ACT SECOND.

Hilmar.

You’re a little blockhead. What is there to see? Nothing but trickery and make-believe. Now it would be something worth while to see the gaucho sweeping over the Pampas on his snorting mustang. But, hang it all, here in these little towns——

Olaf.

[PullingMartha’sdress.] Aunt Martha, look, look—there they come!

Mrs. Holt.

Yes indeed, here we have them.

Mrs. Lynge.

Oh, what horrid people!

[Many travellers, and a whole crowd of townspeople, come up the street.

Mrs. Rummel.

Aren’t they a regular set of mountebanks! Just look at that one in the grey dress, Mrs. Holt; the one with the knapsack on her back.

Mrs. Holt.

Yes, see, she has it slung on the handle of her parasol. Of course it’s the manager’s wife.

Mrs. Rummel.

Oh, and there’s the manager himself, the one with the beard. Well, hedoeslook a regular pirate. Don’t look at him, Hilda!

Mrs. Holt.

Nor you either, Netta!

Olaf.

Oh, mother, the manager is bowing to us.

Bernick.

What?

Mrs. Bernick.

What do you say, child?

Mrs. Rummel.

Yes, and I declare the woman is nodding too!

Bernick.

Come, this is really too much!

Martha.

[With an involuntary cry.] Ah——!

Mrs. Bernick.

What is it, Martha?

Martha.

Oh, nothing—only I thought——

Olaf.

[Shrieks with delight.] Look, look, there come the others, with the horses and wild beasts! And there are the Americans too! All the sailors from theIndian Girl——

[“Yankee Doodle” is heard, accompanied by a clarinet and drum.

Hilmar.

[Stopping his ears.] Ugh, ugh, ugh!

Rörlund.

I think we should withdraw for a moment, ladies. This is no scene for us. Let us resume our work.

Mrs. Bernick.

Perhaps we ought to draw the curtains?

Rörlund.

Yes, that is just what I was thinking.

[The ladies take their places at the table;Rörlundshuts the garden door and drams the curtains over it and over the windows; it becomes half dark in the room.

Olaf.

[Peeping out.] Mother, the manager’s wife is standing at the fountain washing her face!

Mrs. Bernick.

What? In the middle of the market-place?

Mrs. Rummel.

And in broad daylight!

Hilmar.

Well, if I were travelling in the desert and came upon a well, I should never hesitate to——Ugh, that abominable clarinet!

Rörlund.

The police ought really to interfere.

Bernick.

Oh, come; one must not be too hard upon foreigners; these people are naturally devoid of the deep-rooted sense of propriety that keeps us within the right limits. Let them do as they please; it cannot affect us. All this unseemliness, this rebellion against good taste and good manners, fortunately finds no echo, if I may say so, in our society.—What is this!

AStrange Ladyenters briskly by the door on the right.

The Ladies.

[Frightened, and speaking low.] The circus woman! The manager’s wife!

Mrs. Bernick.

Why, what does this mean!

Martha.

[Starts up.] Ah——!

The Lady.

Good-morning, my dear Betty! Good-morning, Martha! Good-morning, brother-in-law!

Mrs. Bernick.

[With a shriek.] Lona——!

Bernick.

[Staggers back a step.] Merciful heavens——!

Mrs. Holt.

Why, goodness me——!

Mrs. Rummel.

It can’t be possible——!

Hilmar.

What? Ugh!

Mrs. Bernick.

Lona——! Is it really——?

Lona.

Really me? Yes, indeed it is. You may fall on my neck and embrace me, for that matter.

Hilmar.

Ugh! ugh!

Mrs. Bernick.

And you come here as——?

Bernick.

You are actually going to appear——?

Lona.

Appear? How appear?

Bernick.

I mean—in the circus——?

Lona.

Ha ha ha! What nonsense, brother-in-law. Do you think I belong to the circus? No; it’s true I have turned my hand to all sorts of things, and made a fool of myself in many ways——

Mrs. Rummel.

H’m——

Lona.

——but I’ve never learnt to play tricks on horseback.

Bernick.

Then you are not——?

Mrs. Bernick.

Oh, thank God!

Lona.

No, no; we came like other respectable people—second class, it’s true; but we’re used to that.

Mrs. Bernick.

We, you say?

Bernick.

[Advancing a step.] Whatwe?

Lona.

Why, my boy and I, of course.

The Ladies.

[With a cry.] Your boy!

Hilmar.

What?

Rörlund.

Well, I must say——

Mrs. Bernick.

Why, what do you mean, Lona?

Lona.

Of course I mean John; I have no other boy but John, that I know of—or Johan, as you call him.

Mrs. Bernick.

Johan——!

Mrs. Rummel.

[Aside toMrs. Lynge.] The prodigal brother.

Bernick.

[Hesitatingly.] Is Johan with you?

Lona.

Of course, of course; I would never travel without him. But you’re all looking so dismal—and sitting here in this twilight, sewing at something white. There hasn’t been a death in the family?

Rörlund.

This is a meeting, Miss Hessel, of the Society for the Moral Regeneration of the Lapsed and Lost.

Lona.

[Half to herself.] What? These nice-looking, well-behaved ladies, cantheybe——?

Mrs. Rummel.

Oh, this is too much——!

Lona.

Ah, I see, I see! Why, good gracious, that’s Mrs. Rummel I And there sits Mrs. Holt too! Well, we three haven’t grown younger since last we met. But listen now, good people: let the Lapsed and Lost wait for one day; they’ll be none the worse for it. On a joyful occasion like this——

Rörlund.

A return home is not always a joyful occasion.

Lona.

Indeed? Then how do you read your Bible, Pastor?

Rörlund.

I am not a clergyman.

Lona.

Oh; then you will be one, for certain.—But, pah!—this moral linen here has a tainted smell—just like a shroud. I’m accustomed to the air of the prairies now, I can tell you.

Bernick.

[Wiping his forehead.] Yes; it really is rather oppressive in here.

Lona.

Wait a moment—we’ll soon rise from the sepulchre. [Draws back the curtains.] We must have broad daylight here when my boy comes. Ah—then you shall see a boy that has washed himself———

Hilmar.

Ugh!

Lona.

[Opens the door and the windows.]——when hehaswashed himself, I mean—up at the hotel—for on board the steamer you get as dirty as a pig.

Hilmar.

Ugh, ugh!

Lona.

“Ugh”? Why if that isn’t——! [Points toHilmar, and asks the others.] Does he still loaf about here saying “ugh” to everything?

Hilmar.

I do not loaf; I remain here by my doctor’s orders.

Rörlund.

Ahem—ladies, I hardly think that——

Lona.

[Catches sight ofOlaf.] Is thisyouryoungster, Betty? Give us your fist, my boy! Or are you afraid of your ugly old aunt?

Rörlund.

[Putting his book under his arm.] I do not think, ladies, that we are quite in the mood fordoing more work to-day. But we shall meet again to-morrow?

Lona.

[As the visitors rise to go.] Yes, by all means—I shall be here.

Rörlund.

You? Allow me to ask, Miss Hessel, what you will do inourSociety?

Lona.

I will let in fresh air, Pastor.

21.“Gjort umyndig”= placed under a legal interdict.

22. When this play was written, Ministers did not sit in the Storthing, and were not responsible to it. This state of things was altered—as Ibsen here predicts—in the great constitutional struggle of 1872-84, which ended in the victory of the Liberal party, their leader, Johan Sverdrup, becoming Prime Minister.

23.“Havetrappe”here seems to imply a light of steps with so wide a landing at the top as practically to form a verandah, under the sun-shade. In subsequent stage directions, the word is rendered by “verandah.”

ACT SECOND.

The garden-room inConsul Bernick’shouse.

Mrs. Bernickis sitting alone at the work-table, sewing. In a little whileConsul Bernickenters from the right, with his hat and gloves on, and a stick in his hand.

Mrs. Bernick.

Are you home already, Karsten?

Bernick.

Yes. I have an appointment here.

Mrs. Bernick.

[Sighing.] Oh, yes; I suppose Johan will be down here again.

Bernick.

No; it’s with one of my men. [Takes off his hat.] Where are all the ladies to-day?

Mrs. Bernick.

Mrs. Rummel and Hilda hadn’t time to come.

Bernick.

Indeed! They have sent excuses?

Mrs. Bernick.

Yes; they had so much to do at home.

Bernick.

Of course. And the others are not coming either, I suppose?

Mrs. Bernick.

No; something has prevented them too.

Bernick.

I was sure it would. Where is Olaf?

Mrs. Bernick.

I allowed him to go for a walk with Dina.

Bernick.

H’m; that scatter-brained hussy, Dina——! How could she go and forthwith strike up a friendship with Johan——!

Mrs. Bernick.

Why, my dear Karsten, Dina has no idea——

Bernick.

Well, then, Johan at least should have had tact enough to take no notice of her. I could see Vigeland’s expressive glances.

Mrs. Bernick.

[Dropping her work into her lap.] Karsten, can you understand what has brought them home?

Bernick.

Well, he has a farm over there, that doesn’t seem to be very flourishing; andshementioned yesterday that they had to travel second-class——

Mrs. Bernick.

Yes, I was afraid it must be something of that sort. But thatsheshould have come withhim! She! After the terrible way she insulted you——!

Bernick.

Oh, don’t think of those old stories.

Mrs. Bernick.

How can I think of anything else? He is my own brother——; and yet it is not of him that I think, but of all the unpleasantness it will bring upon you. Karsten, I am so dreadfully afraid that——

Bernick.

What are you afraid of?

Mrs. Bernick.

Might they not think of arresting him for that money your mother lost?

Bernick.

What nonsense! Who can prove that she lost the money?

Mrs. Bernick.

Why, the whole town knows it, unfortunately; and you said yourself——

Bernick.

I said nothing. The town knows nothing whatever of the matter; it was all idle gossip.

Mrs. Bernick.

Oh, how noble you are, Karsten.

Bernick.

Put all those old stories out of your head, I say! You don’t know how you torture me by raking them up again. [He walks up and down the room;then he throws his stick away from him.] To think of their coming home just at this time, when so much depends on unmixed good-feeling, both in the press and in the town! There will be paragraphs in the papers all over the country-side. Whether I receive them well or ill, my action will be discussed, my motives turned inside out. People will rip up all those old stories—just as you do. In a society like ours——[Tosses down his gloves upon the table.] And there isn’t a soul here that I can confide in, or that can give me any support.

Mrs. Bernick.

No one at all, Karsten?

Bernick.

No; you know there is not.—That they should descend upon me just at this moment! They are certain to make a scandal in one way or another—especially she. It is nothing less than a calamity to have such people in one’s family.

Mrs. Bernick.

Well, it’s not my fault that——

Bernick.

What is not your fault? That you are related to them? No; that’s true enough.

Mrs. Bernick.

And it wasn’t I that asked them to come home.

Bernick.

Aha, there we have it! “Ididn’t ask them to come home;Ididn’t write for them;Ididn’t drag them home by the hair of their heads.” Oh, I know the whole story off by heart.

Mrs. Bernick.

[Bursting into tears.] Oh, why are you so unkind?

Bernick

Yes, that’s right; set to crying, so that the town may havethatto chatter about too. Stop this nonsense, Betty. You had better sit outside there; some one might come in. Perhaps you want people to see Madam with red eyes? It would be a nice thing indeed if it got abroad that——Ah! I hear some one in the passage. [A knock.] Come in.

[Mrs. Bernickgoes out to the verandah with her work.Aunecomes in from the right.

Aune.

Good-morning, Consul.

Bernick.

Good-morning. Well, I suppose you can guess what I want with you?

Aune.

Your clerk told me yesterday that you were not pleased with——

Bernick.

I am altogether displeased with the way things are going at the yard, Aune. You are not getting on at all with the repairs. ThePalm Treeshould have been at sea long ago. Mr. Vigeland comes worrying me about it every day. He is a troublesome partner.

Aune.

ThePalm Treecan sail the day after to-morrow.

Bernick.

At last! But the American, theIndian Girl, that has been lying here five weeks, and——

Aune.

The American? I sort of understood that we was to do all we could to get your own ship out of hand first.

Bernick.

I have given you no reason for such an idea. You should have made all possible progress with the American too; but you have done nothing.

Aune.

The vessel’s bottom is as rotten as matchwood, Consul; the more we patch at it the worse it gets.

Bernick.

That is not the real reason. Krap has told me the whole truth. You don’t understand how to work the new machines I have introduced—or rather, youwon’twork with them.

Aune.

I’m getting on in years, Consul Bernick—nigh upon sixty. From a boy I’ve been used to the old ways——

Bernick.

They are quite inadequate nowadays. You mustn’t think, Aune, that it’s a question of mere profit; luckily I could do without that; but I must consider the community I live in, and the business I have to manage. It is from me that progress must come, or it will never come at all.

Aune.

I have nought to say against progress, Consul.

Bernick.

No, for your own narrow circle, for the working class. Oh, I know all about your agitations! You make speeches; you stir people up; but when it comes to a tangible piece of progress, as in the case of the machines, you will have nothing to do with it; you are afraid.

Aune.

Yes, I’m afraid, Consul; I’m afraid for the hundreds of poor folks as the machines’ll take the bread out of their mouths. You talk a deal of duty towards Society, Consul, but it seems to me as Society has duties of its own as well. What business have science and capital to bring all these new-fangled inventions into the field before Society has turned out a breed of men that can use them?

Bernick.

You read and think too much, Aune; it does you no good; that is what makes you dissatisfied with your position.

Aune.

It’s not that, Consul; but I can’t abear to see one good workman after another packed off to starve for the sake of these machines.

Bernick.

H’m; when printing was discovered, many copyists had to starve.

Aune.

Would you have thought printing such a fine thing, Consul, if you’d have been a copyist?

Bernick.

I didn’t get you here to argue with you. I sent for you to tell you that theIndian Girlmust be ready to sail the day after to-morrow.

Aune.

Why, Consul——

Bernick.

The day after to-morrow, do you hear? At the same time as our own ship; not an hour later. I have my reasons for hurrying on the affair. Have you read this morning’s paper? Ah!—then you know that the Americans have been making disturbances again. The ruffianly crew turn the whole town topsy-turvy. Not a night passes without fights in the taverns or on the street; not to speak of other abominations.

Aune.

Yes, they’re a bad lot, for certain.

Bernick.

And who gets the blame of all this? It is I—yes, I—that suffer for it. These wretched newspaper-men are covertly carping at us for giving our whole attention to thePalm Tree. And I, whose mission it is to set an example to my fellow citizens, must have such things thrown in my teeth! I won’t bear it. I cannot have my name bespattered in this way.

Aune.

Oh, the name of Bernick is good enough to bear that, and more.

Bernick.

Not just now; precisely at this moment I need all the respect and goodwill of my fellow citizens,I have a great undertaking in hand, as you have probably heard; and if evil-disposed persons should succeed in shaking people’s unqualified confidence in me, it may involve me in the most serious difficulties. I must silence these carping and spiteful scribblers at any cost; and that iswhyI give you till the day after to-morrow.

Aune.

You might just as well give me till this afternoon, Consul Bernick.

Bernick.

You mean that I am demanding impossibilities?

Aune.

Yes, with the present working staff——

Bernick.

Oh, very well;—then we must look about us elsewhere.

Aune.

Would you really turn off still more of the old workmen?

Bernick.

No, that is not what I am thinking of.

Aune.

I’m certain sure, if you did, there would be a fine to-do both in the town and in the newspapers.

Bernick.

Very possibly; therefore I won’t do it. But if theIndian Girlis not cleared the day after to-morrow, I shall dismissyou.

Aune.

[With a start.] Me! [Laughing.] Oh, that’s only your joke, Consul.

Bernick.

I advise you not to trust to that.

Aune.

You can think of turningmeaway! Why, my father before me, andhisfather too, worked in the shipyard all their lives; and I myself——

Bernick.

Who forces me to it?

Aune.

You want me to do things as can’t be done, Consul.

Bernick.

Oh, where there’s a will there’s a way. Yes or no? Answer me definitely, or I dismiss you on the spot.

Aune.

[Coming nearer.] Consul Bernick, have you rightly bethought what it means to turn an old workman away? You say he can look about for another job. Ay, ay, maybe he can—but is that everything? Ah, you should just see what it looks like in a turned-off workman’s house, the night when he comes home and puts his tool-chest behind the door.

Bernick.

Do you think I part with you willingly? Haven’t I always been a good master to you?

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