Then say farewell to Horaire, the march is already broken.O army, hast thou the strength to say a farewell!PEHR. Where's the rhyme?POET LAUREATE. There are no rhymes in this kind of poetry.PEHR. That's bad! Continue—AMEER. [Aside to historian.] He's not long for this place.SINGER. Your Highness must pardon me, but I am indisposed to-day.PEHR. Chamberlain, is there not something in the constitution called bastinado?[Panic.]CHAMBERLAIN. Assuredly—but—PEHR. [To singer.] Continue, then!SINGER. [Sings.] Marble brow, flowing hair, sparkling rows of teeth,She steps as light as the pacer, lest she soil her hoof in the mud.PEHR. Mud? I don't like dirt in poetry. Go on!SINGER. Swelling bosom, slender waist, throbbing now anew;As she gives each fresh embrace, she is like to break in two!PEHR. Oh—!SINGER. O happy man with perfume ladenMan of high estate!Who may in some dreary hourHold her in his sweet embrace.PEHR. That will do! Where's the author? Author!POET LAUREATE. Your Highness, I have not learned to flatter.PEHR. Haven't you? That's a poor poet laureate! Then play up your strophe so we may hear if you lie.POET LAUREATE. Your Highness—surely I can never question—PEHR. Don't talk—just reel off!POET LAUREATE.The soul hath lost itself since love's flame it hath grasped,Nor doth it awaken to reason, under the witchcraft of eyes.But my love for hinds I leave—PEHR. Pardon—what did you say?POET LAUREATE. [Irritated.]My love for hinds I leave and cherish a noble prince,Generous and well born—nor tainted by low base deeds;The prince who hath vanquished his foemen. Whatever the cost might be,Strong in the Faith is he! Heresy's dreaded scourge!PEHR. [Springs to his feet.] Do you mean it seriously or are you joking?POET LAUREATE. I mean it seriously, Your Highness. How should anything else be—PEHR. Indeed! It is in all seriousness, then, that you praise my low actions?POET LAUREATE. Your Highness stands as high above low actions as the sun above a mud-puddle!PEHR. I know you and your gang, counterfeiter! You call me, who foreswore my faith, the Defender of the Faith; you say that I, a bell-ringer's son, am of royal descent; that I am generous, who refused to grant the first humble petition presented since my coming to the throne! I know you, for your kind is to be found the world over. You live for thought and immortality, you say; but you are never seen when a thought is to be born; you are never felt when it comes to a question of immortality. But around heaped up dishes, in the sunlight of affluence and power, there you swarm, like fat meat flies, only to fly away that you may set black specks upon those who can let themselves be slain for both thought and immortality. Out of my sight, liar! I would have your head removed did I not see the shadow of a purpose in your presence. A poor ruler is forced by political considerations to do so many despicable things that he would die of shame did he not have an institution like you to dull his conscience continually. Go! I would be alone.CHAMBERLAIN. Your Highness, it cannot be.PEHR. It can be! [All go out except Pehr and Royal Historian.]PEHR. What are you waiting for? What do you do?HISTORIAN. I am writing Your Highness' history.PEHR. So you are Court Historian.HISTORIAN. Royal—PEHR. What matter, once you're dead! But what shall you write about? I have never carried on any wars.HISTORIAN. That is just what I wish to speak about. Your Highness only need turn to the Minister of War—PEHR. Then he will arrange one; that is his occupation, and for that he is paid 20,000 shekels.HISTORIAN. It is the people, Your Highness, who—PEHR. Conduct the wars. The Minister of War makes them, while we sit at home and take the glory—the shame we never take.[Enter Vizier.]VIZIER. The bride is waiting.PEHR. The bride! Who? Where? What does it mean?VIZIER. Your Highness' consort.PEHR. Lisa! She loves me still, despite all my faults? Conduct her hither. She shall bring the fresh air of the forest into these musty halls!VIZIER. Your Highness wished first to sign the marriage contract.PEHR. I'm forever writing! No, this time I don't have to read. [Signs.] Now, Royal Historian, you can put down at least one action in my life that was not crime! [Vizier and Historian go.][Bride, veiled in Oriental fashion, is ushered in; attendants withdraw immediately; from behind is heard soft music.]PEHR. [Runs toward bride.] Lisa, Lisa! You always come like a sunbeam when the clouds thicken—always like a friend in the dark hour!BRIDE. [Raises veil.] My name is not Lisa.PEHR. Not Lisa—What does this mean? Treachery! Who are you then?BRIDE. Your consort.PEHR. My consort!BRIDE. [Indifferently.] The Administration had three candidates for you: The Vizier's choice fell upon me because my father threatened you with a tariff treaty.PEHR. The administration's candidate—tariff treaties—what does that signify?BRIDE. Politics require that princes shall sacrifice their personal considerations for the good of the people.PEHR. Politics require—But does the good of the people require any princes?BRIDE. I don't know—but it's done once for all, and now you are my husband. Have the goodness to be happy, or you will be miserable.PEHR. Are you happy?BRIDE. I am nothing.PEHR. Do you love me?BRIDE. No, certainly not! And you me?PEHR. No!BRIDE. You love your Lisa?PEHR. And you your—BRIDE. Ali.PEHR. O misery and lamentation!BRIDE. Calm yourself a moment—One moment, while they come in and congratulate us. The bridal procession is waiting without. Silence! They are nearing; stand at my side!PEHR. Must I go forth again, and jest?BRIDE. Obey me, for I'm a wise woman! When they go I shall tell you my plan. Here they come! Look pleasant, husband, else they will say that I made you unhappy.PEHR. Dear old father, how right you were! Black is black and can never be white. [Pehr and bride seat themselves on divan and assume a sentimental attitude.][Enter Singers, Dancers, Chamberlain, Ameer, Royal Historian, Vizier.]Chorus of women sing:Joyous the loving heartsThat bleed from cupid's darts!Ye nightingales and ye roses sing,Noble halls and courtyards ring!The Caliph's court rejoicesAnd echoes love's true voices.[Pehr and bride hide their agitation.]VIZIER. Caliph, a happy people, whom you find assembled here, at the foot of the throne, rejoice as they see happiness, like a sun, beam in your eyes to shine on the white rose which long hath sought the tall oak's trunk to lean upon; a happy people, youthful princess, rejoice in your good fortune and hope that your tree may have off-shoots with fresh rose buds, which, at some future day, may spread joy and bliss, like a spring rain, over land and kingdom![Pehr leaps up and draws his sword, bride attempts in vain to calm him.]PEHR. Hell and Damnation! You grand vizier of lies! and you, dressed up adventurers, are you my people! Are these hired maidens, with their venal tricks, my people who pay taxes to us that we may say nay to their humblest request? No! I have never seen my people. Is this young woman, whom you have placed by my side, my mate who loves me? No—She is a heifer that you have let into my stall; she is an imp who is to shoot branches on the genealogical tree; she is an administration's candidate who makes happy her spouse with a tariff treaty. You call us happy because we pretend to be; but we are most unhappy, for we stand near the brink of a crime, which, praise God, we shall never commit. I curse you, palace! dedicated as a temple of lies. Down in the dust with you, false family tree! [Genealogical chart drops from wall and rolls up on floor.] Break into shatters, crown and sceptre, tyranny's symbols! [Crown and sceptre come down with a crash.] Tumble throne, where unrighteousness is seated! [Throne collapses. Thunder, lightning, storm.] Scatter like decoys, fortune hunters and outcasts that have placed yourselves between noble and commoner! [All but bride disappear. To bride.] You lamb of sacrifice, be free like myself! Now I want to go out into Nature and see if honor and decency do not still live! [Bride vanishes; Pehr remains standing, hands to face, until scene is changed.]SCENE TWO.Seashore with wreckage of cast up seaweed, etc. To left an up-rooted oak-stump, fishing tackle and hulk of a wrecked vessel. Background: open sea; seamews float on waves. To right cliff-shore with pine woods; lower down is a hut.PEHR. Where am I? I breathe freer—All evil thoughts flee! I sense a perfume as of old romances; I hear a murmur, like far-away streams; the ground under me is soft as a bed. Ah—it is the seashore!O Sea! Thou Mother Earth's good mother! Be greeted by an old and withered heart Which comes that it may be by thy moist winds Swept clean and freshened; Which comes to thy salt waves for cleansing baths And healing for the sores the world's lies and madness gave to it. Blow wind, and fill with thy pure air My lungs, that breathed in pois'n-filled vapours; Sing wave, and let mine ear be soothed By the harmonies of thy pure tones, As I stand here 'mongst the wreckage on the strand, A wreck myself, which the breakers cast upon the sand When the vessel crashed 'gainst the sharp cliff-rocks! Be greeted, Sea, that nurses healthy thoughts And recreates the soul in shrunken body When every spring thy billows break And gull and swallow chatter 'bove thy wave, To wak'n anew the joy of life, and strength, and hope![Sees hut.]What's this? A human habitation! Not even here is a moment's peace granted me—Maledictions!A VOICE. Curse not![It darkens and the sea begins to rise, moving toward him during following speech so that he is forced down stage.]PEHR. Who spoke? [Tries to flee toward left and is met by elk.] Wild beasts stop me! [Tries to flee toward right, but is intercepted by bulls.] Even here—Back! [Animals come on stage and crowd around him.] They surround me! Help! [Runs to but and knocks.] Is no one here? Help, help! [Attempts to cast himself into the sea, but sea-serpents and dragons rise up.] Ah, nature, even you are a savage monster that would devour all you come upon! You, my last friend, tricked me also—What terror's visions! The sea would swallow me. What is my life worth more? Come, Death, and set me free! [Sea gradually subsides.][Enter Death; beasts vanish.]DEATH. Here am I, at your service! What would you me?PEHR. [Cowers, but recovers himself.] Oh, really!—It was nothing especially pressing—DEATH. You called me!PEHR. Did I actually do that? Well, it is only a form of speech which we use; I really want nothing of you.DEATH. But I want something of you! Stand straight on your legs and I'll cut; it will be over in no time. [Raises scythe.]PEHR. Mercy, mercy! I don't want to die!DEATH. Bosh! What has life to offer you who have no wishes left?PEHR. That one does not know; if one might stop to consider, then perhaps—DEATH. Oh, you have had ample time; now it is too late. Straighten your back so that you may fall like a real world-hater! [Lifts scythe.]PEHR. No, no, for God's sake, wait a little—DEATH. You're a timid beggar! Live on then if you think it anything; but don't regret it later. I shall not come again for a long time. [Starts to go.]PEHR. No, no, no! don't leave me alone—DEATH. Alone? Why, you have lovely Nature!PEHR. Yes, it's all very well when the weather is fine and the sun shines, but thus late—DEATH. You see now that you cannot live without your fellow men. Knock three times on the door over yonder, and you will find company. [Death vanishes. Pehr knocks three times on door of hut; the Wise Man comes out.]WISE MAN. Whom seek you?PEHR. A human being! In short—I'm unhappy.WISE MAN. Then you should not seek human beings, for they cannot help you.PEHR. I know it, yet I would neither live nor die; I have suffered all, and my heart will not break!WISE MAN. You are young, and do not know the human heart. In here I have lately been pondering the causes of mankind's misery. Would you like to see how the little object called the human heart looks? [Steps into hut and returns presently with a casket and a lantern, which he hangs on a tree.]You see the little three-cornered muscle, which now has ceased to beat—Once it throbbed with rage, thumped with joy, cramped with sorrow, swelled with hope. You see that it is divided into two large chambers: In one lives the good, in the other the evil—or, with a word, there sits an angel on one side of the wall and a devil on the other. When they chance to be at odds with each other—which happens quite often—there is unrest in the person and he fancies the heart will burst—but it doesn't, for the walls are thick. Oh, yes, look at this one! Do you see thousands of little scars from needle thrusts? They did not go through, but the pricks remain nevertheless.PEHR. Who has borne this heart, Wise Man?WISE MAN. The unhappiest of humans.PEHR. And who was that?WISE MAN. It was a man. Do you see the marks of a heel; do you see the nail-prints? It was a woman that trampled on this heart for twenty-six years.PEHR. And he did not tire?WISE MAN. Yes, he grew weary one Christmas Eve and freed himself from her. As a punishment, he came under the ban of the Powers; he cannot die, although his heart has been taken from him.PEHR. Can he never be released from the spell?WISE MAN. When his son shall have found a faithful woman and brought her home a bride, then the spell will be broken. But that can never be because his son is gone forever.PEHR. What has become of him?WISE MAN. He went out in the world.PEHR. Then why can he never get any bride, poor boy!WISE MAN. Because one who loves only himself can never love anyone else.PEHR. He means the old man, my father. [Wise Man sinks through floor; but vanishes. It begins to dawn.]PEHR. "He who loves only himself "—So said Lisa also—But I hate myself, I loathe myself after the cowardly things I have done, and I love Lisa! Yes, I love her, I love her! [Sun shines on waves and lights up pine woods to right; clouds disperse. A boat is seen out at sea, it comes nearer and nearer and Lisa is seen at the rudder. She beckons to Pehr as the boat recedes.]Sea-gulls in the air, tell her! Sunbeams, carry my words on your pillars of fire, and bear them to her. But where must I seek thee—where? [Boat is seen on horizon a moment.] It is she! Now, ring, fulfill my last wish and take me to her! The ring is gone! Woe, what does this augur? Is my story ended, or shall it now begin perhaps? Lisa, my soul's belovéd! [He runs up on cliff and waves.] If you hear me, answer; if you see me, give me a sign! Ah—she turns out toward the fjord—Well, then, storm and sea, that separate me from all that my heart loves, I challenge you to battle for the highest prize! [Pushes out boat drawn up on shore.]Blow, wind, and rock, wave! My weak keel shall cleave you like a sword. On, my boat, even though we miss the goal, let us struggle on till we sink!CURTAIN.ACT FIVESCENE: Interior of a little country church, with frescoed ceiling. At back, centre, altar with crucifix; to left, pulpit; on a pillar down left an image of Saint Bartholomew with skin in hand; directly opposite, on a pillar, image of Saint Laurence with the grill. Broom is propped against altar railing. Two rows of praying stools at right and left sides form an aisle from front to altar. At right a confessional; at left an iron door.[The Elf stands in one window, the Fairy in the other.]ELF. It was not the old man that ate up the porridge, it was the rats.FAIRY. Then it was not to do Pehr a kindness that you sent him out in the world, but to harm the old man!ELF. Even we immortals can make mistakes. Let, us make amends for our fault.FAIRY. If it is not too late?ELF. How so?FAIRY. Pehr is a misanthrope and cannot become reconciled to life.ELF. Lisa will rectify all that, and then the old man will have atoned for his sin. One must patch where one has torn.FAIRY. I have already made my preparations.ELF. Here?FAIRY. Here in this sanctuary whose floor we may not tread.ELF. And why not? True, it is holy ground, and we were not allowed to become participants in the Great Redemption because—well, because something which we mustn't know about came between. But that does not prevent the humans from believing some good of us; and in that they do right, for the matter has its sides. Meantime, I shall not absent myself—even if I may not be near to witness that this reconciliation comes out all right. Even we lost souls can rejoice in the happiness of others. Farewell, but not for long.FAIRY. Farewell. [Elf and Fairy vanish.][Enter Lisa.]LISA. Here in this peaceful church the good fairy promised me that I should meet him—How shall I behold him now? Has he learned aught of life, or is he still the same selfish, pleasure-loving youth who pursues only fickle fortune? If he had had the courage to do a bad act in a good cause, then he would at least have shown that he could make a sacrifice for something besides himself; for the most that we can give to a cause is our precious regard for ourselves. Higher powers demand that such and such shall take place; they choose the instruments where they will and none may give up the commission, even if it means going under. My friend was not that sort, and therefore, therefore—Hush! I hear footsteps—It is he! No, I would not meet him yet; I must collect my thoughts. If I conceal myself here—in the confessional—[Steps in.][Enter Pehr.]PEHR. [Drops down on a prayer stool, left.] She flees from me, as I flee from my bad thoughts! Alone, forsaken—what more is there for me in life? Naught have I learned of life save its nothingness, and no wishes are left to me but evil ones. My soul would be like an empty shell were it not filled with her! My life—Ah, what has it been? [Pall pounds on floor.] What was that?—Ghosts in the sunshine? That would be a funny sight! [Broom raps on floor.] Again! 'Tis said that one can see ghosts in broad daylight, if one peeps through a door-crack, it is even maintained that one can see oneself.Oneself—! If one could really do that, how easy it would be to evade one's worst faults! I'll try it. [Opens door left and places himself behind it.][Pehr's shadow steps up into the pulpit, drinks from the goblet, and turns hour-glass. Pehr stands at door with back to spectators.]SHADOW. My beloved hearers! [Pall, Broom, Bartholomew and Laurence stir.] My beloved hearers and you, Pehr, who stand behind the door, my sermon will not be long since the hour is already late and it is especially to this so-calledLucky Pehrthat I would address a few remarks. Yes, you, Pehr—you have rushed through life like a fool, in pursuit of fortune; all your wishes have been fulfilled—save one and they have brought you no happiness. Pay attention, you who stand behind the door! You have made no leap through life, for on that track one runs well. All the experiences through which you think you have passed were but dreams; for, believe me, one wins no wishes with luck-rings out here in Reality; here one gains nothing without labor. Do you know what labor is?—No! It is something very heavy; but it must be heavy the sweeter the repose—Labor, Pehr, and be honest, but don't become a saint, for then you would be vain, and it is not our virtues but our faults that make us human. Listen well, you who stand behind the door—Life is not such as you saw it in your youthful dreams. It is a desert, that is true; but a desert which has its flowers; it is a stormy sea, but one that has its ports by verdant isles. Heed, Pehr! If you want to go forth into life now, then do it in earnest. But you will never be arealman without a woman—Find her! And now, pay close attention, Pehr, for I shall leave the word to Saint Laurence after dismissing you with the sage's eternally young and eternally old exhortation—Know thyself! Saint Laurence has the word. [Shadow vanishes.]SAINT LAURENCE. [Presents his grill.] I am the holy Saint Laurence with the grill, who, at Emperor Dicii's command was beaten with thongs seven days in succession and afterwards was broiled on this grill by a slow fire. There is no one who has suffered so much as I!SAINT BARTHOLOMEW. What is that to speak of! I am the holy Saint Bartholomew with the skin, who, at Emperor Pamphilii's command was flayed alive clear down to the knees; and what miracles happened after my death! You perhaps have never heard of the mysteries or of the devil in woman shape and the prognostication about the volcano?SAINT LAURENCE. What is that to speak of as compared with mine? I have six miracles: The beam in the church, the crystal chalice, the Nun's corpse—PALL. [Rises up.] Oh, boast moderately of your sufferings. I am only a pall, but for fifty years I have borne on my back so many corpses, and have seen so much suffering—so many shattered hopes, so much inconsolable grief, so many torn hearts that suffered in silence and were thrust into oblivion without the solace of gilded statues—that you would be silent had you seen one-half of it. Ah, life is so black, so black, so black!BROOM. [Raps on floor and rustles its straws.] What—you chatter about life, old Pall, you who have seen only death? Life is black on one side and white on the other. To-day I'm only a broom, but yesterday I stood in the forest, so stout and trim, and wanted to be something great. They all want to be great, you see, so it happened as it happened! Now I think like this: What comes is best; since you couldn't be great, you may as well be something else; there is so much to choose from—One may of course be useful, and at worst one can content oneself with being good, and when one has not been given two legs to stand on, one must be happy anyhow and hop on one. [Broom goes bumping along and finally leans against altar.]PEHR. [Walks rapidly over to holy-water fount, by confessional, takes holy-water sprinkler and sprinkles out into the church.] Away, spectres and evil spirits! [As he lays back sprinkler a noise is heard from the confessional.] Someone is there! Reverend Father, hear me and accept the sighs of a broken heart!LISA. [In assumed voice—from confessional.] Speak, my son.PEHR. How shall I leave my dreams?LISA. Oh, you have dreamed enough and you are no longer young. Think of your missteps—have you not made such?PEHR. Yes, I have pursued fortune and have sacrificed conscience and honor in order to win fame and power. Now I cannot bear misfortune, and hate myself!LISA. Then you have ceased to love yourself above all else?PEHR. Yes.—I would free myself fromself—if I could.LISA. Then, Pehr, you can also love another.PEHR. Oh, yes! But where shall I seek her?LISA. [Comes out.] Here! [They embrace.]PEHR. Now you will not leave me again?LISA. No, Pehr, for now I believe you love me.PEHR. What good fairy sent you across my pathway?LISA. Do you still believe in good fairies? Mark you, when a little baby boy is born into the world, a little baby girl is also born somewhere; and they seek and seek until they find each other. Sometimes they go amiss as to the right one, then it turns out badly; sometimes they never find each other, then there is much sorrow and affliction; but when they find each other, then there is joy, and it is the greatest joy life holds.PEHR. It is Paradise Found![Enter sexton, with staff—The old Man in the tower.]SEXTON. The church must be closed.LISA. See, now he drives us from Paradise!PEHR. That he cannot do.—We carry it with us and lay it, like the verdant isle, out in the stormy sea.SEXTON. [Lays down his staff.] Alongside the peaceful harbor, where the waves break up and go to rest.PEHR AND LISA. Father! Father! [Fairy and Elf appear, each in their window.]CURTAIN.
Then say farewell to Horaire, the march is already broken.O army, hast thou the strength to say a farewell!
PEHR. Where's the rhyme?
POET LAUREATE. There are no rhymes in this kind of poetry.
PEHR. That's bad! Continue—
AMEER. [Aside to historian.] He's not long for this place.
SINGER. Your Highness must pardon me, but I am indisposed to-day.
PEHR. Chamberlain, is there not something in the constitution called bastinado?
[Panic.]
CHAMBERLAIN. Assuredly—but—
PEHR. [To singer.] Continue, then!
SINGER. [Sings.] Marble brow, flowing hair, sparkling rows of teeth,She steps as light as the pacer, lest she soil her hoof in the mud.
PEHR. Mud? I don't like dirt in poetry. Go on!
SINGER. Swelling bosom, slender waist, throbbing now anew;As she gives each fresh embrace, she is like to break in two!
PEHR. Oh—!
SINGER. O happy man with perfume ladenMan of high estate!Who may in some dreary hourHold her in his sweet embrace.
PEHR. That will do! Where's the author? Author!
POET LAUREATE. Your Highness, I have not learned to flatter.
PEHR. Haven't you? That's a poor poet laureate! Then play up your strophe so we may hear if you lie.
POET LAUREATE. Your Highness—surely I can never question—
PEHR. Don't talk—just reel off!
The soul hath lost itself since love's flame it hath grasped,Nor doth it awaken to reason, under the witchcraft of eyes.But my love for hinds I leave—
PEHR. Pardon—what did you say?
POET LAUREATE. [Irritated.]
My love for hinds I leave and cherish a noble prince,Generous and well born—nor tainted by low base deeds;The prince who hath vanquished his foemen. Whatever the cost might be,Strong in the Faith is he! Heresy's dreaded scourge!
PEHR. [Springs to his feet.] Do you mean it seriously or are you joking?
POET LAUREATE. I mean it seriously, Your Highness. How should anything else be—
PEHR. Indeed! It is in all seriousness, then, that you praise my low actions?
POET LAUREATE. Your Highness stands as high above low actions as the sun above a mud-puddle!
PEHR. I know you and your gang, counterfeiter! You call me, who foreswore my faith, the Defender of the Faith; you say that I, a bell-ringer's son, am of royal descent; that I am generous, who refused to grant the first humble petition presented since my coming to the throne! I know you, for your kind is to be found the world over. You live for thought and immortality, you say; but you are never seen when a thought is to be born; you are never felt when it comes to a question of immortality. But around heaped up dishes, in the sunlight of affluence and power, there you swarm, like fat meat flies, only to fly away that you may set black specks upon those who can let themselves be slain for both thought and immortality. Out of my sight, liar! I would have your head removed did I not see the shadow of a purpose in your presence. A poor ruler is forced by political considerations to do so many despicable things that he would die of shame did he not have an institution like you to dull his conscience continually. Go! I would be alone.
CHAMBERLAIN. Your Highness, it cannot be.
PEHR. It can be! [All go out except Pehr and Royal Historian.]
PEHR. What are you waiting for? What do you do?
HISTORIAN. I am writing Your Highness' history.
PEHR. So you are Court Historian.
HISTORIAN. Royal—
PEHR. What matter, once you're dead! But what shall you write about? I have never carried on any wars.
HISTORIAN. That is just what I wish to speak about. Your Highness only need turn to the Minister of War—
PEHR. Then he will arrange one; that is his occupation, and for that he is paid 20,000 shekels.
HISTORIAN. It is the people, Your Highness, who—
PEHR. Conduct the wars. The Minister of War makes them, while we sit at home and take the glory—the shame we never take.
[Enter Vizier.]
VIZIER. The bride is waiting.
PEHR. The bride! Who? Where? What does it mean?
VIZIER. Your Highness' consort.
PEHR. Lisa! She loves me still, despite all my faults? Conduct her hither. She shall bring the fresh air of the forest into these musty halls!
VIZIER. Your Highness wished first to sign the marriage contract.
PEHR. I'm forever writing! No, this time I don't have to read. [Signs.] Now, Royal Historian, you can put down at least one action in my life that was not crime! [Vizier and Historian go.]
[Bride, veiled in Oriental fashion, is ushered in; attendants withdraw immediately; from behind is heard soft music.]
PEHR. [Runs toward bride.] Lisa, Lisa! You always come like a sunbeam when the clouds thicken—always like a friend in the dark hour!
BRIDE. [Raises veil.] My name is not Lisa.
PEHR. Not Lisa—What does this mean? Treachery! Who are you then?
BRIDE. Your consort.
PEHR. My consort!
BRIDE. [Indifferently.] The Administration had three candidates for you: The Vizier's choice fell upon me because my father threatened you with a tariff treaty.
PEHR. The administration's candidate—tariff treaties—what does that signify?
BRIDE. Politics require that princes shall sacrifice their personal considerations for the good of the people.
PEHR. Politics require—But does the good of the people require any princes?
BRIDE. I don't know—but it's done once for all, and now you are my husband. Have the goodness to be happy, or you will be miserable.
PEHR. Are you happy?
BRIDE. I am nothing.
PEHR. Do you love me?
BRIDE. No, certainly not! And you me?
PEHR. No!
BRIDE. You love your Lisa?
PEHR. And you your—
BRIDE. Ali.
PEHR. O misery and lamentation!
BRIDE. Calm yourself a moment—One moment, while they come in and congratulate us. The bridal procession is waiting without. Silence! They are nearing; stand at my side!
PEHR. Must I go forth again, and jest?
BRIDE. Obey me, for I'm a wise woman! When they go I shall tell you my plan. Here they come! Look pleasant, husband, else they will say that I made you unhappy.
PEHR. Dear old father, how right you were! Black is black and can never be white. [Pehr and bride seat themselves on divan and assume a sentimental attitude.]
[Enter Singers, Dancers, Chamberlain, Ameer, Royal Historian, Vizier.]
Chorus of women sing:Joyous the loving heartsThat bleed from cupid's darts!Ye nightingales and ye roses sing,Noble halls and courtyards ring!The Caliph's court rejoicesAnd echoes love's true voices.
[Pehr and bride hide their agitation.]
VIZIER. Caliph, a happy people, whom you find assembled here, at the foot of the throne, rejoice as they see happiness, like a sun, beam in your eyes to shine on the white rose which long hath sought the tall oak's trunk to lean upon; a happy people, youthful princess, rejoice in your good fortune and hope that your tree may have off-shoots with fresh rose buds, which, at some future day, may spread joy and bliss, like a spring rain, over land and kingdom!
[Pehr leaps up and draws his sword, bride attempts in vain to calm him.]
PEHR. Hell and Damnation! You grand vizier of lies! and you, dressed up adventurers, are you my people! Are these hired maidens, with their venal tricks, my people who pay taxes to us that we may say nay to their humblest request? No! I have never seen my people. Is this young woman, whom you have placed by my side, my mate who loves me? No—She is a heifer that you have let into my stall; she is an imp who is to shoot branches on the genealogical tree; she is an administration's candidate who makes happy her spouse with a tariff treaty. You call us happy because we pretend to be; but we are most unhappy, for we stand near the brink of a crime, which, praise God, we shall never commit. I curse you, palace! dedicated as a temple of lies. Down in the dust with you, false family tree! [Genealogical chart drops from wall and rolls up on floor.] Break into shatters, crown and sceptre, tyranny's symbols! [Crown and sceptre come down with a crash.] Tumble throne, where unrighteousness is seated! [Throne collapses. Thunder, lightning, storm.] Scatter like decoys, fortune hunters and outcasts that have placed yourselves between noble and commoner! [All but bride disappear. To bride.] You lamb of sacrifice, be free like myself! Now I want to go out into Nature and see if honor and decency do not still live! [Bride vanishes; Pehr remains standing, hands to face, until scene is changed.]
Seashore with wreckage of cast up seaweed, etc. To left an up-rooted oak-stump, fishing tackle and hulk of a wrecked vessel. Background: open sea; seamews float on waves. To right cliff-shore with pine woods; lower down is a hut.
PEHR. Where am I? I breathe freer—All evil thoughts flee! I sense a perfume as of old romances; I hear a murmur, like far-away streams; the ground under me is soft as a bed. Ah—it is the seashore!
O Sea! Thou Mother Earth's good mother! Be greeted by an old and withered heart Which comes that it may be by thy moist winds Swept clean and freshened; Which comes to thy salt waves for cleansing baths And healing for the sores the world's lies and madness gave to it. Blow wind, and fill with thy pure air My lungs, that breathed in pois'n-filled vapours; Sing wave, and let mine ear be soothed By the harmonies of thy pure tones, As I stand here 'mongst the wreckage on the strand, A wreck myself, which the breakers cast upon the sand When the vessel crashed 'gainst the sharp cliff-rocks! Be greeted, Sea, that nurses healthy thoughts And recreates the soul in shrunken body When every spring thy billows break And gull and swallow chatter 'bove thy wave, To wak'n anew the joy of life, and strength, and hope!
[Sees hut.]
What's this? A human habitation! Not even here is a moment's peace granted me—Maledictions!
A VOICE. Curse not!
[It darkens and the sea begins to rise, moving toward him during following speech so that he is forced down stage.]
PEHR. Who spoke? [Tries to flee toward left and is met by elk.] Wild beasts stop me! [Tries to flee toward right, but is intercepted by bulls.] Even here—Back! [Animals come on stage and crowd around him.] They surround me! Help! [Runs to but and knocks.] Is no one here? Help, help! [Attempts to cast himself into the sea, but sea-serpents and dragons rise up.] Ah, nature, even you are a savage monster that would devour all you come upon! You, my last friend, tricked me also—What terror's visions! The sea would swallow me. What is my life worth more? Come, Death, and set me free! [Sea gradually subsides.]
[Enter Death; beasts vanish.]
DEATH. Here am I, at your service! What would you me?
PEHR. [Cowers, but recovers himself.] Oh, really!—It was nothing especially pressing—
DEATH. You called me!
PEHR. Did I actually do that? Well, it is only a form of speech which we use; I really want nothing of you.
DEATH. But I want something of you! Stand straight on your legs and I'll cut; it will be over in no time. [Raises scythe.]
PEHR. Mercy, mercy! I don't want to die!
DEATH. Bosh! What has life to offer you who have no wishes left?
PEHR. That one does not know; if one might stop to consider, then perhaps—
DEATH. Oh, you have had ample time; now it is too late. Straighten your back so that you may fall like a real world-hater! [Lifts scythe.]
PEHR. No, no, for God's sake, wait a little—
DEATH. You're a timid beggar! Live on then if you think it anything; but don't regret it later. I shall not come again for a long time. [Starts to go.]
PEHR. No, no, no! don't leave me alone—
DEATH. Alone? Why, you have lovely Nature!
PEHR. Yes, it's all very well when the weather is fine and the sun shines, but thus late—
DEATH. You see now that you cannot live without your fellow men. Knock three times on the door over yonder, and you will find company. [Death vanishes. Pehr knocks three times on door of hut; the Wise Man comes out.]
WISE MAN. Whom seek you?
PEHR. A human being! In short—I'm unhappy.
WISE MAN. Then you should not seek human beings, for they cannot help you.
PEHR. I know it, yet I would neither live nor die; I have suffered all, and my heart will not break!
WISE MAN. You are young, and do not know the human heart. In here I have lately been pondering the causes of mankind's misery. Would you like to see how the little object called the human heart looks? [Steps into hut and returns presently with a casket and a lantern, which he hangs on a tree.]
You see the little three-cornered muscle, which now has ceased to beat—Once it throbbed with rage, thumped with joy, cramped with sorrow, swelled with hope. You see that it is divided into two large chambers: In one lives the good, in the other the evil—or, with a word, there sits an angel on one side of the wall and a devil on the other. When they chance to be at odds with each other—which happens quite often—there is unrest in the person and he fancies the heart will burst—but it doesn't, for the walls are thick. Oh, yes, look at this one! Do you see thousands of little scars from needle thrusts? They did not go through, but the pricks remain nevertheless.
PEHR. Who has borne this heart, Wise Man?
WISE MAN. The unhappiest of humans.
PEHR. And who was that?
WISE MAN. It was a man. Do you see the marks of a heel; do you see the nail-prints? It was a woman that trampled on this heart for twenty-six years.
PEHR. And he did not tire?
WISE MAN. Yes, he grew weary one Christmas Eve and freed himself from her. As a punishment, he came under the ban of the Powers; he cannot die, although his heart has been taken from him.
PEHR. Can he never be released from the spell?
WISE MAN. When his son shall have found a faithful woman and brought her home a bride, then the spell will be broken. But that can never be because his son is gone forever.
PEHR. What has become of him?
WISE MAN. He went out in the world.
PEHR. Then why can he never get any bride, poor boy!
WISE MAN. Because one who loves only himself can never love anyone else.
PEHR. He means the old man, my father. [Wise Man sinks through floor; but vanishes. It begins to dawn.]
PEHR. "He who loves only himself "—So said Lisa also—But I hate myself, I loathe myself after the cowardly things I have done, and I love Lisa! Yes, I love her, I love her! [Sun shines on waves and lights up pine woods to right; clouds disperse. A boat is seen out at sea, it comes nearer and nearer and Lisa is seen at the rudder. She beckons to Pehr as the boat recedes.]
Sea-gulls in the air, tell her! Sunbeams, carry my words on your pillars of fire, and bear them to her. But where must I seek thee—where? [Boat is seen on horizon a moment.] It is she! Now, ring, fulfill my last wish and take me to her! The ring is gone! Woe, what does this augur? Is my story ended, or shall it now begin perhaps? Lisa, my soul's belovéd! [He runs up on cliff and waves.] If you hear me, answer; if you see me, give me a sign! Ah—she turns out toward the fjord—Well, then, storm and sea, that separate me from all that my heart loves, I challenge you to battle for the highest prize! [Pushes out boat drawn up on shore.]
Blow, wind, and rock, wave! My weak keel shall cleave you like a sword. On, my boat, even though we miss the goal, let us struggle on till we sink!
SCENE: Interior of a little country church, with frescoed ceiling. At back, centre, altar with crucifix; to left, pulpit; on a pillar down left an image of Saint Bartholomew with skin in hand; directly opposite, on a pillar, image of Saint Laurence with the grill. Broom is propped against altar railing. Two rows of praying stools at right and left sides form an aisle from front to altar. At right a confessional; at left an iron door.
[The Elf stands in one window, the Fairy in the other.]
ELF. It was not the old man that ate up the porridge, it was the rats.
FAIRY. Then it was not to do Pehr a kindness that you sent him out in the world, but to harm the old man!
ELF. Even we immortals can make mistakes. Let, us make amends for our fault.
FAIRY. If it is not too late?
ELF. How so?
FAIRY. Pehr is a misanthrope and cannot become reconciled to life.
ELF. Lisa will rectify all that, and then the old man will have atoned for his sin. One must patch where one has torn.
FAIRY. I have already made my preparations.
ELF. Here?
FAIRY. Here in this sanctuary whose floor we may not tread.
ELF. And why not? True, it is holy ground, and we were not allowed to become participants in the Great Redemption because—well, because something which we mustn't know about came between. But that does not prevent the humans from believing some good of us; and in that they do right, for the matter has its sides. Meantime, I shall not absent myself—even if I may not be near to witness that this reconciliation comes out all right. Even we lost souls can rejoice in the happiness of others. Farewell, but not for long.
FAIRY. Farewell. [Elf and Fairy vanish.]
[Enter Lisa.]
LISA. Here in this peaceful church the good fairy promised me that I should meet him—How shall I behold him now? Has he learned aught of life, or is he still the same selfish, pleasure-loving youth who pursues only fickle fortune? If he had had the courage to do a bad act in a good cause, then he would at least have shown that he could make a sacrifice for something besides himself; for the most that we can give to a cause is our precious regard for ourselves. Higher powers demand that such and such shall take place; they choose the instruments where they will and none may give up the commission, even if it means going under. My friend was not that sort, and therefore, therefore—Hush! I hear footsteps—It is he! No, I would not meet him yet; I must collect my thoughts. If I conceal myself here—in the confessional—[Steps in.]
[Enter Pehr.]
PEHR. [Drops down on a prayer stool, left.] She flees from me, as I flee from my bad thoughts! Alone, forsaken—what more is there for me in life? Naught have I learned of life save its nothingness, and no wishes are left to me but evil ones. My soul would be like an empty shell were it not filled with her! My life—Ah, what has it been? [Pall pounds on floor.] What was that?—Ghosts in the sunshine? That would be a funny sight! [Broom raps on floor.] Again! 'Tis said that one can see ghosts in broad daylight, if one peeps through a door-crack, it is even maintained that one can see oneself.Oneself—! If one could really do that, how easy it would be to evade one's worst faults! I'll try it. [Opens door left and places himself behind it.]
[Pehr's shadow steps up into the pulpit, drinks from the goblet, and turns hour-glass. Pehr stands at door with back to spectators.]
SHADOW. My beloved hearers! [Pall, Broom, Bartholomew and Laurence stir.] My beloved hearers and you, Pehr, who stand behind the door, my sermon will not be long since the hour is already late and it is especially to this so-calledLucky Pehrthat I would address a few remarks. Yes, you, Pehr—you have rushed through life like a fool, in pursuit of fortune; all your wishes have been fulfilled—save one and they have brought you no happiness. Pay attention, you who stand behind the door! You have made no leap through life, for on that track one runs well. All the experiences through which you think you have passed were but dreams; for, believe me, one wins no wishes with luck-rings out here in Reality; here one gains nothing without labor. Do you know what labor is?—No! It is something very heavy; but it must be heavy the sweeter the repose—Labor, Pehr, and be honest, but don't become a saint, for then you would be vain, and it is not our virtues but our faults that make us human. Listen well, you who stand behind the door—Life is not such as you saw it in your youthful dreams. It is a desert, that is true; but a desert which has its flowers; it is a stormy sea, but one that has its ports by verdant isles. Heed, Pehr! If you want to go forth into life now, then do it in earnest. But you will never be arealman without a woman—Find her! And now, pay close attention, Pehr, for I shall leave the word to Saint Laurence after dismissing you with the sage's eternally young and eternally old exhortation—Know thyself! Saint Laurence has the word. [Shadow vanishes.]
SAINT LAURENCE. [Presents his grill.] I am the holy Saint Laurence with the grill, who, at Emperor Dicii's command was beaten with thongs seven days in succession and afterwards was broiled on this grill by a slow fire. There is no one who has suffered so much as I!
SAINT BARTHOLOMEW. What is that to speak of! I am the holy Saint Bartholomew with the skin, who, at Emperor Pamphilii's command was flayed alive clear down to the knees; and what miracles happened after my death! You perhaps have never heard of the mysteries or of the devil in woman shape and the prognostication about the volcano?
SAINT LAURENCE. What is that to speak of as compared with mine? I have six miracles: The beam in the church, the crystal chalice, the Nun's corpse—
PALL. [Rises up.] Oh, boast moderately of your sufferings. I am only a pall, but for fifty years I have borne on my back so many corpses, and have seen so much suffering—so many shattered hopes, so much inconsolable grief, so many torn hearts that suffered in silence and were thrust into oblivion without the solace of gilded statues—that you would be silent had you seen one-half of it. Ah, life is so black, so black, so black!
BROOM. [Raps on floor and rustles its straws.] What—you chatter about life, old Pall, you who have seen only death? Life is black on one side and white on the other. To-day I'm only a broom, but yesterday I stood in the forest, so stout and trim, and wanted to be something great. They all want to be great, you see, so it happened as it happened! Now I think like this: What comes is best; since you couldn't be great, you may as well be something else; there is so much to choose from—One may of course be useful, and at worst one can content oneself with being good, and when one has not been given two legs to stand on, one must be happy anyhow and hop on one. [Broom goes bumping along and finally leans against altar.]
PEHR. [Walks rapidly over to holy-water fount, by confessional, takes holy-water sprinkler and sprinkles out into the church.] Away, spectres and evil spirits! [As he lays back sprinkler a noise is heard from the confessional.] Someone is there! Reverend Father, hear me and accept the sighs of a broken heart!
LISA. [In assumed voice—from confessional.] Speak, my son.
PEHR. How shall I leave my dreams?
LISA. Oh, you have dreamed enough and you are no longer young. Think of your missteps—have you not made such?
PEHR. Yes, I have pursued fortune and have sacrificed conscience and honor in order to win fame and power. Now I cannot bear misfortune, and hate myself!
LISA. Then you have ceased to love yourself above all else?
PEHR. Yes.—I would free myself fromself—if I could.
LISA. Then, Pehr, you can also love another.
PEHR. Oh, yes! But where shall I seek her?
LISA. [Comes out.] Here! [They embrace.]
PEHR. Now you will not leave me again?
LISA. No, Pehr, for now I believe you love me.
PEHR. What good fairy sent you across my pathway?
LISA. Do you still believe in good fairies? Mark you, when a little baby boy is born into the world, a little baby girl is also born somewhere; and they seek and seek until they find each other. Sometimes they go amiss as to the right one, then it turns out badly; sometimes they never find each other, then there is much sorrow and affliction; but when they find each other, then there is joy, and it is the greatest joy life holds.
PEHR. It is Paradise Found!
[Enter sexton, with staff—The old Man in the tower.]
SEXTON. The church must be closed.
LISA. See, now he drives us from Paradise!
PEHR. That he cannot do.—We carry it with us and lay it, like the verdant isle, out in the stormy sea.
SEXTON. [Lays down his staff.] Alongside the peaceful harbor, where the waves break up and go to rest.
PEHR AND LISA. Father! Father! [Fairy and Elf appear, each in their window.]