THE OFFICER. [With emphasis] Not as I had expected!—That is well said. Nothing ever was as I expected it to be—because the thought is more than the deed, more than the thing.
Walks to and fro, striking at the wall with the rose stems so that the last few leaves fall off.
Walks to and fro, striking at the wall with the rose stems so that the last few leaves fall off.
THE BILLPOSTER. Has she not come down yet?
THE OFFICER. Not yet, but she will soon be here—Do you know what is behind that door, Billposter?
THE BILLPOSTER. No, I have never seen that door open yet.
THE OFFICER. I am going to telephone for a locksmith to come and open it. [Goes into the lodge.
[THE BILLPOSTERposts a bill and goes toward the right.
[THE BILLPOSTERposts a bill and goes toward the right.
THE DAUGHTER. What is the matter with the dipnet?
THE BILLPOSTER. Matter? Well, I don't know as there is anything the matter with it—but it just didn't turn out as I had expected, and the pleasure of it was not so much after all.
THE DAUGHTER. How did you expect it to be?
THE BILLPOSTER. How?—Well, I couldn't tell exactly——
THE DAUGHTER. I can tell you! You had expected it to be what it was not. It had to be green, but not that kind of green.
THE BILLPOSTER. You have it, madam. You understand it all—and that is why everybody goes to you with his worries. If you would only listen to me a little also——
THE DAUGHTER. Of course, I will!—Come in to me and pour out your heart. [She goes into the lodge.
[THE BILLPOSTERremains outside, speaking to her. The stage is darkened again. When the light is turned on, the tree has resumed its leaves, the monk's-hood is blooming once more, and the sun is shining on the green space beyond the passageway.THE OFFICERenters. Now he is old and white-haired, ragged, and wearing worn-out shoes. He carries the bare remnants of the rose stems. Walks to and fro slowly, with the gait of an aged man. Reads on the posted bill.A BALLET GIRLcomes in from the right.
[THE BILLPOSTERremains outside, speaking to her. The stage is darkened again. When the light is turned on, the tree has resumed its leaves, the monk's-hood is blooming once more, and the sun is shining on the green space beyond the passageway.
THE OFFICERenters. Now he is old and white-haired, ragged, and wearing worn-out shoes. He carries the bare remnants of the rose stems. Walks to and fro slowly, with the gait of an aged man. Reads on the posted bill.
A BALLET GIRLcomes in from the right.
THE OFFICER. Is Miss Victoria gone?
THE BALLET GIRL. No, she has not gone yet.
THE OFFICER. Then I shall wait. She will be coming soon, don't you think?
THE BALLET GIRL. Oh, yes, I am sure.
THE OFFICER. Don't go away now, for I have sent word to the locksmith, so you will soon see what is behind that door.
THE BALLET GIRL. Oh, it will be awfully interesting to see that door opened. That door, there, and the Growing Castle—have you heard of the Growing Castle?
THE OFFICER. Have I?—I have been a prisoner in it.
THE BALLET GIRL. No, was that you? But why do they keep such a lot of horses there?
THE OFFICER. Because it is a stable castle, don't you know.
THE BALLET GIRL. [With confusion] How stupid of me not to guess that!
A MALE CHORUS SINGERenters from the right.
A MALE CHORUS SINGERenters from the right.
THE OFFICER. Has Miss Victoria gone yet?
THE CHORUS SINGER. [Earnestly] No, she has not. She never goes away.
THE OFFICER. That is because she loves me—See here, don't go before the locksmith comes to open the door here.
THE CHORUS SINGER. No, is the door going to be opened? Well, that will be fun!—I just want to ask the Portress something.
THE PROMPTERenters from the right.
THE PROMPTERenters from the right.
THE OFFICER. Is Miss Victoria gone yet?
THE PROMPTER. Not that I know of.
THE OFFICER. Now, didn't I tell you she was waiting for me!—Don't go away, for the door is going to be opened.
THE PROMPTER. Which door?
THE OFFICER. Is there more than one door?
THE PROMPTER. Oh, I know—that one with the clover leaf. Well, then I have got to stay—I am only going to have a word with the Portress.
THE BALLET GIRL,THE CHORUS SINGER, andTHE PROMPTERgather besideTHE BILLPOSTERin front of the lodge window and talk by turns toTHE DAUGHTER.THE GLAZIER. enters through the gate.
THE BALLET GIRL,THE CHORUS SINGER, andTHE PROMPTERgather besideTHE BILLPOSTERin front of the lodge window and talk by turns toTHE DAUGHTER.
THE GLAZIER. enters through the gate.
THE OFFICER. Are you the locksmith?
THE GLAZIER. No, the locksmith had visitors, and a glazier will do just as well.
THE OFFICER. Yes, of course, of course—but did you bring your diamond along?
THE GLAZIER. Why, certainly!—A glazier without his diamond, what would that be?
THE OFFICER. Nothing at all!—Let us get to work then.
[Claps his hands together.ALLgather in a ring around the door.Male members of the chorus dressed as Master Singers and Ballet Girls in costumes from the opera "Aïda" enter from the right and join the rest.
[Claps his hands together.
ALLgather in a ring around the door.
Male members of the chorus dressed as Master Singers and Ballet Girls in costumes from the opera "Aïda" enter from the right and join the rest.
THE OFFICER. Locksmith—or glazier—do your duty!
THE GLAZIERgoes up to the door with the diamond in his hand.
THE GLAZIERgoes up to the door with the diamond in his hand.
THE OFFICER. A moment like this will not occur twice in a man's life. For this reason, my friends, I ask you—please consider carefully——
A POLICEMAN. [Enters] In the name of the law, I forbid the opening of that door!
THE OFFICER. Oh, Lord! What a fuss there is as soon as anybody wants to do anything new or great. But we will take the matter into court—let us go to the Lawyer. Then we shall see whether the laws still exist or not—Come along to the Lawyer.
Without lowering of the curtain, the stage changes to a lawyer's office, and in this manner. The gate remains, but as a wicket in the railing running clear across the stage. The gatekeeper's lodge turns into the private enclosure of the Lawyer, and it is now entirely open to the front. The linden, leafless, becomes a hat tree. The billboard is covered with legal notices and court decisions. The door with the four-leaved clover hole forms part of a document chest.THE LAWYER,in evening dress and white necktie, is found sitting to the left, inside the gate, and in front of him stands a desk covered with papers. His appearance indicates enormous sufferings. His face is chalk-white and full of wrinkles, and its shadows have a purple effect. He is ugly, and his features seem to reflect all the crimes and vices with which he has been forced by his profession to come into contact.Of his two clerks, one has lost an arm, the other an eye.The people gathered to witness "the opening of the door" remain as before, bid they appear now to be waiting for an audience with the Lawyer. Judging by their attitudes, one would think they had been standing there forever.THE DAUGHTER,still wearing the shawl, andTHE OFFICERare near the footlights.
Without lowering of the curtain, the stage changes to a lawyer's office, and in this manner. The gate remains, but as a wicket in the railing running clear across the stage. The gatekeeper's lodge turns into the private enclosure of the Lawyer, and it is now entirely open to the front. The linden, leafless, becomes a hat tree. The billboard is covered with legal notices and court decisions. The door with the four-leaved clover hole forms part of a document chest.
THE LAWYER,in evening dress and white necktie, is found sitting to the left, inside the gate, and in front of him stands a desk covered with papers. His appearance indicates enormous sufferings. His face is chalk-white and full of wrinkles, and its shadows have a purple effect. He is ugly, and his features seem to reflect all the crimes and vices with which he has been forced by his profession to come into contact.
Of his two clerks, one has lost an arm, the other an eye.
The people gathered to witness "the opening of the door" remain as before, bid they appear now to be waiting for an audience with the Lawyer. Judging by their attitudes, one would think they had been standing there forever.
THE DAUGHTER,still wearing the shawl, andTHE OFFICERare near the footlights.
THE LAWYER. [Goesover toTHE DAUGHTER] Tell me, sister, can I have that shawl? I shall keep it here until I have a fire in my grate, and then I shall burn it with all its miseries and sorrows.
THE DAUGHTER. Not yet, brother. I want it to hold all it possibly can, and I want it above all to take up your agonies —all the confidences you have received about crime, vice, robbery, slander, abuse——
THE LAWYER. My dear girl, for such a purpose your shawl would prove totally insufficient. Look at these walls. Does it not look as if the wall-paper itself had been soiled by every conceivable sin? Look at these documents into which I write tales of wrong. Look at myself—No smiling man ever comes here; nothing is to be seen here but angry glances, snarling lips, clenched fists—And everybody pours his anger, his envy, his suspicions, upon me. Look—my hands are black, and no washing will clean them. See how they are chapped and bleeding—I can never wear my clothes more than a few days because they smell of other people's crimes—At times I have the place fumigated with sulphur, but it does not help. I sleep near by, and I dream of nothing but crimes—Just now I have a murder case in court—oh, I can stand that, but do you know what is worse than anything else?—That is to separate married people! Then it is as if something cried way down in the earth and up there in the sky—as if it cried treason against the primal force, against the source of all good, against love—And do you know, when reams of paper have been filled with mutual accusations, and at last a sympathetic person takes one of the two apart and asks, with a pinch of the ear or a smile, the simple question: what have you really got against your husband?—or your wife?—then he, or she, stands perplexed and cannot give the cause. Once—well, I think a lettuce salad was the principal issue; another time it was just a word—mostly it is nothing at all. But the tortures, the sufferings—these I have to bear—See how I look! Do you think I could ever win a woman's love with this countenance so like a criminal's? Do you think anybody dares to be friendly with me, who has to collect all the debts, all the money obligations, of the whole city?—It is a misery to be man!
THE DAUGHTER. Men are to be pitied!
THE LAWYER. They are. And what people are living on puzzles me. They marry on an income of two thousand, when they need four thousand. They borrow, of course—everybody borrows. In some sort of happy-go-lucky fashion, by the skin of their teeth, they manage to pull through—and thus it continues to the end, when the estate is found to be bankrupt. Who pays for it at last no one can tell.
THE DAUGHTER. Perhaps He who feeds the birds.
THE LAWYER. Perhaps. But if He who feeds the birds would only pay a visit to this earth of His and see for Himself how the poor human creatures fare—then His heart would surely fill with compassion.
THE DAUGHTER. Men are to be pitied!
THE LAWYER. Yes, that is the truth!—[ToTHE OFFICER] What do you want?
THE OFFICER. I just wanted to ask if Miss Victoria has gone yet.
THE LAWYER. No, she has not; you can be sure of it—Why are you poking at my chest over there?
THE OFFICER. I thought the door of it looked exactly——
THE LAWYER. Not at all! Not at all!
All the church bells begin to ring.
All the church bells begin to ring.
THE OFFICER. Is there going to be a funeral?
THE LAWYER. No, it is graduation day—a number of degrees will be conferred, and I am going to be made a Doctor of Laws. Perhaps you would also like to be graduated and receive a laurel wreath?
THE OFFICER. Yes, why not. That would be a diversion, at least.
THE LAWYER. Perhaps then we may begin upon this solemn function at once—But you had better go home and change your clothes.
[THE OFFICERgoes out.The stage is darkened and the following changes are made. The railing stays, but it encloses now the chancel of a church. The billboard displays hymn numbers. The linden hat tree becomes a candelabrum. The Lawyer's desk is turned into the desk of the presiding functionary, and the door with the clover leaf leads to the vestry.The chorus of Master Singers become heralds with staffs, and the Ballet Girls carry laurel wreaths. The rest of the people act as spectators.The background is raised, and the new one thus discovered represents a large church organ, with the keyboards below and the organist's mirror above.Music is heard. At the sides stand figures symbolising the four academic faculties: Philosophy, Theology, Medicine, and Jurisprudence.At first the stage is empty for a few moments.HERALDSenter from the right.BALLET GIRLSfollow with laurel wreaths carried high before them.THREE GRADUATESappear one after another from the left, receive their wreaths from theBALLET GIRLS,and go out to the right.THE LAWYERsteps forward to get his wreath.TheBALLET GIRLSturn away from him and refuse to place the wreath on his head. Then they withdraw from the stage.THE LAWYER,shocked, leans against a column. All the others withdraw gradually until onlyTHE LAWYERremains on the stage.
[THE OFFICERgoes out.
The stage is darkened and the following changes are made. The railing stays, but it encloses now the chancel of a church. The billboard displays hymn numbers. The linden hat tree becomes a candelabrum. The Lawyer's desk is turned into the desk of the presiding functionary, and the door with the clover leaf leads to the vestry.
The chorus of Master Singers become heralds with staffs, and the Ballet Girls carry laurel wreaths. The rest of the people act as spectators.
The background is raised, and the new one thus discovered represents a large church organ, with the keyboards below and the organist's mirror above.
Music is heard. At the sides stand figures symbolising the four academic faculties: Philosophy, Theology, Medicine, and Jurisprudence.
At first the stage is empty for a few moments.
HERALDSenter from the right.
BALLET GIRLSfollow with laurel wreaths carried high before them.
THREE GRADUATESappear one after another from the left, receive their wreaths from theBALLET GIRLS,and go out to the right.
THE LAWYERsteps forward to get his wreath.
TheBALLET GIRLSturn away from him and refuse to place the wreath on his head. Then they withdraw from the stage.
THE LAWYER,shocked, leans against a column. All the others withdraw gradually until onlyTHE LAWYERremains on the stage.
THE DAUGHTER. [Enters, her head and shoulders covered by a white veil] Do you see, I have washed the shawl! But why are you standing there? Did you get your wreath?
THE LAWYER. No, I was not held worthy.
THE DAUGHTER. Why? Because you have defended the poor, put in a good word for the wrong-doing, made the burden easier for the guilty, obtained a respite for the condemned? Woe upon men: they are not angels—but they are to be pitied!
THE LAWYER. Say nothing evil of men—for after all it is my task to voice their side.
THE DAUGHTER. [Leaning against the organ] Why do they strike their friends in the face?
THE LAWYER. They know no better.
THE DAUGHTER. Let us enlighten them. Will you try? Together with me?
THE LAWYER. They do not accept enlightenment—Oh, that our plaint might reach the gods of heaven!
THE DAUGHTER. It shall reach the throne—[Turns toward the organ] Do you know what I see in this mirror?—The world turned the right way!—Yes indeed, for naturally we see it upside down.
THE LAWYER. How did it come to be turned the wrong way?
THE DAUGHTER. When the copy was taken——
THE LAWYER. You have said it! The copy—I have always had the feeling that it was a spoiled copy. And when I began to recall the original images, I grew dissatisfied with everything. But men called it soreheadedness, looking at the world through the devil's eyes, and other such things.
THE DAUGHTER. It is certainly a crazy world! Look at the four faculties here. The government, to which has fallen the task of preserving society, supports all four of them. Theology, the science of God, is constantly attacked and ridiculed by philosophy, which declares itself to be the sum of all wisdom. And medicine is always challenging philosophy, while refusing entirely to count theology a science and even insisting on calling it a mere superstition. And they belong to a common Academic Council, which has been set to teach the young respect—for the university. It is a bedlam. And woe unto him who first recovers his reason!
THE LAWYER. Those who find it out first are the theologians. As a preparatory study, they take philosophy, which teaches them that theology is nonsense. Later they learn from theology that philosophy is nonsense. Madmen, I should say!
THE DAUGHTER. And then there is jurisprudence which serves all but the servants.
THE LAWYER. Justice, which, when it wants to do right, becomes the undoing of men. Equity, which so often turns into iniquity!
THE DAUGHTER. What a mess you have made of it, you man-children. Children, indeed!—Come here, and I will give you a wreath—one that is more becoming to you. [Puts a crown of thorns on his head] And now I will play for you.
She sits down at the keyboards, but instead of organ-notes human voices are heard.
VOICES OF CHILDREN. O Lord everlasting!
[Last note sustained.
[Last note sustained.
VOICES OF WOMEN. Have mercy upon us!
[Last note sustained.
[Last note sustained.
VOICES OF MEN. [Tenors] Save us for Thy mercy's sake!
[Last note sustained.
[Last note sustained.
VOICES OF MEN. [Basses] Spare Thy children, O Lord, and deliver us from Thy wrath!
ALL. Have mercy upon us! Hear us! Have pity upon the mortals!—? O Lord eternal, why art Thou afar?—Out of the depths we call unto Thee: Make not the burden of Thy children too heavy! Hear us! Hear us!
The stage turns dark.THE DAUGHTERrises and draws close toTHE LAWYER.By a change of light, the organ becomes Fingal's Cave. The ground-swell of the ocean, which can be seen rising and falling between the columns of basalt, produces a deep harmony that blends the music of winds and waves.
The stage turns dark.THE DAUGHTERrises and draws close toTHE LAWYER.By a change of light, the organ becomes Fingal's Cave. The ground-swell of the ocean, which can be seen rising and falling between the columns of basalt, produces a deep harmony that blends the music of winds and waves.
THE LAWYER. Where are we, sister?
THE DAUGHTER. What do you hear?
THE LAWYER. I hear drops falling——
THE DAUGHTER. Those are the tears that men are weeping—What more do you hear?
THE LAWYER. There is sighing—and whining—and wailing——
THE DAUGHTER. Hither the plaint of the mortals has reached—and no farther. But why this never-ending wailing? Is there then nothing in life to rejoice at?
THE LAWYER. Yes, what is most sweet, and what is also most bitter—love—wife and home—the highest and the lowest!
THE DAUGHTER. May I try it?
THE LAWYER. With me?
THE DAUGHTER. With you—You know the rocks, the stumbling-stones. Let us avoid them.
THE LAWYER. I am so poor.
THE DAUGHTER. What does that matter if we only love each other? And a little beauty costs nothing.
THE LAWYER. I have dislikes which may prove your likes.
THE DAUGHTER. They can be adjusted.
THE LAWYER. And if we tire of it?
THE DAUGHTER. Then come the children and bring with them a diversion that remains for ever new.
THE LAWYER. You, you will take me, poor and ugly, scorned and rejected?
THE DAUGHTER. Yes—let us unite our destinies.
THE LAWYER. So be it then!
[1]Though the author says nothing about it here, subsequent stage directions indicate a door and a window behind the place occupied byTHE PORTRESS. Both lead into her room or lodge, which contains a telephone.
[1]Though the author says nothing about it here, subsequent stage directions indicate a door and a window behind the place occupied byTHE PORTRESS. Both lead into her room or lodge, which contains a telephone.
[2]A floating wooden box with holes in it used to hold fish.
[2]A floating wooden box with holes in it used to hold fish.
An extremely plain room insideTHE LAWYER'soffice. To the right, a big double bed covered by a canopy and curtained in. Next to it, a window. To the left, an iron heater with cooking utensils on top of it.CHRISTINEis pasting paper strips along the cracks of the double windows. In the background, an open door to the office. Through the door are visible a number of poor clients waiting for admission.
An extremely plain room insideTHE LAWYER'soffice. To the right, a big double bed covered by a canopy and curtained in. Next to it, a window. To the left, an iron heater with cooking utensils on top of it.CHRISTINEis pasting paper strips along the cracks of the double windows. In the background, an open door to the office. Through the door are visible a number of poor clients waiting for admission.
CHRISTINE. I paste, I paste.
THE DAUGHTER. [Pale and emaciated, sits by the stove] You shut out all the air. I choke!
CHRISTINE. Now there is only one little crack left.
THE DAUGHTER. Air, air—I cannot breathe!
CHRISTINE. I paste, I paste.
THE LAWYER. That's right, Christine! Heat is expensive.
THE DAUGHTER. Oh, it feels as if my lips were being glued together.
THE LAWYER. [Standing in the doorway, with a paper in his hand] Is the child asleep?
THE DAUGHTER. Yes, at last.
THE LAWYER. [Gently] All this crying scares away my clients.
THE DAUGHTER. [Pleasantly] What can be done about it?
THE LAWYER. Nothing.
THE DAUGHTER. We shall have to get a larger place.
THE LAWYER. We have no money for it.
THE DAUGHTER. May I open the window—this bad air is suffocating.
THE LAWYER. Then the heat escapes, and we shall be cold.
THE DAUGHTER. It is horrible!—May we clean up out there?
THE LAWYER. You have not the strength to do any cleaning, nor have I, and Christine must paste. She must put strips through the whole house, on every crack, in the ceiling, in the floor, in the walls.
THE DAUGHTER. Poverty I was prepared for, but not for dirt.
THE LAWYER. Poverty is always dirty, relatively speaking.
THE DAUGHTER. This is worse than I dreamed!
THE LAWYER. We are not the worst off by far. There is still food in the pot.
THE DAUGHTER. But what sort of food?
THE LAWYER. Cabbage is cheap, nourishing, and good to eat.
THE DAUGHTER. For those who like cabbage—to me it is repulsive.
THE LAWYER. Why didn't you say so?
THE DAUGHTER. Because I loved you, I wanted to sacrifice my own taste.
THE LAWYER. Then I must sacrifice my taste for cabbage to you—for sacrifices must be mutual.
THE DAUGHTER. What are we to eat, then? Fish? But you hate fish?
THE LAWYER. And it is expensive.
THE DAUGHTER. This is worse than I thought it!
THE LAWYER. [Kindly] Yes, you see how hard it is—And the child that was to become a link and a blessing—it becomes our ruin.
THE DAUGHTER. Dearest, I die in this air, in this room, with its backyard view, with its baby cries and endless hours of sleeplessness, with those people out there, and their whinings, and bickerings, and incriminations—I shall die here!
THE LAWYER. My poor little flower, that has no light and no air——
THE DAUGHTER. And you say that people exist who are still worse off?
THE LAWYER. I belong with the envied ones in this locality.
THE DAUGHTER. Everything else might be borne if I could only have some beauty in my home.
THE LAWYER. I know you are thinking of flowers—and especially of heliotropes—but a plant costs half a dollar, which will buy us six quarts of milk or a peck of potatoes.
THE DAUGHTER. I could gladly get along without food if I could only have some flowers.
THE LAWYER. There is a kind of beauty that costs nothing—but the absence of it in the home is worse than any other torture to a man with a sense for the beautiful.
THE DAUGHTER. What is it?
THE LAWYER. If I tell, you will get angry.
THE DAUGHTER. We have agreed not to get angry.
THE LAWYER. We have agreed—Everything can be over-come, Agnes, except the short, sharp accents—Do you know them? Not yet!
THE DAUGHTER. They will never be heard between us.
THE LAWYER. Not as far as it lies on me!
THE DAUGHTER. Tell me now.
THE LAWYER. Well—when I come into a room, I look first of all at the curtains—[Goes over to the window and straightens out the curtains] If they hang like ropes or rags, then I leave soon. And next I take a glance at the chairs—if they stand straight along the wall, then I stay. [Puts a chair back against the wall] Finally I look at the candles in their sticks—if they point this way and that, then the whole house is askew. [Straightens up a candle on the chest of drawers] This is the kind of beauty, dear heart, that costs nothing.
THE DAUGHTER.With bent head] Beware of the short accents, Axel!
THE LAWYER. They were not short.
THE DAUGHTER. Yes, they were.
THE LAWYER. Well, I'll be——
THE DAUGHTER. What kind of language is that?
THE LAWYER. Pardon me, Agnes! But I have suffered as much from your lack of orderliness as you have suffered from dirt. And I have not dared to set things right myself, for when I do so, you get as angry as if I were reproaching you—ugh! Hadn't we better quit now?
THE DAUGHTER. It is very difficult to be married—it is more difficult than anything else. One has to be an angel, I think!
THE LAWYER. I think so, too.
THE DAUGHTER. I fear I shall begin to hate you after this!
THE LAWYER. Woe to us then!—But let us forestall hatred. I promise never again to speak of any untidiness—although it is torture to me!
THE DAUGHTER. And I shall eat cabbage though it means agony to me.
THE LAWYER. A life of common suffering, then! One's pleasure, the other one's pain!
THE DAUGHTER. Men are to be pitied!
THE LAWYER. You see that?
THE DAUGHTER. Yes, but for heaven's sake, let us avoid the rocks, now when we know them so well.
THE LAWYER. Let us try! Are we not decent and intelligent persons? Able to forbear and forgive?
THE DAUGHTER. Why not smile at mere trifles?
THE LAWYER. We—only we—can do so. Do you know, I read this morning—by the bye, where is the newspaper?
THE DAUGHTER. [Embarrassed] Which newspaper?
THE LAWYER. [Sharply] Do I keep more than one?
THE DAUGHTER. Smile now, and don't speak sharply—I used your paper to make the fire with——
THE LAWYER. [Violently] Well, I'll be damned!
THE DAUGHTER. Why don't you smile?—I burned it because it ridiculed what is holy to me.
THE LAWYER. Which is unholy to me! Yah! [Strikes one clenched fist against the open palm of the other hand] I smile, I smile so that my wisdom teeth show—Of course, I am to be nice, and I am to swallow my own opinions, and say yes to everything, and cringe and dissemble! [Tidies the curtains around the bed] That's it! Now I am going to fix things until you get angry again—Agnes, this is simply impossible!
THE DAUGHTER. Of course it is!
THE LAWYER. And yet we must endure—not for the sake of our promises, but for the sake of the child!
THE DAUGHTER. You are right—for the sake of the child. Oh, oh—we have to endure!
THE LAWYER. And now I must go out to my clients. Listen to them—how they growl with impatience to tear each other, to get each other fined and jailed—Lost souls!
THE DAUGHTER. Poor, poor people! And this pasting!
[She drops her head forward in dumb despair.
[She drops her head forward in dumb despair.
CHRISTINE. I paste, I paste.
THE LAWYERstands at the door, twisting the door-knob nervously.
THE LAWYERstands at the door, twisting the door-knob nervously.
THE DAUGHTER. How that knob squeaks! It is as if you were twisting my heart-strings——
THE LAWYER. I twist, I twist!
THE DAUGHTER. Don't!
THE LAWYER. I twist!
THE DAUGHTER. No!
THE LAWYER. I——
THE OFFICER. [In the office, on the other side of the door, takes hold of the knob] Will you permit me?
THE LAWYER. [Lets go his hold] By all means. Seeing that you have your degree!
THE OFFICER. Now all life belongs to me. Every road lies open. I have mounted Parnassus. The laurel is won. Immortality, fame, all is mine!
THE LAWYER. And what are you going to live on?
THE OFFICER. Live on?
THE LAWYER. You must have a home, clothes, food——
THE OFFICER. Oh, that will come—if you can only find somebody to love you!
THE LAWYER. You don't say so!—You don't—Paste, Christine, paste until they cannot breathe!
[Goes out backward, nodding.
[Goes out backward, nodding.
CHRISTINE. I paste, I paste—until they cannot breathe.
THE OFFICER. Will you come with me now?
THE DAUGHTER. At once! But where?
THE OFFICER. To Fairhaven. There it is summer; there the sun is shining; there we find youth, children, and flowers, singing and dancing, feasting and frolicking.
THE DAUGHTER. Then I will go there.
THE OFFICER. Come!
THE LAWYER. [Enters again] Now I go back to my first hell—this was the second and greater. The sweeter the hell, the greater—And look here, now she has been dropping hair-pins on the floor again. [He picks up some hair-pins.
THE OFFICER. My! but he has discovered the pins also.
THE LAWYER. Also?—Look at this one. You see two prongs, but it is only one pin. It is two, yet only one. If I bend it open, it is a single piece. If I bend it back, there are two, but they remain one for all that. It means: these two are one. But if I break—like this!—then they become two.
[Breaks the pin and throws the pieces away.
[Breaks the pin and throws the pieces away.
THE OFFICER. All that he has seen!—But before breaking, the prongs must diverge. If they point together, then it holds.
THE LAWYER. And if they are parallel, then they will never meet—and it neither breaks nor holds.
THE OFFICER. The hair-pin is the most perfect of all created things. A straight line which equals two parallel ones.
THE LAWYER. A lock that shuts when it is open.
THE OFFICER. And thus shuts in a braid of hair that opens up when the lock shuts.
THE LAWYER. It is like this door. When I close it, then I open—the way out—for you, Agnes!
[Withdraws and closes the door behind him.
[Withdraws and closes the door behind him.
THE DAUGHTER. Well then?
The stage changes. The bed with its curtains becomes a tent.The stove stays as it was. The background is raised. To the right, in the foreground, are seen hills stripped of their trees by fire, and red heather growing between the blackened tree stumps. Red-painted pig-sties and outhouses. Beyond these, in the open, apparatus for mechanical gymnastics, where sick persons are being treated on machines resembling instruments of torture.To the left, in the foreground, the quarantine station, consisting of open sheds, with ovens, furnaces, and pipe coils.In the middle distance, a narrow strait.The background shows a beautiful wooded shore. Flags are flying on its piers, where ride white sailboats, some with sails set and some without. Little Italian villas, pavilions, arbors, marble statues are glimpsed through the foliage along the shore.THE MASTER OF QUARANTINE,made up like a blackamoor, is walking along the shore.
The stage changes. The bed with its curtains becomes a tent.
The stove stays as it was. The background is raised. To the right, in the foreground, are seen hills stripped of their trees by fire, and red heather growing between the blackened tree stumps. Red-painted pig-sties and outhouses. Beyond these, in the open, apparatus for mechanical gymnastics, where sick persons are being treated on machines resembling instruments of torture.
To the left, in the foreground, the quarantine station, consisting of open sheds, with ovens, furnaces, and pipe coils.
In the middle distance, a narrow strait.
The background shows a beautiful wooded shore. Flags are flying on its piers, where ride white sailboats, some with sails set and some without. Little Italian villas, pavilions, arbors, marble statues are glimpsed through the foliage along the shore.
THE MASTER OF QUARANTINE,made up like a blackamoor, is walking along the shore.
THE OFFICER. [Meets him and they shake hands] Why, Ordström![3]Have you landed here?
MASTER OF Q. Yes, here I am.
THE OFFICER. Is this Fairhaven?
MASTER OF Q. No, that is on the other side. This is Foulstrand.
THE OFFICER. Then we have lost our way.
MASTER OF Q. We?—Won't you introduce me?
THE OFFICER. No, that wouldn't do. [In a lowered voice] It is Indra's own daughter.
MASTER OF Q. Indra's? And I was thinking of Varuna himself—Well, are you not surprised to find me black in the face?
THE OFFICER. I am past fifty, my boy, and at that age one has ceased to be surprised. I concluded at once that you were bound for some fancy ball this afternoon.
MASTER OF Q. Right you were! And I hope both of you will come along.
THE OFFICER. Why, yes—for I must say—the place does not look very tempting. What kind of people live here anyhow?
MASTER OF Q. Here you find the sick; over there, the healthy.
THE OFFICER. Nothing but poor folk on this side, I suppose.
MASTER OF Q. No, my boy, it is here you find the rich. Look at that one on the rack. He has stuffed himself with paté de foie gras and truffles and Burgundy until his feet have grown knotted.
THE OFFICER. Knotted?
MASTER OF Q. Yes, he has a case of knotted feet. And that one who lies under the guillotine—he has swilled brandy so that his backbone has to be put through the mangle.
THE OFFICER. There is always something amiss!
MASTER OF Q. Moreover, everybody living on this side has some kind of canker to hide. Look at the fellow coming here, for instance.
An old dandy is pushed on the stage in a wheel-chair, he is accompanied by a gaunt and grisly coquette in the sixties, to whomTHE FRIEND,a man of about forty, is paying court.
THE OFFICER. It is the major—our schoolmate!
MASTER OF Q. Don Juan. Can you see that he is still enamored of that old spectre beside him? He does not notice that she has grown old, or that she is ugly, faithless, cruel.
THE OFFICER. Why, that is love! And I couldn't have dreamt that a fickle fellow like him would prove capable of loving so deeply and so earnestly.
MASTER OF Q. That is a mighty decent way of looking at it.
THE OFFICER. I have been in love with Victoria myself—in fact I am still waiting for her in the passageway——
MASTER OF Q. Oh, you are the fellow who is waiting in the passageway?
THE OFFICER. I am the man.
MASTER OF Q. Well, have you got that door opened yet?
THE OFFICER. No, the case is still in court—THE BILLPOSTERis out with his dipnet, of course, so that the taking of evidence is always being put off—and in the meantime the Glazier has mended all the window panes in the castle, which has grown half a story higher—This has been an uncommonly good year—warm and wet——
MASTER OF Q. But just the same you have had no heat comparing with what I have here.
THE OFFICER. How much do you have in your ovens?
MASTER OF Q. When we fumigate cholera suspects, we run it up to one hundred and forty degrees.
THE OFFICER. Is the cholera going again?
MASTER OF Q. Don't you know that?
THE OFFICER. Of course, I know it, but I forget so often what I know.
MASTER OF Q. I wish often that I could forget—especially myself. That is why I go in for masquerades and carnivals and amateur theatricals.
THE OFFICER. What have you been up to then?
MASTER OF Q. If I told, they would say that I was boasting; and if I don't tell, then they call me a hypocrite.
THE OFFICER. That is why you blackened your face?
MASTER OF Q. Exactly—making myself a shade blacker than I am.
THE OFFICER. Who is coming there?
MASTER OF Q. Oh, a poet who is going to have his mud bath.
THE POETenters with his eyes raised toward the sky and carrying a pail of mud in one hand.
THE POETenters with his eyes raised toward the sky and carrying a pail of mud in one hand.
THE OFFICER. Why, he ought to be having light baths and air baths.
MASTER OF Q. No, he is roaming about the higher regions so much that he gets homesick for the mud—and wallowing in the mire makes the skin callous like that of a pig. Then he cannot feel the stings of the wasps.
THE OFFICER. This is a queer world, full of contradictions.
THE POET. [Ecstatically] Man was created by the god Phtah out of clay on a potter's wheel, or a lathe—[sceptically], or any damned old thing! [Ecstatically] Out of clay does the sculptor create his more or less immortal masterpieces—[sceptically], which mostly are pure rot. [Ecstatically] Out of clay they make those utensils which are so indispensable in the pantry and which generically are named pots and plates—[sceptically], but what in thunder does it matter to me what they are called anyhow? [Ecstatically] Such is the clay! When clay becomes fluid, it is called mud—C'est mon affaire!—[shouts] Lena!
LENAenters with a pail in her hand.
LENAenters with a pail in her hand.
THE POET. Lena, show yourself to Miss Agnes—She knew you ten years ago, when you were a young, happy and, let us say, pretty girl—Behold how she looks now. Five children, drudgery, baby-cries, hunger, ill-treatment. See how beauty has perished and joy vanished in the fulfilment of duties which should have brought that inner satisfaction which makes each line in the face harmonious and fills the eye with a quiet glow.
MASTER OF Q. [Covering the poet's mouth with his hand] Shut up! Shut up!
THE POET. That is what they all say. And if you keep silent, then they cry: speak! Oh, restless humanity!
THE DAUGHTER. [Goes toLena] Tell me your troubles.
LENA. No, I dare not, for then they will be made worse.
THE DAUGHTER. Who could be so cruel?
LENA. I dare not tell, for if I do, I shall be spanked.
THE POET. That is just what will happen. But I will speak, even though the blackamoor knock out all my teeth—I will tell that justice is not always done—Agnes, daughter of the gods, do you hear music and dancing on the hill over there?—Well, it is Lena's sister who has come home from the city where she went astray—you understand? Now they are killing the fatted calf; but Lena, who stayed at home, has to carry slop pails and feed the pigs.
THE DAUGHTER. There is rejoicing at home because the stray has left the paths of evil, and not merely because she has come back. Bear that in mind.
THE POET. But then they should give a ball and banquet every night for the spotless worker that never strayed into paths of error—Yet they do nothing of the kind, but when Lena has a free moment, she is sent to prayer-meetings where she has to hear reproaches for not being perfect. Is this justice?
THE DAUGHTER. Your question is so difficult to answer because—There are so many unforeseen casesTHE POET. That much the Caliph, Haroun the Just, came to understand. He was sitting on his throne, and from its height he could never make out what happened below. At last complaints penetrated to his exalted ears. And then, one fine day, he disguised himself and descended unobserved among the crowds to find out what kind of justice they were getting.
THE DAUGHTER. I hope you don't take me for Haroun the Just!
THE OFFICER. Let us talk of something else—Here come visitors.
A white boat, shaped like a viking ship, with a dragon for figure-head, with a pale-blue silken sail on a gilded yard, and with a rose-red standard flying from the top of a gilded mast, glides through the strait from the left.HeandSheare seated in the stern with their arms around each other.
THE OFFICER. Behold perfect happiness, bliss without limits, young love's rejoicing!
The stage grows brighter.
The stage grows brighter.
HE. [Stands up in the boat and sings]
Hail, beautiful haven,Where the Springs of my youth were spent,Where my first sweet dreams were dreamt—To thee I return,But lonely no longer!Ye hills and groves,Thou sky o'erhead,Thou mirroring sea,Give greeting to her:My love, my bride,My light and my life!
The flags at the landings of Fairhaven are dipped in salute; white handkerchiefs are waved from verandahs and boats, and the air is filled with tender chords from harps and violins.
The flags at the landings of Fairhaven are dipped in salute; white handkerchiefs are waved from verandahs and boats, and the air is filled with tender chords from harps and violins.
THE POET. See the light that surrounds them! Hear how the air is ringing with music!—Eros!
THE OFFICER. It is Victoria.
MASTER OF Q. Well, what of it?
THE OFFICER. It is his Victoria—My own is still mine. And nobody can seeher—Now you hoist the quarantine flag, and I shall pull in the net.
[TheMASTER OF QUARANTINEwaves a yellow flag.THE OFFICER. [Pulling a rope that turns the boat toward Foulstrand] Hold on there!
HEandSHEbecome aware of the hideous view and give vent to their horror.
HEandSHEbecome aware of the hideous view and give vent to their horror.
MASTER OF Q. Yes, it comes hard. But here every one must stop who hails from plague-stricken places.
THE POET. The idea of speaking in such manner, of acting in such a way, within the presence of two human beings united in love! Touch them not! Lay not hands on love! It is treason!—Woe to us! Everything beautiful must now be dragged down—dragged into the mud!
[HEandSHEstep ashore, looking sad and shamefaced.
[HEandSHEstep ashore, looking sad and shamefaced.
HE. Woe to us! What have we done?
MASTER OF Q. It is not necessary to have done anything in order to encounter life's little pricks.
SHE. So short-lived are joy and happiness!
HE. How long must we stay here?
MASTER OF Q. Forty days and nights.
SHE. Then rather into the water!
HE. To live here—among blackened hills and pig-sties?
THE POET. Love overcomes all, even sulphur fumes and carbolic acid.
MASTER OF Q. [Starts a fire in the stove; blue, sulphurous flames break forth] Now I set the sulphur going. Will you please step in?
SHE. Oh, my blue dress will fade.
MASTER OF Q. And become white. So your roses will also turn white in time.
HE. Even your cheeks—in forty days!
SHE. [ToTHE OFFICER] That will please you.
THE OFFICER. No, it will not!—Of course, your happiness was the cause of my suffering, but—it doesn't matter—for I am graduated and have obtained a position over there—heigh-ho and alas! And in the Fall I shall be teaching school—teaching boys the same lessons I myself learned during my childhood and youth—the same lessons throughout my manhood and, finally, in my old age—the self-same lessons! What does twice two make? How many times can four be evenly divided by two?—Until I get a pension and can do nothing at all—just wait around for meals and the newspapers—until at last I am carted to the crematorium and burned to ashes—Have you nobody here who is entitled to a pension? Barring twice two makes four, it is probably the worst thing of all—to begin school all over again when one already is graduated; to ask the same questions until death comes——
An elderly man goes by, with his hands folded behind his back.
An elderly man goes by, with his hands folded behind his back.
THE OFFICER. There is a pensioner now, waiting for himself to die. I think he must be a captain who missed the rank of major; or an assistant judge who was not made a chief justice. Many are called but few are chosen—He is waiting for his breakfast now.
THE PENSIONER. No, for the newspaper—the morning paper.
THE OFFICER. And he is only fifty-four years old. He may spend twenty-five more years waiting for meals and newspapers—is it not dreadful?
THE PENSIONER. What is not dreadful? Tell me, tell me!
THE OFFICER. Tell that who can!—Now I shall have to teach boys that twice two makes four. And how many times four can be evenly divided by two. [He clutches his head in despair] And Victoria, whom I loved and therefore wished all the happiness life can give—now she has her happiness, the greatest one known to her, and for this reason I suffer—suffer, suffer!
SHE. Do you think I can be happy when I see you suffering? How can you think it? Perhaps it will soothe your pains that I am to be imprisoned here for forty days and nights? Tell me, does it soothe your pains?
THE OFFICER. Yes and no. How can I enjoy seeing you suffer? Oh!
SHE. And do you think my happiness can be founded on your torments?
THE OFFICER. We are to be pitied—all of us!
ALL. [Raise their arms toward the sky and utter a cry of anguish that sounds like a dissonant chord] Oh!
THE DAUGHTER. Everlasting One, hear them! Life is evil! Men are to be pitied!
ALL. [As before] Oh!
For a moment the stage is completely darkened, and during that moment everybody withdraws or takes up a new position. When the light is turned on again, Foulstrand is seen in the background, lying in deep shadow. The strait is in the middle distance and Fairhaven in the foreground, both steeped in light. To the right, a corner of the Casino, where dancing couples are visible through the open windows. Three servant maids are standing outside on top of an empty box, with arms around each other, staring at the dancers within. On the verandah of the Casino stands a bench, where"Plain"EDITHis sitting. She is bare-headed, with an abundance of tousled hair, and looks sad. In front of her is an open piano.To the left, a frame house painted yellow. Two children in light dresses are playing ball outside.In the centre of the middle distance, a pier with white sailboats tied to it, and flag poles with hoisted flags. In the strait is anchored a naval vessel, brig-rigged, with gun ports. But the entire landscape is in winter dress, with snow on the ground and on the bare trees.THE DAUGHTERandTHE OFFICERenter.
For a moment the stage is completely darkened, and during that moment everybody withdraws or takes up a new position. When the light is turned on again, Foulstrand is seen in the background, lying in deep shadow. The strait is in the middle distance and Fairhaven in the foreground, both steeped in light. To the right, a corner of the Casino, where dancing couples are visible through the open windows. Three servant maids are standing outside on top of an empty box, with arms around each other, staring at the dancers within. On the verandah of the Casino stands a bench, where"Plain"EDITHis sitting. She is bare-headed, with an abundance of tousled hair, and looks sad. In front of her is an open piano.
To the left, a frame house painted yellow. Two children in light dresses are playing ball outside.
In the centre of the middle distance, a pier with white sailboats tied to it, and flag poles with hoisted flags. In the strait is anchored a naval vessel, brig-rigged, with gun ports. But the entire landscape is in winter dress, with snow on the ground and on the bare trees.
THE DAUGHTERandTHE OFFICERenter.
THE DAUGHTER. Here is peace, and happiness, and leisure. No more toil; every day a holiday; everybody dressed up in their best; dancing and music in the early morning. [To the maids] Why don't you go in and have a dance, girls?
THE MAIDS. We?
THE OFFICER. They are servants, don't you see!
THE DAUGHTER. Of course!—But why is Edith sitting there instead of dancing?
[EDITHburies her face in her hands.
[EDITHburies her face in her hands.
THE OFFICER. Don't question her! She has been sitting there three hours without being asked for a dance.
[Goes into the yellow house on the left.
[Goes into the yellow house on the left.
THE DAUGHTER. What a cruel form of amusement!
THE MOTHER. [In a low-necked dress, enters from the Casino and goes up toEDITH] Why don't you go in as I told you?
EDITH. Because—I cannot throw myself at them. That I am ugly, I know, and I know that nobody wants to dance with me, but I might be spared from being reminded of it.
Begins to play on the piano, the Toccata Con Fuga, Op. 10, by Sebastian Bach.
Begins to play on the piano, the Toccata Con Fuga, Op. 10, by Sebastian Bach.