Chapter 7

The Chamberlain.

Aha, it is you the ladies are paying court to, Mr. Stensgård! I must look to this.

Thora.

[Softly toFieldbo.] Remain here!

[She goes into the garden.

Erik.

[OffersSelmahis arm.] Has Madame any objection——?

Selma.

Come![They go out to the right.

The Chamberlain.

[Looking after them.] It’s impossible to get these two separated.

Fieldbo.

It would be sinful to try.

The Chamberlain.

Fools that we are! How Providence blesses us in spite of ourselves. [Calls out.] Thora, Thora, do look after Selma! Get a shawl for her, and don’t let her run about so: she’ll catch cold! How short-sighted we mortals are, Doctor! Do you know any cure for that disease?

Fieldbo.

The spectacles of experience; through them you will see more clearly a second time.

The Chamberlain.

You don’t say so! Thanks for the advice. But since you feel yourself at home here, you must really pay a little attention to your guests.

Fieldbo.

Certainly; come, Stensgård, shall we——?

The Chamberlain.

Oh, no, no—there’s my old friend Heire out there——

Fieldbo.

He thinks himself at home here too.

The Chamberlain.

Ha ha ha! So he does.

Fieldbo.

Well, we two will join forces, and do our best.

[Goes into the garden.

Stensgård.

You were speaking of Daniel Heire, Chamberlain. I must say I was rather surprised to see him here.

The Chamberlain.

Were you? Mr. Heire and I are old school and college friends. Besides, we have had a good deal to do with each other in many ways since——

Stensgård.

Yes, Mr. Heire was good enough to give his own account of some of these transactions, yesterday evening.

The Chamberlain.

H’m!

Stensgård.

Had it not been for him, I certainly should not have let myself boil over as I did. But he has a way of speaking of people and things, that—in short, he has a vile tongue in his head.

The Chamberlain.

My dear young friend—Mr. Heire is my guest; you must not forget that. My house is liberty hall, with only one reservation: my guests must not be discussed to their disadvantage.

Stensgård.

I beg your pardon, I’m sure——!

The Chamberlain.

Oh, never mind; you belong to the younger generation, that’s not so punctilious. As for Mr. Heire, I don’t think you really know him. I, at any rate, owe Mr. Heire a great deal.

Stensgård.

Yes, so he gave one to understand; but I didn’t think——

The Chamberlain.

I owe him the best part of our domestic happiness, Mr. Stensgård! I owe him my daughter-in-law. Yes, that is really so. Daniel Heire was kind to her in her childhood. She was a youthful prodigy; she gave concerts when she was only ten years old. I daresay you have heard her spoken of—Selma Sjöblom.[15]

Stensgård.

Sjöblom? Yes, of course; her father was Swedish?

The Chamberlain.

Yes, a music-teacher. He came here many years ago. Musicians, you know, are seldom millionaires; and their habits are not always calculated to——; in short, Mr. Heire has always had an eye for talent; he was struck with the child, and had her sent to Berlin; and then, when her father was dead and Heire’s fortunes were on the wane, she returned to Christiania, where she was of course taken up by the best people. That was how my son happened to fall in with her.

Stensgård.

Then in that way old Daniel Heire has indeed been an instrument for good——

The Chamberlain.

That is how one thing leads to another in this life, you see. We are all instruments, Mr. Stensgård; you, like the rest of us; an instrument of wrath, I suppose——

Stensgård.

Oh, don’t speak of it, Chamberlain. I am utterly ashamed——

The Chamberlain.

Ashamed?

Stensgård.

It was most unbecoming——

The Chamberlain.

The form was perhaps open to criticism, but the intention was excellent. And now I want to ask you, in future, when you are contemplating any move of the sort, just to come to me and tell me of it openly, and without reserve. You know we all want to act for the best; and it is my duty——

Stensgård.

You will permit me to speak frankly to you?

The Chamberlain.

Of course I will. Do you think I haven’t long realised that matters here have in some ways taken a most undesirable turn? But what was I to do? In the late King’s time I lived for the most part in Stockholm. I am old now; and besides, it is not in my nature to take the lead in reforms, or tothrow myself personally into the turmoil of public affairs. You, on the other hand, Mr. Stensgård, have every qualification for them; so let us hold together.

Stensgård.

Thanks, Chamberlain; many, many thanks!

RingdalandDaniel Heireenter from the garden.

Ringdal.

And I tell you it must be a misunderstanding.

Heire.

Indeed? I like that! How should I misunderstand my own ears?

The Chamberlain.

Anything new, Heire?

Heire.

Only that Anders Lundestad is going over to the Stonelee party.

The Chamberlain.

Oh, you’re joking!

Heire.

I beg your pardon, my dear sir; I have it from his own lips. Mr. Lundestad intends, on account of failing health, to retire from political life; you can draw your own conclusions from that.

Stensgård.

He told you so himself?

Heire.

Of course he did. He made the momentous announcement to an awe-struck circle down in the garden; hee-hee!

The Chamberlain.

Why, my dear Ringdal, what can be the meaning of this?

Heire.

Oh, it’s not difficult to guess.

The Chamberlain.

Indeed it is though. This is a most important affair for the district. Come along, Ringdal; we must find the man himself.

[He andRingdalgo down the garden.

Fieldbo.

[Entering by the furthest back garden-door.] Has the Chamberlain gone out?

Heire.

Sh! The sages are deliberating! Great news, Doctor! Lundestad is going to resign.

Fieldbo.

Oh, impossible!

Stensgård.

Can you understand it?

Heire.

Ah, now we may look out for real sport. It’s the League of Youth that’s beginning to work, Mr. Stensgård. Do you know what you should call your League? I’ll tell you some other time.

Stensgård.

Do you think it’s really our League——?

Heire.

Not the least doubt about it. So we’re to have the pleasure of sending our respected friend Mr. Mons Monsen to Parliament! I wish he were off already;—I’d give him a lift with pleasure——I say no more; hee-hee!

[Goes into the garden.

Stensgård.

Tell me, Fieldbo—how do you explain all this?

Fieldbo.

There are other things still more difficult to explain. How comeyouto be here?

Stensgård.

I? Like the rest, of course—by invitation.

Fieldbo.

I hear you were invited yesterday evening—after your speech——

Stensgård.

What then?

Fieldbo.

How could you accept the invitation?

Stensgård.

What the deuce was I to do? I couldn’t insult these good people.

Fieldbo.

Indeed! You couldn’t? What about your speech then?

Stensgård.

Nonsense! It was principles I attacked in my speech, not persons.

Fieldbo.

And how do you account for the Chamberlain’s invitation?

Stensgård.

Why, my dear friend, there can only be one way of accounting for it.

Fieldbo.

Namely, that the Chamberlain is afraid of you?

Stensgård.

By heaven, he shall have no reason to be! He is a gentleman.

Fieldbo.

That he is.

Stensgård.

Isn’t it touching the way the old man has taken this affair? And how lovely Miss Bratsberg looked when she brought me the letter!

Fieldbo.

But look here—they haven’t mentioned the scene of yesterday, have they?

Stensgård.

Not a word; they have far too much tact for that. But I am filled with remorse; I must find an opportunity of apologising——

Fieldbo.

I strongly advise you not to! You don’t know the Chamberlain——

Stensgård.

Very well; then my acts shall speak for me.

Fieldbo.

You won’t break with the Stonelee party?

Stensgård.

I shall bring about a reconciliation. I have my League; it’s a power already, you see.

Fieldbo.

By-the-bye, while I remember—we were speaking of Miss Monsen—I advised you to go in and win——

Stensgård.

Oh, there’s no hurry——

Fieldbo.

But listen; I have been thinking it over: you had better put all that out of your head.

Stensgård.

I believe you are right. If you marry into an underbred family, you marry the whole tribe of them.

Fieldbo.

Yes, and there are other reasons——

Stensgård.

Monsen is an underbred fellow; I see that now.

Fieldbo.

Well, polish is not his strong point.

Stensgård.

No, indeed it’s not! He goes and speaks ill of his guests; that’s ungentlemanly. His rooms all reek of stale tobacco——

Fieldbo.

My dear fellow, how is it you haven’t noticed the stale tobacco before?

Stensgård.

It’s the contrast that does it. I made a false start when I settled here. I fell into the clutches of a clique, and they bewildered me with their clamour. But there shall be an end to that! I won’t go and wear my life out as a tool in the hands of self-interest or coarse stupidity.

Fieldbo.

But what will you do with your League?

Stensgård.

The League shall remain as it is; it’s founded on a pretty broad basis. Its purpose is to counteract noxious influences; and I am just beginning to realise what side the noxious influences come from.

Fieldbo.

But do you think the “Youth” will see it in the same light?

Stensgård.

Theyshall! I have surely a right to expect fellows like that to bow before my superior insight.

Fieldbo.

But if they won’t?

Stensgård.

Then they can go their own way. I have done with them. You don’t suppose I am going to let my life slip into a wrong groove, and never reach the goal, for the sake of mere blind, pig-headed consistency!

Fieldbo.

What do you call the goal?

Stensgård.

A career that gives scope for my talents, and fulfils my aspirations.

Fieldbo.

No vague phrases! What do you mean by your goal?

Stensgård.

Well, to you I can make a clean breast of it. My goal is this: in the course of time to get into Parliament, perhaps into the Ministry, and to marry happily into a family of means and position.

Fieldbo.

Oh, indeed! And by help of the Chamberlain’s social connections you intend to——?

Stensgård.

I intend to reach the goal by my own exertions! I must and will reach it; and without help from any one. It will take time, I daresay; but never mind! Meanwhile I shall enjoy life here, drinking in beauty and sunshine——

Fieldbo.

Here?

Stensgård.

Yes, here! Here there are fine manners; life moves gracefully here; the very floors seem laid to be trodden only by lacquered shoes. Here the arm-chairs are deep and the ladies sink exquisitely into them. Here conversation moves lightly and elegantly, like a game at battledore; here no blunders come plumping in to make an awkward silence. Oh, Fieldbo—here I feel for the first time what distinction means! Yes, we have indeed an aristocracy of our own; a little circle; an aristocracy of culture; and to it I will belong. Don’t you yourself feel the refining influence of this place? Don’t you feel that wealth here loses its grossness? When I think of Monsen’s money, I seem to see piles of fetid bank-notes and greasy mortgages—but here! here it is shimmering silver! And the people are the same. Look at the Chamberlain—what a fine high-bred old fellow!

Fieldbo.

He is indeed.

Stensgård.

And the son—alert, straightforward, capable!

Fieldbo.

Certainly.

Stensgård.

And then the daughter-in-law! Isn’t she a pearl? Good God, what a rich, what a fascinating nature!

Fieldbo.

Thora—Miss Bratsberg has that too.

Stensgård.

Oh yes; but she is less remarkable.

Fieldbo.

Oh, you don’t know her. You don’t know how deep, and steadfast, and true her nature is.

Stensgård.

But oh, the daughter-in-law! So frank, almost reckless; and yet so appreciative, so irresistible——

Fieldbo.

Why, I really believe you’re in love with her.

Stensgård.

With a married woman? Are you crazy? What good wouldthatdo me? No, but I am falling in love—I can feel that plainly. Yes, she is indeed deep, and steadfast, and true.

Fieldbo.

Who?

Stensgård.

Miss Bratsberg, of course.

Fieldbo.

What? You’re never thinking of——?

Stensgård.

Yes, by heaven I am!

Fieldbo.

I assure you it’s quite out of the question.

Stensgård.

Ho-ho! Will rules the world, my dear fellow! We shall see if it doesn’t.

Fieldbo.

Why, this is the merest extravagance! Yesterday it was Miss Monsen——

Stensgård.

Oh, I was too hasty about that; besides, you yourself advised me not to——

Fieldbo.

I advise you most emphatically to dismiss all thought of either of them.

Stensgård.

Indeed! Perhaps you yourself think of throwing the handkerchief to one of them?

Fieldbo.

I? No, I assure you——

Stensgård.

Well, it wouldn’t have mattered if you had. If people stand in my way and want to balk me of my future, why, I stick at nothing.

Fieldbo.

Take care I don’t say the same!

Stensgård.

You! What right have you to pose as guardian and protector to Chamberlain Bratsberg’s family?

Fieldbo.

I have at least the right of a friend.

Stensgård.

Pooh! that sort of talk won’t do with me. Your motive is mere self-interest! It gratifies your petty vanity to imagine yourself cock-of-the-walk in this house; and so I am to be kept outside the pale.

Fieldbo.

That is the best thing that could happen to you. Here you are standing on hollow ground.

Stensgård.

Am I indeed? Many thanks! I shall manage to prop it up.

Fieldbo.

Try; but I warn you, it will fall through with you first.

Stensgård.

Ho-ho! So you are intriguing against me, are you? I’m glad I have found it out. I know you now; you are my enemy, the only one I have here.

Fieldbo.

Indeed I am not.

Stensgård.

Indeed you are! You have always been so, ever since our school-days. Just look around here and see how every one appreciates me, stranger as I am. You, on the other hand, you who know me, have never appreciated me. That is the radical weakness of your character—you can never appreciate any one. What did you do in Christiania but go about from tea-party to tea-party, spreading yourself out in little witticisms? That sort of thing brings its own punishment! You dull your sense for all that makes life worth living, for allthat is ennobling and inspiring; and presently you get left behind, fit for nothing.

Fieldbo.

Am I fit for nothing?

Stensgård.

Have you ever been fit to appreciate me?

Fieldbo.

What was I to appreciate in you?

Stensgård.

My will, if nothing else. Every one else appreciates it—the crowd at the fête yesterday—Chamberlain Bratsberg and his family——

Fieldbo.

Mr. Mons Monsen and his ditto——! And by-the-bye, that reminds me—there’s some one out here waiting for you——

Stensgård.

Who?

Fieldbo.

[Going towards the back.] One who appreciates you. [Opens the door and calls.] Aslaksen, come in!

Stensgård.

Aslaksen?

Aslaksen.

[Entering.] Ah, at last!

Fieldbo.

Good-bye for the present; I won’t intrude upon friends in council.

[Goes into the garden.

Stensgård.

What in the devil’s name do you want here?

Aslaksen.

Imustspeak to you. You promised me yesterday an account of the founding of the League, and——

Stensgård.

I can’t give it you; it must wait till another time.

Aslaksen.

Impossible, Mr. Stensgård; the paper appears to-morrow morning.

Stensgård.

Nonsense! It has all to be altered. The matter has entered on a new phase; new forces have come into play. What I said about Chamberlain Bratsberg must be entirely recast before it can appear.

Aslaksen.

Oh, that about the Chamberlain,that’sin type already.

Stensgård.

Then it must come out of type again.

Aslaksen.

Not go in?

Stensgård.

I won’t have it published in that form. Why do you stare at me? Do you think I don’t know how to manage the affairs of the League?

Aslaksen.

Oh, certainly; but you must let me tell you——

Stensgård.

No arguing, Aslaksen; that I can’t and won’t stand!

Aslaksen.

Do you know, Mr. Stensgård, that you are doing your best to take the bread out of my mouth? Do you know that?

Stensgård.

No; I know nothing of the sort.

Aslaksen.

But you are. Last winter, before you came here, my paper was looking up. I edited it myself, I must tell you, and I edited it on a principle.

Stensgård.

You?

Aslaksen.

Yes, I!—I said to myself: it’s the great public that supports a paper; now the great public is the bad public—that comes of the local situation; and the bad public will have a bad paper. So you see I edited it——

Stensgård.

Badly! Yes, that’s undeniable.

Aslaksen.

Well, and I prospered by it. But then you came and brought ideas into the district. The paper took on a colour, and then Lundestad’s supporters all fell away. The subscribers that are left won’t pay their subscriptions——

Stensgård.

Ah, but the paper has become a good one.

Aslaksen.

I can’t live on a good paper. You were to make things lively; you were to grapple with abuses, as you promised yesterday. The bigwigs were to be pilloried; the paper was to be filled with things people were bound to read—and now, you leave me in the lurch——

Stensgård.

Ho-ho! You think I am going to keep you supplied with libels! No, thank you, my good sir!

Aslaksen.

Mr. Stensgård, you musn’t drive me to desperation, or you’ll repent it.

Stensgård.

What do you mean?

Aslaksen.

I mean that I must make the paper pay in another way. Heaven knows I should be sorry to do it. Before you came I made an honest living out of accidents and suicides and other harmless things, that often hadn’t even happened. But now you have turned everything topsy-turvy; people now want very different fare——

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