that.
The Editor. I have friends in the party? Oh yes; and if we lose a fight
these fine counsellors are the first to run away! They are always egging
me on and egging me on; but only let public opinion once get tired of
me, and they will throw me overboard without more ado! By that sort of
treachery they manage to fill the sails of the party craft with a new
breeze--and leave me to shift the best way I can!--they, for whom I
have fought with all my might and main! I despise my opponents--they are
either scoundrels and thieves, or they are blockheads and braggarts.
But my supporters are lick-spittles, fools, cravens. I despise the whole
pack of them, from first to last! If any one would give me the assurance
that if, as a pledge that I would never use a pen again, I were to chop
off my right hand I should thereby gain the prospect of a peaceful life
a thousand miles away from here, I believe I would do it!--I despise the
whole pack of them--oh, how I despise them!
Evje. But this is horrible! Do you find no comfort in religion? Or, at
all events, you have your paper!
The Editor. My paper, yes--but what good do you suppose that is to me?
And do you think I give the impression of being a religious man?
Evje. Then what do you work for?
The Editor. Perhaps you think I work for your sake?--or for the sake of
prosperity, or order, or whatever it is you cowards or self-seekers like
to imagine it is that you personify? No, the whole human race is not
worth the powder and shot that they are holding at each other's heads.
Evje. Then why do you come and almost threaten my life, if the whole
thing seems so worthless to you?
The Editor. Do you seriously suppose that I would give in, so as to
spare you or some other shopkeeper?--so that you should be able to
say triumphantly, "You see he didn't dare! He didn't dare quarrel with
Capital!"--or, "You see he has given in--he has turned tail!" No; what
I should like to do would be to lay a mine underground, and blow myself
and the whole lot of you sky high!
Evje. And I and all the happiness of my family life are to be sacrificed
in order that you shall not have to give in on a side issue of no
importance!--Oh, I am chilled to the bone!
The Editor. Ha, ha! It is good to hear you speaking like yourself again,
because it reminds me that it is time to put an end to this solemn
nonsense! (Looks at his watch.) A quarter past! You must be quick!
Evje. Are you really in earnest?
The Editor. I often play off jokes on you, it is true. But I don't know
how you will like this one to-morrow morning.
Evje. Then let me tell you that I solemnly refuse! I will not break off
the engagement! Put me in your paper, if you like; I am a free man.
The Editor. Bah! nobody is that. Then you refuse? Good-bye! (Walks away
from EVJE.)
Evje (going after him). No, no--where are you going?
The Editor (stopping). Nowhere--or rather, I am going home.
Evje. But you won't really do what you said?
The Editor. Ha! ha! ha! (Moves away.)
Evje (following him). No, listen! Listen to me for a minute.
The Editor (turning back). Do you think I have time to stop at all
the stations your vanity or your fright will invent on the way? (Moves
away.)
Evje. You mad creature--listen to me! (The EDITOR stops.) Tell me
exactly what you mean to do?
The Editor. Fiddlesticks! (Moves on.)
Evje (following him). Do you mean to put in the paper that I have broken
off this match?
The Editor (stopping). Better than that--I shall spread the news in the
town; then it will get about, and all the journalists will get a hold of
it.
Evje. Give me a day or two to think it over!
The Editor. Oh, no--you are not going to catch me like that! It is
election time, and the other side must be made to feel that all decent
people have deserted them.
Evje. But it is a lie, you know!
The Editor. What is lying, and what is truth? But your resignation from
the Stock Exchange Committee and your subsequent failure to be elected
to any public position will be no lies, I can assure you! Public opinion
is not to be trifled with, you know!
Evje. And this from you!
The Editor. Bah! Public opinion is a very faithless friend.
Evje. But who, after all, constitute public opinion?
The Editor. Oh, no--you are not going to lead me into a trap again!
Besides--it would be very difficult to say exactly who does constitute
it.
Evje. This is really--! Then you won't put that in the paper?
The Editor. The news of a broken engagement travels quickest by
foot-post--ha, ha, ha! (Coughs; then adds seriously:) But won't you,
of your own accord, break off what are really absolutely inadmissible
relations with a man who scandalises all your acquaintances?
Evje. Lay the blame on me, of course! I know his credentials are no
longer first class; but my daughter--ah, you would not be able to
understand that. The circumstances are quite exceptional, and--. Look
here, shall we go up and talk it over with my wife?
The Editor. Ha, ha!--you turned me out of the house this morning!
Evje. Oh, forget all about that!
The Editor (looking at his watch). Half past! Now, without any more
evasions--will you, or will you not?
Evje (with a struggle). No! I repeat, no! (The EDITOR moves away.) Yes,
yes!--It nearly kills me to do it!
The Editor. "The Capitalist, secure in his position, who needs pay no
regard to," etc., etc.--that is the "common form," isn't it, you man of
first-class credentials? Ha, ha! Good-bye. I am going home to send the
boy to the printers; he has waited long enough. (Moves away.)
Evje (following him). You are the cruellest, hardest, most reckless--
The Editor (who has been laughing, suddenly becomes serious). Hush! Do
you see?
Evje (turning round). What? Where?
The Editor. Over there!
Evje. Those two?
The Editor. Yes--your daughter and Mr. Harald Rejn.
Evje. But he swore this morning that he would never set foot in my house
again!
The Editor. But he will stay _outside_ your house, as you see! These
gentlemen of the Opposition, when they give any assurance, always do it
with a mental reservation! You can't trust the beggars! Come round the
corner. (They do so.)
Evje. An assignation in the street in the fog! To think my daughter
would let herself be induced to do such a thing!
The Editor. Evil communications corrupt good manners! You are a mere
bungler in delicate matters, Evje. You made a bad choice in that
quarter!
Evje. But he seemed to be--
The Editor. Yes, yes, I know! A real gentleman would have guessed what
he would develop into. He has a brother, you know! (HARALD and GERTRUD
come in slowly, arm-in-arm.)
Gertrud. While your brother has been ill you have received many
gratifying proofs of the good feeling and goodwill that there is in this
town-haven't you?
Harald. Yes, I have. I have found no ill-will against him, nothing but
kindness on all sides--with the exception of one person, of course.
Gertrud. But even he has a heart! It has often seemed to me as if I
heard a cry of yearning and disappointment from it--and that just when
he spoke most bitterly.
Harald. Yes, it needs no very sharp sight to see that he, who makes so
many unhappy, is himself the unhappiest of all.
The Editor. What the deuce are they talking about?
Evje. We cannot hear from here. And the fog deadens their voices.
The Editor. Go a bit nearer, then!
Evje. Not before they separate. You only understand _him_!
Harald (to GERTRUD). What are you holding there?
Gertrud (who has taken off her glove and then a ring from her finger).
The ring they gave me when I was confirmed. Give me your hand! No, take
your glove off!
Harald. Do you want me to try your ring on? I shall not be able to get
it on.
Gertrud. On the little finger of your left hand? Yes!
Harald (putting it on). So I can. Well?
Gertrud. You mustn't laugh at me. I have been beating up my courage
to do this all this time. It was really why I wanted to walk a little
farther with you first! I wanted to bring the conversation round to it,
you see! I am so convinced that your happiness, and consequently mine,
depends on your being able to be kind. You have got this meeting before
you to-night. It will be a decisive moment for you. If you, when you are
facing all this horrible persecution, can be a kind boy, you will win
all along the line! (Pulls at his buttons in an embarrassed way.) So I
wanted you to wear this ring to remind you. The diamonds in it sparkle;
they are like my tears when you are hard and forget us two. I know it
is stupid of me (wipes her eyes hastily), but now, when it comes to the
point, I can't say what I--. But do wear it!
Harald (kissing her). I will wear it! (Gently.) Its pure rays shall shed
a light on my life.
Gertrud. Thank you! (Throws her arms round him and kisses him.)
The Editor. What they are doing now is all right! Ha, ha, ha!
Evje. I won't stand it! (The EDITOR coughs loudly.) What are you doing?
(The EDITOR goes to the neighbouring house and rings the bell. The door
is opened and he goes in, laughing as he goes.)
Gertrud (who has started from HARALD'S arms at the sound of the cough).
That is--!
Harald. It sounds like him! (Turns, and sees Evje.)
Gertrud. Father! (Turns to run away, but stops.) No, it is cowardly to
run away. (Comes back, and stands at HARALD'S side. EVJE comes forward.)
Evje. I should not have expected my daughter, a well-brought-up girl, to
make an assignation in the street with--with--
Gertrud. With her fiance.
Evje.--with a man who has made a mock of her father and mother, and of
his own doing has banished himself from our house.
Harald. From your house, certainly; but not from my future wife.
Evje. A nice explanation! Do you suppose we will consent to have as our
son-in-law a man who spurns her parents?
Gertrud. Father!
Evje. Be quiet, my child! You ought to have felt that yourself.
Gertrud. But, father, you surely do not expect him to submit to your
being abused and himself ill-treated in our house?
Evje. Are you going to teach your parents--?
Gertrud (putting her arm round his neck). I don't want to teach you
anything; because you know yourself, dear, that Harald is worth far
more--and far more to us--than the man who went away just now! (At this
moment the printer's boy, who has come out of the EDITOR'S house, runs
past them towards the town.)
Evje (seeing the boy, tries to get away). Go in now, Gertrud! I have
something I wish to talk to Mr. Rejn about.
Gertrud. You have nothing to talk to Harald about that I cannot hear.
Evje. Yes, I have.
Harald. But why may she not hear it? What you want is to break off our
engagement.
Gertrud. Father--! (Moves away from him.) Is that true?
Evje. Well-since it cannot be otherwise-it is true; that is to say, for
the moment. (Aside.) Good Lord, they can make it up right enough when
this is all over!
Gertrud (who is standing as if thunderstruck). I saw you with him!--Ah!
that is how it is! (Looks at her father, bursts into tears and rushes to
the door of their house, pulls the bell and disappears into the house.)
Evje. What is it? What is the matter with her?
Harald. I think I know. She realises that her life's happiness has been
bought and sold. (Bows to EVJE.) Good-bye! (Goes out to the right.)
Evje (after standing dumb for some moments). Bought and sold?
Some people take everything so dreadfully solemnly. It is only a
manoeuvre--to get out of this difficulty. Why is it that I cannot get
free of it! They both of them exaggerate matters so absurdly; first of
all this crazy fellow, and then Harald with his "Good-bye," spoken as if
the ground were giving way beneath his feet! I--I--feel as if every one
had deserted me. I will go in to my wife--my dear, good wife; she will
understand me. She is sitting up there, full of anxiety about me. (He
turns towards his house; but, on reaching the garden gate, sees JOHN
standing there.)
John (touching his hat respectfully). Excuse me, Mr. Evje--
Evje. You, John! Go away! I told you never to set foot in my house
again.
John (very respectfully). But won't you allow me to stand outside your
house either, sir?
Evje. No!
John (standing in EVJE'S way, but still with a show of great respect).
Not at the door here?
Evje. What are you standing in my way for, you scoundrel?
John. Shall I assist you to call for help, sir? (Calls out.) Help!
Evje. Be quiet, you drunken fool! Don't make a disturbance! What do you
want? Be quick!
John. I want, with all respect, to ask you, sir, why you have sent me
away.
Evje. Because you are a swine that gets drunk and then talks nonsense.
You don't know what a dilemma you have put me in.--Now go away from
here, quietly!
John. I know all about it! I was following you and the Editor all the
time, you know!
Evje. What?
John. These articles, that were to go in the paper--the printing was at
a standstill, waiting for them.
Evje. Hush, hush, John! So you overheard that, did you? You are too
clever; you ought never to have been a servant.--Now, be off with you!
Here is a shilling or two for you. Good-bye.
John. Thank you very much, sir.--This was how it was, sir. You see,
I thought of the number of times I had run over to the printer's with
messages when that nice Editor gentleman was spending an evening with
you--and so I thought I might just as well run over with this one.
Evje (starting back in alarm). What? What have you done?
John. Just to do you a good turn, sir, I ran along and told them they
might print those articles.
Evje. What articles?
John. The ones about you, sir. "Print away," I said--and they printed
away. By Jove, how they worked, and then off to the post with the
papers!
Evje. You had the impudence, you--! Ah, it's not true! I saw the
printer's boy myself, running to the office to countermand the
instructions.
John. I caught him up outside here and told him that a message had been
sent from Mr. Evje's house. And I gave him sixpence to go to the theatre
with; but he must have had to run for it, to be in time, because I am
sure it was after seven. Excuse me, sir, but it _is_ after seven now,
isn't it?
Evje. You scoundrel! You vindictive brute!
John. You can have a look at the paper, sir, if you like.
Evje. Have _you_ got a copy?
John. Yes, sir, the first copy struck off is always sent to the Editor,
so I volunteered to bring it to him. But you must be anxious to see it,
sir! (Holds it out to EVJE.)
Evje (snatching it from him). Give it to me! Let me see--. (Moves
towards his door, but stops.) No, my wife mustn't--. Here, under the
gas-lamp! This filthy fog! I can't--. (Feels in his pocket for his
glasses, and pasts them on.) Ah, that's better! (Holds the paper under
the light.) What a mischance! The blackguard--! Where is the article,
then? Oh, here--I can't see properly, my heart is beating so!
John. Shall I run for the doctor, sir?
Evje. Will you go away, you--! (Holds the paper first up, and then down,
in his attempts to see better.) Ah, here it is! "The Stock Exchange
Committee"--oh! (Lowers the paper.)
John (mimicking him). Oh!
Evje (trying to read). What a vile thing to do!
John. Oh, go on! go on!
Evje (as he reads). This beats everything I ever--Oh!
John. Oh! We _are_ in a bad way!
Evje (wiping his forehead). What a different thing it is to read
libellous attacks on others--and on one's self! (Goes on reading.) Oh!
Oh! What horrible, revolting rascality! What is it he says here? I must
read through it again! Oh, oh!
John. And often of a morning, when you have been reading the paper, I
have heard you laughing till the bed shook under you!
Evje. Yes, I who have so often laughed at others! (Reads.) No, this is
beyond belief! I can't read any more! This will ruin my position in the
town; I can hear every one laughing at me--he knows all my weaknesses,
and has managed to make it all so hideously ludicrous! (Tries to go on
reading.) Why, here is some more! (Reads.) It begins even worse than the
other! (Lowers the paper, panting, then tries to go on reading.) No, I
can't--I can't! I must wait! Everything seems going round and round--and
my heart is beating so violently that I know I shall have one of my
attacks! What a devil it is that I have been making a friend of! What a
creature to have broken bread with!--an unprincipled scoundrel! And the
disgrace of it!--the disgrace! What will they say at the Exchange? What
will--? I shall not dare to go out of my house, at least for some weeks!
And then people will only say I have taken to my bed! Oh, oh! I feel as
if it were the end of everything!
John (solicitously). Can I help you, sir?
Evje. Will you leave me alone--! No, I will have my revenge on him
immediately! I will go and ring his bell, and go into his house and call
him a scoundrel and spit in his face--! Did I bring my stick out with
me? Where is my stick? I will send my man for it, and then I will thrash
him round and round his own room!
John (eagerly). I will fetch it for you, sir!
Evje (without hearing him). No, it would only make more scandal!--How
can I take my revenge? I must do him some injury--some real injury that
will seem to poison his food for him and rob him of his rest. Scoundrels
like that don't deserve sleep! It must be something, too, that will
make his family every bit as unhappy as mine will be when they have
read this--something that will make them hide their heads for
shame--something that will make them terrified every time their
door-bell rings, out of shame for what their servants may hear! No, no,
I am getting as evil-minded as he is, now!--What a horrible trade--for
ever sowing the seeds of sin and reaping a crop of curses! Now I
understand what Harald Rejn meant by saying that no one ought to give
his help to such things!--Heavens, hear my vow: never again will I give
my help to such things!--What am I to say to my wife--my dear, good
wife, who has no suspicion how disgraced I am! And Gertrud, our good
Gertrud--ah, at all events I can give her some pleasure at once. I
cannot conceal it from them; but I will tell them myself, so that they
shall not read it.
John. Is there anything else I can do for you, sir?
Evje (almost screaming at him). Once for all, can't you let me alone!
Mrs. Evje (leaning out of a window she has opened). The sound must have
come from the street, all the same. Are you there, my dear?
Evje (drawing back in alarm). There she is! Shall I answer?
Mrs. Evje. Are you there, my dear?
Evje. Yes, dear, here I am!
Mrs. Evje. So you are! I heard your voice, and looked all over the
house. What is the matter, dear?
Evje. Oh, I am so unhappy!
Mrs. Evje. Good heavens, are you, dear? Come along in--or shall I come
down to you?
Evje. No, I will come in. Shut the window, or you will catch cold.
Mrs. Evje. Do you know, Gertrud is sitting up here, crying?
Evje. Good gracious, is she? I will come up--I will come up!
John. I will help him up, ma'am! (Pretends to be doing so.)
Mrs. Evje. Is that you, John?
Evje (in a low voice). Will you be off!
John. Yes, it is me, ma'am. He is so unwell.
Mrs. Evje. Is he! Heavens, it is one of his attacks! Help him, John!
Evje (as before). Don't you dare!
John (who has rung the bell loudly). I do hope you will moon be better,
sir! (Calls up to the window.) I can leave him now, ma'am! (To EVJE, as
he goes.) This has been a bit of luck, for me; but you shall have some
more of it! (Disappears into the fog as EVJE goes into his house. The
two Passers-by, that were seen at the beginning of the scene, are now
indistinctly seen returning along the street at the back.)
First Passer-by. Well, the land of Fogs used to be thought by the
ancients to lie in the north, where all confused ideas come from--
Second Passer-by (who does not seem to be able to get a word in). But,
listen to me for a moment-do you think it means--?
[Curtain]
ACT III
(SCENE.--A room in HALVDAN REJN's house. He is lying, supported on
pillows, on a sofa on the left-hand side of the room. There is a table
in the background, and another near the sofa. A lamp is hanging from the
ceiling, and another standing on the table at the back. HAAKON REJN, his
dress proclaiming him to be a well-to-do yeoman farmer, is sitting on a
chair by the sofa.)
Halvdan. So she couldn't come?
Haakon. No; there are the youngsters, you know--she finds it difficult
to get away.
Halvdan (after a moment's silence). Remember to thank her for all her
kindness to me. The happiest moments of my life have been those Sundays
and evenings that she and you and I spent together at your house. (A
pause.)
Haakon. She wanted very much to know how you were feeling--whether you,
who have suffered so much, are at peace now.
Halvdan. At peace? A man who has to die with all his work unfinished,
cannot easily root out all thoughts of that from his heart.
Haakon. You should try to lay in God's hands all that you have striven
for.
Halvdan. That is what I struggle daily to do. (A pause.)
Haakon. A sister of my wife's, who was a widow and badly off, died
leaving three young children. But she was glad to die. "Their Heavenly
Father will help them better when I am out of the way," she said. "I
took up too much room," she said; "I know I have often stood in their
way." (A pause.)
Halvdan. You tell that just as your wife would; she told me that story
once.
Haakon. I was to tell you from her that she believes you are to die in
order that what you have worked for may come to its fullest fruit. She
thinks that when you are gone, people will appreciate better what your
aims were.
Halvdan. There is some comfort in the thought that I may be dying
in order that what I have loved may live. I have already given up
happiness-even honour-for it; I gladly give my life for it now. (A
pause.)
Haakon. Do you bear ill-will to any of those who have opposed you so
cruelly?
Halvdan. To no one.
Haakon. Not even to those whose doing it is that you are lying here?
Halvdan. No, to no one. (A pause.)
Haakon. Could you bear to read something hateful about yourself to-day?
Halvdan. I don't know.
Haakon. Then you have not done with it all yet.
Halvdan. No, I know I have not. It is only sometimes that the busy
world outside seems to me like a ship sailing idly before the wind. More
often, I am back in the midst of it again--planning, hoping, praying! I
am young, you know, and have had to suffer so much--there was so much I
wanted to do. (Lifts a handkerchief to his forehead. HAAKON helps him to
wipe his face with it. A pause.)
Haakon. But it must be a comfort to you, too, that Harald is taking up
what you are laying down. There is good stuff in him.
Halvdan. Yes.
Haakon. And he never says more than is necessary. The country folk will
understand him all the better for it.
Halvdan. I hope so. As soon as he comes into my room I feel as if the
atmosphere were charged with electricity--I feel as if I _must_ have
a part in what he is doing--and so I work, and tire myself out. Ah, it
often seems very hard to have to die, and leave undone a great work that
one has failed to accomplish!
Haakon. But you have made him what he is, you know--and many others.
Halvdan. I have started the fight, that is all. It is hard to have to
desert at the beginning of it!--But God is good, and will understand; He
will not be surprised at what my thoughts are full of, when I go to Him.
(A ring is heard at the bell.)
Haakon. I expect that is Harald.
Halvdan. No, he never rings. Besides, I expect he is taking a walk, to
think over what he is going to say to-night.
Haakon. Yes, I suppose it will be a big meeting. (The HOUSEKEEPER comes
in.)
The Housekeeper. Mr. Evje is here, sir, asking for Mr. Harald. I told
him we were expecting him every moment. Shall I ask him to come in?
Halvdan. Yes, show him in. (HAAKON gets up, as EVJE is shown in.)
Evje (to HALVDAN). Good evening! (Sees HAAKON.) Ah, good evening! So you
have come? That is splendid. Is your wife with you?
Haakon. No, she couldn't leave the children.
Evje. I see. (To HALVDAN.) And how are you? About the same? Of course,
yes.--Where is your brother?
Halvdan. He has his meeting to-night, you know.
Evje. His momentous meeting--I know! I am going to it myself!
Halvdan (turns his face towards him). You?
Evje. My object in coming here was to take him home with me, so that we
could all go together to the meeting. We mean to go on to the platform
with him; I mean people to see that we are with him!
Halvdan (turning his face away). Really!
Evje (to HAAKON). You never answered my letter, Mr. Rejn.
Haakon. No, I knew I was coming in to town.
Evje. Well--will you sell?
Haakon. No.
Evje. But, my dear Mr. Rejn, you have not sold a single potato to my
distillery for five years! And with a farm like yours! This year you had
the best crop in the whole valley.
Haakon. Oh, yes--it wasn't so bad.
Evje. Not so bad! It was an extraordinary crop; and, everywhere else
round about, the crops were very middling.
Haakon. Oh, yes--it might have been worse.
Evje (laughing). I should think so! But then why won't you sell? (Turns
to HALVDAN.) I hope you will excuse our talking business in a sick-room;
a business man has to seize every opportunity, you know! (To HAAKON.)
You have never got higher prices elsewhere than you have from me.
Haakon. No, so I believe; but I have my own reasons.
Evje. Your own reasons? What are they?
Haakon. I had a servant once--it is about five years ago now--a good,
capable fellow. He used to take potatoes for me to the distillery every
day, and every evening came back drunk. So I spoke to him seriously
about it; and his answer was: "How do you suppose our brandy-merchants
are to grow rich, if chaps like me don't drink pretty hard?" You know
the man; he went into your service afterwards. But from that day I have
never sold a potato to a distillery.
Evje. But, my dear Mr. Rejn, we cannot be held responsible for the use
to which such rascals put God's gifts!
Haakon. No--no--I suppose not; still, I am not going to have anything
more to do with it.
Evje (to HALVDAN). Do you think your brother will not be home before the
meeting?
Halvdan. I should think he would; there is plenty of time yet.
Evje. There is; but I should have liked to take him home with me first.
The fact is (laughs) I have promised my wife and daughter not to go home
without him. You know what women are! Shall I just go into his room and
wait for him? There is something I want to talk to him about, you know.
Halvdan. I don't think there is a fire in there.
Evje. Oh, well, never mind--I will sit here. I have got a newspaper to
read, and you two must go on with your talk just as if I were not here!
I shall hear nothing, because I have something to read that interests
me. (He pulls a chair up to the table on the right with its back to
HALVDAN. HAAKON brings the lamp from the table at the back.) Ah, thank
you very much! Now, just talk away as if I were not here! (Takes the
paper from his pocket and sits down.)
Haakon (sitting down again beside his brother). I should have liked to
go to the meeting, too.
Halvdan. Of course you must go! You will hear Harald tell them how each
nation has its own appointed task in the world; that is why it _is_ a
nation. But, as long as it does not realise the fact, its politics
will be nothing but wrangling between the various class-interests--a
haphazard struggle for power. Our nation has never got beyond that
point! I have shouted myself to death over what is a mere market.
Evje (to himself, striking the table with his fist). The whole
commercial community is insulted in this insult to me! I will stir them
up at the meeting, and insist on our taking our revenge in common!
Haakon. I don't think things will be any better until we are better
Christians. Men think of nothing nowadays but themselves and their
position.
Evje (to himself). No, no-that wouldn't do. What would people say? They
would only say I was badly hit by this.
Halvdan (half to himself). A Christian nation, thinking of nothing but
its own interests--that is to say, power! Equality and Liberty have no
meaning for it. Haakon, it surely will be bliss for a wounded soul to
be taken into the Everlasting Love, high above all this so-called
Christianity of the world! For my soul is sorely wounded!
Evje (to himself ). If only I could strike him dead!
Halvdan. But may they all be forgiven!--You asked just now whether I
could bear to read something hateful about myself to-day. I think I
could.
Haakon. Then I can tell you the other message she gave me for you.
I have been a little shy of telling you that. It was that you should
remember that you must do more than forgive; you must pray for them. (A
pause.)
Halvdan (with his hand over his eyes). I do.
Evje (crumpling up the paper and throwing it on the floor). No, I won't
stand it! If the blackguard--. (Gets up in alarm, as he realises what
he has done, and is just going to pick up the paper; but at that moment
turns round facing the others, and lets it lie.) No, I won't touch it
again--never, as long as I live! (To the others.) You must forgive me,
but I was reading something that upset me very much. Your brother will
tell you all about it in the morning, no doubt. Poof--it is very warm in
here! But, of course, that is natural in a sick-room. I don't think he
can be coming now. I think, too, that I will go on, so as not to be late
for the meeting; there is sure to be a difficulty in getting seats. I
will get him to go home with me after the meeting, instead. That will be
better, after all.
Haakon. I was thinking of going to the meeting. Would you mind if I went
with you?--for I do not know the way myself.
Evje. You will come with me, Mr. Rejn? (To himself.) That will be
splendid--to make my entrance in the company of one of our yeomen
farmers! (Aloud.) By all means let us go together! I feel flattered by
the opportunity, because I have always maintained that our yeomen are
the pick of the nation. Well, then--(to Halvdan) I hope you will soon be
feeling better, Mr. Rejn. God bless you!
Halvdan (raising himself on his elbow, and looking at him with a smile).
Something must have gone amiss with you to-day.
Evje. Why do you say that?
Halvdan. Because as a rule you appear so composed so aloof from all this
squabbling.
Evje (impetuously). But, do what I like, I am not allowed to keep aloof
from it! I have no greater wish in the world than to do so, I can assure
you. Oh, well, your excellent brother--my future son-in-law,
as I am proud to call him--he will tell you all about it.
Good-bye!--and--and--God bless you!
Haakon. Shall I tell your housekeeper to come to you?
Halvdan. Oh, no; but you might tell her to come in a little while.
Haakon. Good-bye for the present, then!
Halvdan. Thank you for coming! Good-bye. (Sinks back on to the sofa. The
others go out, HAAKON turning round once at the door.)
Halvdan. It is something in the paper that has disturbed his equanimity.
What can it be? The same thing that made Harald so gloomy to-day, I
wonder? (Gets half up.) It is lying there.--No! What interest have I in
all their petty spite now? (Sinks back again.) "Could you bear to read
something hateful about yourself to-day?" Haakon asked. Then I suppose
there is something about me in it to-day. (Puts his hand over his
heart.) My heart doesn't seem to be beating any the faster for my
knowing that. (Gets half up.) There it lies! (Sinks back again.) No, I
am only trying to tempt myself. All the same, I should like to know how
many stations I have passed on my journey to the great City of
Peace! Can their malice affect me still? Surely I have passed _that_
station?--It would be worth trying, to see. There it lies! (Takes up
a stick that is standing by the sofa.) Surely I can get over there by
myself? (Gets up from the sofa with the help of the stick, and smiles.)
I have not much strength left. (Takes a few steps.) Scarcely enough
to get across the floor. (A few more steps.) To think that I should
have--so much vanity--my weak point--. (His breath fails him, but he
gets as far as the chair on which EVJE was sitting, and sits down.) One
ought to have done with all that before the soul can get quite away from
the dust that--. (Begins to rake the paper towards him with his stick.)
And here am I, sitting here raking more of it towards me!--No, let the
thing lie! I won't soil my wings any more.--Poor Harald! He has to
take up the burden now! What a horrible bungle it is, that we should
be brought into the world to give each other as much pain as possible!
(Decidedly.) Well, I am going to see what legacy of unhappiness I
am leaving him! I want to have a vivid impression of the misery I am
escaping from. There is a certain comfort even in that. (Bends down and
picks up the paper, rests for a moment, and then unfolds the paper.) But
this is not to-day's paper; it is dated for to-morrow! How can Evje have
got hold of it? Yes, here is the date--Sunday. "Remember that thou keep
holy the Sabbath Day!" On that day men's souls should turn to God--and
they offer Him _this_! It is after reading _this_ that these fine ladies
and gentlemen go to church! (Pushes the paper away from him.) Suppose
these "Christians" were to be brought to judgment one day without
warning?--Let us think of ourselves and not of others! (Lets his eye
rest on the paper.) Does that mean me? (Reads.) "Not yet actually dead,
but already canonised by a calculating brother--." (Checks himself.)
God forgive them! (Reads on.) "His teachings will no doubt obtain him
a paean of praise, but this will be--or, at least, so it is to be
hoped--from within the closely locked doors of the state's prisons and
houses of correction"--(checks himself a little)--"for that is whither
he leads his followers."--Good God, to think that they can say such
things!--And yet, they said worse things of _Him_! Peace! (Reads.) "No
doubt he talks against Socialism; no doubt he coquets with Christianity;
but it is by these very means that he has become so expert a seducer of
men's opinions-which was his aim all along." (Puts his hands before his
face.) I should not have read it; forgive me! I am too weak still!--Ah!
I feel--what is it? (Puts his hands suddenly to his heart, still
unconsciously grasping the newspaper in them.) I must get into my
room--get to bed! (Gets up with the help of his stick.) If only I can
get there! Oh, I feel it coming on!--I must--. (Tries to hurry, but when
he is halfway across the floor he stumbles, throws out his hands but
finds no support, staggers on for a few steps, and falls full length on
the threshold of his bedroom, so that half his length lies within the
door and half without. A moment later, the HOUSEKEEPER comes in.)
The Housekeeper (not observing that he is not still on the sofa). Won't
you go to bed now, sir? You can't stand so much in one day. (Goes to the
sofa.) Where is he? Surely he has not tried to walk in alone? (Hurries
across to the bedroom door and almost falls over his body. She starts
back with a scream.) Where is--? (Catches up the lamp, hurries back, and
bends over him; then calls out, screaming:) Help! Help! (Rings the bell
wildly. A MAID appears.) Mr. Halvdan is lying here! Heaven knows whether
he is dead or alive! Run for the Doctor! Leave the door open behind you,
and beg the first man you meet in the street to come up here at once and
help me. Tell them it is a matter of life and death!
Maid. Yes!
The Housekeeper. Hurry!
Maid (going out). Yes, yes!
The Housekeeper (coming back into the room). Is he alive or dead? I
haven't the courage to find out. And both his brothers away! (Cries.)
God grant some one comes soon!--Poor man, alone in his death as he was
in his life! But what was he doing _there_? Why did he get up from the
sofa? (Sees the paper.) Surely that can't be--? (Puts the lamp on the
floor and unfolds the paper.) Yes, it is the paper, right enough! Who
can have given it him? I can't look at it now; but if it is like the
number I read the other day (lets the paper fall, and gets up with the
lamp) then I understand everything--and may God requite those that do
such things! (The EDITOR rushes in.)
The Editor. Is it here?
The Housekeeper (holds the lamp to him, then starts back). What do _you_
want here?
The Editor. Where am I? A girl came running down the street and told me
I must come up here and help some one that was dying. What do you want
me to do?--or is it not here?
The Housekeeper. And it was _you_ she met? It is the hand of God!
The Editor. What are you babbling about? If it is not here, say so at
once.
The Housekeeper. Yes, it is here. There he lies!
The Editor. Then oughtn't we to get him into bed?
The Housekeeper. Yes. But do you know who it is you are helping?
The Editor (to himself). She is not very polite. (Aloud.) No; but what
does that matter?
The Housekeeper. This much--that it is you that have killed him.
The Editor. I--? She is mad.
The Housekeeper. The man lying there is Halvdan Rejn. And he had been
reading about himself in your paper.--Come, now, and carry him in. (She
goes into the bedroom with the lamp. Her voice is heard from inside the
room.) Now, take hold of him and lift him. You can think afterwards.
The Editor (stoops to lift the body, but gets up again). I don't think
he is dead yet.
The Housekeeper. All the more reason to make haste.
The Editor (stoops down again, but gets up once more.) Let me take his
head.
The Housekeeper. Why?
The Editor. So that--if he should open his eyes
The Housekeeper.--he won't see you. (Comes out of the bedroom). Go in
there, then, and take his head. (He goes in.) What was that?
The Editor (from inside the room). I slipped. There is something wet
here.
The Housekeeper. Yes, he has had a hemorrhage. Carefully, now. (They
carry him in. The stage remains empty for a moment. Then the EDITOR
comes back, wiping his forehead. He walks backwards and forwards,
treading on the paper as he goes, but without noticing it.)
The Editor. What a horrible thing to happen!--Newspapers are not meant
for dying people.--It is not my fault.--Is this blood on my hand? It
is! (Wipes it with his handkerchief.) And now it is on my handkerchief!
(Throws it away.) No, it has my name on it. (Picks it up again.) No one
can say it is my fault. (Sits down, then gets up, wiping his forehead
with his handkerchief without noticing what he is doing.) Ah, I hope I
haven't put blood on my forehead? I seem to feel it there! (Feels
with his hand to see if his brow is wet.) No. (Sits down, then gets up
again.) Let me get away from here. (Stops.) To think that I should be
the one to come up! that it should just happen to-night that I did not
receive my paper, and so went out! It almost seems more than accident.
Indeed, I often had a foreboding that it would happen. (Stands opposite
the bedroom door.) But is he dead? I think I will go and fetch the
Doctor. Oh no, of course the maid has gone for him. He hasn't long
to live, anyway; I could see that. (Walks forward, pointing with
his finger.) "There goes the man that killed Halvdan Rejn! And his
punishment was that he had to lift up his bloodstained body himself."
That is what they will say; and they will look at me as if--. (Sits
down.) No, let me get away! (Takes a few steps, then stops suddenly.)
That article in to-morrow's paper! It is worse than the others! (Pulls
out his watch.) Too late--the post has gone! I would have given--.
(Checks himself.) I have nothing worth giving. In the morning It will
be known all over the town just as everyone is reading my fresh article.
There will be a riot; I shall be hunted like a wild beast. What shall I
do? I might sneak out of the town? Then they will gloat over me! I won't
allow them that pleasure! No, I cannot stay my hand utter a failure;
only after a victory. That is the cursed part of it-never, never to be
able to end it. Oh, for some one that could end it--end it, end it! Oh,
for one day of real peace! Shall _I_ ever get that? (Sits down.) No,
no, I must get away! (Gets up.) To-morrow must take care of itself.
(Starts.) There is the paper he was reading! (Steps over it.) I will
take it away--and burn it. (Takes it up.) I cannot burn it here; some
one might come. (Is just going to put it into his pocket, as it is, but
takes it out again to fold it better.) A Sunday's paper, apparently!
Then it is _not_ to-day's? An old number, I suppose. Then the whole
thing is a mistake! (Sighs with relief.) Let me look again! (Opens the
paper, tremblingly.) I don't deserve it, but--. (Reads.) Sunday, the--.
_To-morrow's_ paper? _Here_? How in all the world did it get here?
(Appears horrified.) Here are the articles about Evje! How on earth did
they get in? Didn't I send a message? Didn't I write? This on the top of
everything else! Are even my printers conspiring against me? Well, even
if it ruins me, I shall go on! They shall find out what I can do. How on
earth can I be expected to help it if a weak-minded fellow dies, or if
my printers are drunk or my manager has delirium tremens! I shall pursue
my end through all chances and in spite of all their tricks, and I shall
crush them, crush them--I shall--. (Gives way to a paroxysm of rage.
At this moment the MAID comes in with the DOCTOR'S ASSISTANT. The MAID
rushes into the bedroom. The EDITOR starts up.) Who is that? What do you
want?
The Doctor's Assistant (coldly). What do _you_ want here?
The Editor. I? Oh, I was called up to help the sick man into his bed.
The Doctor's Assistant (as before). Ah!--so it was _you_! (A pause.)
The Editor. Have you ever seen me before?
The Doctor's Assistant. Yes. I have heard you grind your teeth before
this. (Goes into the bedroom.)
The Editor (after standing for a moment looking after him). They will
all look at me to-morrow like that-with those cold eyes. "Every man's
hand against him, and his hand against every man;" there can only be one
end to that. To-night, the meeting--and Harald Rejn will take them
by storm. To-morrow, his brother's death--and my new article in the
paper--and, in addition to that, those about Evje, who at present is
only angry. And the election in two days! Oh, yes, he will be elected
now. So I may as well give it all up at once. I would change places with
any wolf that has a lair to hide in. Those cold eyes of his! (Shudders.)
That is how every one will look at me to-morrow! They have pierced
through my armour! (The DOCTOR'S ASSISTANT comes back, and the EDITOR
makes an effort to resume his former confident manner.)
The Doctor's Assistant. I don't know whether you will be glad to hear
that it is all over.
The Editor (under his breath). You brute!
The Doctor's Assistant. His old housekeeper does not feel equal to
coming here to tell you what his last words were. They were: "Forgive
him!" (Goes out.)
The Editor (sitting down, then getting up again). No, I mustn't be found
here. (Walks about the room on tiptoe, as if he were afraid of waking
some one. When he comes opposite to the bedroom door, he turns towards
it, stretches out his arms and says:) Give me your forgiveness too!
ACT IV
(SCENE.--A large and handsomely furnished sitting-room at the EVJE'S.
The room is brightly lit and the fire burning. The entrance door is on
the right, and beyond it a door leading to the dining-room. INGEBORG
is busy taking the covers off the chairs, folding them carefully as she
does so. After a little, the bell rings. She goes to open the door, and
returns, showing in the DOCTOR.)
The Doctor. Oho! Is it to be in here to-night?
Ingeborg (who has resumed her work of making the room ready). Yes, sir.
The Doctor. Where are they all?
Ingeborg. At the meeting, sir.
The Doctor. All of them?
Ingeborg. Yes, all of them. Miss Gertrud went first--
The Doctor. Yes, I saw her well enough!
Ingeborg. And then the master, and a farmer gentleman with him, came in
to fetch the mistress.
The Doctor (to himself). Something has happened here, then. (Aloud.)
Tell me, Ingeborg--has _he_ been here again? You know who I mean.
(Coughs in imitation of the EDITOR'S cough.)
Ingeborg. Oh, the Editor; no, sir.
The Doctor (to himself). I wonder what has happened. (Aloud.) Well,
evidently there is to be a festivity here to-night; and, as I see the
chairs are getting their covers taken off, I may as well take mine off
too. (Takes off his coat and gives it to INGEBORG, who carries it out.)
I don't blame Evje for wanting to celebrate Harald's success after a
meeting like that! He is not exactly eloquent in the ordinary sense
of the word--doesn't bother about his antitheses and climaxes and
paradoxes, and all that sort of nonsense; but he is a _man_! He goes
bail for what he says, and he says what he likes--ha, ha! And that dear
Gertrud, too! Follows him into the hall, and, as there isn't a single
seat left there, goes up on to the platform among the committee, and
sits there looking at him with those trustful blue eyes of hers, as if
there was no one else in the room! And _we_ were all looking at _her_!
She helped him more than ten good speakers would have done, I am sure.
Her faith in him bred it in others, whether they liked it or no. She
is one who would die for her faith! Yes, yes! The man that gets her--.
(INGEBORG comes back.) Well! (Rubs his hands together.) Look here,
Ingeborg. (Very politely.) Do you know what is meant by the Rights of
Man?
Ingeborg (going on with her work). No, sir. Something we have earned, I
suppose.
The Doctor. Yes, you earn them every day.
Ingeborg. Our meals, perhaps?
The Doctor (laughing). No, it isn't something to eat, unfortunately.
(Politely.) Do you ever read papers, Ingeborg?
Ingeborg. Papers? Oh, you mean the price-lists they leave at the kitchen
door. Yes, sir; every day, before we go to market, I--
The Doctor. No, I don't mean papers of that sort. I mean--
Ingeborg. Oh, you mean the newspaper I take in to master's room every
morning. No, Sir, I don't read that. I am told there are such horrors in
it.
The Doctor. Quite so. Don't you care to read about horrors, then?
Ingeborg. Oh, we poor folk see enough of them in our everyday lives,
without reading about them!--But perhaps the gentry enjoy it.
The Doctor. You are a very wise woman. Let me tell you, though, that
there is a fight going on, about--oh, well, never mind what it is about.
And the Editor and Mr. Rejn, who both come to this house, are the two
chief fighters. Don't you want to know what they are fighting about?
Ingeborg (going on unconcernedly with her work). Oh, so they are
fighting, are they? No, I don't care the least bit, sir!
The Doctor (to himself). Ha, ha--the difference between Ingeborg and
me is that I am interested in the fight merely as a student of human
nature, and she is not interested in it at all. I wonder which is
farthest from any genuine belief in politics?--from our "duty as a
citizen," as they call it? (To INGEBORG.) Ingeborg, do you know what
your "duty as a citizen" means?
Ingeborg. My "duty as a citizen"? That mean; paying fines, doesn't it,
sir?
The Doctor. Yes; and a very heavy fine, into the bargain!
Ingeborg. The master was fined because the pavement was not swept. John
was ill.
The Doctor. Quite right, that was one of his duties as a citizen.--Tell
me, Ingeborg, are they expecting a lot of people here to-night?
Ingeborg. No, sir, I have only laid table for quite a few.
The Doctor. And what are they going to have?
Ingeborg. Oh, one or two dishes and one or two sorts of wine--.
The Doctor. Aha! (A ring is heard at the bell. INGEBORG goes to the
door.) There they are! Now we shall have a fine time!
Ingeborg (coming back with a letter). It is a note for you, sir.
The Doctor. Oh, bother I
Ingeborg. The man who brought it was not sure whether you would be at
the meeting or here.
The Doctor. How could he know--? (Putting on his glasses.) Oh, from my
assistant--that is quite another thing. Of course he wants my help or my
advice. Well, he shan't have it! I have run about quite enough to-day.
Tell the messenger that I haven't time! I have my Duties as a Citizen
to attend to! (Calls after her.) And my Manhood's Rights too! (Opens the
envelope.) No, I won't read it; if I do, the matter will worry me all
the evening. I know what I am. (Puts the note in his pocket.) I mean to
enjoy this evening! (Suddenly.) I wonder how our friend the Editor is
enjoying this evening! Was he at the meeting, I wonder? A remarkable
personality--but malignity itself! Lion-hearted, though! He would fight
till the last drop of his blood! But what is it, really, that he is
fighting for? That question has always interested me, for I can't make
it out. (To INGEBORG, who has comeback.) Well?
Ingeborg. The messenger has gone.--Yes, sir, I told him everything you
told me to.
The Doctor. Of course. You would! Why the deuce does any one pay any
attention to what I say! (The bell rings.) Here they are at last! Now
we shall have a delightful evening! (EVJE and MRS. EVJE come in.) I am
first, you see!
Evje and Mrs. Evje. Were you at the meeting, too?
The Doctor. Where else should I be?
Evje. Did you see me?
Mrs. Evje. There were so many people there, dear.
Evje. But I was standing on a seat.
Mrs. Evje. Yes, he was standing on a seat!
The Doctor. There were plenty of people doing that.
Evje. I wanted to be seen!--There _have_ been goings on here to-day, my
friend!
Mrs. Evje. You will never guess what has happened!
The Doctor. Anyway I can see that something has happened.
Evje and Mrs. Evje. Oh--!
The Doctor. What is it, then?
Evje. Those articles will be in to-morrow's paper.
The Doctor. In the paper?--Yes, I didn't find him.
Evje. But I found him!
The Doctor (impatiently). Well?
Evje. I will tell you all about it another time. But I have read them--
Mrs. Evje. And he has told me all about them!
The Doctor. Are they very bad?
Evje. Oh--oh!
Mrs. Evje. Oh--oh--oh!
The Doctor (with a look of pleased curiosity.) As bad as all that?
Evje and Mrs. Evje. Oh--oh--oh--oh!
The Doctor. And _that_ was why you went to the meeting!
Evje. Of course--tit for tat! It was my wife's idea.
Mrs. Evje. It was the obvious thing to do, dear.
Evje. Our whole family at the meeting!--So that all the town should know
that it was nothing but the meanest political persecution because I had
joined my son-in-law's party.
Mrs. Evje. We are party people now, you know!
Evje. Do you know, there is something exciting about being mixed up with
such things--something invigorating, something--
The Doctor (stepping back). Are _you_ bitten with it, too?
Evje. Yes, if I can't be left in peace, I shall become a party man.
The Doctor (enthusiastically). Did you see Gertrud?
Evje and Mrs. Evje (with emotion). Our Gertrud! Yes, indeed we did!
The Doctor. Did you see her coming in with him!
Evje and Mrs. Evje (as before). Yes, we saw her coming in with him!
The Doctor. I suppose you did not know she was going?
Evje and Mrs. Evje. Oh, yes!
Mrs. Evje. She had said she would go with us--
Evje. But when we went to fetch her, the bird had flown!
The Doctor. How pretty she looked, too! All the men were looking at her.
And how she looked at him!
Mrs. Evje. It made me want to cry. I had quite a job to prevent myself.
Evje. You need not have minded, dear! God has given us great happiness.
Her faith in him and her love shone to from her eyes that it went to my
heart. I felt quite upset! (Wipes his eyes.)
The Doctor. And what about _him_--eh? I don't fancy any one will think
about stopping his career. We have been a pack of fools.
Evje. That we have!
The Doctor. He is not exactly eloquent, but--
Evje. That is precisely what I was saying to my wife! He is not exactly
eloquent, but he is--
The Doctor.--a man!
Evje. A man! My very words, weren't they, my dear?
Mrs. Evje. Yes.--And I say he is so strong a man that he can afford to
be tender-hearted. For he certainly has been that.
Evje. Yes, he has been that!
The Doctor (laughing). In spite of his strength!
Evje. Oh, you may make the most of your--. Aha! (Loud ringing at the
bell is heard.) Here they are!
Mrs. Evje. Let us go and meet them!
The Doctor. No; look here--let us wait for them at the other side of the
room, so that they may make a triumphal progress up to us!
Evje and Mrs. Evje, Yes! (They go to the opposite end of the room, while
HARALD comes in rather quickly, with GERTRUD on his arm. As they cross
the room, the others cry out: "Bravo! Bravo!" and clap their hands.)
Gertrud (still holding to HARALD's arm). And he is my man! My man!
(Throws her arms round his neck, crying with happiness, and kisses him;
then does the same to her mother, and then to her father, to whom she
whispers: Thank you!)
The Doctor. Oh--me too!
Gertrud (after a moment's hesitation). Yes--you too!
(The DOCTOR helps her to take off her cloak, and talks to her,
whispering and laughing.)
Harald (shaking EVJE's hand). Good evening!
Evje. Forgive me!
Harald. With all my heart!
Mrs. Evje. And now everything is all right!
Harald. For good!
Evje and Mrs. Evje. For good!
Harald. And, thank you for coming to the meeting.
Evje. It was no more than our duty! Look here--did you see me?
Harald. The whole time! But, tell me, was it a delusion, or was it my
brother Haakon that was standing on the floor beside you, rather in the
shadow?
Evje and Mrs. Evje. It _was_ he!
Evje. I fetched him from your brother Halvdan's.
Harald. I am so glad! It must have pleased Haakon. Gertrud and I at
first thought of going in to see Halvdan before we came on here; but we
saw all his lights were out. He must be asleep.
Evje. I can give you news of him. He is all right.
Harald. And Haakon?
Evje. Very well, too. A fine fellow! I wanted him to come home with us
now; but he said he was tired after his journey.
Mrs. Evje (to INGEBORG, who has come in from the dining room). Is it
ready?
Ingeborg. Yes, ma'am.
Mrs. Evje. Then come along. (INGEBORG opens the dining-room door.)
The Doctor and Evje. Yes, come along!
The Doctor. But we must go ceremoniously! Let us make a little festivity
of it to-night! You must head the procession, Evje--and then the two
young people Gertrud (taking HARALD's arm). Yes!
The Doctor. And Mrs. Evje and I will bring up the rear! (Offers her his
arm.)
Evje. Forward!(The bell rings. He stops.) Who can it be--as late as
this?
The Doctor. Probably some friends on their way back from the meeting.
Mrs. Evje. We must wait a moment!(To INGEBORG, who is going to open the
door.)Put a leaf in the table, and lay places for as many as come.
Ingeborg. Yes, ma'am. (The bell rings again, as she goes to open the
door.)
The Doctor. They are impatient! So much the better--it shows they are in
a good humour after the meeting! (A knock is heard at the door.)
All. Come in!(The EDITOR comes in, with no overcoat on, but wearing his
hat, which he forgets to take of till he is well into the room. He goes
straight up to EVJE, who has crossed over to the left-hand side of the
room.)
All (when they see him in the doorway). You! (GERTRUD clings closer to
HARALD.)
The Editor. I wanted once more, as in the old days, not to go to bed
without--this time it is not a question of thanking you for the happy
time we have had together but without begging your pardon!(He speaks
quietly, but with suppressed emotion.)There has been some unfortunate
misunderstanding. Those articles have been printed, in spite of my
express instructions to the contrary--I do not know how.
Evje. I have read them.
The Editor. You have read them?
Evje. Yes, the copy of the paper that was meant for you came into my
hands.
The Editor. So that was it!--Forgive me, old friend! Won't you give me
your hand?
Mrs. Evje (coming forward). That he shall never do!
The Editor (glancing over his shoulder at her). Let no one come between
us at a moment like this! You don't know--. A hundred times in my life
I would have done what I am doing now, had I not been afraid that people
would call it affectation on my part and repulse me. Don't _you_ do
that!--least of all now! Give me your hand, Evje! I beg you, in the
sight and hearing of you all--. (EVJE seems to vacillate.)
Mrs. Evje. No, you shan't!--not while he has anything to do with a
newspaper. Otherwise it will all begin over again to-morrow. He is not
his own master, you know.
The Editor. I have done with it all.
Mrs. Evje. Oh, you have said that so often! Nobody believes it. No; when
a man can push political hatred so far as to write about an old friend,
in whose house he has been a daily guest, as if he were a criminal--and
all because he doesn't like his son-in-law, or his servant--one doesn't
shake hands with him the very day his attacks appear in the paper.
The Editor (who, all the tinge, has kept his back turned to MRS. EVJE,
and has not looked at her). Evje, you are a good-hearted fellow, I know.
Don't listen to what others say, now. This is a very bitter hour for me.
You would be doing a good deed! Give me your hand--or a word! I am
in such a state now that I must have visible signs of _some one's_
forgiveness, or I shall--!
Mrs. Evje (emphatically). Yes, a little repentance will do you good!
But it will do you no good if you obtain forgiveness easily! You want
to learn, just for once, what it is to be wounded at heart. You are only
accustomed to deal with people whom you can flog one day and have at
your feet--either from fear or from vanity--the next. And have we--God
forgive us!--ever thought seriously the worse of you for it? No; because
we never understood what it was till we were hit by it ourselves. But
that is all the more reason why we should do our duty now! Hatred shall
be met with hatred!
The Doctor (at the back of the room, to GERTRUD and HARALD). She is her
father's daughter, after all, when it comes to the point!
The Editor (turns upon MRS. EVJE, with his fist clenched, but restrains
himself from answering her). Then you won't shake hands, Evje? Not a
word of forgiveness?
Evje. I think my wife is right.
The Editor (controlling himself with difficulty). You are a weak man, I
know--
Evje. What do you mean?
The Editor.--but do not be weak this time! If you knew everything,
you would know you _must_ not refuse me what I ask. There are others
concerned--and for that reason--
The Doctor. Let us go!
Mrs. Evje. No, stay! He shall not have his way again.
The Editor. Well, of all--! It is certainly true that those who are
hardest on sinners are those who have never been tempted themselves--and
the most merciless creature in the world is an injured woman.
Mrs. Evje. Now he is coming out in his true colours!
The Doctor (not without glee). Yes, that he is!
The Editor (controlling himself once more). Evje--you, who know me, know
what it must cost me to do this--and you can form some idea of the need
I am in. I have never--
Evje. I believe you; but I never can feel sure what your next move will
be. You have so many.
The Editor. My next move is to have done with it all, as sure as--
Mrs. Evje. Don't believe him! A man who can ask for your sympathy
one moment and abuse you the next is not fit to promise anything--and
certainly not fit to be forgiven, either.
The Editor (with an outburst of passion). Then may everything evil
overtake me if I ever ask you or any one else for sympathy again! You
have succeeded in teaching me that I can do without it! I can rise
above your cowardly cruelty. (To EVJE.) You are a miserable, weak
creature--and have always been, for all your apparent good-natured
shrewdness! (To MRS. EVJE.) And as for you, who have often laughed so
heartily at my so-called malice, and now all at once have become so
severely virtuous--why, you are both like part-proprietors of my paper!
You have taken all the profit you could from me, as long as it served
your purpose--I have seen that for a long time! And all my pretended
friends are like you--secret holders of shares in me, so as to secure
their own safety and the persecution of others!--every bit as guilty as
I am, only more prudent, more timid, more cowardly--!
Evje. Once more--leave this house, which you have outraged!
Mrs. Evje. And how dare you set foot in here again?
The Editor. No, I am not going until all the anger that is in my heart
has turned into fear in yours! Because now I will _not_ have done with
it all! No--it is just through _his_ death that respect for me will
revive--it will be like a rampart of bayonets round me! "There goes
one who can kill a man with a word, if he likes!" _That_ will make them
treat me respectfully!
Harald and the Doctor. What does he mean?
The Editor (as he hears HARALD'S voice). And you--you mountebank, who
can stand up in public and seek applause before your brother's corpse
is cold--don't come talking rant to me! You are more contemptible than I
am! I couldn't have done that; I couldn't stand there, as you are doing
now, impatient to get to your champagne and pretty speeches!--Oh, how I
despise all such lying and heartlessness! (They all look at him and at
each other with a questioning expression.)
Harald. Is my brother dead?
Mrs. Evje. Is his brother dead?
Gertrud. Good God, is Halvdan dead?
Evje. Is he dead? Impossible!
The Doctor. Is Rejn dead--and I--?
Evje. I saw him only a couple of hours ago, looking quite well.
The Editor (in a broken voice). Didn't you know?
All (except the DOCTOR). No!
The Doctor. Ah, that letter, that letter! (Looks in his pocket for it
and his glasses.)
The Editor. I am the wretchedest man alive! (Sinks into a chair.)
The Doctor. I had a letter from my assistant, but I have not read it!
Mrs. Evje. Read it, read it!
The Doctor (reading). "I am writing in great haste. As I expect you will
be going to your old friends' after the meeting, and will meet Harald
Rejn there, the task will probably fall to you of telling him--(the
EDITOR gets up to go, but stands still)--that Halvdan Rejn died about
eight o'clock of a fresh attack of hemorrhage! (HARALD leaves GERTRUD'S
side and comes forward, with a cry. The EDITOR steadies himself by
holding on to the table.) No one was with him; he was found lying across
the threshold of his bedroom. A copy of the newspaper was lying on the
floor behind him." (HARALD, with a groan, advance threateningly towards
the EDITOR.)
Gertrud. Harald, my ring!--my ring! (HARALD Stops, collects himself,
buries his face in his hands and bursts into uncontrollable tears.
GERTRUD puts her arms round him and holds him folded in them.)
The Doctor (laying a hand on HARALD's arm). "The housekeeper told me he
had only spoken two words, and they were 'Forgive him!'" (HARALD bursts
into tears.)
The Doctor (after waiting for a little). "Apparently chance--or perhaps
something else--decreed that the maid who ran for help, should meet the
very man, who hats caused the tragedy, and that it should be _he_ who
helped the housekeeper to lay him on his deathbed." (All look at the
EDITOR.)
Evje. That was why he came! (A pause.)
Gertrud. Harald! (HARALD, who has turned away from her to struggle with
his emotion, does not turn round.) If _he_ could forgive--
The Editor (with a gesture of refusal). No!
Gertrud (quietly, to the EDITOR). If you want to deserve it, make an end
of all this!
The Editor. It is all at an end! (To MRS. EVJE.) You were right. I knew
it myself, too. My armour is pierces pierced through. A child might
conquer me now--and this child has done so; for she has begged for mercy
for me, and no one has ever done that before. (Puts his hand over his
eyes, turns away, and goes out. As he is going out the bell rings. A
moment later, INGEBORG Shows in HAAKON REJN.)
Gertrud (who has put her arms round HARALD, whispers). Who is it?
Harald. My brother. (Goes to meet HAAKON and throws himself into his
arms.) You had a talk with him this afternoon, then?
Haakon. Yes.
Mrs. Evje. Let us all go to him.
Evje and Gertrud. Yes.
Mrs. Evje (to INGEBORG). Bring in our cloaks and hats again, and
afterwards clear the table. (INGEBORG does so.)
Harald (unable to control his emotion). Haakon, this is my future wife.
(Goes away from them.)
Haakon. Well, my dear, your engagement has begun seriously; take all the
future seriously, too.
The Doctor. You need not say that to _her_. What she needs is to take
life more lightly.
Haakon. Oh, yes--if she lays everything in God's hands she can always
take life lightly.
Mrs. Evje. It is our own fault, I expect, when we take it too lightly.
Evje. But sometimes we learn a lesson by that.
Haakon. Oh, yes. Well, we must stand by one another, we who take life in
the same way.
Mrs. Evje. Shall we go, children?
Harald (to HAAKON). Will you bring Gertrud, Haakon? I would rather go
alone. (They go out. The curtain falls.)
THE BANKRUPT
A PLAY IN FOUR ACTS
DRAMATIS PERSONAE
HENNING TJAELDE, merchant and brewer.
MRS. TJAELDE, his wife.
VALBORG and SIGNE, their daughters.
LIEUTENANT HAMAR, engaged to Signe.
SANNAES, Tjaelde's confidential clerk.
JAKOSSEN, manager of Tjaelde's brewery.
BERENT, a lawyer.
PRAM, a custom-house official.
An Agent.
The VICAR.
LIND, a guest.
FINNE, a guest.
RING, a guest.
HOLM, a guest.
KNUTZON, a guest.
KNUDSEN, a guest.
FALBE, a guest.
ACT I
(SCENE.--A sitting-room in the TJAELDES' house, opening on a verandah
that is decorated with flowers. It is a hot summer's day. There is a
view of the sea beyond the verandah, and boats are visible among the
islands that fringe the coast. A good-sized yacht, with sails spread, is
lying close up under the verandah on the right. The room is luxuriously
furnished and full of flowers. There are two French windows in the
left-hand wall; two doors in the right-hand. A table in the middle of
the room; arm-chairs and rocking-chairs scattered about. A sofa in the
foreground on the right. LIEUTENANT HAMAR is lying on the sofa, and
SIGNE sitting in a rocking-chair.)
Hamar. What shall we do with ourselves to-day?
Signe (rocking herself). Hm! (A pause.)
Hamar. That was a delicious sail we had last night. (Yawns.) But I am
sleepy to-day. Shall we go for a ride?
Signe. Hm! (A pause.)
Hamar. I am too hot on this sofa. I think I will move. (Gets up. SIGNE
begins to hum an air as she rocks herself.) Play me something, Signe!
Signe (singing her words to the air she has been humming). The piano is
out of tune.
Hamar. Read to me, then!
Signe (as before, looking out of the window). They are swimming the
horses. They are swimming the horses. They are swimming the horses.
Hamar. I think I will go and have a swim too. Or perhaps I will wait
till nearer lunch-time.
Signe (as before). So as to have a better appetite--appetite--appetite.
(MRS. TJAELDE comes in from the right, walking slowly.)
Hamar. You look very thoughtful!
Mrs. Tjaelde. Yes, I don't know what to order.
Signe (as before). For dinner, I suppose you mean?
Mrs. Tjaelde. Yes.
Hamar. Do you expect any one?
Mrs. Tjaelde. Yes, your father writes to me that Mr. Finne is coming.
Signe (speaking). The most tiresome person possible, of course.
Mrs. Tjaelde. How would boiled salmon and roast chicken do?
Signe. We had that the other day.
Mrs. Tjaelde. (With a sigh). There is nothing that we didn't. There is
so little choice in the market just now.
Signe. Then we ought to send to town.
Mrs. Tjaelde. Oh, these meals, these meals!
Hamar (yawning). They are the best thing in life, anyway.
Signe. To eat, yes--but not to cook; I never will cook a dinner.
Mrs. Tjaelde (sitting down at the table). One could put up with the
cooking. It's the having always to think of something fresh!
Hamar. Why don't you get a chef from one of the hotels, as I have so
often advised you?
Mrs. Tjaelde. Oh, we have tried that, but he was more trouble than it
was worth.
Hamar. Yes, because he had no invention. Get a French chef!
Mrs. Tjaelde. Yes, and have to be always beside him to interpret!--But I
am no nearer this dinner. And lately I have been finding such difficulty
in getting about.
Hamar. I have never in my life heard so much talk about meals as I have
in this house.
Mrs. Tjaelde. You see, you have never been in a prosperous
business-man's house before. Our friends are mostly business-men, of
course--and most of them have no greater pleasures than those of the
table.
Signe. That's true.
Mrs. Tjaelde. Are you wearing _that_ dress to-day?
Signe. Yes.
Mrs. Tjaelde. You have worn a different one every day.
Signe. Well, if Hamar is tired of both the blue one and the grey one,
what can I do?
Hamar. And I don't like this one any better than the others.
Signe. Indeed!--Then I really think you had better order me one
yourself.
Hamar. Come to town with me, and I will!
Signe. Yes, mother--Hamar and I have made up our minds that we must go
back to town. [Note: There would be nothing contrary to Norwegian ideas
of propriety in Signe's proposal. In Norway an engaged couple could
travel alone; and the fiancee would go to stay in the house of her
future husband's relations.]
Mrs. Tjaelde. But you were there only a fortnight ago!
Hamar. And it is exactly a fortnight too long since we were there!
Mrs. Tjaelde. (thoughtfully). Now, what _can_ I order for dinner?
(VALBORG comes into sight on the verandah.)
Signe (turning round and seeing VALBORG). Enter Her Highness!
Hamar (turning round). Carrying a bouquet! Oho! I have seen it before!
Signe. Have you? Did _you_ give it her?
Hamar. No; I was coming through the garden--and saw it on the table in
Valborg's summerhouse. Is it your birthday, Valborg?
Valborg. No.
Hamar. I thought not. Perhaps there is some other festivity to-day?
Valborg. No. (SIGNE suddenly bursts out laughing.)
Hamar. Why do you laugh?
Signe. Because I understand! Ha, ha, ha, ha!
Hamar. What do you understand?
Signe. Whose hands it is that have decked the altar! Ha, ha, ha!
Hamar. I suppose you think they were mine?
Signe. No, they were redder hands than yours! Ha, ha, ha, ha! (VALBORG
throws the bouquet down.) Oh, dear me, it doesn't do to laugh so much in
this heat. But it is delightful! To think he should have hit upon that
idea! Ha, ha, ha!
Hamar (laughing). Do you mean--?
Signe (laughing). Yes! You must know that Valborg--
Valborg. Signe!
Signe.--who has sent so many distinguished suitors about their business,
cannot escape from the attentions of a certain red pair of hands--ha,
ha, ha, ha!
Hamar. Do you mean Sannaes?
Signe. Yes! (Points out of the window.) There is the culprit! He is
waiting, Valborg, for you to come, in maiden meditation, with the
bouquet in your hands--as you came just now--
Mrs. Tjaelde. (getting up). No, it is your father he is waiting for. Ah,
he sees him now. (Goes out by the verandah.)
Signe. Yes, it really is father--riding a bay horse!
Hamar (getting up). On a bay horse! Let us go and say "how do you do" to
the bay horse!
Signe. N--o, no!
Hamar. You won't come and say "how do you do" to the bay horse? A
cavalry officer's wife must love horses next best to her husband.
Signe. And he his wife next best to his horses.
Hamar. What? Are you jealous of a horse?
Signe. Oh, I know very well you have never been so fond of me as you are
of horses.
Hamar. Come along! (Pulls her up out of her chair.)
Signe. But I don't feel the least interested in the bay horse.
Hamar. Very well, then, I will go alone!
Signe. No, I will come.
Hamar (to VALBORG). Won't you come and welcome the bay horse too?
Valborg. No, but I will go and welcome my father!
Signe (looking back, as she goes). Yes, of course--father as well. (She
and HAMAR go out.)
(VALBORG goes to the farthest window and stands looking out of it. Her
dress is the same colour as the long curtain, and a piece of statuary
and some flowers conceal her from any one entering the room. SANNAES
comes in, carrying a small saddle-bag and a cloak, which he puts down
on a chair behind the door. As he turns round he sees the bouquet on the
door.)
Sannaes. There it is! Has she dropped it by accident, or did she throw
it down? Never mind--she has had it in her hands. (Picks it up, kisses
it, and is going to take it away.)
Valborg (coming forward). Leave it alone!
Sannaes (dropping the bouquet). You here, Miss Valborg--? I didn't see
you--
Valborg. But I can see what you are after. How dare you presume to think
of persecuting me with your flowers and your--your red hands? (He puts
his hands behind his back.) How dare you make me a laughing-stock to
every one in the house, and I suppose to every one in the town?
Sannaes. I--I--I--
Valborg. And what about me? Don't you think I deserve a little
consideration? You will be turned out of the house before long, if you
do not take care--! Now be quick and get away before the others come in.
(SANNAES turns away, holding his hands in front of him, and goes out by
the verandah to the right. At the same moment TJAELDE is seen coming at
the other end of the verandah, followed by HAMAR and SIGNE.)
Tjaelde. Yes, it is a fine horse.
Hamar. Fine? I don't believe there is its equal in the country.
Tjaelde. I dare say. Did you notice that he hadn't turned a hair?
Hamar. What glorious lungs! And such a beauty, too--his head, his legs,
his neck--! I never saw such a beauty!
Tjaelde. Yes, he is a handsome beast. (Looks out of the verandah at the
yacht.) Have you been out for a sail?
Hamar. I was sailing among the islands last night, and came back this
morning with the fishing-boats--a delightful sail!
Tjaelde. I wish I had time to do that.
Hamar. But surely it is only imagination on your part, to think that you
never have time?
Tjaelde. Oh, well, perhaps I have time but not inclination.
Signe. And how do things stand where you have been?
Tjaelde. Badly.
Valborg (coming forward). Welcome home, father!
Tjaelde. Thank you, dear!
Hamar. Is it not possible to save anything?
Tjaelde. Not at present; that is why I took the horse.
Hamar. Then the bay horse is the only thing you get out of the smash?
Tjaelde. Do you know that I might say that horse has cost me three or
four thousand pounds?
Hamar. Well, that is its only defect, anyway! Still, if the worst comes
to the worst, and you can afford it--the horse is priceless! (TJAELDE
turns away, puts down his hat and coat and takes off his gloves.)
Signe. It is beautiful to see your enthusiasm when you talk about
horses. I rather think it is the only enthusiasm you have.
Hamar. Yes, if I were not a cavalry officer I should like to be a horse!
Signe. Thank you! And what should I be?
Valborg. "Oh, were I but the saddle on thy back! Oh, were I but the whip
about thy loins!"
Hamar. "Oh, were I but the flowers in thy--." No, "hand" doesn't rhyme!
Tjaelde. (coming forward, meets MRS. TJAELDE, who has come in from the
right.) Well, my dear, how are you?
Mrs. Tjaelde. Oh, I find it more and more difficult to get about.
Tjaelde. There is always something the matter with you, my dear! Can I
have something to eat?
Mrs. Tjaelde. Yes, it has been standing waiting for you. Here it comes.
(A maid brings in a tray which she lays on the table.)
Tjaelde. Good!
Mrs. Tjaelde. Will you have a cup of tea?
Tjaelde. No, thank you.
Mrs. Tjaelde. (sitting down beside him and pouring him out a glass of
wine). And how have things gone with the Moellers?
Tjaelde. Badly. I told you so already.
Mrs. Tjaelde. I didn't hear you.
Valborg. I had a letter to-day from Nanna Moeller. She tells me all about
it--how none of the family knew anything about it till the officers of
the courts came.
Tjaelde. Yes, there must have been a dreadful scene.
Mrs. Tjaelde. Did he tell you anything about it?
Tjaelde (as he eats). I didn't speak to him.
Mrs. Tjaelde. My dear! Why, you are old friends!
Tjaelde. Bah! Old friends! He sat looking as if he had taken leave of
his senses. Besides, I have had enough of that family. I didn't go there
to hear them talk about their troubles.
Signe. I suppose it was all very sad?
Tjaelde (still eating). Shocking!
Mrs. Tjaelde. What will they have to live on?
Tjaelde. What is allowed them by their creditors, of course.
Signe. But all the things they had?
Tjaelde. Sold.
Signe. All those pretty things--their furniture, their carriages,
their--?
Tjaelde. All sold.
Hamar. And his watch? It is the most beautiful watch I have ever
seen--next to yours.
Tjaelde. It had to go, of course, being jewellery. Give me some wine; I
am hot and thirsty.
Signe. Poor things!
Mrs. Tjaelde. Where are they going to live now?
Tjaelde. In the house of one of the skippers of what was their fleet.
Two small rooms and a kitchen.
Signe. Two small rooms and a kitchen! (A pause.)
Mrs. Tjaelde. What do they intend to do?
Tjaelde. There was a subscription started to enable Mrs. Moeller to get
the job of catering for the Club.
Mrs. Tjaelde. Is the poor woman going to have more cooking to do!
Signe. Did they send no messages to us?
Tjaelde. Of course they did; but I didn't pay any attention to them.
Hamar (who has been standing on the verandah). But Moeller--what did he
say? What did he do?
Tjaelde. I don't know, I tell you.
Valborg (who has been walking up and down the room during the preceding
conversation). He has said and done quite enough already.
Tjaelde (who has at last finished eating and drinking, is struck by her
words). What do you mean by that, Valborg?
Valborg. That if I were his daughter I would never forgive him.
Mrs. Tjaelde. My dear Valborg, don't say such things!
Valborg. I mean it! A man who would bring such shame and misery upon his
family does not deserve any mercy from them.
Mrs. Tjaelde. We are all in need of mercy.
Valborg. In one sense, yes. But what I mean is that I could never give
him my respect or my affection again. He would have wronged me too
cruelly.
Tjaelde (getting up). Wronged you?
Mrs. Tjaelde. Have you finished already, dear?
Tjaelde. Yes.
Mrs. Tjaelde. No more wine?
Tjaelde. I said I had finished. Wronged you? How?
Valborg. Well, I cannot imagine how one could be more cruelly wronged
than to be allowed to assume a position that was nothing but a lie,
to live up to means that had no real existence but were merely a
sham--one's clothes a lie, one's very existence a lie! Suppose I were
the sort of girl that found a certain delight in making use of her
position as a rich man's daughter--in using it to the fullest possible
extent; well, when I discovered that all that my father had given me was
stolen-that all he had made me believe in was a lie--I am sure that then
my anger and my shame would be beyond all bounds!
Mrs. Tjaelde. My child, you have never been tried. You don't know how
such things may happen. You don't really know what you are saying!
Hamar. Well it might do Moeller good if he heard what she says!
Valborg. He has heard it. His daughter said that to him.
Mrs. Tjaelde. His own daughter! Child, child, is that what you write to
each other about? God forgive you both!
Valborg. Oh, He will forgive us, because we speak the truth.
Mrs. Tialde. Child, child!
Tjaelde. You evidently don't understand what business is--success one
day and failure the next.
Valborg. No one will ever persuade me that business is a lottery.
Tjaelde. No, a sound business is not.
Valborg. Exactly. It is the unsound sort that I condemn.
Tjaelde. Still, even the soundest have their anxious moments.
Valborg. If the anxious moments really foreshadow a crisis, no man of
honour would keep his family o: his creditors in ignorance of the fact.
My God, how Mr. Moeller has deceived his!
Signe. Valborg is always talking about business!
Valborg. Yes, it has had an attraction for me ever since I was a child.
I am not ashamed of that.
Signe. You think you know all about it, anyway.
Valborg. Oh, no; but you can easily get to know a little about anything
you are fond of.
Hamar. And one would need no great knowledge of business to condemn the
way Moeller went on. It was obvious to every one. And the way his family
went on, too! Who went the pace as much as the Moellers? Think of his
daughter's toilettes!
Valborg. His daughter is my best friend. I don't want to hear her
abused.
Hamar. Your Highness will admit that it is possible to be the daughter
of a _very_ rich man without being as proud and as vain as--as the lady
I am not allowed to mention!
Valborg. Nanna is neither proud nor vain. She is absolutely genuine.
She had the aptitude for being exactly what she thought she was--a rich
man's daughter.
Hamar. Has she the "aptitude" for being a bankrupt's daughter now?
Valborg. Certainly. She has sold all her trinkets, her dresses--every
single thing she had. What she wears, she has either paid for herself or
obtained by promising future payment.
Hamar. May I ask if she kept her stockings?
Valborg. She sent everything to a sale.
Hamar. If I had known that I would certainly have attended it!
Valborg. Yes, I daresay there was plenty to make fun of, and plenty of
idle loafers, too, who were not ashamed to do so.
Mrs. Tjaelde. Children, children!
Hamar. May I ask if Miss Nanna sent her own idleness to the sale with
her other effects?--because I have never known any one with a finer
supply of it!
Valborg. She never thought she would need to work.
Tjaelde (coming forward to VALBORG). To take up the thread of what we
were saying: you don't understand what a business-man's hope is from one
day to the other--always a renewed hope. That fact does not make him a
swindler. He may be unduly sanguine, perhaps--a poet, if you like, who
lives in a world of dreams--or he may be a real genius, who sees land
ahead when no one else suspects it.
Valborg. I don't think I misunderstand the real state of affairs. But
perhaps you do, father. Because is not what you call hope, poetry,
genius, merely speculating with what belongs to others, when a man knows
that he owes more than he has got?
Tjaelde. It may be very difficult to be certain even whether he does
that or not.
Valborg. Really? I should have thought his books would tell him--
Tjaelde. About his assets and his liabilities, certainly. But values are
fluctuating things; and he may always have in hand some venture which,
though it cannot be specified, may alter the whole situation.
Valborg. If he undeniably owes more than he possesses, any venture he
undertakes must be a speculation with other people's money.
Tjaelde. Well--perhaps that is so; but that does not mean that he steals
the money--he only uses it in trust for them.
Valborg. Entrusted to him on the false supposition that he is solvent.
Tjaelde. But possibly that money may save the whole situation.
Valborg. That does not alter the fact that he has got the use of it by a
lie.
Tjaelde. You use very harsh terms. (MRS. TJAELDE has once or twice been
making signs to VALBORG, which the latter sees but pays no attention
to.)
Valborg. In that case the lie consists in the concealment.
Tjaelde. But what do you want him to do? To lay all his cards on the
table, and so ruin both himself and the others?
Valborg. Yes, he ought to take every one concerned into his confidence.
Tjaelde. Bah! In that case we should see a thousand failures every year,
and fortunes lost one after the other everywhere! No, you have a level
head, Valborg, but your ideas are narrow. Look here, where are the
newspapers? (SIGNE, who has been talking confidentially to HAMAR on the
verandah, comes forward.)
Signe. I took them down to your office. I did not know you meant to stay
in here.
Tjaelde. Oh, bother the office! Please fetch them for me. (SIGNE goes
out, followed by Hamar.)
Mrs. Tjaelde (in an undertone to VALBORG). Why will you never listen to
your mother, Valborg? (VALBORG goes out to the verandah; leans on the
edge of it, with her head on her hands, and looks out.)
Tjaelde. I think I will change my coat. Oh no, I will wait till
dinner-time.
Mrs. Tjaelde. Dinner! And here I am still sitting here!
Tjaelde. Are we expecting any one?
Mrs. Tjaelde. Yes, have you forgotten?
Tjaelde. Of course, yes.
Mrs. Tjaelde (going out). What on earth am I to order?
(TJAELDE comes forward as soon as he is alone, sits down on a chair with
a weary, harassed expression, and buries his face in his hands with a
sigh. SIGNE and HAMAR come back, she carrying some newspapers. HAMAR is
going out to the verandah again, but SIGNE pulls him back.)
Signe. Here you are, father. Here are--
Tjaelde. What? Who?
Signe (astonished). The newspapers.
Tjaelde. Ah, yes. Give them to me.(Opens them hurriedly. They are mostly
foreign papers, in which he scans the money articles one after another.)
Signe (after a whispered conversation with HAMAR). Father!
Tjaelde (without looking up from the papers).Well? (To himself,
gloomily.) Down again, always down!
Signe. Hamar and I want so much to go into town again to Aunt Ulla's.
Tjaelde. But you know you were there only a fortnight ago. I received
your bills yesterday. Have you seen them?
Signe. No need for that, father, if _you_ have seen them! Why do you
sigh?
Tjaelde. Oh--because I see that stocks keep falling.
Signe. Pooh! Why should you bother about that? Now you are sighing
again. I am sure you know how horrid it is for those you love not to
have what they want. You won't be so unkind to us, father?
Tjaelde. No, my child, it can't be done.
Signe. Why?
Tjaelde. Because--because--well, because now that it is summer time so
many people will be coming here whom we shall have to entertain.
Signe. But entertaining people is the most tiresome thing I know, and
Hamar agrees with me.
Tjaelde. Don't you think I have to do tiresome things sometimes, my
girl?
Signe. Father dear, why are you talking so solemnly and ceremoniously?
It sounds quite funny from you!
Tjaelde. Seriously, my child, it is by no means an unimportant matter
for a big business house like ours, with such a wide-spread connection,
that people coming here from all quarters should find themselves
hospitably received. You might do that much for me.
Signe. Hamar and I will never have a moment alone at that rate.
Tjaelde. I think you mostly squabble when you are alone.
Signe. Squabble? That is a very ugly word, father.
Tjaelde. Besides, you would be no more alone if you were in town.
Signe. Oh, but it is quite different there!
Tjaelde. So I should think--from the way you throw your money about!
Signe (laughing). Throw our money about! What else have we to do? Isn't
that what we are for? Daddy, listen--dear old dad--
Tjaelde. No, dear--no.
Signe. You have never been so horrid to me before.
Hamar (who has been making signs to her to stop, whispers). Can't you be
quiet! Don't you see he is put out about something?
Signe (whispering). Well, you might have backed me up a little.
Hamar (as before). No, I am a bit wiser than you.
Signe (as before). You have been so odd lately. I am sure I don't know
what you want?
Hamar (as before). Oh, well, it doesn't matter now--because I am going
to town alone.
Signe (as before). What are you going to do?
Hamar (going). I am going to town alone. I am sick of this!
Signe (following him). Just you try! (Both go out by the verandah, to
the right. TJAELDE lets the newspapers fall out of his hands with a
heavy sigh.)
Valborg (looking in from the verandah). Father! (TJAELDE starts.) There
goes Mr. Berent, the lawyer from Christiania.
Tjaelde (getting up). Berent? Where? On the wharf?
Valborg. Yes. (Comes back into the room. TJAELDE looks out of the
window.) The reason I told you was because I saw him yesterday at the
timber-yard, and a little while before that, at the brewery and at the
works.
Tjaelde (to himself). What can that mean? (Aloud.) Oh, I know he is very
fond of making little trips to all sorts of places in the summer. This
year he has come here--and no doubt he likes to see the chief industries
of the place. There is not much else here to see! But are you sure it is
he? I think--
Valborg (looking out). Yes, it is he. Look now, you know his walk--
Tjaelde.--and his trick of crossing his feet--yes, it is he. It looks as
if he were coming here.
Valborg. No, he has turned away.
Tjaelde. All the better! (To himself, thoughtfully.) Could it possibly
mean--? (SANNAES comes in from the right.)
Sannaes. Am I disturbing you, sir?
Tjaelde. Is that you, Sannaes? (SANNAES, as he comes forward, sees
VALBORG standing by the farther window. He appears frightened and hides
his hands quickly behind his back.) What do you want? (VALBORG looks at
SANNAES, then goes on to the verandah and out to the right.) What is it,
man? What the deuce are you standing there for?
Sannaes (bringing his hands from behind his back as soon as VALBORG has
passed him, and looking after her.) I didn't like to ask you, before
Miss Valborg, whether you are coming down to your office to-day or not.
Tjaelde. Have you gone mad? Why on earth shouldn't you ask me that
before Miss Valborg?
Sannaes. I mean that--if not--I should like to speak to you here, if it
is convenient.
Tjaelde. Look here, Sannaes, you ought to try and get rid of your
shyness; it doesn't suit a business man. A business man should be smart
and active, and not let his wits go wool-gathering because he finds
himself in the same room with a woman. I have often noticed it in
you.--Now, what is it? Out with it!
Sannaes. You are not coming to the office this morning, sir?
Tjaelde. No, there is no post goes out before this evening.
Sannaes. No. But there are some bills of exchange--
Tjaelde. Bills? No.
Sannaes. Yes, sir--that fourth one of Moeller's that was protested, and
the big English one.
Tjaelde (angrily). Have they not been met yet? What does this mean?
Sannaes. The manager of the bank wanted to see you first, sir!
Tjaelde. Have you gone crazy--? (Collects himself.) There must be some
misunderstanding, Sannaes.
Sannaes. That is what I thought; so I spoke about it to the chief clerk,
and to Mr. Holst as well.
Tjaelde. And Mr. Holst said--?
Sannaes. The same thing.
Tjaelde (walking up and down). I will go and see him--or rather, I
_won't_ go and see him; because this is evidently something that--. We
have some days' grace yet, haven't we?
Sannaes. Yes, sir.
Tjaelde. And still no telegram from Mr. Lind?
Sannaes. No, sir.
Tjaelde (to himself). I can't understand it. (Aloud.) We will negotiate
this matter direct with Christiania, Sannaes. That is what we will
do--and leave these little local banks alone in future. That will do,
Sannaes! (Makes a gesture of dismissal. Then says to himself:) That
damned Moeller! It has made them all suspicious! (Turns round and sees
SANNAES still there.) What are you waiting for?
Sannaes. It is settling day--and I have no money in the safe.
Tjaelde. No money in the safe! A big business like this, and nothing in
the safe on settling day! What kind of management is that, I should like
to know? Must I teach you the A B C of business over and over again? One
can never take a half day off, or hand over the control! of the tiniest
part of the business--! I have no one, absolutely no one, that I can
rely on! How have you let things get into such a state?
Sannaes. Well, there was a third bill, which expired to-day--Holm and
Co., for L400. I had relied upon the bank, unfortunately--so there was
nothing for it but to empty the safe--here and at the brewery as well.
Tjaelde (walking about restlessly). Hm--hm--hm!--Now, who can have put
that into Holst's head?--Very well, that will do. (Dismisses SANNAES,
who goes out but comes back immediately.)
Sannaes (whispering). Here is Mr. Berent!
Tjaelde (surprised). Coming here?
Sannaes. He is just coming up the steps! (Goes out by the further door
on the right.)
Tjaelde. (calls after him in a whisper). Send up some wine and
cakes!--It is just as I suspected! (Catches sight of himself in a
mirror.) Good Lord, how bad I look! (Turns away painfully from the
mirror; looks in it again, forces a smile to his face, and so, smiling,
goes towards the verandah, where BERENT is seen coming in slowly from
the left.)
Tjaelde (greeting BERENT politely but with reserve). I feel honoured at
receiving a visit from so distinguished a man.
Berent. Mr. Tjaelde, I believe?
Tjaelde. At your service! My eldest daughter has just been telling me
that she had seen you walking about my property.
Berent. Yes; an extensive property--and an extensive business.
Tjaelde. Too extensive, Mr. Berent. Too many-sided. But one thing has
led to another. Pray sit down.
Berent. Thank you; it is very warm to-day. (A maid brings in cakes and
wine, and puts them on the table.)
Tjaelde. Let me give you a glass of wine?
Berent. No, thank you.
Tjaelde. Or something to eat?
Berent. Nothing, thank you.
Tjaelde (taking out his cigar-case). May I offer you a cigar? I can
answer for their quality.
Berent. I am very fond of a good cigar. But for the moment I will not
take anything, thank you! (A pause. TJAELDE takes a seat.)
Tjaelde (in a quiet, confidential voice). Have you been long here, Mr.
Berent?
Berent. Only a day or two. You have been away, have you not?
Tjaelde. Yes--that unhappy affair of Mr. Moeller's. A meeting of
creditors after the sale.
Berent. Times are hard just now.
Tjaelde. Extraordinarily so!
Berent. Do you think that Moeller's failure will bring down any more
firms with it-besides those we know of already, I mean?
Tjaelde. I don't think so. His--his misfortune was an exceptional case
in every respect.
Berent. It has made the banks a little nervous, I hear.
Tjaelde. I dare say.
Berent. Of course you know the state of affairs here better than any
one.
Tjaelde. (with a smile). I am very much indebted to you for your
flattering confidence in me.
Berent. I suppose all this might have a bad effect upon the export trade
of this part of the country?
Tjaelde. Yes--it is really hard to tell; but the important thing
certainly is to keep every one on their legs.
Berent. That is your opinion?
Tjaelde. Undoubtedly.
Berent. As a general rule a crisis of this sort shows up the unsound
elements in a commercial community.
Tjaelde (with a smile). And for that reason this crisis should be
allowed to take its natural course, you mean?
Berent. That is my meaning.
Tjaelde. Hm!--In some places it is possible that the dividing line
between the sound firms and the unsound may not be very distinct.
Berent. Can there really be any danger of such a thing here?
Tjaelde. Well--you are expecting too much of my knowledge of affairs;
but I should be inclined to think that there may. (A pause.)
Berent. I have been instructed by the banks to prepare an opinion upon
the situation--a fact which I have, so far, only confided to you.
Tjaelde. I am much obliged.
Berent. The smaller local banks here have combined, and are acting in
concert.
Tjaelde. Indeed? (A pause.) I suppose you have seen Mr. Holst, then?
Berent. Of course. (A pause.) If we are to assist the sound firms and
leave the others to their fate, the best way will certainly be for all
alike to disclose their actual position.
Tjaelde. Is that Mr. Holst's opinion too?
Berent. It is. (A pause.) I have advised him for the present--at all
events till we have all the balance-sheets--to say "no" to every request
for an advance, without exception.
Tjaelde. (with a look of relief). I understand!
Berent. Only a temporary measure, of course--
Tjaelde. Quite so!
Berent.--but one that must apply to every one impartially.
Tjaelde. Admirable!
Berent. Not to treat every one alike would be to run the danger of
throwing premature suspicion on individuals.
Tjaelde. I quite agree.
Berent. I am delighted to hear it. Then you will not misunderstand me
if I ask you also to prepare a balance-sheet which shall show the actual
position of your firm.
Tjaelde. With the greatest pleasure, if by doing so I can assist the
general welfare.
Berent. I assure you, you can. It is by such means that public
confidence is strengthened.
Tjaelde. When do you want the balance-sheet? Of course, it can only be a
summary one.
Berent. Naturally. I will give myself the pleasure of calling for it.
Tjaelde. By no means. I can let you have it at once, if you like. I am
in the habit of frequently drawing up summary balance-sheets of that
kind--as prices rise and fall, you know.
Berent. Indeed? (Smiles.) You know, of course, what they say of
swindlers--that they draw up three balance-sheets everyday, and all
different! But you are teaching me, apparently--
Tjaelde (laughing).--that others too, may have that bad habit!--though I
haven't actually got as far as three a day!
Berent. Of course I was only joking. (Gets up.)
Tjaelde (getting up). Of course. I will send it to the hotel in an
hour's time; for I suppose you are staying in our only so-called hotel!
Would you not care, for the rest of your stay, to move your things over
here and make yourself at home in a couple of empty spare rooms that I
have?
Bercnt. Thank you, but the length of my stay is so uncertain; and the
state of my health imposes habits upon me which are embarrassing to
every one, and to myself most of all, when I am among strangers.
Tjaelde. But at all events I hope you will dine with us to-day? I expect
one or two friends. And perhaps a short sail afterwards; it is very
pretty among the islands here.
Berent. Thank you, but my health won't allow me such dissipations.
Tjaelde. Ha, ha!--Well, if I can be of any further service to you--?
Berent. I should be glad to have a talk with you before I leave,
preferably as soon as possible.
Tjaelde (somewhat surprised). You mean, after you have received all the
balance-sheets?
Berent. I have already managed to get most of them quietly, through Mr.
Holst.
Tjaelde (more surprised). Oh--so you mean to-day--?
Berent. Would five o'clock suit you?
Tjaelde. I am quite at your disposal! I will give myself the pleasure of
calling upon you at five.
Berent. No, I will come here at five o'clock. (Bows, and turns to go.)
Tjaelde (following him). But you are the invalid--the older man--and a
distinguished man--
Berent. But you are at home here. Good-bye!
Tjaelde. Let me thank you for the honour you have done me by calling
upon me!
Berent. Please don't bother to see me out.
Tjaelde. Allow me to escort you?
Berent. I can find the way quite well, thank you.
Tjaelde. No doubt, no doubt-but I should feel it an honour!
Berent. As you please! (As they are about to go down the verandah steps
they are met by SIGNE and HAMAR, who are coming up arm in arm. Each
couple draws aside to make room for the other.)
Tjaelde. Let me introduce--no, I am sure Mr. Berent needs no
introduction. This is my youngest daughter--and her fiance, Lieutenant
Hamar.
Berent. I thought your regiment was at the manoeuvres, Lieutenant?
Hamar. I have got furlough--
Berent. On account of urgent business, no doubt! Good day!
Tjaelde. Ha, ha, ha! (He and BERENT go down the steps.)
Hamar. Insolent fellow! But he is like that to every one.
Signe. Not to my father, as far as I could see.
Hamar. Your father is insolent too.
Signe. You shan't say such things of father!
Hamar. What else do you call it, to laugh at such impertinence as
Berent's.
Signe. I call it good spirits! (Sits down in a rocking-chair and begins
rocking herself.)
Hamar. Oh, then, so you--. You are not very agreeable to-day.
Signe (still rocking herself). No; do you know, sometimes I get so bored
with you.
Hamar. Yet you won't let me go away?
Signe. Because I should be still worse bored without you.
Hamar. Let me tell you this, I am not going to put up much longer with
the way I am treated here!
Signe. Very well. (Takes off her engagement ring and holds it between
her finger and her thumb, as she rocks herself and hums a tune.)
Hamar. Oh, I don't say anything about _you_; but look at Valborg! Look
at your father! He hasn't even as much as offered me a mount on his new
horse!
Signe. He has had something else to think about--possibly something even
more important than that. (Goes on humming.)
Hamar. Oh, do be nice, Signe! You must admit that my feelings are very
natural. Indeed, to speak quite candidly--because I know I can say
anything to you--it seems to me that, as I am to be his son-in-law and
am in a cavalry regiment, and as he has no sons of his own, I might
almost expect that--that he would make me a present of the horse.
Signe. Ha, ha, ha!
Hamar. Does it seem so unreasonable to you?
Signe. Ha, ha, ha!
Hamar. Why do you laugh at what I say, Signe? It seems to me that it
would reflect very well on your family if, when my friends admired my
horse, I could say: "My father-in-law made me a present of it." Because,
you know, there isn't a finer horse in the whole of Norway.
Signe. And that is the reason why you should have it? Ha, ha, ha!
Hamar. I won't stand it!
Signe. The peerless lieutenant on the peerless horse! Ha, ha, ha!
Hamar. Signe, be quiet!
Signe. You are so funny! (Begins to hum again.)
Hamar. Listen, Signe! No one has so much influence with your father as
you.--Oh, do listen! Can't you talk seriously for a moment?
Signe. I should like to! (Goes on humming.)
Hamar. My idea was that, if that horse were mine, I would stay here for
the summer and break it in thoroughly. (SIGNE stops rocking herself and
humming. HAMAR comes up to her chair and leans over her.) In that case
I would not go back till the autumn, and then you could come with the
horse and me into town. Wouldn't that be delightful?
Signe (after looking at him for a moment). Oh, yes, my dear, you always
have such delightful ideas!
Hamar. Don't I! But the whole thing depends, of course, on whether you
can get the horse from your father. Will you try, darling?
Signe. And then you would stay here all the summer?
Hamar. All the summer!
Signe. So as to break in the horse.
Hamar. Just to break in the horse!
Signe. And I would go with you into town in the autumn--that was what
you said, wasn't it?
Hamar. Yes; wouldn't it be jolly?
Signe. Shall you take the bay horse to stay with your Aunt Ulla too?
Hamar (laughing). What?
Signe. Well, you have spent your furlough here simply for the sake of
that horse--I know that well enough--and you propose to stay here, just
to break it in-and then you propose that the horse and I should go to
your aunt's--
Hamar. But, Signe, what do you--?
Signe (beginning to rock herself furiously). Ugh! Go away!
Hamar. Jealous of a horse! Ha, ha, ha!
Signe. Go away to the stables.
Hamar. Is that meant for a punishment? Because it would be more amusing
there than it is here.
Signe (throwing down her ring). There! Let your horse wear that!
Hamar. Every time you throw down that ring--
Signe. Oh, you have said that so often! I am tired of that too! (Turns
her chair round so as to turn her back on him.)
Hamar. You are such a spoilt child that it would be absurd to take
everything you say seriously--
Signe. I am sick of that too, I tell you--for the hundred and twentieth
time! Go away!
Hamar. But can't you see how ridiculous it is of you to be jealous of a
horse? Have you ever heard of anyone else behaving like that?
Signe (jumping up). Oh, you make me want to shout and scream! I feel so
ashamed of you! (Stamps her foot.) I despise you!
Hamar (laughing). And all on account of the horse?
Signe. No, on your own account--yours, yours! I feel so miserable
sometimes, I should like to throw myself down on the floor and cry--or
run away and never come back! Can't you let me alone! Can't you go away!
Hamar. Yes--and I have not picked up the ring this time, either!
Signe. Oh, do go!--go, go, go! (Bursts out crying and sits down.)
Hamar. All right!--I see the steamer in the distance; I shall go home at
once.
Signe. Oh, you know as well as I do that that steamer goes the other
way! Oh! (Cries. The masts and funnel of a steamer come into sight, and
a trail of smoke passes over the sky. TJAELDE'S voice is heard outside,
calling: "Hurry up! Take the lieutenant's boat; it is ready!" SIGNE
jumps up.)
Hamar. They are going to fetch some one from the steamer! (TJAELDE'S
voice is heard again: "You get the boat out! He is coming here!" HAMAR
runs to pick up the ring and comes back hurriedly to SIGNE.) Signe!
Signe. No, I won't!
Hamar. Signe, dear! What does this mean? What is it that I have done?
Signe. I don't know, but I am wretchedly unhappy! (Bursts into tears.)
Hamar. But you know that in the end I always do what you want? What more
can you wish than that?
Signe. I can't help it, I wish I were dead! It is always the same thing!
(In tears again.)
Hamar. But, Signe--you who have told me hundreds of times that you loved
me!
Signe. And so I do. But sometimes our engagement seems horrible!--No,
don't come near me!
Hamar. Signe! (TJAELDE'S voice is heard outside: "Of course, put your
best coat on!" He calls louder: "Sannaes!" An answering voice is heard
in the distance. TJAELDE continues: "Don't forget your gloves!") Dry
your eyes, Signe! Don't let him see you have been crying. (He tries to
give her the ring, but she turns away, wiping her eyes. TJAELDE comes up
the steps on to the verandah.)
Tjaelde. Oh, there you are! That's right. Mr. Lind is arriving by
this steamer--I had a telegram from him just now. (Calls out over the
verandah.) Come along with those flags! And get this boat out of the way
and unstep her mast! She is moored up tight! (HAMAR runs to help him.)
Yes, you cast her off! (HAMAR does so, and the boat is hauled away to
the right. TJAELDE comes forward into the room.) Signe! (Looks at her.)
What? Squabbling again?
Signe. Father!
Tjaelde. Well, this is no time for tomfoolery of that sort! You must all
do the honours of the house to-day. Tell Valborg--
Signe. Tell her yourself, please! You know Valborg only does just what
she likes.
Tjaelde. Don't talk such rubbish! This is an important moment--and you
will all do as _I_ say! Tell Valborg that she is to make herself look
nice and come to me here. And you do the same. (She goes.) Signe!
Signe (stopping). Yes?
Tjaelde. We must ask five or six more people to dinner. You must send
word to Mr. Finne that we shall dine punctually at three o'clock,
instead of four. Mr. Lind has to go away again by the next boat, at five
o'clock. Do you understand?
Signe. But has mother enough in the house for so many?
Tjaelde. It is not a mere question of there being enough--it must be a
very good dinner. I expect my larder to be kept thoroughly well stocked
all through the summer. How often am I to repeat that?
Signe (trying to repress her fears). But mother is feeling so ill
to-day--
Tjaelde. Oh! don't begin about that everlasting "feeling ill." There
is no time to-day to feel ill. Now, be quick! (SIGNE goes out by the
farther door. TJAELDE turns to HAMAR.) Get a pen and ink and some paper!
We must draw up a list of guests, at once!
Hamar (looking about). There is none here.
Tjaelde (impatiently). Fetch some, then! (HAMAR goes into the next room.
TJAELDE, after a long sigh of relief, reads a telegram he has in his
hand. His hand trembles as he reads it slowly, repeating some passages
twice.) "Letter received just as starting. Before taking charge of
affairs, must have interview. Coming to-day earliest boat, return five
o'clock. Have clear statement ready. Lind." I can hardly read it--but it
is true! Yes, if I can only work this properly all doors will be open to
me! (To HAMAR, who has come back.) Ah, there you are! It would take too
long to write invitations. We will just draw up a list of names and
one of my clerks shall run round to them all. Now then! (Dictates.) The
Vicar--Oh, by the way, what is the champagne like?
Hamar. Do you mean the new lot?
Tjaelde. Yes.
Hamar. The Vicar praised it highly.
Tjaelde. Good. Well, then--
Hamar (writing). The Vicar.
Tjzlde. Mr. Ring.
Hamar. Mr. Ring.
Tjaelde. And--and--
Hamar. Mr. Holst?
Tjaelde. No, not Holst. (HAMAR appears greatly astonished. TJAELDE says
to himself:) I can show him now that I have no need of him! (Suddenly,
to HAMAR.) Mr. Holm. (To himself.) Holst's enemy!
Hamar. Mr. Holm.
Tjaelde (to himself). Although Holm is a boor. Still, it will annoy
Holst. (Aloud.) The Chief Constable.
Hamar. The Chief--
Tjaelde. No, strike out the Chief Constable.
Hamar. Chief Constable struck out.
Tjaelde. Have we got the Vicar down?
Hamar. He is number one on the list.
Tjaelde. Of course, yes.
Hamar. What about the Magistrate?
Tjaelde. No, he lives too far off. Besides, unless he is the guest
of honour and can talk shop all the time--. No! But, let me see. Mr.
Knutzon--Knutzon with a "z."
Hamar. Knutzon with a "z."
Tjaelde. Oh!--and--Knudsen, too! Knudsen with an "s."
Hamar. Knudsen with an "s."
Tjaelde. How many have we got?
Hamar. The Vicar, Ring, Holm, the Chief--oh, no, the Chief Constable was
struck out; Knutzon with a "z," Knudsen with an "s "--that is one, two,
three, four, five, six.
Tjaelde. And Finne, you, and I make nine. We must have twelve.
Hamar. What about some ladies?
Tjaelde. No; ladies are out of place at a business dinner. They may do
the honours afterwards, when we have got to the cigarette stage. But
whom shall we--?
Hamar. That new lawyer fellow? He's a smart chap--I can't remember his
name?
Tjaelde. No, he always wants to be speechifying wherever he goes.--Ah,
Mr. Pram, the custom-house officer!
Hamar. That man? He always gets drunk!
Tjaelde. Yes, but he doesn't get noisy with it. He does no harm--quite
the contrary! Yes, put down Pram.
Hamar. Mr. Pram.
Tjaelde. It is a very difficult task, in such a small town, when you
want to get a good set of people together. Ah!--Falbe! I forgot him. He
is very neat, and no opinions.
Hamar. Neat in his dress, do you mean?
Tjaelde. Yes, in his dress too-but I meant it more generally. Now, for
the twelfth--Morten Schultz?
Hamar. Morten Schultz! (Gets up.) No, really, I must take the liberty of
protesting against him! Do you really know what he did the last time he
was here, when you had a lot of guests? In the middle of dinner he took
out his false teeth and began showing them to his neighbours. He wanted
to have them passed round the table! If that is your idea of a good set
of people--well!
Tjaelde. Yes, he is rather a rough diamond. But he is the richest man
about here.
Hamar (who has sat down again). Well in that case he really ought to
afford himself a new wig! It is far from pleasant to sit beside him, I
can assure you!
Tjaelde. Yes, I know he is a pig; but he is wide awake, and this would
flatter him! You see, my young friend, when a man is very rich you must
make certain allowances for him.
Hamar. I can't understand what _you_ can hope to get out of him.
Tjaelde. Hm, hm!--No, well, perhaps we had better leave him out?
Hamar. Certainly!
Tjaelde (to himself). Although Lind would understand the significance of
Morten Schultz's being here--
Hamar. And the things he says! Ladies have to leave the room!
Tjaelde. Yes, you are right. (Mutters to himself.) And, after all, I
don't need him any longer. (Aloud.) But what about our twelfth, then?
Let me see--.
Hamar. Christopher Hansen?
Tjaelde. Oh, Lord! no. We should have to talk politics. No, let
me see--. Yes, I think I might risk it! Hm, hm--yes, just the man!
Jakobsen, the brewery manager.
Hamar. Jakobsen?
Tjaelde. Hm, hm! Jakobsen will do very well. I know Jakobsen.
Hamar. Oh, he is a very good fellow--we all know that, but in polite
society--!
Tjaelde. Hm, hm, hm!--Put him down!
Hamar (writing). Jakobsen. There, then! (Gets up.)
Tjaelde. Now let Skogstad go with the list! Remember, three o'clock
punctually! And be quick! (Calls after HAMAR, who is going out.) And
come back when you have given him the list! There may be something more
to do! (HAMAR goes out by the nearer door. TJAELDE takes a letter out of
his pocket.) Ah, of course! Shall I send the balance-sheet to Berent?
I am independent of the banks now. Still, I am not out of the wood yet.
And, anyway, it is a very pretty balance-sheet! Holst would be sure to
see it, and that might be useful--and it might annoy him, too. Besides,
if I don't send it, they will think that my promising to send it had put
me into a hole, and that Lind had helped me out of it. I risk least by
sending it. (HAMAR comes back.) Look here, let him take this letter,
too. It is for Mr. Berent, at the Hotel Victoria.
Hamar. Is this an invitation? Because, if it is, we shall be thirteen at
table.
Tjaelde. It is not an invitation. Be quick, before he goes. (HAMAR goes
out again.) Oh, if only it succeeds! Lind is the sort of man one can
persuade--and I must, I must persuade him! (Looks at his watch.) I have
four whole hours to do it in. I have never felt so hopeful--not for a
long time. (Is lost in thought; then says quietly:) After all, sometimes
a crisis is a good thing--like a big wave that carries one on!--They
have all had their suspicions aroused now, and are all ready to get
into a panic. (Sighs.) If only I could get safely out of my difficulties
without any one's suspecting it!--Oh, this anxious fear, night and
day!--all this mystery, these shifts, these concealments, this farce
I have to keep up! I go about my business as if I were in a dream.
(Despairingly.) This shall be the last time--my last performance of this
sort! No more of it!--I only need a helping hand now, and I have got it!
But _have_ I got it? that is the question. Oh! if only, after this, I
could know what it was to have a good night's sleep and to wake in
the morning free from anxiety!--to join them at meals with an easy
conscience!--come home in the evening and feel that it was all done
with! If only I had something to take my stand upon that I could call my
own--really and truly my own! I hardly dare to believe that there is a
chance--I have so often been disappointed! (HAMAR comes back.)
Hamar. There--that's done!
Tjaelde. Good Lord, what about a salute from our cannon? We must give
him a salute!
Hamar. We have powder.
Tjaelde. Then send word up at once to Ole to see about it! (They hurry
out. The curtain falls.)
ACT II
SCENE I
(SCENE.--The same room. The table, which has been drawn to one side, is
covered with bottles of champagne aged dishes of fruit. MRS. TJAELDE and
SIGNE, with a man-servant and a maid, are busy preparing it. Through
the door on the right a lively conversation can be heard, and occasional
bursts of laughter.)
Mrs. Tjaelde (in a tired voice). Now I think it is all ready.
Signe. They are talking a long time over their dinner.
Mrs. Tjaelde (looking at her watch). Yes, they will only have half an
hour for their dessert, because Mr. Lind has to leave at five o'clock.
Signe. Ah, they have finished at last! Listen, they are getting up from
the table. (Amidst the loud noise of conversation the noise of chairs
being pushed back is audible.) Here they come!
Mrs. Tjaelde. Yes; let us retreat. (The maid goes out by the farther
door; SIGNE helps MRS. TJAELDE out after her. The man-servant begins
opening the champagne. The guests come in from the dining-room, headed
by LIND escorted by TJAELDE, whom he is assuring that the dinner was
excellent, to which TJAELDE replies that it is impossible to do much in
a small country town. Both look at their watches, and observe that there
is only half an hour left. TJAELDE vainly endeavours to persuade LIND
to stay longer. Close behind them come HOLM and RING, engaged in an
animated dispute about timber prices, the former maintaining that they
will fall still lower, the latter that they will rise speedily owing
to the fall in the prices of coal and iron, a point of view which the
former vigorously controverts. Immediately behind them comes the VICAR,
escorted by HAMAR, who is a little tipsy. The VICAR is assuring him that
he has no objection to parishioners repudiating the obligation to attend
the services of their own priest, so long as they are compelled to pay
him for those services whether they avail themselves of them or not;
because order, which is an essential characteristic of the Heavenly
Kingdom, must be maintained. HAMAR tries to get in a word or two about
the bay horse, but without success.
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