PLAYS
BY
BJORNSTJERNE BJORNSON
SECOND SERIES
PLAYS
BY
BJORNSTJERNE BJORNSON
SECOND SERIES
LOVE AND GEOGRAPHY (geografi og kjaerlighed)
BEYOND HUMAN MIGHT (over evne: annex stykke)
LABOREMUS (laboremus)
TRANSLATED FROM THE NORWEGIAN WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY
EDWIN BJORKMAN
t ;
NEW YORK
CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS
1914
COPTRIQHT, 1914, BT
CHARLES SCRIBNERS SONS
Published February, 1014
CONTENTS
PAGE
Introduction 1
Love and Geography 13
Beyond Human Might 113
Laboremus 225
ivil8?aG0
INTRODUCTION
IJM ''^^
2/
INTRODUCTION
It has been said that Bjornson was the first dramatist who
— in "A Business Failure" {E71 Fallit) — succeeded in creating
a genuine home atmosphere on the stage. And speaking of
"Love and Geography," the late Henrik Jaeger, Norway 's fore-
most literary historian, had this to say: "Bjornson is as con-
sistent in his glorification of the home and the family as is Ibsen
in raising the personality, the individual, to the skies. ... In
the name of personal self-expression, Ibsen lets a wife leave
her home to seek by herself a way toward clearness and inde-
pendence; in the name of the home, Bjornson brings an es-
tranged married couple back into each other's arms."
This intense feeling for home and home ties asserts itself in
all of Bjornson's work. It was part of his nature and may
to some extent have been derived from his peasant ancestry, j
Whenever he refers to this side of man's existence, his voice
seems to grow mellower, his imagination more vivid. Few
have surpassed him in the power of endowing a domestic in-
terior vdth that warm light which flows from an open fire in
the gloaming, when there is no other light to rival it. And
he seemed to have a special genius for presenting every kind
of relationship based on blood-kindred in the most attractive
colours. In illustration may be quoted the exquisite scene
between brother and sister in the second act of "Beyond
Human Might."
It would not be safe, however, to conclude that " Love and
Geography" is a sermon preached on behalf of the home as
opposed — one might say — to the individuals within it.
3
4 INTRODUCTION
Bjornson's concern for the right of every personaHty to expand
freely in accordance with the laws and tendencies of its own
nature was hardly less eager than that of Ibsen. And it will
be as correct, in considering the first play of the present
volume, to place the emphasis on Karen Tygesens initial re-
volt as on her final regrets at having revolted. It is true that
the play, as it progresses, increasingly accentuates the dangers
to which all the members of a family become exposed through
the weakening of their sense of unity and community. But
nevertheless its ultimate lesson seems likely to be that a home
which does not offer reasonable freedom to all its members is
doomed to perish.
In a way the attitude taken by Bjornson in this work
may be considered old-fashioned, as he persists in regarding
woman as primarily man's helpmate. But within these lim-
its he is radical and modern enough to satisfy the most ad-
vanced demands. The play, we must remember, was written
in 1885, when we had barely begun to feel the economic
revolution which since then has swept so many millions of
women from their old domestic moorings into the whirlpool
of industrial competition. It was only natural that, at such a
time, Bjornson might still accept the home as "woman's
sphere." And it is the more to his credit that, even at that
time, he refused to make it her prison.
The note struck from the first is one of protest against the
selfish tendency of the artist or the thinker to consiiler his
work as an end in itself, and as such superior to the life which
it ought to be serving. A play of nuich later date and out-
look having very much in conunon with "Love and Geog-
raphy" is Bernard Shaw's "Man and Superman." The
central theme of both is the same, no matter how much
the two treatments of it may diff<T. And the outcome is
pretty much the same in both cases, for tlie submission of
INTRODUCTION 5
John Tanner to marriage is essentially the equivalent of Pro-
fessor Tygesen's withdrawal of matters geographical from all
home precincts not specifically set aside for his own use.
And both surrenders mean in the last analysis that the in-
dividual's right to free development becomes meaningless
whenever it threatens to defeat the liigher rights of the race
or of life itself.
Like so many other plays by Bjornson, this one has been
worked over in the course of the years. Originally the part of
Henning was much more conspicuous, and a great deal more
stress was laid on the dangers at his hands to which both
mother and daughter became exposed through the breaking
up of the home. To the distinct advantage of the play, this
element in its plot has been toned down and pushed into the
background. As the play stands now, it brings home to us
very forcibly one of the most notable qualities of Bjornson's
dramatic work: the charm, the jolly large-heartedness, the
contagious -good humour which he infused into so many of his
characters. It was so much a part of his own nature that he
seems to have expected its presence in everybody else. And
the withholding of it was the worst judgment he could pass
on one of liis characters.
To our surprise and pleasure, we meet with this quality
even in a man like Pastor Sang in "Beyond Our Power,"
whom very few playwrights could have made anything but a
splenetic prude. We find it overflowing in a character like
Professor Tygesen, and its presence alone prevents him from
sinking wholly to the level of the typical domestic tyrant.
Tygesen is not only a man of imagination, but a man with a
keen sense of humour. Even at his worst, there is a glimmer
of mischief in the corner of his eye. He loves to tease — per-
haps his love of it is largely at the bottom of all the trouble.
His mind is naturally turned outward in eager study of a
6 INTRODUCTION
vast, multiform world. And so the reconciliation between
liim and his wife is rendered not only possible but probable.
It is well recognised that in Tygesen Bjornson was caricatur-
ing himself, and for this reason the part has always been
played in a make-up suggestive of the author.
"Love and Geography" is very broad comedy, turning in
spots into outright farce. Yet it is as serious in purpose and
as close to life in all its bearings as the most tear-dripping
tragedy. This is another constantly recurring characteristic
of Bjornson's work — and one, I think, that should make him
particularly attractive to the English-speaking public: he can
discuss problems without raving, and preach sermons without
whining. He is so strong, so full of life, that he can afford to
smile in the presence of serious difficulties — confident as he
is that mankind sooner or later will overcome any difficulty
against which it brings its full energy to bear.
In this, as in many other respects, Bjornson came closer to
the American spirit than any other one of the great Scandi-
navian writers of the last century. He himself was always
conscious of this kinship, and it was with the joyof a child that
he set out for the United States in September, 1880, to stay
there eight montlis. While travelling through the country he
seems to have been constantly struck by a democratic spirit
that found its expression not only in political institutions, but
in the terms on which man met man everywhere — even within
the walls of a prison. One day he was taken to visit the
Massachusetts State Prison at Concord, his host and guiile
being Gov'crnor John Davis Ixing. A convict, hearing of the
presence of the chief executive within the prison, asked the
privilege of a talk with him in order that he might apjK-al for
pardon. 'J'his talk took place in the warden's office, and to
Bjornson's intense surprise and <lelight the first thing done
by the governor was to make the convict sit down on a chair
INTRODUCTION 7
close to his own. Bjornson wrote home of this scene, adding
some memories of a very different nature: King Oscar seated
at a dining-table while his host, Count Wedel — the country's
foremost citizen at the time — was waiting on him without
being permitted to sit down once during the lengthy meal; a
cabinet minister keeping an oflBcial from his department
standing for thirty minutes while delivering a report; and
so on.
In mentioning this, I have more than its anecdotal interest
in mind. I wish to make it easier for non-Scandinavian read-
ers to understand those scenes in "Beyond Human Might"
where Holger and the workmen come in direct contact with
each other. To American readers in particular, the arrogance
of Holger before the catastrophe and the cringing humility of
the workmen after it may seem equally exaggerated. But at
the time when the play was written, in 1895, the modern
labour movement had not yet gained its present hold on the
Scandinavian countries. Since then things have changed
tremendously. But then the sharp line between upper and
lower class was still practically intact, and the attitude of
employer toward employee was frequently one of unbearable
insolence. The scene in the third act of "Beyond Human
Might," though somewhat theatrical in its defiant speeches,
is in spirit largely true to the life of that day.
Industrialism was then young in all the Scandinavian coun-
tries, but especially in Norway. On his own ground the
peasant retained his ancient independence of spirit and man-
ners. But turned into a city workman he lost his old class
pride as well as the sense of strength springing from an imme-
diate relation to the main sources of human sustenance.
Dragged from his native soil, he fell for a while into a state
of abject subservience, out of which the best of his class could
save themselves only by emigration. To Bjornson every
8 INTRODUCTION
phase of this spectacle was a constant cause of provocatif)n,
and he strove through a long lifetime to force the educated
and propertied classes into assuming a juster and wiser at-
titude toward those on whose toil their own prosperity and
supposed superiority finally rested.
"Beyond Human Might" — as, for several reasons, it has
been found expedient to name the present version of the second
of the two plays which Bjornson named "Beyond Our Power"
— is not, however, primarily a treatment of the relationship
between capital and labour, or between employer and em-
ployee. At its heart lies the same cry that rings so passion-
ately out of the previous play with the same original name
(Over Evne) : Bjornson's protest against the tyranny of the
supernatural, the infinite, the "boundless." At one time able
to accept established Christianity as a sufficient formulation
of life's highest truths, he had been led by the reading of
Darwin, Spencer, Mill, and Comte to take a new position,
whence the Christian placing of life's purpose beyond all life
actually known to man seemed the greatest obstacle ever
interposed between mankind and a happier existence.
What he had come to feel as a menacing peril as well as a
hampering clog was man's tendency to waste his energy, his
passion, his faith, on problems which, at the best, could
merely furnish his mental faculties with a fascinating game,
while at the same time he was slighting or wholly neglecting
his actual environing conditions. Bjornson had come to feel
that man was everlastingly hoping to achieve through a mir-
acle, through some one world-shaking event, what could
only be conquered step by step through age-long, unremit-
ting, well-directed toil. And so he had come to hate and
dread that queer streak in man's make-up — that "craving
for the boundless" — which seemed all the time to take the
ground from under his reason at the moment when he most
INTRODUCTION 9
needed it. And whether the expected miracle was religious
or political, spiritual or social, made no difference to him.
In each and every case he found it a veil thrown between
man and his actual goal — if not a new abyss opening beside
his already sufficiently dangerous path.
"Our consciences can be no reliable guides to us," declares
Bratt in the second act, "for they have never been at home on
earth or in the present. We are always striving for Utopias,
for the boundless "
"Can you imagine anything more cruel," cries Rachel in
the last act, "than a power within ourselves that goads us on
to that which our whole nature resists.? How can happiness
be possible on this earth until our reasoning faculties become
so spontaneous that no one can use us like that?"
Throughout this play as well as the earlier one, it is Rachel
who acts as spokesman for the author. The choice of a
woman for this part is not exceptional with Bjornson. On
the contrary, like Ibsen, he was always making women his
mouthpieces. This was characteristic of his view of woman
as nearer to the fountainhead of life, as more in accord with
its fundamental purposes. She was to him not a being su-
perior to the male, but an indispensable corrective without
which the masculine tendencies toward experiment and ab-
straction would send the world flying into uncharted and un-
livable regions.
As I have already mentioned, this play bears in the orig-
inal the same name as "Beyond Our Power." It is a sequel
but can hardly be called a second part. The two plays are
wholly independent of each other. It is not necessary to
read one in order to understand or enjoy the other, although
a knowledge of the earlier play will add to the appreciation
— and probably also facilitate the understanding — of the later.
Four of the characters in the first play reappear in the sequel.
10 INTRODUCTION
They are Elias and Rachel, Draft, and Fallc. In each case the
later phiy shows a logical development of temperamental
traits already indicated in the earlier one. Of the new char-
acters in "Beyond Human Might," two — Credo and Spera —
may appear dangerously fantastic to many readers. They
are nevertheless irresistibly charming. And like so much
else in the play, they are symbolical rather than real. They
are the future, the new mankind, stripped of all futile dreams
— and, therefore, the richer in dreams that may come true.
Nor must Credo's various plans for the improvement of human
existence be taken too literally. It is the spirit of the whole
thing — the glowing faith that shines through it — wliich should
furnish us with inspiration, no matter how insufficient or even
childish any detail of the boy's programme may appear to us.
Like all the world's greatest dreamers, Bjornson was too
brave or too innocent to stop before the risk of seeming ridic-
ulous. And if the inventions on which Credo reared his young
hope should strike many as rather too materialistic, that must
be accepted as a part of Bjornson's own reaction against the
days when he, like Bratt, "spent his time wool-gathering in
another world."
To make it easier for the reader to follow the action, which
is not always as clearly indicated as might be desirable, I
want to point out that Ilalden, the architect, is revealed to us
— by hints rather than by open statements— as the natural son
of Ilolger and as the man who has instigated the deed of Elian.
"Laboremus" — "Let us work" — is an intense psycholog-
ical study, having for its central figure the striking character
of Lydia, the "Undine." This ultra-modern adventuress
is the embodiment of a principle which Bjornson ref)eatedly
attacked during the later part of his life: that principle of
overgrown, unconscionable, anti-social individualism which
has its main roots in the misconstrued philosophies of
INTRODUCTION II
Stirner and Nietzsche. Among the youth of Europe during
the last decades of the century, Bjornson found this prin-
ciple worshipped as an excuse for turning their alleged search
after self-expression into unscrupulous self-seeking, and in
one work after another he gave battle against tendencies so
hostile to all that was most sacred to liimself. The basic
theme of the play "At Storhove" {Pa Storhove), for mstance, is
almost identical with that of "Laboremus." But, for all his
burning antipathy, Bjornson was too much the artist not to
make the figure of Lydia appealingly human, and more than
one critic has found her the most attractive character in the
play.
Technically considered, the play strikes one especially by a
quality wliich may be designated as "close-knit." It con-
tains only five persons, not counting a few shadowy hotel serv-
ants, and for a few brief moments only, during the entire
three acts, does the stage hold more than two persons at the
same time. All these persons do is to talk. But what reve-
lations come to us out of their talking; what lurid flashes of
ordinarily hidden soul-depths are laid bare to us; and what
vistas of action — even of action in the sense of bodily
movement — are thrown open to us ! Of all B jornson's plays,
this is probably the one in which he approached most closely
and most successfully to the methods characteristic of
Ibsen. On the other hand, the principal objection to the
play will be found in its musical symbolism, which at points
is carried so far that the reader finds some difficulty in follow-
ing. But there is not enough of this to mar fatally a work
otherwise so instinct with fascination. Viewed in its entirety,
rather than in detail, it impresses us with an air of artistic
and intellectual grace that has few parallels in the drama
of to-day.
LOVE AND GEOGRAPHY
(GEOGRAFI OG KJ.ERLIGHED)
1885
CHARACTERS
Professor Tygesex
Karen, his idfe
Helga, their danghter
Mrs. Birgit Romer
Professor Turman
Hexning, an artist
Miss Malla Rambek
Ane, a servarit girl
LOVE AND GEOGRAPHY
(GEOGRAFI OG KJyERLIGHED)
ACT I
A large room with windows at the left. There is a door in the
opposite wall leading to Professor Tygesen's study. In
the centre of the rear wall a huge doorway opens on a wide
hall. It is hung on both sides with heavy draperies. A
stairway, laid with thick carpets and leading to an upper
floor, rises from the centre of the hall. Back of the stairway
is a door leading down to the cellar.
The hall and the stairway have the appearance of belonging to a
museum. The same is partly true of the room itself. Most
of the objects croioded into the place are ethnographical
specimens.
There is a long table on either side of the doorway, and both of
these tables are covered w>ith open books and strips of paper
arranged in little piles, tcith a stone on top of each pile.
At the right, in the foreground, stands a sofa unth a table in front
of it. A woman's saving things are on the table. An easel
with a canvas showing the portrait of a woman stands in the
foreground at the left. The room contains also a number of
chairs, a tall mirror, and other furniture, all of it in ex-
cellent taste.
The door in the rear is open and laughter is heard from the hall
outside as the curtain rises. Then Mrs. Karen Tygesen
and Mrs. Birgit Romer appear in the hall.
15
16 LOVE AND GEOGRAPHY acti
K.4.aEX. I didn't recognise you, at once.
BiRGiT. But I knew you — oh, before I saw you!
Karen. Ha, ha, ha!
BiRGiT. Yes, it was by that laugh I knew you. It hasn't
changed at all in seventeen years.
KL\REN. Ah — as if you didn't know we were living here!
[Both come into the room.
BiRGlT. I should have known you by that laugh if I had
heard it in Australia. — Yes, you have been to Australia, too,
haven't you?
Karen. AVhere haven't we been? Ha, ha, ha!
BiRGiT. Ha, ha, ha! You make me laugh, too. My, but
this is nice! [They embrace and kits each other] How you have
kept young, Karen !
Karen. How about yourself? You look almost like a girl.
BiRGiT. I must return the compliment.
Karen. I knew it wouldn't be long before you turned up.
BiRGiT. Of course, you have heard that we inherited the
old family place.
K-VREN. The "Horseshoe" — the marvel of our childhood?
BiRGiT. Yes!
Karen. I go out there at least once a week.
BiRGiT. To the "Horseshoe"?
Karen. That is, I pass it on my way to the school.
BiRGiT. Oh, yes, there is a boarding-school for girls not fur
from us.
Karen. And that's where our daughter is.
BiRGiT. Is she? You have only one child — ^and keep her in
a boarding-school?
Karen. Oh, it's such a splendid school. And besides, it
wasn't good for her to be at home. My husband must have
quiet.
ACT! LOVE AND GEOGRAPHY 17
BiRGiT. Of course, she isn't very far away — only an hour's
drive.
Karen. Yes, I visit her every Sunday.
BiRGiT. And she was in town yesterday, wasn't she.'*
Karen. Helga? — No.
BiRGiT. I noticed a couple of girls at the theatre last night,
and a lady sitting next to me remarked that one of them
looked like your daughter.
Karen. Looked like Helga.'*
BiRGiT. That's the way I happened to hear that you were
living here.
Karen. Yes, we have been living here about a year now.
BiRGiT. But I didn't know it before. I got here only the
day before yesterday. And out at the "Horseshoe" there
was only one room in which the paint had had time to dry —
the one with the big bay window, you remember.
Karen. The one that was haunted.?
BiRGiT. Yes, the one that was haunted. We can get to
it only by walking on boards. I should like to know what
kind of paint they use here in Norway — it never seems to
dry. We stick in it like flies. — Well, so I went back to the
hotel. And having to stay in the city, I thought I would go
to the theatre and look for some familiar faces — especially as
it was Sunday.
Karen. Yes, so did we.
BiRGiT. The house was full. I got a front seat in one of
the boxes. Everybody stared at me, and nobody recognised
me. Of course, I was using my opera-glasses most of the
time while the curtain was down.
Karen. Well, how did it strike you?
BiRGiT. It made me feel as if I might just as well have been
gone a hundred years. Most of it was new — so very new!
But there was also much that never seems to change. There"
18 LOVE AND GEOGRAPHY acti
was Mrs. Holm in the orchestra, just as soft and round and
cosey as ever — only it wasn't Mrs. Holm, hut her daughter,
our little friend Augusta. And there was Mrs. Holm's old
mother, just as thin and withered and fond of the show as
ever — only it wasn't Mrs. Holm's mother, but Mrs. Holm
herself.
Karen. Ha, ha — that's just the way it is!
BiRGiT. And if there had been any change at all, it meant
only — well, for instance, that the big nose of the Bruns had
shifted its place. Now you find it on the moon-faces of the
Tor pes.
Karen. Ha, ha! — There has been a lot of marrying be-
tween those two families.
BiRGiT. But what I did know wasn't a circumstance to
what I didn't.
K\REN. Yes, did you ever see anything like it.^ Most of
the people here are newcomers.
BiRGiT. We Norwegians must be a dreadfully restless lot.
Karen. On our travels we have found Norwegians every-
where — that is, where there was any water. — But you said
there was somebody there who looked like Helga?
BiRGiT. Yes, there was. — Really, I think I'll have to take
oflF my coat.
Karen. Do, please!
BiRGiT. I started out early this morning, and it was quite
cold then. And now — what sudden changes you have here!
Karen. I imagine the weather is a little sharper than it
used to be at Odessa?
BiRGlT. Oh, it could be sharp enough down there.
Karen. Let me take your coat.
BiRGiT. Oh, no!
[She puts it on one of the tony tables by the door.
Kahen cries out.
ACT I LOVE AND GEOGRAPHY 19
BiRGiT. Mercy, what's the matter?
Karen. My husband's notes — his excerpts! You've put
your coat on those he's using just now! — Heavens, there he
comes now! [She moves the coat hurriedly to a chair.
BiRGiT. I'll be glad to see him again.
Karen. [Going to the door and looking out] No, it wasn't
anybody.
BiRGiT. It wasn't anybody, you say?
Karen. No, but he'll be here in a moment now.
BiRGiT. But, dear, why has he got all his notes lying
around here?
Karen. He hasn't got room for them in there.
She picks up tlie coat carefully and hayigs it over the hack
of a chair.
BiRGiT. And all these stones here?
Karen. We'll have to put them back, each one on its own
pile. There! It's to keep the notes from getting mixed up.
— This is Russia.
BiRGiT. Russia?
Karen. That's what he is writing about now. And while
it lasts, the whole house is in Russia. — You might have caused
a lot of trouble.
BiRGiT. Well, they have plenty of it over there.
Ka.ren. All these are notes on the languages in Russia.
BiRGiT. Oh, I see.
Karen. He is busy on the languages just now. And you
can't imagine what a lot of them there are.
BiRGiT. Suppose I should take it into my head to mix up
all these languages?
Karen. It wouldn't be a joking matter, I tell you. —
There, now! I hope everything is as it was— —
BiRGiT. Before the confounding of the languages.
20 LOVE AND GEOGRAPHY acti
Karen. Ha, ha! It's such fun that you haven't changed
the least Httle bit!
BiRGiT. Is that so? [Tfwij come forward again, but stop in
front of the windoics] How beautiful this land of ours is! I
don't see how I could have forgotten it. Perhaps I had
never noticed it. I was so very young when I left.
KL\REN'. Yes, it is beautiful.
BiRGiT. And what a spring! I feel as if I had never seen
a spring before.
Karen. And yet some p)eopre say we have no spring at all.
BiRGiT. Then it must be the summer that looks like spring.
Really, I must make a tour of the country. They tell me
there are places surpassing even this one in beauty.
Karen. Yes, here you'll find prettiness and grandeur side
by side.
Birgit. Now, for instance, that young leafage, and that
greensward over there — did you ever see anything more deli-
cate? And the colour of it! And the colour on the hills!
What life there is in it! — But the people look as if they
were not very happy.
Karen. Not happy enough to suit you.
Birgit. They look as if they were going out to the ceme-
tery to put flowers on a grave. — Oh, dear, do you paint?
Karen. No, I am being painted. I'll move the easel for-
ward a little, so you can see.
Birgit. But that's the work of a master.
Karen. Yes, he is a master. You must have seen his
name quite often — Henning.
Birgit. Oh, Henning! But it's excellent, Karen!
Karen. You think so ?
Birgit. Is it possible that he's in love with you?
K.\REN. Why, the idea — ! Ila, ha!
ACT I LOVE AND GEOGRAPHY 21
BiRGiT. But there is something about the way he has seen
you — And then you brightened up all of a sudden
Karen. Did I?
BiRGiT. You know, there is something about painting that
makes it so easy to slip.
Karen. But, Birgit! You don't speak from personal ex-
perience, do you?
Birgit. Partly. Once I met a painter who was abroad
"studying." He was married — but I am not quite sure he
knew to whom.
Karen. Well, this one is not married.
Birgit. Perhaps not — but he's so very susceptible.
Karen. How do you know.'*
Birgit. I saw him at the theatre last night.
Karen. Henning?
Birgit. He was there with those two little girls I spoke of.
And so I had to hear a thing or two about him.
Karen. From whom.'
Birgit. [While she continues to study the portrait] From
that lady sitting next to me. In one of the other boxes I
noticed two young girls and a man who were laughing and
having an awfully good time. I noticed them during the
first entr'acte, and again during the second, and so I asked
about them. The girls were sitting as far back as they could
get in order not to be seen. And I was told that one of them
looked very much like your daughter.
Karen. No, Helga wasn't there — of course, they wouldn't
let her go to the theatre without our permission. You know,
it's really a very fine school.
Birgit. All right — that's the waj' I learned you were here,
however. Everybody knows your husband. He's appar-
ently quite famous.
Karen. Yes, he has become so in the last few years.
22 LOVE AND GEOGRAPHY acti
BiRGiT. I remember seeing his name in one of the ItuHun
reviews not long ago. But he's sueh a queer fellow, I have
been told.
Karen. Really? Ha, ha! Who told ^■ou?
BiRGiT. I don't remember. Oh, yes, I can name one —
my husband.
Karen. Well, here he comes, so you can judge for yourself.
BiRGiT. Is that he out in the hall?
Karen. Yes, that's he. He has had his morning walk.
Tygesen. [Outside] Tooteroo — tooteroo — tooroo! [Ap-
pear uig in the doorway] What weather! It's just raining
sunlight! And then the fragrance! [He starts for his room.
Karen. But don't you see ?
Tygesen. What? — oh!
Karen. My husband — Mrs. Birgit Romer.
Tygesen. Birgit — Romer? That means, Birgit Hamre!
Married to old man Romer at Odessa — the fellow with the
skull-cap and the two parrots in that big. cool room with the
tiled floor. We stayed there a whole week — but you were not
at home.
Birgit. Yes, it was provoking.
Tygesen. Of course, it was provoking! — And now you
come flying from the Black Sea. To settle down at the
"Horseshoe." Lord, but that place is wonderfully situated
among the hills out there! Leaning on its arms, so to speak,
and taking in the view. [lie rests his chin on his folded hands in
illustration] Our little girl is in the school out there. A
splendid school!— Well, dear lady, when did you get here?—
Wait a moment: I must have a real look at you!
Karen. My husband is very near-sighted.
Tygesen. Those confounded field-gla-sses — on my travels,
you know — they've clear jJuUed the eyes out of my head.
Therefore — why, you are nothing but a girl.
ACT I LOVE AND GEOGRAPHY 23
BiRGiT. That's what I have been saying of your wife.
Tygesen. Karen? Married at sixteen — has a daughter of
sixteen — twice sixteen makes thirty-two. That's what
Karen is — thirty-two. Of course, we have to take oflF the
year before Helga was born.
BiRGiT. Add it, you mean.'
Tygesen. Beg your pardon! Add it — that's what we have
to do. Consequently, Karen is nearly thirty-three. So
there you see!
BiRGiT. And I am quite thirty-five.
Tygesen. Are you? But Karen looks older than you.
BiRGiT. You must be very near-sighted.
Tygesen. Really? — Let me see!
Kjvjien evades him and goes out into the hall, leaving the
door open behind her.
Tygesen. She doesn't dare! That's what I expected. —
Oh, we walked too far to-day, and I got too hot. I hope
you'll excuse me, madam, for not taking off my hat. I
have to keep it on, and my coat also, till I can change. It
was Turman's fault. Hang Turman! I couldn't make him
understand me. The fact is, he has no imagination at all.
And without imagination there can be no new discoveries:
that's what I always say. But what does Turman do? Of
course, he remembers everything he has ever laid eyes on,
and so he pieces it together in dry-as-dust fashion — all that's
known about that one thing. Just now it's Ishtar. The
goddess Ishtar, you know. There has been a lot of contro-
versy about her — an awful lot. And so he searches all the
Babylonian and Assyrian myths for every word, every line,
every sign referring to Ishtar. And in that way, you see —
by putting it together just as you put together a jig-saw
puzzle
BiRGlT. I understand
24 LOVE AND GEOGRAPHY acti
Tygesex. And by taking away all later poetical additions
— for in all myths, you know, there are poetical elements
which have been added later
BiRGiT. Of course.
Tygesex. In that way he brings out the original image.
What do you think of that?
BiRGiT. It's very ingenious.
Tygesen. Of course, it's ingenious. Turman is quite a
big man. And do you know what he has discovered in that
way?
BiRGiT. Not me, I hope. [Pause.
K.\REN. [WJio has returned in tJie meantime] How could that
interest Birgit?
Tygesen. Ha, ha, ha! I guess not! This comes from
having had to swallow so much of Turman's talk. Now it's
running over. [Karen goes into Tygesen's sfudij] We always
take our morning walk together, Turman and I, and we take
turns talking — I one day, and he the next. To-day it was his
day. — Geography and philology are more nearly related than
most people think. It was the study of languages that led
me into geography. I began as a philologist. But always
while at. work on my languages, especially the old ones, it was
as if I had heard the distant roaring of the sea in one — as if
I had heard that long-drawn, melancholy soughing of the
waves — and that incessant gentle lapping. And in another I
would hear the echoes rolling between the hills — popj)ing
and leaping and laughing. And then the languages of the
big plains — full of heavy, monotonous trudging and something
that sounded like the tramp of horses and the rattle of carts.
And in that way I saw landscapes and habits of life emerging
from the languages. It tempted me. I had to read about
the countries inhabited by those peoples. I got so deep into
it — that I had to stay forever. Well, well! — The sound, the
ACT I LOVE AND GEOGRAPHY 25
phonetic element, caught hold of my imagination from the
start. But Turman hasn't the least sense for it. Not a
vestige of it. He makes me mad! But, Lord, what doesn't
he know! Mountains of memorised facts! — Yes, in spite of
all, I have the deepest admiration for Turman. I look up
things in him as if
BiRGiT. Is he married?
Karen. [Who is just coming in] Ha, ha!
Tygesen. Karen, she asks if Turman is married!
Karen. No, he was born a bachelor.
Tygesen. If you had ever seen him — for a moment only —
you would never have asked that question, Turman comes
from the Saeter valley.^ He looks like a seal. Everybody
from that district does. And he was brought up at Chris-
tiansand — a city where there is nothing but women.
BiRGiT. Well ?
Tygesen. Oh, of course, there are a few men in the place,
too. But a fellow from Saeter, who is dumped into Chris-
tiansand to get his upbringing— eh.'' He has hated women
ever since. Turman has never in his life been mortgaged
to anybody — not for a single hour even — that's the plain
truth.
Karen. Hadn't you better go in and change now.^
Tygesen. Right away. Although, of course, I keep pretty
warm talking like this. — So you have come to live here?
— Well, what do you think of the spring here in Norway?
Birgit. Oh !
Tygesen. Yes, isn't it — ? And you are not going away
again at once?
Birgit. I'll be here all summer.
Tygesen. You've no children waiting for you, have you?
Birgit. No.
'A district in the southeastern corner of Norway.
26 LOVE AND GEOGRAPHY acti
Tygesex. Do you know, I have just been tliinking of a
quick trip down in your direction.
BiRGiT. Down to Odessa?
Tygesen. Not quite. But to Bessarabia.
BiRGiT. Why, that's next door to us.
Tygesen. Well, yes.— I have just received an article that
makes me question what I have seen with my own eyes.
Who is right? Can my own eyes have been at fault? Just
a flying visit— and the whole matter would be settled.
BiRGiT. But if you wait, we can go together.
Tygesen. No, there's no time to lose.
BiRGiT. Why?
Tygesen. Russia is in the press now. I have got far
beyond that whole matter. And I can't turn back. Kish-
inev—that's as far as I need go to settle it.
BiRGiT. Only that far?
Tygesen. Perhaps not even that far. Once I was there
alone. Karen and Helga had stayed at Budapest. Then I
dreamt of my mother. I only dream of mother when some-
thing is happening. Never at any other time.
BiRGiT. How strange!
Tygesen. Not so very strange. One's mother— that
means the family.
BiRGiT. Had anything happened?
Tygesen. That morning I telegraphed— and in the after-
noon I had a reply saying that just then— which meant the
day after the dream— both of them had been in serious danger.
And Helga was not well.
BiRGiT. And you hurried back to Budapest?
Tygesen. Of course I did!
BiRGiT. I knew your mother. She used to collect plants
and insects.
ACT I LOVE AND GEOGRAPHY 27
Tygesen. My mother taught me to see. She saved my
childish imagination from all nonsense and directed it toward
life itself. What I am I owe to mother. You see, Mrs.
Romer — a mother doesn't give us life only once, but a thou-
sand times.
Karen. Hadn't you better go and change now?
Tygesen. You're right! You're right! — Pardon me, mad-
am. It's impossible to be too careful. And I haven't time
to be sick, I tell you.
BiRGiT. To be so full}' occupied is the greatest happiness I
can think of.
Tygesen. Yes, isn't it? I couldn't live without it — no!
Oh, they talk of youth as man's happiest time. I'll be
hanged if I'd care to have it back again — with its sensuous
intoxication, and folly, and vanity, and all sorts of nonsense —
not for a trip to China would I go back to it. Although I
must say that I should like very much to make a trip to China.
BiRGiT. But I imagine there are plenty of women who
would like to have their youth back.
Tygesen. O — oh! Well! — There we are! — Yes, youth is
woman's paradise. A romance that she lives. Ball memo-
ries, moonlight, yellow note-paper. Ho-ho! — Now you have
condemned yourself. Go into the corner now and be ashamed
of yourself.
KL\REN. But, dear!
Tygesen. I am coming, I am coming! — I hope you'll par-
don me, dear lady ! I shall be delighted to have a look at the
"Horseshoe" from the inside. Ever since I was a child,
that's where I have placed all my adventures. I'll speak for
the right to spend a night alone in the big hall in order to
watch the ghost walk.
BiRGiT. That might put an end to it! Well, you're wel-
come! [As Tygesen goes out, Birgit runs over to Karen]
28 LOVE AND GEOGRAPHY acti
With a man like that I shouhi never feel bored ! I think he's
a dear!
Tygesen. [Coming in again] Odessa, you know — To reach
Odessa by the road from the interior, as we did — to sit on the
train with nothing but that immense waste all around — for
the top of that plateau is nothing but a desert ! And then to
see one mirage after another in the distance — the sea with
ships and steamers, whole cities, turrets, domes, mountains.
And it's nothing at all — just a mirage! Can you imagine
anything more like — Yes, I'll go now, I'll go now!
[He goes out.
BiRGiT, Isn't he too funny for anything?
Karen. I have made them take out some rugs that we
brought home from Asia — you must have a look at them.
They're up-stairs. We have turned the corridor up there —
and the stairway also — into a regular museum. Won't you
go up for a moment.-* I'll come up right away.
BiRGiT. Yes, I will.
Karen. You'll find Malla there, and she'll tell you all
about the rugs.
BiRGiT. Malla? — Miss Rambek, who was like a foster-
mother to you?
Karen. She has be.-?!i with us all the time.
BiRGiT. Really?
Tygesen. [Speaking jrom the study] Karen!
Karen. Just a moment — I'll be right back! [She goes out.
Birgit remains standing on the same spot, looking after
Karen. Then she walks pensively up to tlie portrait.
A bell is heard ringing in the hall. After a while it
rings again. Then it begins to ring incessantly.
Malla. [Conies running in] Yes, yes, yes!
Tygesen. [In his study] But, Malla!
Malla. [At the door to the study] What is it?
ACT I LOVE AND GEOGRAPHY 29
Karen. [Also in the study, speaking in a lowered voice] The
stomach protector !
Tygesen. [Yelling at the top of his voice] The stomach pro-
tector!
JVIalla utters a cry as she rusJies out of the room. At
that moment the hell starts ringing again.
Malla. [Comes hapk, sevring a ribbon in the stomach pro-
tector] Yes! — Yes, here I am! Here I am!
The door is opened slightly by somebody in the room
beyond.
Tygesen. [In the study] Goodness gracious, Malla, I have
never seen the like of it!
Karen. [In the study] Oh, Malla!
Malla. [Handing the stomach protector through the open-
ing in the door ivithout looking in] Mercy, it made me quite
sick!
BiRGiT. Ha, ha, ha!
Malla. Well, are you here?
BiRGiT, [Coming forward from behind the portrait] So you
had forgotten the stomach protector.^ Ha, ha, ha!
Malla. Yes, you may laugh! But I am shaking in every
limb — Well, it's about time I said "how d'you do" to you!
BiRGiT. I suppose you still remember me.^ You used to
be so nice to me in those days. Yes, those were pleasant
days. — But what in the world — I don't know whether I dare
ask ?
:Malla. What?
BiRGiT. A little while ago the landscape was ail smiles —
and then all at once
Malla. Ssh!
K\REN. [Entering] Oh, are you here? I thought you were
up-stairs looking at the rugs.
30 LOVE AND GEOGRAPHY acti
BiRGiT. I stopped to look at your portrait. The longer I
look at it, the better it seems.
Karen. That's what everybody says.
Mall.\ goes out.
BiRGiT. Would you care to give me a very great pleasure,
Karen?
Karen. What is it?
BiRGiT. While the paint is drying in the "Horseshoe," I
should like to travel a little and have a look at the country. —
You couldn't come with me, could you?
Karen. I?
BiRGiT. As my guest, of course. Oh, we might have a lot
of fun together. Just as in the old days, j'ou know.
Karen. You may be sure I should like to. I couldn't
think of a pleasanter invitation — but I can't get away from
here.
BiRGiT. The house, you mean?
Karen. No — but my husband needs such a lot of looking
after. Ever since that serious illness
BiRGiT. Oh, has he been ill?
Karen. Dreadfully. And ever since that time he cannot
be careful enough.
BiRGiT. But there is nothing about him to suggest weak-
ness. At least, he seems capable of talking ten ordinary peo-
ple off their feet.
Karen. Ha, ha, ha! Think of it! If we two could be to-
gether once more for a couple of weeks! And travelling be-
sides !
BiRGiT. Well, why shouldn't we?
Karen. He would never permit me.
BiRGiT. Permit? Have you got to ask permission?
Karen. Haven't you?
BiRGiT. No! Otherwise mv husl)an(l would also have to
ACT I LOVE AND GEOGRAPHY 31
ask my permission. But, of course, we show proper consider-
ation for each other
Karen. All right — this is the consideration I owe my
husband.
BiRGiT. When he has Malla.^ Just for a fortnight — or
three weeks.'*
Karen. Malla hasn't been strong lately. And her memory
is failing.
BiRGiT. Yes, I notice she is taking snuff for it.
Karen. Oh, you have noticed.^ That's supposed to be a
great secret.
Malla enters at that moment. Birgit and Karen look
at her and laugh.
Malla. Why are you grinning at me.?*
Karen. Oh, Malla, she saw at once!
Malla. Lord, what?
Karen. That you are taking snuff.
Malla. [Screaming and covering her face] Yes, isn't it
awful! But tell me, Mrs. Romer, how could you see it?
Birgit. I'll tell you, if you will call me Birgit as you used
to.
Malla. Indeed, I will! [Holding out her hand to Birgit]
But I can't understand ?
Birgit. All who take snuff secretly develop a peculiar habit.
Malla. Well !
Birgit. When any stranger comes near them, they do like
this without knowing it.
She rubs the hack of her right hand against her breast.
Malla. [With another little scream] And that's what I do!
Of course, I might have spilled some on my dress! Oh, it's
a nasty habit to take snuff. But I thank my Lord it isn't
morphine. And it's that wretch in there who's to blame for
it.
32 LOVE AND GEOGRAPHY acti
Karen. But, Malla!
Malla. Oh, if we are to see anything of each other, it's no
use trjung to hide it. If she can see one thing, she can see
others as well. — And he's killing me, I tell you! I am so
nervous that I begin to shake as soon as I hear him. And I
have lost my memory, too. And the only reason is that I
never have any peace. I am too old for this kind of thing,
and I just can't stand it. If it were not for Karen, I should
have left here long ago. [Sfie sits down and begins to cry] I
don't have to stay here !
Karen. But, Malla, dear!
[She throim herself on her knees beside her.
Malla, I have enough to live on.— But I can't bear the
thought that Karen should be left alone with him. Then
he would ruin her, too.
Karen is deeply stirred.
BiRGiT. I see! — And all this is the result of that serious
illness?
Malla. I wouldn't say that exactly. But it was a ques-
tion of life and death at the time — and, of course, his life has
more than ordinary value. For months afterward he was
so helpless that we had to watch him every minute.
BiRGiT. And so it became a habit?
Karen. Of course, we have ourselves to blame for it. We
should never have let it go so far.
BiRGiT. Listen to me, dear friends! Now both of you will
have to come with me on a three weeks' trip. That's all there
is to it!
Malla. We?
BiRGiT. I was talking to Karen about it a while ago. Then
I was thinking chiefly of myself. Now I want it for your
sake.
Kauen. [Almost in a whisper] And liow tii)(»ut my husband?
ACT! LOVE AND GEOGRAPHY 33
BiRGiT. [In the same tone] For his sake, too! Of course!
First of all, for his sake ! How can you expect him to discover
what you are to him, when you never leave him for a moment?
Malla. [In the same loay] How many times have I told
you so, Karen? — Oh, hundreds of times, thousands of times!
BiRGiT. And if he doesn't discover it during those three
weeks while we are travelling, you had better come and stay
with me after we get back. All you have to do is to wait.
Karen. My husband mustn't be left alone. He could
never stand the trouble it would give him.
BiRGiT. Let him find out that he can't!
Karen. What good will that do?
BiRGiT. What a question ! It will make him come to terms,
of course?
Karen. He? Never! He would rather die.
Malla. Lately he seems to have quite lost all sense. The
Lord only knows what's the matter with him.
BiRGiT. This is the time to leave him, then — just now!
Karen. It would be heartless! No, it won't do! Poor
thing, he wouldn't know what to do without us.
Malla. I can just see him raging and roaring here all by
himself. And no help to be had anywhere else! — It tickles me
to think of it!
Karen. But, Malla! — Neither one of you understands him.
It's liis nervousness. That starts his imagination going, and
then he's not himself. But it's all over in a moment. And
at bottom he's a kind-hearted soul.
Malla. Who bites! A kind-hearted soul who bites!
Whether it's his imagination or himself that bites — it hurts
just as much. And then he's so ungrateful. We are doing
everything we can for him. And the moment the least
little thing goes amiss, he tells us to go straight to hell. We
are in the way then !
34 LOVE AND GEOGRAPHY acti
BiRGiT. Well, why don't you go?
Karen. It isn't lack of gratitude. At other times he
shows himself extremely grateful. No, it's just impatience.
We must try to bear with him. Why, we have some re-
sponsibility, too.
Malla. Responsibility.? Yes, indeed! We are responsi-
ble — responsible for his losing his senses. We have to do
all kinds of things for him, but at the same time he wants
us to be out of the way. Isn't that madness? If we could
eat and sleep for him, he would make us do that too, but we
should have to be invisible wliile we did it! — Yes, you laugh!
Do you know that he kept us on tenterhooks for months in
order to get Helga, his only child, out of the house? He left
us no peace. And do you know what was back of it?
BiRGiT. What?
Malla. He wanted her room for his maps. That was all.
BiRGiT. For his maps?
Malla. For his maps. He has maps in droves, and all of
them mounted, so there's no longer room enough for them in
his study. He has taken the sitting-room away from us,
too — that beautiful room looking out on the garden. All
that's left to us is this room and the bedrooms up-stairs.
But the geography has begun to creep in here, too. Just
look!— In a little while he'll have us all cooped up in the bed-
rooms,
Karen. Yes, that's what he wants.
Malla. That's exactly what he wants. But on that point
at least Karen has been firm.
BiRGiT. Let him liave the whole house. Move out!
Come with me!
Malla. Think of being free, Karen — of breathing freel\!
And to travel — we who have been travelling so many years!
What do you say, Karen?
ACT! LOVE AND GEOGRAPHY 35
Karen. Yes, if he allows it — but he never will.
BiRGiT. You are wrong in this — absolutely wrong.
Karen. Perhaps.
Malla. That's the w^ay she is.
BiRGiT. I'll speak to him in your place — —
Karen. He wouldn't even understand. He himself lives
only for his work.
Malla. But why don't you try.' Then he'll have to give
reasons at least for not being able to spare us. And he
doesn't like to admit it!
Karen. But not now — not just now
Malla. Why not.'
BiRGiT. Isn't the portrait finished?
Karen. Yes — but — No, not just now.
BiRGiT. I'll drop in a little later then.
K,\REN. Or I'll come for you. Where are j^ou stopping?
BiRGiT. At the Grand Hotel. When can I expect you?
Karen. Will you be at home this afternoon?
Malla. Why not this morning?
Karen. I expect — well, I may as well tell you — I expect
Henniug at any moment.
Malla. To-day?
BiRGiT. Isn't he through with it? The canvas has already
been varnished?
Karen. He has been waiting for the varnish to dry. Then
he can paint on it again. And there's something he w-ants to
change.
BiRGiT. Then you'll come this afternoon?
Karen. I will. And thank you very much!
[She kisses Birgit warmly.
Malla. And thank you for wanting to have an old thing
like me along.
Birgit. But you must come along!
36 LOVE AND GEOGRAPHY acti
Karen, Malla is so fond of travelling.
Malla. Yes, I am. — What are you looking for.^
BiRGiT. My coat. Oh, there it is. — I thought you were
still abroad, and here I am, right in the midst of you! —
No, thank you, I am not going to put it on. It has turned
quite warm again.
Karen. Why don't you leave it here till this afternoon.'
Or I can have it sent over for j'ou.
BiRGiT. Yes, if you would do that, please! [She puts down
the coat again] Good-by for a little while!
Karen and Malla accompany Birgit out. Returning,
Karen goes up to tJie mirror and stands loohing in it.
Malla. [Coming in again] I have my hands full, but I
must say this much: we haven't hail a \i.sit like that since
we moved in here.
Karen. Yes, I agree with you there — at least.
Malla. [Coming closer] And we'll have to agree on other
things, too!
Karen. Malla, Malla!
Malla. Yes, something must be done! [The door-hell is
heard ringing] It cannot go on like tliis!
[She goes toward the door.
Karen. There he is now!
Malla. What "he"?
Karen. Henning. Don't you know his ring?
Malla goes out.
Henning. [Entering] Good morning, my lady!
Karen. Good morning! I am sorry I couldn't sit for you
yesterday.
Henning. It didn't matter. I had other things to do. —
Who was that pretty woman I met at the door?
Karen. Yes, isn't she?
ACT I LOVE AND GEOGRAPHY 37
Henning. Such an intellectual prettiness. And such style
— she doesn't belong here, I'm sure.
Karen. No, she has come all the way from Odessa, and
there, of course, everything is French, or else English. She is
married to that wealthy fellow, Romer, the grain dealer.
Henning. Oh, that flabby old chap ! — I saw him at Trieste
once. They were living there. People said he had a young
wife. They said also she was spending his money pretty
freely.
Karen. She had to amuse herself in some way, didn't she.''
Henning. [With a bow] That's extremely pleasant to hear.
Karen. I knew you would find it so. That's why I said it.
Henning. And I am duly grateful. People must have
some amusement, Mrs. Tygesen. Everybody has a right to it.
He arranges the easel, opens his paint-box, selects some
brushes, takes up his palette, and begins to squeeze out
colours on it.
Karen assumes her pose, leaning against the table loith
her seuiing things on it.
Karen. Yes, I heard you were amusing yourself last night.
Henning. I?
Karen. You were at the theatre with two young girls.
Henning. Oh !
Karen. Would it be impertinent to ask who they were.''
Henning. Yes, it would. I am very discreet in such mat-
ters, Mrs. Tygesen.
Karen. In such matters ?
Henning. The most innocent matters in the world. Two
kittle girls who wanted a little amusement. — But perhaps that
is not permissible?
Karen. How did they dare go to the theatre?
Henning. They don't live here. Nobody knows them.
And that's all I know about them.
38 LOVE AND GEOGRAPHY act i
Karen. But you know their names?
Henning. Yes, their names, and that they are stopping
at one of the hotels — ^prohahly witli relatives.
Karen. Probably?
Henning. I have never got further than the hotel door.
Karen. But you have tried?
Henning. Oh, out of politeness merely.
Karen. How did you happen to meet them at the theatre?
By appointment?
Henning. You seem very much interested in all this —
Who has been gossiping?
EL'iREN. The lady who left a moment ago.
Henning. Oh! — That's right — she was in the corner box
and kept her glasses on us all the time.
Karen. You must have been very much occupied with
those girls not to notice more the lady in the corner box —
you, a portrait painter! You didn't even recognise her.
Henning. No, I didn't recognise her. Well, if I did have
a little fun last night, is there anything wrong in that?
Karen. Have you never thought of marrying, Mr. Hen-
ning?
Henning. Do you think that would be more amusing?
Karen. Well, if not more amusing — at least
Henning. At least ?
Karen. After all, we don't live merely for the sake of
amusement.
Henning. I do a little work besides, Mrs. Tygesen.
Karen. Yes, nobody could reach your position without
having worked.
Henning. And work is amusing. But \\]\y shouldn't we
have a little amusement on the side, too? Just a little — hm?
Karen. Pardon me, but I can't help smiling. And yet
— what vou call amusement
ACT I LOVE AND GEOGRAPHY 39
Henning. Speak out! — Beg your pardon — the head a little
higher — that's right! Just a Httle more to the side — that's
it — thank you! — What was it you were going to say, Mrs.
Tygesen?
Karen. I don't remember.
Henning. It was something about — what I call amuse-
ment .''
Karen. Yes — perhaps others have to pay for it.
Henning. Why so? They amuse themselves, too.
Karen. Yes, but
Henning. But? You never finish.
Karen. But suppose tJiey should take it more seriously?
Henning. And "get stuck" in it, you mean?
Karen. If their feelings should be genuine, I don't think
it's nice to speak of it as "getting stuck in it."
Henning. The trouble is, Mrs. Tygesen, that these so-
called genuine feelings
Karen. So-called? — Are there, then, no genuine feelings?
Henning. Oh, heavens, I don't deny that at all! On the
contrary, it's the very thing I am looking for. In fact, I
am looking for nothing else. — Although, perhaps, that's put-
ting it a little too strong.
K.\ren. Yes, I think so, too.
Henning. You are not keeping still now. — At bottom, how-
ever, I was right in what I said. As long as the feeling re-
mains genuine, it is amusing. When it ceases to be so, I quit.
And that's where marriage begins. That's actually where it
begins.
Karen. You are against marriage?
Henning. Not more than one marriage in a hundred is real.
Karen. By "real" you mean based on love?
Henning. What else could I mean?
40 LOVE AND GEOGRAPHY act i
Karen. But marriage moans somctliing more than being
in love. That's only what it begins with.
Henning. And what is it that follows, if I may a,sk?
Tygesen. [KnteriiKj] Have i/nii been cleaning in my room
to-day.^ [He goes to one of tfie long tables in the rear] Who tlie
devil has been touching my papers.^ [Catching sight of Hen-
ning behind the portrait] Oh, are you there.^ How d'you do.'
So it was you who rang the bell, then?
Henning. Yes.
Tygesen. [Still looking for something at the table] I thought
you had finished it?
Henning. When the varnish is on. you always discover
something that has to be straightened out.
Tygesen. Where can that note be? I fear I must have
been careless enough to leave it lying on my desk last night.
And then, of course, it's gone.
Karen. I haven't touched your desk.
Tygesen. But you should sec that nobody else does, cither.
Karen. I don't think anybody has.
Tygesen. Of course not! Nobody ever touches it.
Karen. Goodness gracious, dear, how can you wear that
old dressing-gown?
Tygesen. This one? Why, this is the finest piece of clo-
thing I possess! It's the emblem of my dignity!
Henning. If you won't think it impertinent — what kind
of dignity is that the emblem of?
Tygesen. I'll tell you. It means that I am Master of My
Own Clothes.
Henning. That's quite a new kind of dignity.
Tygesen. Brand-new! — I used to find it imi)ossil)le to keep
my clothes. And that's what happens to most married men.
The moment I had grown really fond of something, it would
disappear. And there would be no appeal. The women, I
ACT I LOVE AND GEOGRAPHY 41
tell you, develop a lust for power as the years pass on — an
obstinate tendency to intrude on matters not concerning
them — which must be checked. Otherwise we can't even
keep our own clothes.
Henning. Yes, women are always looking for something
new.
Tygesen. Always something new. And I have fought like
a lion for this dressing-gown. Twice I have fished it out
of the rag basket. Twice! And the last time — only a couple
of days ago — they had actually begun to cut it to pieces —
confound them! Look here! I have fixed the cut — that is,
as well as I could. Now I am wearing it just to show that,
after all, I am the sovereign ruler of my own wardrobe. To
rule over my own papers, that's more than I can manage.
Yes, my dear fellow, you smile! But just wait!
Karen. I don't think Mr. Henning will find out. He's not
going to marry.
Tygesen. Oh, you are not going to marry?
Henning. No.
Tygesen. Congratulations !
Henning. Thanks!
Tygesen. And they come from a full heart at that! A
man who has something to live for should never marry.
What was it Goethe said.*
Henning. Can't remember.
Tygesen. Well, I can't either. But he was speaking from
experience. — It was something about marriage being a seri-
ous drag.
Karen. George Eliot didn't say that. Although she was
also a great poet. And George Henry Lewes didn't say so
either.
Henning. I have known women who proved a help to
their husbands — as well as the opposite.
42 LOVE AND GEOGRAPHY acti
Tygesen. In painting?
Henning. Exactly.
Tygesen. Well, there are exceptions. And let's give the
exceptions a chance. That's what I always say. I have no
objection to the emancipation of woman. Let her become a
minister, if she has the ability — and let him take care of the
children! If she's good enough for the pulpit, and he isn't,
what's the use of making an obstacle of the clothes. Let's
have what's natural in everything. Down with all dogmas ! —
But after all I don't call that sort of thing marriage. The
relation between George Eliot and Lewes was one of com-
radeship.
Karen. That's what I thought marriage should always
end in.
Tygesen. But suppose it won't. Suppose the only inter-
est a couple has in common is love, and, when they try
something else, it won't go. What then?
Henning. Yes, what then? There you are!
Tygesen. And even if it does go, and their marriage turns
to comradeship — how can you be sure that will last for life.
And if it doesn't last, what then?
Henning. Yes, what then?
Tygesen. Besides — why can't we get that comradeship in
some more economical way than through marriage? .Vt
the time when marriage became an institution, nothing was
known about the division of labor.
Henning. Ha, ha!
Karen. How you talk!
Tygesen. Some poet who was married said once that he
carried his home on his back like a snail. And the fool
meant it as a praise of marriage! — When I meet one of my
colleagues on the street — one of the married ones, I mean — I
always raise my hat twice: once, t)pt'iily and respcrl fully, for
ACT I LOVE AND GEOGRAPHY 43
the man himself; and once, secretly and in pity, for his hump!
— No, I must look in my study again. [He goes out.
Kaken leaves the table where she has been standing.
Henning. Won't you pose a little longer, Mrs. Tygesen.'*
[She doesnt answer] ^Vhat is it.^ — I hope you don't pay any
attention to these little notions of your husband's. He is
very fond of picturesque exaggerations, as you know.
EIahen. I know. And he often has spells like this, espe-
cially when he is overworked — I know. But neverthe-
less !
Henning. But why weep in silence — when one knows as
well as you do how to retort?
Karen. I can't any longer. There is something in me that
revolts against it! And lately he has — No, I won't say
anything! And I won't cry either. — Forgive me! I am
ashamed of myself.
. After a little while she resumes Iier previous position at
tfie table.
Henning. You may weep with the right eye, if you want
to. But I am at work on the left one.
Karen. Ha, ha! — I don't know what you'll think of me
who can laugh and cry all at once. But that's the way I
have felt lately.
She bursts into tears again and goes away from the table.
Henning. But, Mrs. Tygesen !
Karen. Yes, I act as if I were not well — and yet I am.
Henning. Try to think of something else! Just for a
moment! — Then the rest will be easy. We'll think out some-
thing that's "amusing." You know we can do that.
Karen. Oh, soon there is nothing left that's amusing.
Henning. How about the summer.^ — Summer will soon be
here.
44 LOVE AND GEOGRAPHY acti
Karen. Yes, for those that can enjoy it. But we cannot.
We haven't even the sitting-room left.
[She begins to cry again.
Henning. But you are almost as nervous as your husband,
Mrs. Tygesen.
Karen. Yes, I am. I can't help it. And it's silly. — But
I will try now!
Henning. Yesterday I stood looking at the hills around
here, and all at once I was seized with a mad desire to travel.
Just for a fortnight, I said to myself. And I made up my
mind that moment.
Karen. The lady you met coming in has made up her
mind about the same thing.
Henning. Has she?
Karen. And now she is looking for company.
Henning. And you think she and I might go together.'
Karen. No! Ha, ha! You two can't go alone.
Henning. Why don't i/om be the third one? Can't you?
Karen. No, not even the three of us could travel alone.
You know that very well. To tell the truth, she has invited
me to go with her.
Henning. But that's splendid! You do need a trip.
We'll pick out a fourth one. Somebody that's dreadfully
serious-minded. Just think of it, to spend two or throe weeks
taking in some of the prettiest views in the country! Wouldn't
that be amusing?
Karen. Yes, it might be.
Henning. And now, Mrs. Tygesen, I think we'll stop. —
Thank you ! — [Karen mores about] It might be.you say? Well,
it depends on yourself. "To will— that is the trick." — There
now! I think I'll consider myself done with it. — Can you
make out what I have been doing?
Karen. No — yes, I think I can
ACT I LOVE AND GEOGRAPHY 45
Henning. You smile? What were you going to say?
K-AJiEN. What I have said before : that the woman on the
canvas looks fresher and younger than the original.
Hexning. And my answer will be to put them side by side
before the mirror. [He turns the easel around] Come now !
Kaken. [Approaching] But ?/om must get away from there !
Hentsting. I? Won't you let me look? I, who have stood
in such close relationship to one of them at least? — Do you
see that you look younger and fresher, Mrs. Tygesen?
Kaeen. Oh, there goes Birgit now!
Henning. Birgit who?
Karen. Mrs. Romer,
Henning. Oh — ! Yes, I see now. Tell me — don't you
think I might introduce myself? And propose a travelling
route — a common route, you know? Not more than that to
begin with — of course! [He grabs his hat] I have a good
notion to do it! What do j'ou say?
Karen. Well, why shouldn't you?
Henning. I'll send somebody to take away all that stuff.
Good-by for a while, Mrs. Tygesen! Pardon me, but I've
got to hurry! [He runs out.
Karen. I must watch that meeting! [She goes to the
window and becomes aware of Birgit's coat] Oh, I've forgot-
ten her coat. I'd better send it over while I think of it.
[She picks up the coat and looks out of the window] No, he
hasn't caught her. I'll have to run up-stairs to see.
She starts to run toward the door in the rear; the coat
sweeps a lot of notes and stones off one of the tables, so
that they fly all over the floor; Karen utters a cry.
Tygesen. [Appearing in the door to his study] I thought I
heard — But it couldn't be possible — [He comes a little way
into the room] Well, I'll be — ! [Catches sight of Karen, who is
46 LOVE AND GEOGRAPHY acti
frenziedly trying to pick up the notes from the floor] Have you
gone clear out of your head?
Karen. Oh, I just happened
Tygesen. Happened? — How could anybody "happen" to
do things like that? Is it your intention to drive me out of
the house?
Karen. No, indeed; I'd rather go myself.
Tygesen. You? — Where could you go?
Karen. You mean I have nowhere to go?
Tygesen. I mean you should leave my things alone. ^Vhy
can't you move up-stairs and stay there? You ought to un-
derstand that if you can't help me you might at least keep
from bothering me. Don't you know I am behind with
several issues? I'm on pins and needles! And yet you find
out some new way every day to hamper me! — What did you
have to do here anyhow?
Karen. I only
Tygesen. Yes, tears, of course! — Oh, leave it alone! —
Give it to me! I'll pick it up and put it right. You can't
do it anyhow. [She rises, and he goes down on his knees.
Karen. Don't you want me to help you?
Tygesen. Please get out of here. — Damn the women! —
If I could only understand how such a thing could happen!
— Could it possibly be — ? [Rising] Karen!
Karen. [Who in the meantime has gone reluctantly toward
the door] Yes. [She returns to him.
Tygesen. How did this happen?
Karen. I was in a hurry, and I had the coat on my
arm
Tygesen. Why should you be in a hurry?
ICaren. Because — Well, what does that matter?
Tygesen. You were hurrying to get another look at
Henning?
ACT I LOVE AND GEOGRAPHY 47
Karen. Now !
Tygesen. Why did he have to come here to-day again?
Karen. Just to hear how brutal you can be!
Tygesen glowers at her.
Karen. You have acted Hke that every time he was here.
Tygesen. And you have gone stark mad since he came into
the house.
Karen. No, that's too much! I am not going to stand it!
Tygesen. What.'' — This is something entirely new!
Karen. Yes, unfortunately, it is! For until now I have
borne with everything. You don't make the least attempt
to control yourself. You insult Malla and me constantly.
And you do it in the presence of strangers. But you have
done it once too often.
Tygesen. Oh, go to the devil !
Karen. WTiat's that?— All right, I'll go!
Tygesen. You go? Away from here?
Karen. Yes.
Tygesen. Do you mean to frighten me? — Oh, go, by all
means !
K.\REN. Are you in earnest?
Tygesen. Am I in earnest? No, I'm not. But I don't
want to be treated too high-handedly.
Karen. Yes, now you have had your fling! And now it's
to be all right again. But this time it wont be all right
again. It is going to be serious ! [She goes out.
Tygesen. What in the world does she mean? Is she
going? Karen! Where.^ — Karen! — What's all this? Ever
since that damned painter — ! But I can't imagine — And
yet she seemed to mean it. I have never seen her like that. —
And she looked as pretty as — [Calling up through the hall]
Karen ! — Karen !
Karen. [Upstairs] What do you want?
48 LOVE AND GEOGRAPHY acti
Tygesen. What are you doing up tlicre, Karen?
Kahen. I'm packing my trunks.
Tygesen. What do you mean by all this.'' You'd better
explain.
Karex. All right, I will.
Tygesen. I wonder if Karen can have some place to go to?
But I can't let her bluff me like that! [Karen com<?s ?'/(] What
is all this? Where are you going? Do you take me for a
child whom you can scare?
Karen. I'll tell you just how it is. Birgit Romer is going
to take a trip through the country around here — and she has
asked me to come with her.
Tygesen. Birgit Romer? Who was standing here looking
so sweet — ! The treacherous thing! But you don't mean
to say that you !
Karen. At first I said no. But after the way you have
just behaved — yes, now I am going to do it. And I have
hundreds of reasons for doing it.
Tygesen. You mean to go away from me?
Karen. For a couple of weeks — yes.
Tygesen. And I forbid you, my dear!
Karen. Well, that won't help 3^ou much.
Tygesen. Oh? Do you think there is nothing like law
and justice? You think, of course, that I won't dare to call
in the police? Oh, yes, I'll dare! I won't mind the scandal!
I'll telegraph all 'round the country to stop you !
Karen. Pooh!
Tygesen. Are you pooh-ing at the police?
Karen. Do you think I'm such a fool that you can make
me believe the police will prevent me from packing my trunks
and going where I please? [She goes toward the door.
Tygesen. Karen!
Karen stops.
ACT I LOVE AND GEOGRAPHY 49
Tygesen. You can't dare to do such a thing! And you
won't do it. That's right, isn't it? You won't do it? It
would be wrong! And you are only trying me — to see if I
care. Do you want me to say so? Yes, I do care! I'll be
wretched if you go away. What's going to become of me?
I never thought you could have such notions, Karen. It's
all wrong, what you are doing now — But, then, you have
been drifting away from me lately— you're outside. Yes,
that's just the word : you're outside. Outside that invisible
circle, that community of righteousness which used to bind
us together. The people living within it never misunder-
stand each other. And you put a false construction on
everything. You don't hear; you don't see; you're living in
another world. Something foreign to us both has lured you
away. Something— something— something — you are speak-
ing to me from the outside. You — you — you wont any
longer; you're rebellious; you're defiant. Yes — as you are
standing there now — you have no regrets: you're accusing
me — you're full of pride! It's more than I can forgive you!
— You can go! And forget that I asked you to stay!
[He rushes into his study.
Kaken. [Goes out hito the hall and is heard to say outside]
Now he has driven me out. Now I will go.
Malla. [Is heard to answer] What were you saying?
Karen. [Farther away] I am going up-stairs to pack.
Malla enters and at the same moment Tygesen returns
from his study.
Malla. What have you been up to now?
Tygesen. [Flying at her] It's your fault! You've been
goading her on! And if you don't bring her back to me at
once — then you'd better look out!
Malla. I bring her back to you? Don't you believe it
— you tyrant!
50 LOVE AND GEOGRAPHY acti
Tygesen. How dare you ?
Malla. Yes, now I'm going to speak up for once, too.
I thouglit you a man of culture. For, of course, those that
write books are supposed to know most about culture. But
of all people, they're the worst. They're a lot of nervous
overworked creatures who never know how to control them-
selves. May the Lord protect and preserve everybody from
getting married to any one who writes books.
Tygesen. Amen! — The deuce you say! And to me, who
have borne with you beyond all demands of reason !
Malla. You! Ha, ha, ha!
Tygesen. Will you get out of here!
Mall,\. The Lord knows, I will! But not until I have
pestered you a little. I am not afraid of you noM'— although
you've nearly killed me.
Tygesen. There seems to be plentj' of life in you now! — ■
She's raving mad!
Malla. I only wish I could make you suffer for all that
you've done to Karen and me — you monster!
Tygesen. Am I a monster? Well — well, if ever — ! Do
you know what I am? The nicest husband in this town — as
sure as I live!
Malla. No, you're the worst of the whole lot ! You should
sign yourself "T. T." — "Tygesen: Tyrant."
Tygesen. Ha, ha, ha! Nero, Henry the Eighth, Blue-
beard, and Jack the Ripper in one! That's me. isn't it?
Malla. Do you know what you have made of me?
Tygesen. Nothing d la Jack the Ripper ?
Malla. No, not quite. But look at this!
Tygesen. Well, I'll be hanged! Taking snuff!
Malla. And right under your nose, too. For it's your
fault.
ACT I LOVE AND GEOGRAPHY 51
Tygesen. Ha, ha, ha, ha! So I've made snuff of you!
Ha, ha, ha!
Malla. And you've come mighty near making a drug fiend
of me. But now I'll leave here before I get that far. And I
am taking Karen with me. — Then you can have it all to
yourself !— Good-by !
Tygesen. Oh, go to hell! — I mean it literally!
Malla. I don't doubt it for a moment. Good-by! [She
goes to the door, and stops there] God protect and preserve
everybody from people who write books! [She goes out.
Tygesen. [Staiids still for a moment, then running to the
door] And everybody who writes books from crazy females!
[Comes forward; then he runs back to the door again] Especially
foster-mothers! Of the kind that take snuff! — I'll be hanged
if I let them have the last word! [He goes into his study.
Malla. [Returning, is puzzled for a moment at not finding
him] Oh, I see! [Runs to tJic study door] Especially from peo-
ple who write geographies ! [She goes out as before.
Tygesen. [Appearing after a while] I'll be hanged and
quartered if I let her have the last word! [He rushes to the door,
where he is met by Ane] Are you running off, too? — Well, good
luck! — Clean house — hurrah! So you've put your heads to-
gether to embarrass me? But that's where you'll be fooled!
Ane. Madam told me to ask you what we're going to have
for dinner?
Tygesen. What we're going to — ? Am I to tell — ?
Oh — ! I see! — Nothing! I'll go out to eat. I'll go to a
restaurant. Turman is boasting every day of his meals —
For once I also will eat like a man owning his own soul!
Ane. Nothing for dinner, you say? That won't be much
— for me.
Tygesen. No, it won't — that's right. Here's a crown.
52 LOVE AND GEOGRAPHY acti
Then you can buy yourself some dinner, too. We'll have a
holiday, you and I! — So you're going to stay, Ane?
Ane. Well, why shouldn't I?
Tygesen. Fine! Why shouldn't you? There's another
crown! Oh, you'll see, Ane, that we'll get along. Now I
want — well, what was it I wanted.' I can do just what I
please ! — I'll go out ! I guess it's no use trying to work to-day.
But I'll do so much the more to-morrow. No trouble to
fear — alone from morning till night — and the whole house to
myself! You can go out, too! Just enjoy yourself, Ane!
We two are having a holiday. [He goes out.
Curtain.
ACT II
The same room as in Act I. Tall frajties covered with maps
are placed all over the room, but in such a way that it
is possible to pass between them and that the stairway re-
mains visible in the background. Piles of folded maps
occupy the floor at the left.
Tygesen. [In his study] xlre you there?
Ane. [In front of the door] Yes.
The door opens a very little and an arm is reached out to
take something handed over by Ane.
Tygesen. The coffee was abominable.
Ane. Well, when it has to be kept from seven till ten
Tygesen. Why the deuce didn't you make some fresh .^
Ane. I was going to, but you kept ringing and ringing till
I didn't know what I was doing.
Tygesen. [Still behind the door] Oh, fudge!
TuHMAN. [Coming forward from behind the maps] How
goes it with him, Ane.^
Ane. Oh, I guess he's all right. He's mad enough, at least.
TuRMAN. Hasn't he got up yet?
Ane. Yes, he's got that far at last. Of course, he's got to
sleep in the morning when he doesn't sleep at night. He's
gone daft, I think.
TuRMAN. What do you mean by that?
Ane. Well, I'm scared of him. He's sneaking around here
in felt slippers, trying all the doors. And all of a sudden he's
53
54 LOVE AND GEOGRAPHY actu
right behind me in the kitchen, and me not having heard him
come. He upsets me so I drop all I have in my hands. Once
he came into my room at two in the morning. He was stand-
ing right over me. Since then I have kept my door locked.
But I've heard him trj-ing to get in several times. And I can
hear him on the stairs, and all night long he's opening the
doors one minute and shutting them again the next.
Tubman. That's the same story you've told me every
day, Ane.
Ane. I don't know what I am doing any longer. Sure,
and I don't! The way these three days and nights have
taken it out of me. All there used to be of it was that he
came before he came. First we'd hear him, and then it
wasn't him. Then we heard him again, and it was him. But
now it's him night and day, and no end to it, either.
TuRMAN. And I see he's got up his fences.
Axe. That was yesterday. We had to drag out maps —
loads and loads!
TuRMAN. And you've begun to put them up?
Ane. Yes, and no ladder! It went broke at once, and so
I had to take it to the blacksmith. But he couldn't wait till
we got it home again. Not him! Then the frame wasn't
steady enough, and so we had to put hooks in the ceiling —
and me most breaking my neck doing it! — Oh, tell me, pro-
fessor, won't the missis be home again soon.^ Is it going to
be like this for long? What d'you hear from her?
■ Tubman. No, I won't tell a thing. — Ditl you ever hear the
old tale about "the man who was going to stay home and
keep house"?
Ane. Oh, him there is worse'n that! And if there isn't a
change pretty quick, I'll go, too. — He's begiiiiiiug to get dan-
gerous, I tell you! — Once he was g»)ing round lure with a big
knife. It must have been the carving-knife, for I haven't
ACT 11 LOVE AND GEOGRAPHY 55
seen it since. And sometimes he's talking out loud unrl
carrying on as if the place was full of people.
Tubman. That's what we call imagination, Ane.
Ane. What kind of a disease is that.'*
Tygesen. [In his study] Are you talking to somebody?
Ane. Professor Turman is here.
Tygesen. [Still outside] I didn't hear him ring. Then the
street door must be open again.
Ane. My! Now he got on to that, too! [She hurries out.
Tubman. [At the study door] Well, how goes it, Tygesen?
Tygesen. [Coming out with the dressing-goicn in one hand,
so that it trails after him on the floor] She's a dangerous one,
that woman. I might be robbed and murdered in my own
house. Would you believe it? She knows a lot of tough-
looking fellows. And they come here sniffing and spying
around.
Turman. Do you want me to help you with the dressing-
gown?
Tygesen. The dressing-gown? Oh, is that what I got
hold of?— Well, that wasn't what I wanted at all. I am sick
and tired of it since there's nobody here to get mad about it.
[He hurls the dressing-gown into the study; then he goes into the
study himself, returning a moment later with a coat] You know
— she's so confoundedly careless about fire. There's a glow
in the stove as late as one and two in the morning. I as-
sure you! I have seen it myself. She isn't quite right either.
Once I saw her with the carving-knife. She was making
passes with it. Now I've put it away.
Turman. You've given up your morning walks, Tygesen.
I do think they did you good.
Tygesen. I'm arranging my time differently now, seeing I
can dispose of it as I please. — But that girl scares me. I
can't feel safe in my own house. You see, here I am alone
56 LOVE AND GEOGRAPHY act n
with her. AVhy should she let in all those people? Why
doesn't she keep the doors locked? Why does she keep the
fire going? Do you think she means to rob the house first
and set fire to it afterward?
TuRMAN. Yes, some morning when I come here, the house
will be burnt down, and I'll have to look for you in the ashes.
But if I were you, I'd try to make friends with Ane. She's
the only one you have. — I just dropped in to tell ^•()U that I've
something I want to speak to you about. But I'll have to
give a lecture first. Will you be at home in an hour or so?
Tygesen. What is it? Anything unpleasant? I can't
stand anything of that kind now.
TuRMAX. Are you not feeling well, Tygesen?
Tygesen. Perfectly splendid! Never better in all my life!
—More fit, more — Have you seen my maps?
TuRMAN. It's going to look like a sort of castle, I should
say.
Tygesen. That's what it is. My castle! Never to be con-
quered. The place is mine now.
Tubman. Yes, if you can keep it, Tygesen
Tygesen stares at him.
Tubman. WTiat maps are those?
[He goes vp to them to look.
Tygesen. [Joining hitn eagerly] I saw them first at the
Geographical Congress in 1875 — at Paris, you know. They
created a tremendous sensation at that time.
TuRMAN. Yes, you've told me about them. [He reads as If
translating] "Imperial Russian Topographical Bureau."
Tygesen. They're already out of date now. I have hung
them up just to show what progress we have made since then.
Wait a moment! [He picks up a paper-covered volume having
the shape of a large-sized atlas] These are nothing but my own
scrawls — all the corrections that have become necessary.
ACT II LOVE AND GEOGRAPHY 57
First, corrections made by Nordenskjold in the North — look
here, for instance! [He searches the volume for the map in
question] Then, corrections by Kropotkin in Eastern Siberia.
You know — Kropotkin?
TuRMAN. The socialist? — Or nihilist rather, I suppose?
Tygesen. a great scientist, I tell you! He was exiled to
Eastern Siberia, and no sooner was he there than he dis-
covered the country to be quite unlike the descriptions of it,
both geologically and topographically. Look here — at these
long mountain ranges, Yablonoi Khrebet
TuRMAN. The "Apple-tree Range"
Tygesen. And Stanovoi Khrebet — the "backbone."
TuRMAN. The "backbone"- — exactly!
Tygesen. He has reduced them to table-lands — look at it !
—full of
TuRMAN. Well, I haven't time now. I only looked in to
make sure of you later. It's impossible to count on finding
you in any longer. You've grown so elusive, Tygesen.
Tygesen. I have my liberty, you see.— But can't you stay
a moment? Can't you take breakfast with me? I am so
lonely ! — I'll bring up a bottle of old Medoc. — I wanted to tell
you something about Polyarco's crossing of the Stanovoi
plateau. He had an escort of one hundred and thirty men,
and they were lost in desert wastes, where they starved and
went through the most dreadful sufferings. Some died, and
some were eaten by the survivors. It's a thrilling story.
TuRMAN. I don't want to be thrilled now. I am going to
lecture.
Tygesen. To an audience of one?
TuRMAN. No — I have two now!
Tygesen. Then they can keep each other company wait-
ing. Or we might send word to your two Assyrians, calling
58 LOVE AND GEOGRAPHY actii
ofT the lecture. What do you say? Ane might march to
Nineveh!
Tubman. No, I think I had better march myself. And I
have never yet called off a lecture. — You're such an irregular
fellow, Tygesen, and you have learned that from the women
folks. Good-by! [Goes out.
Tygesen. [After him, disappearing among the maps] Why
don't you have breakfast with me when you come back? I'll
wait for you. Please! I'll get something nice for you.
TuRMAN. [7* heard to ansiver] No, thanks! I don't want
to spoil my dinner. You see, I keep regular hours.
Tygesen. [Comes into sight again, looking very depressed]
He keeps regular hours! And he doesn't even notice that
I'm hungry for company — that I can't work — that I just want
to drown myself in talk. He has no perception at all, the
brute! His hide must be at least an inch thick, not counting
the layer of fat beneath it. "You have learned that from the
women folks," he said. The prig! [The bell rings outside]
There now! I bet it's some more of Ane's friends. What
does she want with all those suspicious-lot)king people? Lis-
ten to it — starting on a gossip at once ! What the devil has
she to talk of? — Hm! That's a woman — I wonder who
that can be? — I believe — Really, it must be — [Calling
out] Helga!
Helga. [Still hidden by the maps] Yes.
Tygesen. Nothing plcasanter could have happened if I had
scoured land and sea in a fairy boat looking for it! [He pulls
her out from behind the maps; she is carrying a bag] My dearest,
darling girl! [He embraces her, walhs her a few steps back and
forth, and then embraces her agai?i] Welcome! You're as wel-
come as if you had my geography in your bag, finished — as if
you made me a present of it, all finished. — There's some weight
to this bag, for that matter.
ACTn LOVE AND GEOGRAPHY 59
Helga. Yes, I have books in it.
Tygesen. Oh, you have? — So you are still working hard?
That's fine! — Now we'll put it down here. — But, Helga, you
are quite a grown-up ladj- ! And you've grown very pretty,
too. — Do you know what we'll do.^ We'll have breakfast
together. And we'll bring up a bottle of old Medoc ! Hurrah!
Now we'll have some fun! [He rings.
Helga. Where's mother.^
Tygesen. [Ringing and ringing] Your mother — ? [Rings
again; Ane enters] Bring in breakfast! For Helga too!
Something good — something tremendoush^ good ! And here's
the kej^ — Although I don't know — Do you know where
that old Medoc is kept.^
Ane. That one you had last night, professor.'*
Tygesen. Oh, she noticed that, too! — No, I'll go myself—
He takes a hunch of keys from his pocket and goes to the
stairway, lohere he unlocks the door leading to the cellar.
Ane. [Following him] But I can go
Helga. [Following also] Yes, Ane can go
Tygesen. Oh, well — go, then. [Ane disappears] We'll stay
here.
Helga. Of course!
Tygesen. To the right. The rack to the right — the bot-
tom shelf.
Ane. [In tJie cellar] Yes, I know!
Tygesen. She knows it! She notices everything! She's
a sly one !
Ane. [Coming up with the bottle] Here you are, sir.
Tygesen. [Locking tlie cellar door again] I'll open it. [He
opens the bottle] Now we'll be happy and not think of any-
thing but what's in our glasses.
Helga. Where's mother, dad.'
Ane, on her way out, stops to listen.
60 LOVE AND GEOGRAPHY act u
Tygesen. [To Ane] WTiy do you stop? [Ane disappears]
Oh, mother — you ask where mother is? Your mother, dear
— she's gone to the country.
Helga, Mother ?
Ane pokes aid her head from behind the maps.
Tygesen. [To Ane] Can't you get out of here? [Ane dis-
appears again] Do you know, Helga, I'm afraid of that
woman? There's something crafty about her.
Helga. About Ane? — No, dad! She's absohitely straight
and reliable
Tygesen. Ane? You don't know anything about human
nature, my girl.
Helga. But how about mother? You say she's in the
country? And she hasn't been out to see me — hasn't said a
word to me about it.
Tygesen. Oh, merely for a couple of days, you see. Ivord !
she hasn't got to report to you that she's going to do a little
travelling.
Helga. Is she going to travel?
Tygesen. Your mother has been travelling for twelve
years. So why should you object to her travelling just now?
[He takes a look behind the maps] Are j'ou still there? [lie comes
forward again] She's a horrible person, I assure you. Can't
you see that on her face?
Helga. If I were you, I should be nice to Ane.
Tygesen. So that's what you say, too?
Helga. You say that mother has been travelling for twelve
years — but that was with you. Never alone. And she has
gone away without sending word to me. Was it as sudden
as all that?
Tygesen. There was a friend of hers who dropijcd down
from the skies and carried her off. I5ut, of course, vour
ACT II LOVE AND GEOGRAPHY 61
mother will be back in time to visit you next Sunday as
usual.
Helga. Next Sunday? — That's to-day!
Tygesen. Is it Sunday to-day? — That's Ane's fault. I
always change my underwear on Sundays.
Helga. I can't understand. Where is she gone?
Tygesen. Didn't you hear? A childhood friend of hers,
Birgit Romer, came and carried her off.
Helga. The one who owns the "Horseshoe"?
Tygesen. Exactly. And I don't know where they have
gone. Nor does it matter. They have their liberty, haven't
they? Norway is quite a big country, and travelling in Nor-
way is very interesting. Especially the West Coast is re-
markable in its originality. If they should take the road
through
Helga. Has mother gone as far as the West Coast?
Tygesen. I didn't say that. I don't know anything about
it. — No, of course, they haven't. That's too far. But let
us leave all that to them. And let's wish mother a really
nice, enjoyable trip. Don't you think we should? [Ane
conies in with the breakfast] Now we'll eat breakfast. I am
awfully hungry. And here's the Medoc! Glasses? Oh,
here they are. [To Helga] Take off your hat, girl, and come
and sit down! — Push the table further out in the room. I
can't sit on the sofa when I'm eating. — That's it!
Helga. What's the meaning of all these maps, dad?
Tygesen. The meaning of them — You can go, Ane, if
everything's ready. — Their meaning, my child — it's that I am
in Asiatic Russia just now, and Asiatic Russia has been pre-
sented to us in a horribly confused and contradictory manner.
I must have them right before me, quite clearly, all these in-
tricate lines that are changing all the time. — Now you go.
62 LOVE AND GEOGRAPHY act ii
Ane! — Many of them — most of them — are nothing but guess-
work. You understand, don't you?
Helga. Not quite. — But haven't you heard from mother
since she left?
Tygesen. From mother? There you go again! Your
mother will write when she — Wait a moment! [He runs be-
hind the maps, but returns at once] No, she wasn't there that
time. — How can you tell me that I should make up to one
like her!' — I assure you, Helga, she's outright dangerous.
And crafty, I tell you! And then she knows such a lot ot
peculiar people. I never feel safe, day or night.
Helga. Of course, you can never know who's in the room
with you, when all these big frames are standing around.
Tygesen. What's that you are saying? I can never know
who's in the room with me — You're right. You are most
terribly right! I shall have to keep the key to the street
door myself. And it must not be possible to open that door
from the inside except with a key.
Helga. But then you'll have to go down and open it your-
self every time somebody rings.
Tygesen. That's it! Now you've said it! That's the
big prol)lem! If I could only act as janitor myself. — But
nobody knows what kind of people that woman lets in during
the day — people that may come out at night. I feel as if I
had a lot of ghosts around me.
[He runs behind tfie maps again, returning at once.
Helga. But is it absolutely necessary to have those maps
here, dad? Does mother want them?
Tygesen. Listen now, Helga! You are a sensible girl, and
you will understand. When I am working, I have to think
of a thousand things all at once. And then the point is: to
see it, to have it right before me, that very moment. One
remembers, and yet one doesn't cjuite remember. And that's
ACT II LOVE AND GEOGRAPHY 63
where the danger lies! One must never rely on one's own
memory! Do you understand? I am sure you understand!
And then it gives such a comfortable sense of elbow-room,
being able to walk through the whole house with nothing
but my geography in sight. All around me nothing but what
I have to be thinking of. On every side this undisturbing
sameness. — Come on now, Helga! I am ravenously hungry!
[He moves her bag] That's heavy. What is there in it?
Helga. Books.
Tygesen. Oh, yes ! — But why do you bring books with you
to the city?
Helga. We have been exchanging them — I and another
girl. That's why we came in.
Tygesen. Can you get into the libraries to-day?
Helga. Yes, if they know you
Tygesen. Sit down! — That's it! — Now we're going to be
really cosey. — As you show no intention of beginning — I'll
help myself, if you'll excuse me.
Helga. Where is Malla?
Tygesen. With your mother.
Helga. Malla, too ?
Tygesen. Heavens, Helga, why don't you start?
Helga. Thank you, I have just eaten. But I'll have a
few drops of wine.
Tygesen. Yes, the wine is splendid! — One advantage of
travelling is that you learn to pick your wine. — Here, then:
to your welcome, Helga!
Helga. Skoal ! ^
^SMl, pronounced " skoal," is the word used by all Scandinavians in carrying out
the solemn rite of imbibation — a rite requiring that nobody raise his glass to his
lips without giving everybody else present a chance to do so at the same time.
The word means " bowl," but has come also to get the meaning of a " toast." It
corresponds to the German " Prosit " or " Gesundheit," the French " A votre sanle,"
and the English-American " Here's to you."
64 LOVE AND GEOGRAPHY actii
Tygesen. Mm, but that's wine!— Lately I have had such
a craving for wine.— You must eat something, Helga.
Helga. No, thank you, I can't.
Tygesen. Well, tell me a story while I am eating.
Helga. Tell a story— I." That would be still more im-
possible.
Tygesen. Something that has impressed you. Something
you have heard or read. Something you have come to care
for.
Helga. I don't know of anything.
Tygesen. I am sure you do! — You needn't be bashful
with me. Of course, we have never talked much together,
but that's your own fault, Helga. Have a little more wine,
and it'll come.
Helga. Thanks — I can't stand that nuich, dad!
Tygesen. Oh, yes, you can! Skoal! And once more,
Helga, welcome! [Both drink] You seem like a new girl to me.
Helga. And you, too, dad — that is
Tygesen. What do you mean, girl? Don't I look well.*
Helga. Oh, yes! — No, I meant — you're so nice.
Tygesen. And that's quite a novelty?
Helga. Oh, not at all— ha, ha! But you never seemed
to care for me.
Tygesen. [Wistfully, taking her hand] I have been so busy.
And you shouldn't misunderstand it.— Well, haven't you a
story to tell me?
Helga. If you really want it— there is something lluil lias
made an impression on me.
Tygesen. Let's hear! Oh— let's hear it!
Helga. A little love story.
Tygesen. Fine! Just the thing for your age! Don't be
bashful now! Let's have it!
Helga. Well -once they had a winter picnic in this city.
ACT 11 LOVE AND GEOGRAPHY Co
and went sleigh-riding. They used to, you know. They
drove out to some place and had a fish dinner. But they
brought the wine with them from the city. And I suppose
they do that still.
Tygesen. Oh, yes!
Helga. There must have been something like fifty sleighs,
with a lady and a gentleman in each of them.
Tygesen. That's the way.
Helga. And then the couple in one of the sleighs
Tygesen. Hm, hm!
Helga. He had on a fur coat and a fur cap, and she also
had on a fur coat and a fur cap, and they were talking and
laughing all the way. That is, he was talking all the time,
and mostly about foreign countries. And when they arrived
and went to dinner those two sat down together.
Tygesen. Of course.
Helga. And then, while all the rest of the people at the
table were talking and shouting — he got more and more en-
thusiastic as he kept telling her about the old Germans.
Tygesen. About the old Germans.^ That's funny! I
thought he was going to make love to her.
Helga. I guess he meant to. But that was his way. He
began with the old Germans.
Tygesen. I never heard the like of it! Why not with
Adam and Eve.'*
Helga. He told her there used to be two kinds of Germans
— eastern and western. The western ones were the Franks,
the Saxons, the Frisians, and the Germans in England.
Tygesen. Quite right! The Franks, the Saxons, the Fris-
ians, and the Germans m England — that's fine, Helga! So
you know all that?
Helga. The eastern Germans were the Scandinavians and
the Goths.
CG LOVE AND GEOGRAPHY act n
Tygesen. The Scandinavians and the Goths? That's not
the usual classification. But it's the right one. — Skoal.
Helga! Splendid! [They drink] Three cheers for the Scan-
dinavians and the Goths!
Helga. And a tiger! — They were a restless lot, he said;
it was they that made the whole world restless. They were
conquerors, and vikings, and emigrants. They were like the
rivers in the countries where they lived — which always come
down with a roar. And the Scandinavians and Goths poured
themselves frothing and foaming into other races just as their
rivers pour into the ocean.
Tygesen. Fine! By heavens, it's just as I should have
said it myself. — Perhaps you're not my daughter" for noth-
ing.
Helga. Oh, it was he that said it. It isn't mine. And
that same restlessness was in him, too, he said. He wanted
to get out — he must get away from here. And he said it so
that the spirit of it caught her, too, and without thinking of
it, she cried: "I want to go with you!" — And afterward she
felt ashamed of herself, of course, but then it was too late,
for then they had already become engaged. I can see that
you have heard of it before, dad.^
Tygesen. Well, bless my soul, child— if you aren't sitting
there and telling me the story of my own engagement!— I
had clean forgotten all that about the Scandinavians and
the Goths. — How did you find out about it?
Helga. Mother told me.
Tygesen. Oh, she did?
Helga. The last Sunday she came out to see me. A week
ago to-day, that was. She recalled it so perfectly that in
some places she could repeat what you said word by word.
And you have forgotten it? — You spoke of Alaric — the one
who took Rome, you know. His name means the "all-
ACTn LOVE AND GEOGRAPHY 67
ruler," and it's the same as our Alrek. And Theodoric,
that's our Thidrek.
Tygesen. And that — your mother has remembered all
that?
Helga. Can't you hear from what I am telling you, that
she has remembered it? — Here's to mother, dad !
Tygesen. Here's to her!
[He drinks, then he covers his face with his hands.
Helga. But what is it, dad?
Tygesen. Nothmg. The light was hurting my eyes.
Now I remember it, too. What a day that was — what a
happiness! — I had forgotten how I boasted of the Scandi-
navians and the Goths. At that time I was young: and my
faith, my future, my love — all was in that boast! — And then
the ride home — oh, that ride home! That's what I remember
best of all. Then she became mine. Oh, I knew she would
— I knew it when I tucked the robe around her. — She was so
soft and snuggly! And she was smelling of some kind of
perfume — I had been drinking it in all the time at the table
— it was like new-mown hay — I had never smelled the like of
it before. And I took plenty of time getting her tucked up.
She was going to be mine during that ride home. Nobody
else in the world knew it — but I knew — and she knew! — And
good Lord, how beautiful she looked!
Helga. Mother looks beautiful still.
Tygesen. Everybody says .you don't take after your
mother. And yet there is something of her about you, as
you sit" there looking at me. — Skoal, Helga! Your health!
And thank you !
{They drink again, and he is evidently much moved.
Helga. Now I can't stand another drop.
Tygesen. Neither can I. — But now all those things come
pouring in on me! Your presence is making me young
68 LOVE AND GEOGRAPHY acta
again — One moonlight night we were sitting on deck, your
mother and I, as we were crossing the Mediterranean
Helga. You were crossing the Mediterranean?
Tygesen. That was not long afterward. For we were
married at once, and then we went abroad. She was only
sixteen. A moonlight night on the Mediterranean — we were
going to Algeria.
Helga. Lord!
Tygesen. All the stars were out. As I look back, it takes
hold of my imagination like some old legend. The love of
youth is older than all the legends, and it has created most
of them. We sat there and talked of just such a legend — one
of the most beautiful — the legend of Hero and Leander. It
lies spread all over Southern Europe, as the stars are spread
over the sky on a night like that; and it has the same blue
background. The love of youth, the attraction of one human
being for another, has never been imaged more magniBcentiy,
has never been given a more wonderful setting. Two conti-
nents meet in that legend. The lover swims from one to the
other, and makes his goal, but only to die in the arms of his
beloved the moment he arrives. What a limitless abandon
there is in their longing! The tale of Romeo and Juliet in
letters made of stars ! — That's what we were talking of — we
who were still in the first intoxication of our own love, and
who were travelling besides — travelling among all that's
great and beautiful in the Old World, in the realms of ever-
lasting sunlight. No other moment could ever compare with
that one. That was our Midsummer Day. And with the
next one — No sooner did I think of it than it grew dark
within me and around me. The sea looked like a grave, or
like a sorrow — a sorrow that took such a holtl of me that it
seemcfl as if I should have to end my life then and there.
Then she bent down over me. She took niv head l)etween
ACT II LOVE AND GEOGRAPHY 69
her two hands, and looked straiglit into my ej'es — and her
look was like a cure for all ills. Then she said — oh, she was
nothing but a child herself — but she said — ■ —
Helga. What did she say?
Tygesen. She said
Helga. What is it, dad.''
Tygesen. I can't !
Helga. Mercy! — [Rising] Wliere is mother.?
Tygesen. I don't know.
Helga. You don't know? But, dad!
Tygesen. You misunderstand ! As I have told you, she's
away, travelling. — You upset me! — She'll tell you everything
when she comes back — ^or she'll write to you. Great Scott!
You don't doubt my word, do you? That's the way it is, I
assure you! — Sit down again! Why couldn't you let me be?
I was dreaming. And you tore my dream to pieces. Too
bad! For the past often turns the present into something
new. — But why don't you sit down again? Are you afraid
of me?
Helga. [Seating herself] No.
Tygesen. Now it's all gone. In place of youth and sun-
light — nothing but disappointment and trouble ! Nothing but
strife, and hatred, and stupid and unworthy people! — Oh, I
know it's foolish. I know that the purpose of life is not
pleasure. And youth's way of looking at it is a snare. — But
it's of no use! When that unbearable darkness descends on
me, then life is a fright and a plague — oh !
Helga. Tell me more instead ! It was so wonderful — oh,
so wonderful!— Skoal! [They drink] What kind of a legend
was that? The one you told about? It was gorgeous!
Tygesen. Don't you know the story of Hero and Leander?
Helga. No.
70 LOVE AND GEOGRAPHY act ii
Tygesen. Are you not studying mythology? — Or Shake-
speare, for that matter! — In your leisure time, at least?
Young girls are always reading things on the sly. Haven't
you even read about it that way? What do you read?
Helga. Oh, we read more— I don't know what to call it —
more modern things.
Tygesen. More modern — novels?
Helga. Ye-es. Novels, too.
Tygesen. Too? Do you read anything but novels?
Helga. Oh, serious things also — things we can learn from.
Tygesex. As, for instance?
Helga. For instance — well, geography, for instance.
Tygesen. You read geography? In your free time?
Helga. Oh, with illustrations, you know!
Tygesen. Why, here's the bag! That's right! Let us see
what kind of books you borrow? — I suppose it can be opened?
HeL/GA. But that wouldn't do, dad. It's something of a
secret, don't you know?
Tygesen. Oh, secrets! I thought so! You rascals —
you're eating forbidden fruit! I know you. — How the
dickens do you open this bag?
Helga. You mustn't, dad! You mustn't open it! You
have no right to do so! I can't believe that you will use
the right of the stronger against little girls like us — will you?
You, who are so highminded? — No, I am holding on to the
bag — yes, I am! And just imagine, dad, that there are
twenty-four hands doing the same as mine. All of them
are holding on to it. Then you can't open it, can you?
You would only misunderstand. Yes, I know you would!
Did I say "secrets"? That wasn't what I meant. I meant
— ha, ha! Really, I think I ha<l too nnich wine! — No, no,
dad, let me have the bag! Two of us girls brought it in. We
were going to excliange the books, and it was my turn to carry
ACT II LOVE AND GEOGRAPHY 71
the bag. It doesn't make any difference to me, you know —
the books are not for me. But there are books among them
that I am not to let anybody see. I don't know why, but
that's what they said. It's a shame you won't trust me.
[She is on the verge of crying] Oh, dad, you were so nice
a while ago! — You would Jbe the first one to take our side if
anybody else tried to do that. Yes, you would — I know
you! Suppose the whole senior class was in a room, and
had locked the doors, and some man tried to break in! Oh,
you would make him ashamed of himself, and drive him away
— oh, yes, you would ! But now you are doing exactly like
that man.
Tygesen. What eloquence, Helga — and what excitement!
Helga. No, I am not excited. It isn't mine — Yes, it
does bother me that other people's secrets can't be safe with
me. [She begins to weep] Oh, don't, dad !
Tygesen. The more you say, the more I feel justified in
opening the bag — so it seems to me, at least. — Let go now!
[He opens the bag] Now, let's see! They look as if they had
been read a lot. French — hm — hm.^ "Cruelle Enigme" — by
Bourget. Isn't that story a little — I don't know how to put
it. Can't you give me a nice word for it.'' You had such a
number of them a moment ago. — Now we had better be
friends again, or I'll think that this is your own concern.
" Cruelle Enigme" — isn't it a little — well?
Helga. Realistic, you mean perhaps.''
Tygesen. Yes — realistic. I suppose you are the only one
out there who really knows French?
Helga. Among the girls, yes^ But I think that book
comes from our French teacher — But you mustn't tell
anybody !
Tygesen. "Cruelle Enigme" — -"cruel riddle" — what kind
of riddle is that?
72 LOVE AND GEOGRAPHY acth
Helga. Oh, I have heard them talk of it. I think it's the
riddle of human nature. Of course, I don't know.
Tygesex. Of human nature? One part that is spiritual,
and another that isn't — is that what it means?
Helga. Something like that. — But it isn't right, what you
are doing now, dad !
Tygesen. Oh, you don't think so? — Here's one named
" Equal freedom for women and men." What kind of freedom
is that? That's not a novel, I should say.
Helga. I wonder if it isn't philosophy? It sounds like it.
Tygesen. Does that also come from the French teacher?
Helga. No. That is, I don't know whose it is. — No, dad,
stop now!
Tygesex. All good things are three. "Autour du Mariage,
par Gyp"? That's a funny name for an author.
Helga. They tell me she belongs to the nobility — a
duchess, I think.
Tygesex. A duchess? Of course! At the very least!
"Autour du Mariage" — "around marriage." What does that
mean?
Helga. I don't understand at all.
Tygesen. Oh, you don't? — But don't you think that's a
queer kind of geography.^ — With illustrations! Or perhaps
that comes further down in the bag? Eh? [Helga remains
silent] Did it occur to you, my girl, that you ought to tell
nothing but the truth?
Helga. For Heaven's sake, dad, when it isn't my secret!
Those are not my books.
Tygesen. But how in the world did you come to tell me
you were reading geography? With illustrations? Tell me
that!
Helga. We do read geography also.
Tygesen. Between lessons? — Thai's a fine kind of geo-
ACT II LOVE AND GEOGRAPHY 73
graphical narrative! — Frankly speaking — as you know geog-
raphy to be your father's subject, it shows impertinence to
call that sort of thing geography.
Helga. No, dad, it shows nothing but lack of imagination.
Tygesen. [Smiling] Don't misunderstand me! — Ha, ha,
ha! — If I laugh, it doesn't mean that I forgive you. — Ha, ha,
ha! — What I have just discovered hurts me. It hurts me a
great deal. For it means that you lie!
Helga. But, dad — lie.'
Tygesen. I said that you lie! Indeed, I did. What else
can it be called.''
Helga. What do you mean by lying.''
Tygesen. Trying to deceive one's own father. Think
only — one's own father! It indicates practice. Nobody
would begin with her own father. Even I understand that
much. Although I have never lied.
Helga. But, dad!
Tygesen. You think I exaggerate.' — Well, suppose instead
that I had been deceiving you, my own child. To deceive
one's own child — how would that be.' One's own child — to
deceive one's child
Helga. Mercy, dad, where is mother.'
Tygesen. Your mother.'
Helga. Why have mother and Malla left you.^ What are
you hiding from me.' What has happened.' Dad! Dad!
Tygesen. Yes, I have been hiding something.
Helga. I knew it at once. But it must be worse than I
thought. Heavens, dad, what is it.'
Tygesen. No, don't get scared! Something happened
that made us quarrel, and so they left me, both your mother
and Malla. That's all. But that's enough! I didn't have
the courage to tell you when you came, because it made me so
happy to see you. I didn't know how to tell you. Probably
74 LOVE AND GEOGRAPHY actii
your mother feels that way, too, as you haven't heard from
her yet. She doesn't know how to tell you. — It has taken
all the spirit out of me. I can't get a thing done. I feel
like a criminal. Won't you make her come back.' I feel as
if I could go to the utmost corners of the earth for her. —
Turman knows where they are, although he won't tell. Get
hold of him! He can't refuse to tell you! — Please make her
come back! I am sure you can make her do what you
want. — And won't you stay here now, Helga?
Helga. Without mother.'' Not if you begged me on your
knees! Not if you killed me for it, either!
[She puts on her hat.
Tygesen. But, Helga!
Helga. Well, if you can't get along with mother, then
[She begins to cry.
Tygesen. What are you saying, girl?
Helga. Without you and mother — without mollicr and
you — there's no meaning in anything!— Oh, what a dreadful
thing!
Tygesen. Yes, it's a dreadful thing for all of us — for my
geograph3% too!
Helga. Well, there will be nobody to disturb you now.
Good-by! [She picks up her bag and goes out.
Tygesen remains alone for a little while; he sits down.
Turman. [Appearing] How goes it, Tygesen?
Tygesen. [Jumping to his feet] Did you ring? W.us the
street door open?
Turman. Helga and Ane were standing in the doorway
talking. And so I went in.
Tygesen gives him a look; then he seats himself again.
Turman. The picture I now behold reminds me very much
of Marius seated amidst the ruins of Carthage. No, it makes
ACT 11 LOVE AND GEOGRAPHY 75
my thoughts wander back to the old Assyria. You remind me
of the goddess Ishtar, Tygesen, when she was languishing —
atta lu mutema lu assatka. — Well, I can light my pipe in here
now, since you've become a bachelor, can't I? — What a sigh!
Poor thing, is it suffering? — Well, I told you, Tygesen, that
you couldn't stand this kind of thing. Only strong people
like myself can undertake to live alone; not the kind of
fellows that have once been under female tutelage. With-
out women those poor fellows become as miserable as Ishtar
was without a man. She went up to the gods, and she went
into the nether world — up and down she went! And it
didn't help her in the least. You, too, Tygesen, are one
moment in the uppermost regions, and the next one in the
nethermost — without the least avail.
Tygesen. I have been giving it a lot of thought these last
days — and at night, too. I mean that Ishtar myth.
TuRMAN. It means the dog-days, old chap.
Tygesen. Yes. But it goes deeper than that. All of us
want to draw water from the well of life. Of course! But
the more we get, the more we want. The highest natures
demand most — find it hardest to be satisfied. That's the
horrible thing: that those who have advanced farthest grow
most impatient, most unhappy! That's the tragedy of the
race, Turman — its tragedy.
Tubman. Do you really feel as bad as all that, Tygesen.?
Tygesen gives him a look.
Turman. That you have to philosophise, I mean. You
should take long walks and cold baths. Then you should
smoke. There's company in a pipe, and it doesn't inter-
rupt you.
Tygesen. The generations coming after us will have still
greater demands, which means that they will be still more
unhappy. Did you ever think of that.'*
76 LOVE AND GEOGRAPHY act ii
TuRMAN. You mean, they will grow more and more nerv-
ous?
Tygesen. There you said it — nervous! You know some
of our foremost thinkers and critics. You have often poked
fun at them. They are all brain and nerves. A hundred
years from now that kind of people will be ten times more
numerous. And so on — and so on !
TuRMAN. Ten times more of nervousness ?
Tygesen. Ten times more irritability! Ten times more
temper! Of course!
TxjRMAN. Yes, then it will be a joy to live!
Tygesen. At last it will reach the point where no human
being can bear the sight of another one. They'll scream if
they catch sight of each other half a mile away — ^scream with
pain!
TuRMAN. Is that what you sit here and try to cheer your-
self up with, Tygesen?
Tygesen. It all comes from the spiritualisation of the race.
The more it advances, the more it will turn to mere spirit.
It's horrible! — ^Or, at least, it will be so unless we can make
proportionate technical advances, and thus render people
independent of each other. By making it possible, for in-
stance, to draw food directly from the sun. We are being
fed by the sun now, for that matter. With the help of soil
and grass and grain and cattle and kettles — Why couldn't
it be done without such help? With nothing in between?
Isn't that imaginable? And wouldn't that spare us all that
now is making us so distressingly dependent on each other?
Shouldn't we then be able to meet in spirit only? Oi almost
in spirit only?
TuRMAN. Yes, almost! — But don't get peevish now. You
won't get anywhere by trying to lift yourself by your own
ACT II LOVE AND GEOGRAPHY 77
boot-straps. Imagination — that's what it is, man. You
need help. That's all there is to it!
Tygesen. Help.'' I.'' Nobody can help me. And nobody
will.
TuRMAN. My, mj^! But who knows.'' — Of course, it de-
pends on what kind of help you have in mind.
Tygesen. Yes, it's easy for you to smile!
TuRMAN. I fear you didn't know much about what you
had until you missed it.
Tygesen. Let me tell you once for all that I won't stand
your sneering. And to-day I am less than ever in the mood
for it. — Otherwise I am human. That much I admit. But
you don't even know what that means.
Tubman. Is it really so painful to be human, Tygesen.''
Tygesen. Now, Turman, can't you understand, can't you
perceive, can't you
Turman. What's the matter with you?
Tygesen. Oh, Lord, he asks that! Haven't you noticed —
haven't your smell and taste and hearing told you long ago
that it takes me all my self-control to bear your presence?
Turman. No.
Tygesen. No, of course not! — And hasn't your logic told
you something about it — you who are always talking about
logic? Couldn't you figure out that this solitude of mine
must reveal to me just how the whole thing has happened?
Turman. No.
Tygesen. That it wouldn't have happened except for you?
That it's your fault?
Turman. My ?
Tygesen. Yes, yours ! — You were all the time plaguing me
with tales about those infernal rooms of yours — big rooms
full of books and papers that nobody ever touches. You were
78 LOVE AND GEOGRAPHY actii
always humiliating me by means of your colossal memory,
and by saying that "to marry is to lose one's memory."
TuRMAN. But it's true!
Tygesen. There he goes again — damn it!
TuRMAN. You've got into an awful habit of swearing,
Tygesen.
Tygesen. That's the only way a man with a little decent
imagination can make the language suffice. — But don't you
feel now, when I have explained it to you, that you are to
blame for the whole thing?
TuRMAN. I'll be hanged if I do!
Tygesen. No, how could one expect a book bound in heavy
leather
TuRMAN. Why not say ox-hide at once.''
Tygesen. All right! How could one expect a easeful of
hide-bound folios, covered with tobacco dust, to have any
feelings.'*
Turman. Perhaps, if you looked inside
Tygesen. God forfend!
Turman. You might get your good sleep back. Tygesen.
Tygesen. I might get — [With a sudden change] You know
something? You have something to tell me?
Turman. Maybe.
Tygesen. Why don't you say so at once? You said you
wanted to see me about something. What is it?
Turman. I have a proposition to make.
Tygesen. From whom?
Turman. PVom them. They want peace.
Tygesen. They want peace? They want to come back
again?
Turman. That's what I said.
Tygesen. Why didn't you say so at once? For then the
earth is no longer covered by the flood: the sun is stand-
ACT II LOVE AND GEOGRAPHY 79
ing over Ararat! Don't you see, Turman? After all, I am
no cannibal ! Of course, I can shoot off superfluous words —
words have such a tendency to go off on their own hook.
But life isn't made up of words. It's made up of realities —
of established values, lasting relationships, tasks to be met. —
Karen sees that. At a pinch, she is not without common
sense.
Turman. But first of all j'ou had better hear
Tygesen. No more "buts"! Let's have a drink on this!
Turman. Delighted, but
Tygesen. No "buts," I tell you! This wine here does not
deserve any "butting." [They drink] Isn't that so?
Turman. It's good all right, but
Tygesen. What? Have you more of them? You want
another glass?
Turman. Delighted, but
Tygesen. Oh, wash down your "buts"! Wash them
down! Come on! [They drink.
Turman. Thanks! The wine i> good. But
Tygesen. More? You're insatiable! Take the bottle!
Turman. There isn't much left in it. But
Tygesen. Out with them then, man! Or you'll choke on
them!
Turman. The conditions, I mean — wouldn't you care to
hear them?
Tygesen. Conditions for what?
Turman. For their coming home again.
Tygesen. There are no conditions. I'll take Karen in my
arms, and kiss her, and carry her in. Without any condi-
tions whatsoever — that's what I'll do. All that silly stuff
we talked — not a word about it! Nor to Malla either! At
bottom she is all right, too.
Turman. That means : enter women folks, exit geography.
80 LOVE AND GEOGRAPHY act ii
Ttgesen. Exit geography?
TuRMAN. They want no more geography in this room.
Both maps and notes must go. They want this room to
themselves.
Tygesex. They want it to themselves, you say.^
Tubman. As a sign, you see, that geography is no longer
to crowd them out of the house. There is to be equal division.
And they want the sitting-room back, too.
Tygesex. The sitting-room back, too.^ That's a joke,
Turman. And jokes are not in good taste just now, I tell you.
TuRMAN. No, and that's why I am talking quite seriously.
Tygesex. Why do you smile? You are just making fun of
me.
Turman. Yes, you're so very fond of fun, Tygesen !
Tygesen. You didn't speak seriously, then?
Turman. Yes, I did.
Tygesen. You mean I should clear out? Give up this
room and the sitting-room? Oh, nonsense! — You rascal!
Turman. You are to clear this room of everylhing geo-
graphical — and the sitting-room, too. And that's not their
only demand,
Tygesen. What else?
Turman. They want Helga's room — and Helga to come
home. They want a fair division. They want all that is
theirs.
Tygesen. Oh, that's what they want! Well, Turman,
then you can't blame me for taking them at their own word.
All that is theirs — I have not the slightest objection. For
this is mine, all of it !
Turman. All of it yours?
Tygesen. Everything you can name in here has been
bought with my money. The whole house with all that's in it.
Turman. Including the rats?
ACT II LOVE AND GEOGRAPHY 81
Tygesen. In all seriousness I can answer that the rats are
also mine. And why did I buy this house? To do my work
in it. And what is their business here.'' To help me do my
work. Those are simple, fundamental truths; on them
everything else is built. A fair division must be based on
them. That means they have no right to demand any-
thing at all. But I won't go that far: let them go up-stairs!
If they don't want to help me, they must at least get out
of my way. Now you know what's theirs.
TuRMAN. That isn't much — the attic.
Tygesen. It won't do to speak of the upper floor of a house
like this as an "attic." Three large rooms and a wide,
lighted hallway — a regular museum. Isn't that a home in
keeping with their social position.^' And then, leading up to
it, an easy stairway laid with carpets and decorated with ob-
jects that would be a pride to any ethnographical collection.
Are they queens to wish for more than that?
Tubman. I imagine it can't be so very splendid up there,
for they won't accept it.
Tygesen. Oh, they won't! Why the devil didn't you say
so at once? {Crying out] Ane! — They think they can tire me
out, I suppose! — Ane!
Turman. You can't face it, Tygesen. Remember Ishtar,
Tygesen — the Assyrian.
Tygesen. Ane! Where the deuce is that girl? — I should
be a traitor to humanity if I didn't stick it out. The issue
at stake is a principle loftier than Mount Everest. And I
am not exaggerating either — [Ane appears] Oh, there you
are! Hurry up and get ready, Ane. We're going to put
up maps.
Ane. For the land's sake— — !
Tygesen. This very minute! — Don't argue!
Ane goes out to make herself ready.
82 LOVE AND GEOGRAPHY act a
TuRMAN. All right, then I'll write them that you have
grown principles — loftier than the world's tallest mountain
peak.
Tygesen. Go on and write! Do it on the spot! You can
go into my study. Write them that you are sitting in my
study. That I asked you to write. Then they'll understand.
TuRMAN. And when the next bad spell comes, Tygesen ?
Tygesen. Write about what you have seen here — about the
maps. That'll be answer enough for them.
TuRMAN. O holy matrimony! — Well, have a pleasant time,
Tygesen! [He goes into the study.
Tygesen. First he starts the whole trouble, and then he
goes around enjoying it. [To Ane, who has just come in] Why
don't you stay in one place?
Ane. I?
Tygesen. [To himself] Wonder what she is after.' — Sup-
pose I tried to make friends with her? For it's true: there is
no one else. [To Ane] Ane!
Ane. Yes.
Tygesen. Let's put back the table. — That's it! — Would
you like a glass of wine?
Ane. I? — Lord, what is he up to now?
Tygesen. Why do j^ou always get behind me? — Here you
are! — I haven't any time to spare. Here you are! — That's
it! Skoal, Ane! — [To himself] Hm, looking at her close, she
isn't so bad after all. [To Ane] The less help a man can get
along with, Ane, the better. And the farther he'll get.
Now, I've made up my mind to have only you. Do you
understand?
Ane. We-ell — ye-es.
Tygesen. I'll double your wages. I'll treble them. For
it isn't a question of saving, you see. — Would you like an-
other glass of wine?
ACT II LOVE AND GEOGRAPHY 83
Ane. Lord, no!
Tygesen. Now I'll explain to you why we are putting up
these maps.
Ane. Won't you excuse me, please? I'll do anything
else
Tygesen. Wait a moment, Ane. and you'll hear. Nobody
could expect you to understand anything until it had been
explained to you. Eh? — No! — Well, then: Russia is a
mighty big country. And that's the country I am writing
about. Do you know how big Russia is?
Ane. Russia? I guess it's pretty big.
Tygesen. It's so big that if Norway — all Norway — were as
big as this [he walks in a small circle], then Russia would be as
big as this. [He describes a very large circle on the floor.
Ane. Just as it is on the map.
Tygesen. On the map? Do you know what a map is?
Ane. Sure!
Tygesen. Oh, that makes a difference. Then I can cut it
short. — You see, the hardest thing I know is to remember all
there is in such a very la-a-a-arge country.
Ane. Have you got to remember everything?
Tygesen. Everything. Well — that is — not exactly every-
thing. But about the languages, for instance. You see
those strips of paper on the tables over there?
Ane. I'm that scared of them, I hardly dare go near them.
Tygesen. Don't let's talk of that now. Those strips of
paper^those are the languages.
Ane. Are those the languages?
Tygesen. No, not the languages, but notes about them!
You understand what I mean, don't you? — Where were you
born?
Ane. On Gallows Hill.
84 LOVE AND GEOGRAPHY act n
Tygesen. Which means in Christiania, which means in
Norway. All people born in Norway talk the same language.
Ane. Do the people on the West Coast talk like us on
Gallows Hill?
Tygesex. Yes, they do!
Ane. But
Tygesen. It is as I say. Don't break in! That makes it
so much harder for me. What I wanted to saj — what I
wanted to explain was that people who understand each other
talk the same language. You understand the people from
the West Coast. But how about French? Do you under-
stand French?
Ane. Yes.
Tygesen. Frencli?
Ane. We had a couple of Frenchmen here, and one of
them always said when he saw me in the door: "Je t'aime!
Comme tu es jolie!"
Tygesex. And what does it mean?
Ane. Shut him — come and be jolly !
Tygesen. I guess we had better not talk any more about
the languages, Ane. We'll get at it in another way.
Ane. But can't you excuse me from putting up maps?
Tygesex. Don't get impatient now, Ane. Don't you see
how patient I am? — If you are to make all sorts of objections,
it will be worse to have only one helper than to have the
whole lot of them. — Now listen to me! Well, then — I'll now
enumerate the different races in only a small part of Russia —
in a small part only! Namely: Timguses, Samoyedes, Ya-
kuts, Kamchadales, Koryaks — [The door-bell rings; Axe startu
to leave] Where are you going?
Ane. The bell is ringing.
Tygesen. Who's ringing it?
Ane. I don't know.
ACT II LOVE AND GEOGRAPHY 85
Tygesen. Nobody comes to see me. And I don't want
any more of those people that come to see you. [The hell rings
again] Be still! Let them ring! Then they'll get tired and
not come back. Now let's go on: Ghilyaks, Voguls, Ostiaks,
Manchus. [The hell rings] Why the devil does that bell keep
ringing! Who's ringing it?
Ane. I don't know.
Tygesen. Ghilyaks, Voguls. [The hell rings uninterrupt-
edly] Ostiaks, Manchus, Yakuts, Koryaks, Tunguses — You
are not listening to me! You're a regular hussy! [The hell
stops ringing] Where are you going .^
Ane. I thought
Tygesen. So now you've begun to "think," too! — Give
me the key to the front door !
Ane. The key to the front door.^
Tygesen. Come here with it!
Ane. But
Tygesen. Come here with it, I tell you! [Taking the key
from her] I'm going to the locksmith myself to have him
change the lock so that the door can't be opened without
a key! Do you understand.^
Ane. But if anybody should come.^
Tygesen. Nobody needs to come here at all, and if they
come anyhow, I'll open for them.
Ane, But when I have to go out— — ?
Tygesen. Why should you go out? Tell me! And if you
must, you can let me know! — Everything is going to be
arranged so that I can have peace. Everything must be just
right in the house, and I don't want to be disturbed from the
outside. Do you understand?
Ane. Can I go now?
Tygesen. Why do you need to go? No! Now we'll put
up maps.
86 LOVE AND GEOGRAPHY actu
Ane. But the dinner ?
Tygesen. I'll attend to that.
Ane. You.'
Tygesen. You don't need to do anything at all after this.
Or hardly anything at all. But you'll get three times as much
wages. Four times as much, for that matter, if I can only
feel safe. And have peace. So — now tlie maps! — No, it's no
use, damn it! You must! First of all, we'll fix the frames.
Ane. Then I'll have to be climbing again?
Tygesen. Yes! — I don't want any more objections! It's
essential to the peace of a house that there should be only
one will. And that it should be obeyed. You can bet any-
thing you please that you won't get out of here alive until
it's done. So: now we'll begin!
He goes to the table and takes from a drawer a ball of
string and a big carving-knife. Ane begins to scream.
Tygesen. What's the matter with the woman.' — Why do
you yell like that? — ^Take hold now — none of your tricks will
help you! [lie starts tovard the frames.
Ane, vjho has been standing in front of them, runs from
him screaming.
Tygesen. I think tlie devil is riding you! Why do you
run away?
TuRMAN. [Coming from the study] My dear fellow, what's
the matter?
Ane. [Taking refuge behind Turman] Help!
Curtain.
ACT III
The same room as in Acts I and II, but cleared of all lumber —
710 more maps or little stones to be seen. The stage stands
empty for a while. TheJi the front bell rings and a
moment later the voices of Ane and Helga are heard oid-
side.
Ane. [Outside] Oh, dear, are you also in town to-day, miss?
Helga. [Outside] I have run in for a few moments only.
Ane. [Outside] Are you alone to-day.'^
They come into the room.
Helga. [Who carries a roll of sheet music] Yes, I am alone
to-day. I just came in to change some music.
[She goes to the window.
Ane. To-day again?
Helga. There are so manj' of us — and we didn't get the
right music last time. — Well, how are you, iVne?
Ane. Thanks, it's just as it was before.
Helga. Are you still scared?
Ane. Scared.^ — Indeed! What would you say if the whole
house was shut and locked for the night, and then somebody
began, after twelve, walking around the halls, down in the
cellar, up the stairs, into the rooms — heh?
Helga. Well, it must be somebody else, and not father.
For I had a letter from him yesterday, from Bessarabia^ — from
Kishinev — that's a city down there, way down by the Black
Sea. So you needn't be afraid of dad, Ane. He can't pos-
sibly be around here at night.
[She keeps looking out of the loindow,
87
88 LOVE AM) GEOGRAPHY act m
Ane. As if I couldn't recognise his steps, — lie, who has a
double and always is heard coming twice?
Helga. That's what they say. I have never heard it.
Ane. But I have, many times. P'irst I used to hear him
on the stone walk outside, then in the hall, but there was no
professor there. Then I would hear him again, and it was
the professor. That's why I have always l)een scared of him.
He isn't like other people.
Helga, No, he isn't — He is thinking of me all the time,
he writes, and it won't leave him in f>eace.
Ane, Maybe that's why I can hear him here at night — he
can't get any peace?
Helga, But then he should be coming to the school — for
that's where I am,
Ane. Yes, it would be much better if he went spookingi
around the school instead,
Helga, Have you told Mr, Turman about this?
Ane. I have. And do you know what he said? "It's
contrarious to science," he said. What we can hear with our
own ears? For those that are staying with me can hear it,
too.
Helga, Are you not alone?
Ane. What? Alone! It's all I can do to be here alone
in the day. I don't dare go in any of the other rooms. I
don't dare go up-stairs or down in the cellar. I stay here and
in the kitchen — that's what I do.
Helga. But who's staying with you at night, Ane?
Ane. Oh, well — that's as it happens — mother and others.
Helga. What does your mother say?
Ane. Well, she won't stay here any more — not to save her
soul. That's the way she feels about it.
Helga. I shouldn't dare to stay with you, either, now.
You have frightened me
ACT III LOVE AND GEOGRAPHY 89
Ane. No, I guess it has to be somebody who's got a lot of
courage
Helga. But, Ane
Ane. It's for the good of the house, miss.
Helga. I suppose it's some girl friends of yours.''
Ane. Of course! Who else could it be.^
Helga. No, of course! — There was something I wanted to
ask you about
Ane. Well.?
Helga. Oh, well, never mind.
[She looks out of the window, and then at her watch.
Ane. Have you been reading something again, miss?
Helga. Yes, the best thing I ever read in all my life!
Ane. Oh, won't you tell about it?
Helga. I have been reading about a couple that couldn't
have each other because they were too young. That is, they
were not too young, you see, but his father thought so.
Ane. That was foolish!
Helga. But they were not afraid, and so they went away
together.
Ane. Without anybody knowing it?
Helga. Without anybody knowing it. And then they
came to a little town, and there they rented a garret in a little
house. There was nothing but the garret up there, and they
lived in it. Only the two of them.
Ane. Only the two of them.
Helga. They were together all the time. They cooked
their food together. They read together
Ane. Were they students?
Helga. Why should they be students?
Ane. No, I guess there wasn't much studying done.
Helga. They had such an awfully good time. Nobody
90 LOVE AND GEOGRAPHY act m
knew about them. Nohofly cainc to see them. Only the
two of them.
Axe. Didn't they get tired of that.^
Helga. What do you mean? — But soon they got very hard
up.
Ane. They hadn't any money .^
Helga. Not very much. But they didn't care in the least !
They sold everything they could spare, and their watches first
of all. AVhat did they care about the time.' And then her
jewelry. What did they care about such things? And then
all the clothes they didn't use. The name of the story is
"Life's Superfluities." They sold what they had no need for,
you see. But the winter was dreadfully cold, and soon they
had no wood left.
Ane. No wood either?
Helga. Then they burned the furniture.
Ane. The furniture!
Helga. They didn't need it, you see — and so they used the
table and the chairs and the bed
Ane. The bed, too!
Helga. They didn't need it! And when it was all gone,
they pulled up the stairway, and cut it to pieces, and burned
it.
Ane. The stairway !
Helga. They didn't need the stairs. And then came his
father.
Ane. Well, I should say it was about time!
Helga. He was a shrewd one! He had known of every-
thing, for the landlord was his friend and kept him posted.
He had just been waiting to see them starve — and give in.
Ane. But they didn't give in?
Helga. No, you may be sure ! It was the ohl man who had
to give in.
ACTui LOVE AND GEOGRAPHY 91
Ane. Good for them !
Helga. But, of course, I can't tell it the way it reads, for
it's perfectly wonderfully written. Just think, if it happened
like that in real life nowadays! But I guess it doesn't.
Ane. No, I guess not. — Lord, but you're like your father,
miss!
Helga. I? Am I like dad.'*
Ane. I mean, it's only one thing at a time with both of
you. It's nothing but geography with him, and with you
it's
Helga. Don't you say it, Ane !
Ane. Whom are you looking for.^
Helga. I.' Oh, it's such fun to stand here again and look
at all the familiar faces on the street and in the windows.
There's the man who brings coal now.
Ane. There's one fellow who keeps passing here all the
time — in a grey coat.
Helga. In a grey coat, you say?
Ane. And now it's this one, and now it's that
Helga. Whom do you mean?
Ane. Him that painted your mother, and Miss Malla
didn't want to have along on the trip.
Helga. Mr. Henning?
Ane. Sure.
Helga. You see him pass — now with this one
Ane. And now with that one.
Helga. Girls, you mean?
Ane. Sure.
Helga. Have you seen him to-day?
Ane. No, not to-day.
Helga. But you don't mean to say ?
Ane. Sure, I do! He's a fine one, he is!
Helga. You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Ane! — And
92 LOVE AND GEOGRAPHY act m
I'll tell you : when a man is really fond of somebody, then he
has to go out walking with others too, or people will find out
whom he is fond of.
Axe. Has Mr. Henning been saying that.'
Helga. How should I know? I don't know what Mr.
Henning has been saying.
Ane. For that's what they all say
Helga. Do they .'
Ane. And the best thing is to pay them back in the same
coin. They are like that, and — tit for tat!
Helga. Haven't you anybody whom you are fond of?
Ane. Fond of — that can mean such a lot of things.
Helga. Haven't you a beau?
Ane. The idea! No, it's too much like being robbed.
We've dropped that kind of thing, we girls.
Helga. Having beaux ?
Ane. Sure! And we've made a song about it, too.
Helga. Oh, sing it!
Ane. I'll be glad to. It goes to the tune of "The Last
Rose." It has another tune, too, and that's much better,
but I don't know it so well.
Helga. Sing the one you know!
Ane. [Sings]
I w'on't have a lover ever.
For I want to own my soul;
False I'll be to no one never,
But I want to like 'em all.
One to-day and one to-morrow.
That will be my happiness.
So I bid good-by to sorrow,
Leave to each his own distress.
ACTui LOVE AND GEOGRAPHY 93
Helga. [Looks at her watch the moment the song w finished
and runs out] Good-by for a while!
Ane. But the music, the music!
Helga. [Already outside] Oh, let it stay there!
Ane. [Hurries to the window] I don't see anybody. I must
run after her.
[She runs out, and for a little while the stage is empty.
BiRGiT. [Is heard speaking oidside] After you !
TuRM.^N. [Also oidside] Oh, no, after you!
BiRGiT. [Outside] Is there no maid here.^
TuRMAN. [Outside] Doesn't seem so.
BiRGiT. [Outside] Yet the front door wasn't locked ?
Tubman. [Still outside] Tygesen should know of this !
Both come into the room.
BiRGiT. Well, you are .^
Turman. Yes, I am. And you are .''
BiRGiT. Yes, I am.
TtiRMAN. I am very prompt, as you see.
BiRGiT. You'll forgive me for asking you to meet me.'
Tubman. Not at all ! I had to come here to get a book for
Tygesen anyhow.
BiRGiT. He's in Bessarabia?
TuRMAN. In Bessarabia, at Kishinev. Had a letter from
him yesterday. I am to look up a book in his library and
send it to him. — Have you had a pleasant trip?
BiRGiT. Very pleasant, but all too short. Mrs. T^'gesen
insisted on going home.
Turman. Tygesen will soon be here, too.
BiRGiT. I wanted to have a little talk with you before the
rest arrive. They stopped at the school and will be here in a
few moments.
Turman. I am at vour service.
94 LOVE AND GEOGRAPHY act m
BiRGiT. Mr. Tygcsen was in pretty had condition when lie
left, wasn't he?
She motions Tubman to be seated and also sits down
herself.
TuRMAN. His condition was so bad that if I only said
"How goes it, Tygesen?" he would shriek.
BiRGiT. You haven't much sympathy for him?
TuRMAN. Oh, yes! — Yes, I have sympathy for all who are
married.
BiRGiT. Consequently for me, too?
TuRMAN. Not while your husband is in Odessa and you
here.
BiRGiT. [To herself] I'll make you pay for that. [To Tub-
man] And I, for my part, have sympathy with all who are
made selfish by their work.
TuRMAN. By their work? Does that make anybody selfish?
BiRGiT. Indeed! In the end they find everything anil
everybody in the way. Only their work counts. — There are
many of that kind.
TuRMAN. But not Tygesen?
BiRGiT. Tygesen especially. Does he really need all the
maps he's putting up?
TuRiMAN. Not one of them.
BiRGiT. Not one of them? That's worse than I thought.
TuRMAN. He knows them by heart. Including the new
ones, as soon as he has had a look at them.
BiRGlT. But why should he fill up the house with them,
then?
TuRiMAN. The idea of it has caught his imagination. Anil
when that's the case, Tygesen is absolutely intractable.
BiRGiT. But who has turned his imagination in such a di-
rection? — Crowding his family out, I mean, and leaving no
place for anything but his work?
ACTin LOVE AND GEOGRAPHY 95
Tubman. Do you know Tygesen?
BiRGiT. No, but I have known men of imagination.
TuRMAN. Then you ought to know how blind they can be.
BiRGiT. Has it ever occurred to you that the reverse might
be true.^
TuRMAN. The reverse.^ — How do you mean, madam?
BiRGiT. That men of imagination — ui spite of all their
slips — might be the only ones who see — the ones among us
who discover things?
TuRMAN. Oh — I see! [He moves his chair further away.
BiRGiT. Yes, you have good cause to be frightened — for
there is a little of the same thing in myself. — What I mean is,
that most of the trouble in this world comes from those who
have not enough imagination. And that's the case here, too.
TuRMAN. Is that so?
BiRGiT. If Tygesen hadn't met a certain old friend of his
again, nothing would ever have gone wrong. And if that
friend hadn't been standing in the way, the whole thing would
have been settled by now.
Tubman. But those are Tygesen's own words! How do
you know that I have stood in the way of a settlement?
BiRGiT. By your own letters.
Tubman. By my own letters? — Then I don't even know
what I am writing?
BiRGiT. Of course you don't.
Turman. No, of course not! Is it by holding the letters
up against the light that you have ?
BiRGiT. No, merely by reading them and by using my
vision. Which is more than you can do.
Tubman. So I'm beginning to think. — I suppose that, just
now, I don't see you either?
BiBGiT. You.' — See me? — No!
96 LOVE AND GEOGRAPHY actiii
Tubman. So you're invisible! — Well, even Tygesen
hasn't carried it that far.
BiRGiT. Can you see that hand?
TuRMAN. That hand — yes. Do you think I can't see it.'
BiRGiT. Do you really see it.'
TuRMAN. Really see it.' Well — perhaps it's invisible, too.'
BiRGiT. Can you see that it is my hand.'
TuRMAN. Could it possibly be anybody else's.'
BiRGiT. How do you see that it is mine?
TuRMAN. Well — because it's connected with your arm.
Can't you see that?
BiRGiT. Yes, but there are other ways in which I can see
that your hand is yours.
TuRMAN. So now the turn has come to mine.
[lie holds out his hand.
BiRGlT. I think that mine will be more than enough.
What do you see?
TuRMAN. A woman's hand. With five fingers. Rather
long. And a ring. Also a palm. — What do you expect me
to see?
BiRGiT. Everything.
TuRMAN. That means your wrist too?
BiRGiT. If you can.
TuRMAN. Is that so very difficult — to see your wrist?
There is a bracelet. Well, I don't know anything ai)()iit
trinkets.
BiRGiT. How about what you do know?
TuRMAN. About the hand?
BiRGiT. Yes, the hand, for instance.
TuRMAN. It has never been in a washtub — it's so very
white.
BiHGiT. Is that all?
ACT III LOVE AND GEOGRAPHY 97
Tubman. What do you mean? The veins? The nails?
Or perhaps you are thinking of the inside — the lines? Do
you want me to tell your fortune?
BiRGiT. If you can.
TxjRMAN. No, I can't. I don't believe in it, either. But
that's not the reason?
BiRGiT. But somebody else, a man with imagination — do
you know what he saw?
Tubman. No, tell me.
BiRGiT. My character. And a good deal of my history,
too.
TuRMAN. In your hand? [He bends to look at it.
BiRGiT. In it and on it. He saw why this hand must be
mine — in a word: he saiv it. And if it came near him — as
near as it is to you now — he could feel it, too, without
touching it. Could feel how it repelled or attracted him.
TuRMAN. The deuce, you say!
BiRGiT. Ha, ha, ha! And you think you see? That you
understand women? That you can explain marriage? You
dare to interfere in relations so various and so delicate as
those between Tygesen and his wife?
[She has risen in speaking these words.
TuRMAN. [Who has also risen] I have never done so!
BiRGiT. Yes, to such an extent that, if you were not as
hopelessly blind as you are, it might be called criminal.
TuRMAN. Criminal? Have I been guilty of anything
criminal ?
BiRGiT. Oh, there are more crimes than those mentioned
in the law-books. The very worst ones are not there at all,
TuRMAN. As, for instance?
BiRGiT. As, for instance, the tainting of a child's imagina-
tion.
TuRMAN. But have I ?
98 LOVE AND GEOGRAPHY act in
BiRGiT. It's of no use getting angry, professor! Men of
imagination — and particularly men of genius — are children.
They receive things with wide-open senses and in absolute
innocence. You can mould the imagination of Tygesen a.s
if it were wax. For that reason it's a serious responsi-
bility to be the friend of such a man. — And you have daily
been filling his mind with the notion tliat a marriage meant ii
loss to his sacred science — the destruction of it.
TuRMAN. But, as sure as I live, that is so!
BiRGiT. Do you think anybody loses anything by living a
complete human life.' Or that anything you are occupied
with could lose by such a life?
Tubman. We are scattered by it — and held back by it
BiRGiT. By the practice of love and the development of
character.? Oh, no! — To be loved and assisted — could that
hold us back? — You have done much wrong to Tygesen, and
to Mrs. Tygesen !
Turman. Upon my soul, I have done him as much good as
I could — that's what I have done! And do you know what
he has done? He has unloaded on me whatever gave him
any concern. Tygesen is a tyrant, I can tell you, and he is a
tyrant because he is selfish, and I have borne with it so far.
There's the crime I have committed! — Oh, I never heard of
such a lot of mare's nests!
BiRGiT. [Smiling] You are not losing your temper? — But
I'll transfer the battle to another field — where you are quite
at home. When Ishtar, the Assyrian — —
TuRMAN. What's that?
BiRGiT. When Ishtar, the Assyrian, had been deserted and
was languishing, she sought her sister in the nether world.
Turman. You know about that ?
BiRGiT. Just think, the goddess was able to plunge into
those regions from the sunny realm of illusions!
ACT III LOVE AND GEOGRAPHY 99
TtJBMAN. True — there's no imagination down there. Ha,
ha!
BiEGiT. Yes, I am sure she was received with laughter. It
seems to me I can hear it echo through the clammy halls of
that dread place.
TuRMAN. That's pretty good, that is.
BiRGiT. But when Tygesen becomes dejected, as such peo-
ple often will, and turns for advice to — well, to a man like
you
TuRMAN. So I am to be the nether world.?
BiRGiT. Haven't you said yourself that you see everything
as it is— without any illusions? That's the mark of the
nether world.
TuRMAN. Pretty good! You're clever.
BiRGiT. Ishtar nearly lost her reason
TuRMAN. Do you think Tygesen .^
BiRGiT. No, Tygesen is a very strong man,
TuRMAN. Yes, that's what I thought.
BiRGiT. But he is not the only one here
TuRMAN. Mrs. Tygesen [He checks himself abruptly.
BiRGiT. [Going up to him] When a woman at the age of
Mrs. Tygesen is neglected by her husband, she may begin to
languish — and she may do some very strange things. That's
what / can tell you. And now I am talking of things I know.
— But you are quite blind.
TuRMAN. But Mrs. Tygesen is not troubled with imagina-
tion, is she?
BiRGiT. All of us have imagination. Even you. And I
hope to heaven that yours may play you a trick some time.
With that pious wish I must leave you for a moment. I am
to meet Mrs. Tygesen. Au revoir! [8he goes out.
TuRMAN. There's a lady for you! And educated at that ! —
Ishtar — she knows about Ishtar! There isn't one in a thou-
100 LOVE AND GEOGRAPHY acthi
sand — not one in a hundred thousand — who does! That
much I have to admit! But to forbid me poking fun at
Tygesen? That's quite out of the question. I don't think
he would Hke it, either.
Ane. [Coming in] AMiat a cliase! — Oh, are you here.^
Tubman. The door wasn't locked, and nobody was here.
Ane. No, I guess I forgot all about the door. I had to
run after somebody I saw going by.
TuRMAN. Quite a tour that must have been. I have been
here about a quarter of an hour.
Ane. It was our young lady.
Tubman. Is sJie in town.^
Ane. Yes — to change some music.
Tubman. Would they send her to do that.' And all
alone.''
Ane. No, she isn't alone.
Tubman. I was supposed to keep an eye on her. But now
her mother is back, of course.
Ane. Has she come back.'
Tubman. They have gone out to the school, both she and
Miss Rambek, but they won't find Miss Helga there.
Ane. Oh, they'll find her all right. Well, thank God.
they're here!
Tubman. Is all that ghost business at night keeping up.'
Ane. Yes!
Tubman. Well, to reassure you, let me tell you I got a
letter from Mr. T^'gescn yesterday — from Bessarabia. We
have a law in physics which says that no solid botly can occupy
two different spots at the same time.
Ane. Well, I'll be darned if he isn't here, too — that was
me, Ane, what swore to it!
Tubman. But why should he be around here only at night,
Ane?
ACTiu LOVE AND GEOGRAPHY 101
Ane. He's got too much to do in the daj'time, I suppose.
TuRMAN. Well, well. You ought to know about that. — I
am going in here now to get a book. The door hasn't been
locked, has it?
Ane. I don't know. I never go in there.
TuRMAN. No, it's open. [He goes into the study.
Ane. Why can't they believe me.-* Seeing as we're more'n
one that hear him every night. — In the day — perhaps he's
around here in the day, too!
Tygesen appears at that moment in the doorway leading
to the hall.
Ane catches sight of him and turns stiff with fright.
Seeing that she is frightened, Tygesen walks right at her
without a word.
Ane throws herself on the floor.
Tygesen walks silently around her.
Ane raises her head just enough to watch his movements.
As soon as she sees her chance, she gets up on all fours
and crauis away from him. Once at a safe distance,
she gets up and runs out — all this without uttering a
sound.
Tygesen. She's just as she has always been, that one. —
But I must have something to drink. A railroad trip like
that makes one thirsty as the deuce. [He goes to the cellar door
under the stairway, takes a hunch of keys from his pocket,
and starts to open the door; but the moment he touches the door,
it yields to the pressure] So that's open, too. Of course!
He disappears into the cellar, and for a while the stage is
empty.
TuRMAN. [Returns from the study icith a book in his hand]
Now I must get it wrapped up and sent ofiF. I think I"ll
go down to my book-dealer. He knows best how to do it.
102 LOVE AND GEOGRAPHY act m
[He looks around] That girl's crazy! To run away from the
house and not lock the door, that's too much. If Tygesen
only knew of it!
Tygesex comes up from the cellar at that moment.
TuRMAN. [Wlio is just turning around to go, catches sight of
him arid statuls perfectly still for a little while; then he takes three
or four steps backward, very carefully: and at last he faces around,
saying] Stuff! [Then he turns toward Tygesen again, takes
another look at him, and says] Nonsense! [lie makes slowly for
the background, leaving plenty of room betiveen himself and
Tygesen] Fibs! [Finally he gets by and readies the doorway,
where he turns around] Stuff! Nonsense! Fibs!
[Then he makes a quick exit.
Tygesen. [Coming forward] I guess Turman was scared
that time! — It isn't "logical" to be in Bessarabia and here at
the same time. — But somebody must have l)een here in my
place. In the whole cellar there were only three bottles left,
and those broken at that! Thieves! Thieves have got in
here! So it's quite natural the doors should stand wide
open. What's the need of doors on a house that has been
cleaned out — I can't help grudging them that wine — they
might have been satisfied with something cheaper. Yes, it's
nice to be home, isn't it? — And how about my clothes.^ If
they needed wine, they must have needed clothes, too. Yes.
I suppose they needed clothes first and wine afterward. [He
goes into the study but returns quickly] No, thej' didn't have to
drink naked, those fellows. Everything's gone — except this!
[He spreads out the old dressing-gown before him] I think they
might as well have taken that, too. It wouldn't have left
me any worse off. — I ought to be on my way to the school,
but now I simply must have a look up-stairs, too. I suji-
pose what they thought was: no use saving what's not one's
own! [He goes toward the door] I can't see why they left the
ACT III LOVE AND GEOGRAPHY 103
house behind. In America they would have put it on a cart
and made off with it. [He disappears up the stairway.
Malla. [Speaking outside] Dear me, there's that front door
standing open! Think if Tygesen had seen that!
[She comes in with Turman.
TuRMAN. I fear it was I who forgot to shut it. Miss Ram-
bek. For I must tell — something happened to me in here —
something very peculiar.
Malla. Well — and Ane isn't here, either?
Turman. Perhaps she's in the garden
Malla. Or in the cellar. I see the cellar door is also open.
But you're not at all like yourself, professor. That's what I
said to myself the moment I laid eyes on you.
Turman. No, because something very peculiar happened
to me.
Malla. What happened to you?
Turman. Of course, it was nothing but a delusion. — Ane
has been talking a lot of silly stuff about Tygesen — about his
having — having
Malla. A double?
Turman. The Lord help me! There she goes, too!
Malla. Oh, many a time we have heard him coming, and
then he didn't come. But a little later he would come.
Turman. That's something I ought to have heard, too, if
it were true — considering how often he has come to see me.
Malla. It isn't everybody that can hear it.
Turman. So I understand — but my head has been filled
so full of that kind of talk, that — Well, you can hardly
believe it, but — it's a fact that I seemed to see Tygesen stand-
ing over there
Malla. Where?
Turman. By the cellar door.
Malla. Tygesen?
104 LOVE AND GEOGRAPHY actiii
TuRMAN. And he was turning his head after me as I went
by.
Malla. When was that?
Tubman. Just a little while ago.
Malla. But didn't you say he was in
Turman. I had a letter from him yesterday — from Kish-
inev. Yet he was standing right there, with his grey hat on.
Malla. Lord, but that's like him!
Turman. What's like him?
Malla. To scare people with all sorts of tricks.
Turman. Has he also scared you?
Malla. Yes, when he was hundreds of miles away. —
What's up now?
Turman. [Having caught sight of the drcssing-goirn, he
walks backioard with his eyes on it] His dressing-gown!
Malla. What about it?
Turman. It — it wasn't there a while ago.
Malla. His old dressing-gown? You don't mean to say
that's having a double, too. I fear it's a little too far gone for
that.
Turman. But nevertheless it's most remarkable.
Malla. Are you not feeling well, Mr. Turman?
Turman. I don't think I am. I'll take a turn through the
garden. Then I can look for Ane at the same time, and ask
her to come in.
Malla. Perhaps I had better go with you?
Turman. No, thank you! No, it's merely an attack of
the imagination with which the house is full. Perhaps, if I
go outside, I'll get rid of it. [He goes out.
Malla. Tygesen can't have dragged that rag with him to
Bessarabia! And it could never have got home alone, I'm
sure!
ACT III LOVE AND GEOGRAPHY 105
She turns around and sees Tygesen coming doum the
stairs toward her. As he moves without a sound and
without the least change of expression on his face,
ivhile his eyes are firmly fixed on Malla, he gives
one the effect of growing taller as he comes nearer.
Malla sets up a shriek when Tygesen is a feto steps
away from her; keeping as close to the wall as possible,
she then rushes wildly out of the house.
Tygesen. Well, that's some consolation! To have /ler run
away! After that all the rest hardly matters. — For there
isn't a thing left here that belonged to me. I won't say a
word about the place not being cleaned while I have been
away. — Not a thing left up there. Thieves — thieves all over
the house. And that confounded girl — too bad nobody would
steal her! She's still w-alking around here as if everything
were in perfect order. She won't notice anything as long as
they don't steal the floor from under her feet. They should
have put their heads in through the windows and yelled:
"Now we're off with what we have taken!" Unless they did,
she could never know, of course! — Nice thing to come home,
isn't it.'' Home — ? ^Vhere have my thoughts been.' Malla
has come home again. And then Karen also must — They
went away together. If one has come home, the other one
must have come, too. Karen must also be here — perhaps
she'll come any moment! What does it matter, then, about
the wine, and the clothes, and the door, and the girl? I'll
just hold on to Karen ! I'll be hanged if anybody can take her
away from me! — Ssh! — No, it isn't her! — It's Turman!
He's coming back. [He goes into the study.
Turman, Malla, and Ane enter together.
Malla. [Excitedly] You say that you saw him by the cellar
door, and I saw him on the stairs!
Ane. [Weeping and pointing] And I saw him there!
106 LOVE AND GEOGRAPHY act m
Tubman. I tell you it's nothing but imagination. One
sets the other going. Science does not admit that kind of
thing, can't you hear!
Ane. It's a thickhead science nuist he, then. There he
stood, as sure as I live, and s'elp me God, in his grey hat and
stared at me.
Malla. If he is to be around here both when he's away
and when he's at home, then it won't be possible for other
people to stay in the place.
Ane. That's w^hat I say, too, and I want to go at once.
Turman. Hush — what wa^ that?
Ane. Where .^
Tubman points toward the study.
Ane. Yes, indeed !
Malla. Anything in there, too .''
Ane. [Whispering] Can you hcar.^
Tubman. Maybe
Ane. Sure, there's somebody!
She takes refuge behind the other two, becomes aicarc of
tfie dressing-gown, and utters a subdued cry.
Malla. What is it?
Ane. His dressing-gown!
Malla. Well, what about it?
Ane. It's got out!
Tubman. Perhaps some thieves
Malla. That's worse still ! [She falls behind the other two.
Tubman. Not when we know what it is. — Supposing you
take a look in there, Ane?
Ane. I?
Malla. Just open the door — then all of us can see.
Ane. Why don't you do it?
Tubman. Just give a push. I know it isn't locketi.
Malla. Give it a push, Ane!
ACTiu LOVE AND GEOGRAPHY 107
Ane. Well, I guess that can't be so very dangerous. [She
tries to push the study door open] It's locked on the inside!
[She runs behind the other two.
TuRMAN. Then there must be somebody in there.
[Tries to get behind the two women.
BiRGiT enters at that moment.
Malla. There's Birgit! Thank Heaven!
BiRGiT. What's the matter.^
Malla. [Whispering] There's somebody in the study!
Birgit. In there.'*
The Other Three. Yes.
Birgit starts toward the study door to open it.
The Other Three. No, no, no!
Birgit. But we must open it! — What's lying there.'*
[Wants to pick up the dressing-gown.
The Other Three. No, no, no!
Birgit. But this is like a Maeterlinck play!^ Who's in
there?
The Other Three. [Whispering] Thieves!
Birgit. Thieves? Why don't you send for the police,
then?
Turman. I'll do that. [Starts totoard the door, but turns
back] If I may ask — where's Mrs. Tygesen?
Birgit. Across the street, with a friend of Helga's.
Malla. Oh, at the Toresens' !
Turman. She's the real master here, and I think she should
be told first. [He hurries out.
Ane. There he goes now! Leaving us women alone.
Birgit. I couldn't speak out while he was around. —
There's some trouble about Helga, you know!
Malla. About Helga! She was in town, they said.
1 Of course this is one of the things added by Bjornson in his rewriting of the
play, (he original version of which antedated Maeterlinck's earliest work by several
years.
108 LOVE AND GEOGRAPHY act m
BiRGiT. Well, that's exactly what we want to find out
about. At the school there's tremendous excitement.
Ane makes for the door.
Malla. And I, who went away:
BiRGiT. {To Ane] Wait a moment! [To Mall.\] >Vhat's
the name of her over there?
Malla. Ane.
BiRGiT. Wait, Ane! They say you are in it, too. Come
back here!
Malla. But what is it.^
BiRGiT. A love affair.
Malla. With whom?
BiRGiT. With Henning, the painter.
Malla. He who was also running after ?
BiRGIT. Hush!
Malla. The wretch!
BiRGiT. [To Ane] And they say you've been helping her?
Ane. I? — No, that's nothing but a lot of lies!
BiRGiT. There are people who say they have seen it.
Helga and her friends have been coming to this house.
Ane. That may be. I couldn't stop that. But if there's
anybody who's told Helga to leave all that love business
alone, that one's me, I tell you. And you can bet your life
on it!
Malla. It's her father's fault — the bloodthirsty creature!
BiRGiT. There's Karen now.
Karen and Turman come in.
Karen. Helga isn't here, either?
Birgit and Malla. No.
Karen. My child!
Tygesen. [Coming out oJ the study] Karen!
Birgit, Turman, Ane, and Malla arc startled.
ACT III LOVE AND GEOGRAPHY 109
Karex. Dear! Are you back? God be praised! Then
everything will be all right again ! [She breaks into tears.
Tygesex. Karen, Karen! [He and his wife embrace] Oh,
to have you back again! [In a loiv voice] I can't live without
you, Karen! I can't! — I have had such a dreadful time!
Kahex. [Whispering] So have I
Tygesex. [As before] I absolutely can't be alone !
Karen. I don't know how I could leave you. And now
this scare about Helga! I don't know how I could leave you
both. I can't understand!
Tygesex. But I can understand. It was I who drove you
away. All geography and no love — that won't do, you see.
But all love and no geography won't do either. Now, having
left all the geography behind — I just had to come home!
Karex. Oh, mj^ dearest, it was nasty of me to go. But
don't let us try to settle anything.
Tygesex. No, don't let us try that! — So that's what you
say, too? — No settlements! For settlements between mar-
ried people are like throwing oneself out of the window a
second time in order to discover how it happened the first
time.
Tur:max. But, Tygesen, you are supposed to be in Bessa-
rabia?
Tygesex. [Takes a long look at him; then he turns to his wife
again and gives her a kiss; at last he says to Turmax] Goose!
[Then he kisses his wife again.
Malla. But, Karen — you're forgetting all about the con-
ditions !
Tygesex. [Lets his wife go and takes a step toward IVIalla]
Boo! [Then he goes back to Karex a7id leads her aside] We
must be alone, we two!
Karex. Yes — but Helga, dear? All at once I was seized
with such restlessness that I was forced to return.
110 LOVE AND GEOGRAPHY act m
Tygesen. And I — I was dreaming about mother! Then
you know something is in the air. I travelled day and
night — Let us all start out to look for her.
Ane, Birgit, Malla, and Karen. Yes!
Ane and Birgit leave.
TuRMAN. What's all this?
IVIalla. It's — oh, something you can't understand!
Tygesen and Karen start arm in arm, followed by
Malla and Turman.
Ane. {Meeting tliem in the liall, says triumphantly] Here
comes Miss Helga now !
Birgit. [Outside] Here's Helga!
Malla. Is Helga there?
Ane. Yes!
Turman. Alone?
Ane. Of course !
Karen. [Outside] My girl!
Helga. [Outside] Mother!
Karen. [Outside] Oh, to have you hack again!
Karen and Helga enter tcith their arms about each
other.
Tygesen. Helga!
Helga. [Runs up to him] Dad!
Tygesen. I have been terribly alarmed about you. [Helga
draws back from him in evident embarrassment] ^^'hat is the
matter with you, child?
Karen. Is anything the matter? [SJie takes the girl and
leads her gently fonrard] Oh, tell me, Helga!
Helga throws herself at tier mother s neck.
Tygesen. [Joining them, says in a low voice] You had a
rendezvous? [Helga sobs and nestles closer to fur mother;
Tygesen takes her by the arm] Is he a scoundrel?
Helga cannot speak, but nods assent.
ACT III LOVE AND GEOGRAPHY 111
Karen. Tell me about it!
Tygesen. Merciful heavens !
Helga. [Raises her head, still sobbing] He — he
Karen and Tygesen. He ?
Helga. He didn't come!
Karen. He didn't come!
Tygesen. He didn't come! Hurrah!
All the Rest. He didn't come!
Karen kisses Helga, takes her in her arms, and begins
to suing her around.
Tygesen takes hold of both and dances with them.
Turman. [Pulling Tygesen by his coat-tail] I can see now
that you want to get rid of Malla.
Tygesen. Oh, you can see that.^
Turman. Yes, but — I don't want her!
Tygesen. Professor Turman doesn't want you, Malla!
Turman. But, Tygesen ?
Malla. So you think / want him.^ Oh, no, I won't have
anything to do with either of you. I want to take my snuff
all by myself, I do!
Curtain.
BEYOND HUMAN MIGHT
(OVER EVNE: ANNEX STYKKE)
(1895)
BEYOND HUMAN MIGHT
(OVER EVNE: ANNET STYKKE)
ACT I
A deep chasm that ends in a turn toward the right. It is just
possible to catch a glimpse of the sea in the background.
Both sides of the chasm are dotted with small huts placed
without the least suggestion of order. Some of them are
nothing but deck houses, while others are made up of the
whole stern part of some sailing-vessel. Other shanties
lean against the steep sides of the chasm in such a way that
the lanes in their rear are on a level with their upper
stories. At the bottom of the chasm, in the foreground,
is a sort of square icith a fountain and a ^vater-trough,
both very dilapidated. Houses surround the open place.
In the extreme foreground, at the right, there stands a ramshackle
old building. All its window-panes are broken. The front
door is almost torn off and hangs across the doorway. A
herd metal pole projects from the front of the house. It car-
ries a signboard loith the word "Hell" painted on it. TJie
sign is nearly torn from its fastenings.
A muffled rumbling fills the place and hardly ever ceases. It
comes from an iron bridge that spans the chasm. Now and
then the whistle of an engine is heard, followed by the deafen-
ing clangour of a passing train. When this ceases, one hears
again tlie hollow and comparatively suppressed rumble of
carriage-xcheels and the tramp of horses.
115
116 BEYOND HUMAN MIGHT acti
Before the curtain rises, a funeral hymn is sung in unison. As
the curtain rises, a coffin — the size of ivhich shows that it
holds the body of a grown-7ip person — is being carried out
from one of the shanties at the left. It is followed by another
coffin, apparently holding the body of a child, and then by a
third that is still smaller.
The square is crowded with tvorJcmen, women, and children. All
the vien have bared their heads. Many of the men and
women are crying. Some of the children are holding loudly.
The people fall in behind the coffins, with P'alk, tJie minister,
at their head. He wears the canonical dress of a pastor in
the Establislied Church of Norioay. Beside him, leaning on
his arm, totters a man of advanced age, Anders Hoel,
known as Blind Anders. Thus the procession makes very
slow progress.
Every one present falls into line. The procession passes along the
bottom of the chasm until it reaches the bend, where it dis-
appears to the right. The hymn continues to be heard long
after the last people have passed oid, the sound of it mount-
ing upward as it recedes into the distance.
While the singing is still heard, an elderly man sneaks timidly
out of the ramshackle building at tlie right. He wears a
long coat that falls in heavy folds around him, and he
acts as if he didn't know where to turn. lie stares at the
maltreated building and finally he sits down on its front
stoop ivhich stands separated from the house far out in
the square.
At that moment another man becomes visible far up on the path
along which the procession passed. His clotlies are ragged,
threadbare, and greasy. On his Jwad, which is very large, he
wears a very small cap. Tfie shoe on his right foot is almost
new, but on the left foot lie has merely an upper to which
a sole is fastened with strings. His face is very red. His
ACT I BEYOND HUMAN MIGHT 117
hands are almost purple in colour. His hair is dark and cut
very short.
This man, whose name is Otto Herre, comes down the road with
head erect and swinging movements. On seeing the m.an sit-
ting on the stoop, he stops for a moment. Then he resumes
his advance, hut more slowly.
At last the man on the stoop — named Anders Koll, hut gener-
ally known as Mousie — hecomes aware 0/ Herre a7id turns
away from him.
Mousie. [Muttering to himself] I guess he must 'a' got out
after all.
Herre. Behold the humble Mousie! Seated in front of
his torn-up hole. Sunk in deep thought.
Mousie. [As hefore] He's got a load on, sure enough.
Herre. Broken, the windows — and sadly drooping, the
sign — like a drink that is dripping away. The stoop seized
by a hurricane and hurled across the ocean of your destiny.
And you yourself clinging to this last remnant of the vessel
that was your life. [A queer, clucking sound is heard from
Mousie] And the door! That door which has seen so many
beggars enter and so many kings pass out ! Now it's hanging
there like a drunkard whom the bouncer is chucking into the
street. — That's how matters look where the wrathful hand
of virtue has descended.
Mousie. So news gets into the jail, too.'*
Herre. They have made scrambled eggs out of your furni-
ture. Your glasses and bottles have had to turn somersaults
to the accompaniment of their own music.
Mousie. A fellow what's on his uppers had better look
out — there's still a lot of glass around.
Herre. And your well-filled whiskey barrels
Mousie. [With a sigh] Oh, mercy — yes!
118 BEYOND HUjVIAxX MIGHT act i
Herre. They were rolled out — turned into torrents — by
clerical command.
MousiE. He stood exactly where you are now, giving his
orders.
Herre. But are there no authorities, then.^ Is there to be
no law at all down here in Hell.^ Haven't you made a
complaint.''
MousiE. No, this strike here has made 'em clear crazy.
If I had complained, they'd 'ave torn me to pieces. They
were going to do it anj'how — they'd already started. But
then that fellow Bratt took a hand.
Herre. And all this bec-ause Maren lost her reason — nice,
honest Maren !
MousiE. [Half risi7ig] I couldn't help that, could I?
Herre. Maren, who killed both her brats! — And I who
have seen them running around here, sockless and curly-
haired! What is life anyhow?
MousiE. And then she killed herself — herself, too!
Herre. And she killed herself, too! First the children —
then herself. Like Medea — the great Medea!
For naught, for naught, my babes, I nurtured you,
And all for naught I laboured, travail-worn.
Bearing sharp anguish in your hour of birth.'
MousiE. [An before] I couldn't help that, could I?
Herre. O calamity-producing Mousie: speak thou the
truth at this open grave! Thus biddeth the Word. How
much more, then, at three open graves! .S7/<' had bought the
whiskey from you! For she had to get drunk i)ef()rt' she cuuld
face her gruesome task.
Mousie. How could I know she was getting ready to — ?
I am as clean of it as a baby's shirt.
Herre. Weep not, Mousie! It behooves not your rank and
' Euripidfs, Medea. TniusluliJ liy Artliiir S. Way.
ACT I BEYOND HUMAN MIGHT 119
profession. I assure you that if I had been out — what I
mean to say is: if I had been here — then it would not have
happened. But how was it that people didn't get their rea-
son back when they saw the whiskey rimning away — literally
running away.''
MousiE. Oh, it ran like water in a brook, man ! Just like
that!
Herre. But didn't they go down on their bellies.'' Didn't
they lap it up.'' Didn't they use the hollows of their hands
for cups? Didn't they come running with pitchers and pails .^
MousiE. It ran all over the parson's feet. "That's where
it belongs," he said.
Herre. Bratt is powerful. But there are limits to every-
thing. Marvellous happenings! Like earthquakes! Is — -
has Bratt taken the place of the Lord down here?
MousiE. Oh, I guess the Lord never had such power in Hell
as that fellow has.
Herre. He didn't follow the coffin. Or I would have said
howdy to him. We were together at the university.
MousiE. No, he's in his office now.
Herre. In his office? But he isn't a minister any longer!
MousiE. The strike office, I mean. It's him that has
started this strike here, and all the money goes to him.
Elsa, nicknamed The Fleece, conies in; she is brown-
skinned and full-bosomed.
MousiE. There's the Fleece.
Herre. Good morning, my cup of hot coffee! All my
senses are drinking in your fragrance. What are you after,
anyhow?
The Fleece. None of your business, Mr. Soak! So
you've got out at last?
Herre. I met the funeral, but failed to notice your chaotic
120 BEYOND HUMAN MIGHT acti
locks in it. All Hell was there, but not you, its guardian
spirit. You were attending to some early business, were you
not."
The Fleece. Oh, leave me alone! — Why didn't you go
along with Maren and her children.' She used to be kind to
you. And that's more than she was to me.
Herre. Maren was good. Why didn't I go along? I'll
tell you — tell you frankly: had I gone, I should have had to
speak! Then I should have wiped out the sun, the moon,
and all the stars for every one who entered that chapel. I
should have said : it wasn't she who is lying here — that nice,
hard-working Maren — it wasn't she who killed her children.
It wasn't she who took her own life sinfully. No, it was those
people up there that killed her. Those cannibals that live
in the big city have eaten her — her and her children. The
strike went to her head. The strike took her reason. For
her nervous soul possessed that fulness of conscience which is
lacking in her murderers. Under such conditions she didn't
dare to continue living. She couldn't bear the responsibility
of letting her two little girls face hunger and degradation. It
seemed to her that life was a beast of prey, and she wanted
to save them while they were still [He breaks down.
The Fleece. Really, now and then it does one good to
listen to you. The way you put things
Herre. You're a fine woman, Elsa. There is nothing the
matter with your heart.
MousiE. The end of it will be that they'll eat us all up, I
suppose.
A Coarse Male Voice. [Heard from ihe hmises at the left]
If we don't eat 'em first!
Herre. Whatsort of mountain spirit was that? A word of
warning out of the future. A message from the huts to the
palaces.
ACT I BEYOND HUMAN MIGHT 121
The Fleece. [Softly to Mousie] What made me come here
was to tell you to look out, Anders.
Mousie. [In the same tone] Lord, what's up now.'' Can't
they leave me alone on top of this.'
The Fleece. [As before] I fell in with a cop up there, and
he asked me if it was true you went around with a big bottle
of whiskey in your coat-pocket.
Mousie. No, no, it isn't true.
He puts his hand mechanically to the tail pocket of his
coat.
The Fleece. [As before] And if you sold it on the sly
around here?
Mousie. [Rising, horrified] There you see! They want to
ruin me outright!
Herre. [Comes up to him and tries to put his arm around
him] Is that true? Have you — have you ?
Mousie. [Trying to get away] Leave me alone! Leave me
alone, I tell you! You — he-he, I'm so ticklish! Oh, you — ■
he-he !
Herre. There is something back there. When you move,
it describes a ponderous circle. — Elsa!
Mousie. It isn't true!
The Fleece. I'll hold him for you !
Mousie. Don't touch me! I'll holler!
The Fleece. Then the police will come and take both you
and your bottle.
A Female Voice. [From the right] What are you doing to
the Mousie that makes it squeak so.'*
Mousie. No, no, no!
Herre pulls a big bottle from Mousie's coat-pocket.
Mousie. It's ordered! It's an order, I tell you! It isn't
mine any longer!
122 BEYOND HUMAN MIGHT acti
Herre. [Having drunk deeply]
Ordered or not— —
It goes right to the spot.
The Fleece. Oh, well — let me now !
Herre. [After another draught]
It's the noblest juice
You did ever produce!
The Fleece. Let me now — let me now!
Herre.
All right! Do your worst.
You soul athirst!
MousiE. This is the worst kind of larceny.
The Fleece. Never in the world did I taste anything
better.
Herre. Ah! Those people up there — they know — they
know pretty well why they want to keep us from this dream
of the gods.
Mousie. You've drunk all my profit for many days.
Herre. Have a drink yourself, you poison-bearer!
The Fleece. [In a low voice] Do you know what I have
been thinking of again and again these last days? [Drawing
closer to Herre] Why shouldn't we set fire to the whole city
up there some stormy night. ^ Just set fire to it!
Herre. Pooh ! Then that rabble would seek safety in the
open. No [mysteriously], there are a number of mining gal-
leries left in the rock on which the city is built. Left from the
time when the river came through here. Right here where we
are standing now. For we are living in the old river-bed.
This whole Hell here is nothing but the old river-bed. These
old galleries, which start back of the houses over there and
run into the rock in all directions, should be looked up.
Then they should l)e loaded with powder and dynamite and
ACT! BEYOND HUMAN MIGHT 123
all sorts of explosives — with electric wires laid through it.
Ha, ha, ha! What a revelation of stinking, rotten guts we
should have then !
The Fleece. Hooray! What a hell-fry!
She snatcJies the bottle from Mousie a7id takes a lojig
drink.
Mousie. But then we'd have to fly, too, I suppose.
The Fleece. [Handing the bottle to Herre] Would we
have to go along?
Herre. [Having had a drink atid then permitted Mousie to
take back the bottle, he gives Elsa a grandiose look] Could we
wish for a more beautiful lot.^ — At times, when I have given
some thought to the final exit of one Otto Berg Herre, my
thoughts have pictured it something like this: accompanied
by thousands through the dawn-red gates of immortality.
At my command, like slaves obeying some Oriental master,
they would have to change dress in order to follow me in
festive garments. After a life full of big promises — but also
full of cares and regrets and frequent misunderstandings —
to reach one's goal at last, in the moment of death — what
a coronation that would be! To see one's name flashed
upon the sky in sun-gilt script and read by all the world!
To seat oneself upon a sedia curidis built out of the bent
necks of millionaires! Ah, ah — with one's feet on their
money-bags! And all around one the curses and applause
of mankind like the swelling blast of an orchestra — like a
roaring sea of homage — ah!
A Female Voice. [From the right as before] Now they're
coming back!
Mousie. [Scared] Who's coming.?
The Fleece. [Speaking simultaneously with Mousie] Com-
ing, you say.''
Herre. [Simultaneously with Mousie and Elsa] What is it.?
124 BEYOND HUMAN MIGHT act i
A Female Voice. The funeral, don't you know? But
they're still up above.
The Fleece. Well — then there's plenty of time.
MousiE. [In a low imcc] But these here galleries — there's
a lot of people have been talking of them — but you can't get
through them, they say.
Herre. There we are — there we are!
MousiE. There's water in some and worse in others.
The Fleece. Yes, I have heard that, too.
Herre. That's just like this race of slaves! The least
difficulty, a little water, a few grains of sand — and it's
enough to break the wings of their vengeance, to scare away
their cravings for freedom and light!
A Female Voice. The parson's along!
Herre. [Frightened] The parson? Pastor Bratt?
A Female Voice. No, the real parson.
MousiE. Falk
Herre. Oh, that one! He's nothing but a humbug. And
so I might tell him to his face any time. I saw enough of liim
in the Students' Society.
The Fleece. Now I'll clear out.
Herre. [Softly to Iwr] I'll be with you in a moment.
MousiE. Would you — would you say that to the parson?
Herre. What?
MousiE. What you said — what you called him
Herre. A humbug? Why, to tell him tliat ?
MousiE. Will you — if you will, I'll give you a crown —
sure as you live!
Herre. In advance! — In advance!
MousiE. No-o-o
Herre. In advance!
MousiE. And if you don't say it, then ?
ACT I BEYOND HUMAN MIGHT 125
Herre. I'll go right up to him and tell him at once — on my
word of honour! If you give it in advance!
MousiE. I'll give you half of it — there !
The 'procession has begun to stream down the path. At
that moment a train passes across the bridge. Falk
is now dressed in ordinary clothes. He is in the rear
and a little behind the rest. As he appears, Herre
meets him and tries to get by him.
Falk. Why, dear me — isn't this Otto Herre — our niagister
bibendi ?
Herre. [Saluting him] Yes, your grace! That is, what is
left of him.
Falk. [To himself] Dear me, dear me!
[He begins to search all his pockets.
Herre. And yet, take it all in all, perhaps the better part
of him. But the times have not been very propitious, your
grace.
Falk. No, I can see that. [In a lowered voice] Come to me
if you get real hard up. To-day I haven't — I have really
given away what little I had. Here's half a crown — it's all I
have.
Herre. Thanks, your grace! Many thousand thanks.
It's as I have always told the people here : it's your heart that
makes you a man of genius. [He starts to leave.
MousiE. [Who has been hiding behind a corner, intercepts
Herre on his way up] But — but ?
Herre. You didn't give me more than half.
[He disappears.
Falk. [To Hans Braa] Could you believe that that man is
timid and shrinking when sober.'' If I were like him, I sup-
pose I should be drinking, too.
Braa. Yes, we know. We have often noticed it.
Falk. He's like the Rose of Jericho: drv as dust and a
126 BEYOND HUMAN MIGHT acti
commonplace grey. But wlien you put it into water, it
begins to expand, and it smiles like the Lord's own day. —
Well, folks, I tolcl you up there, at the graves, that I had
something on my heart which it would be more fitting to
speak of down here. [lie ascends the stoop, and tJic people
group themselves around him] What I began with up there,
and what I ended with as well, was this: we must not judge
her! That must be left to Him who knows us all. Peace
be to her outworn heart! Peace to her name when men-
tioned among us ! — The worst feature of things like this strike
here is that they bring so many to despair. Some say it
happens only to the weakest. What I say is that it happens
to the finest, to those who feel their responsibility most
keenly, and who for that reason often are the best. Just as
the best, as a rule, suffer more, take upon themselves greater
sacrifices, and pay more of the cost. [It is evident that the work-
men agree with him in this] I don't want to put the blame on
anybody. But I suppose there is more than one of you who
have discovered how dreadful it is when the children come
crying: "I want something more to eat — oh, mamma, I want
something more to eat." [Tlie croiod is stirred; he continues
quietly] I contribute my own mite every daj'.
A Man. [In subdued tones] Yes, you've been good to us.
Several. [In the same icaij] Yes, you have.
Falk. Otherwise I shouldn't have the right to come here
and say anything at all. My opinion, my advice, is, that a
strike as big as this one — the biggest we have ever had —
mustn't last long. An unexpected amount of help has come
from the outside. But there are too many mouths to be fed.
There are already those who know what hunger means.
And many more will have to learn it. But nothing is more
contagious than despair. Bear that in mind! And so a time
will come — may come sooner than you expect now — when no
ACT I BEYOND HUMAN MIGHT 127
one remains capable of controlling the forces that have been
let loose. I have seen signs of violence and murder
Blind Andeks. Yes, violence and murder!
Falk. What was that you said, old man?
Braa. Oh, Anders, he's got only one thing to talk of.
Falk. Well, let him talk!
Blind Anders. It was this thing that happened — my
poor
Falk. Don't I know it.^ Didn't we follow her together?
Blind Anders. No, not her. I had another daughter,
younger than her — who got a place up there in the city, in
one of the fine houses. And there they laid violent hands
on her.
Falk. Yes, yes. We remember. But that isn't the ques-
tion now, Anders.
Blind Anders. But you were talking of "violence and
murder." That was violence. And she took it so hard that
it ended in murder, too. God help us and protect us !
Falk. My dear Anders, we know all this. [He remains si-
lent for a ivhile] To get back to our present problem — despair
is a dangerous comrade, and it is already present among you.
You must act in such fashion that you are not held respon-
sible for what was never in your own minds.
Braa. It's those people up in the city who are responsible.
Falk. The past, Hans Braa, is more to blame than the
present. And those who bear the blame in the present are
generally found on both sides.
Braa. No, it's all with them, up there!
Falk. Not all of it!
Several. Yes, yes, all of it!
Falk. Do you dare to declare yourself quite free from
blame?
All. Yes, yes!
128 BEYOND HUMAN MIGHT act-i
Falk. Now your temper is up because you have been suffer-
ing. And I shall say no more about it. But if you want
peace, then it's of no use for you to look uj)on the others as a
lot of thieves.
Braa. But when they are thieves?
Several. You bet they are!
Falk. Like those that were crucified, pcrhajis. You know,
even thieves may be converted.
Peter Stua. Reg'lar beasts of prey, that's what they are!
Falk. That's going it one better! But let me tell jou
something now: you should leave threats and defiances to the
rich. Theirs has been the power, and so they have grown
accustomed to be brutal and to settle everything by force.
Don't be stupid enough to take after them. Poverty has cer-
tain advantages which no wealth can gain. Don't throw
them away ! Poverty has its own blessings
Braa. Have you tried 'em, pastor.^
Falk. I know rich and poor alike, and in many things the
poor are better off than the rich.
Hans Olsen. Yes, in rags and vermin.
Falk. That's your experience.' [.4 feiv laugh] I'll tell you
in what respects I think the poor are better off. They often
know how to be content with very little. They are always
kind to each other — truly self-sacrificing, that's what they
are. And they have more patience, more forbearance
A Coarse Male Voice. [From a house high up on the Uft
side of the chasm] Why don't you go and tell that to the rich?
Everybody turns to look in the direction from u-hich the
voice came.
Falk. I have done so! I cringe no more to the rich than
to the poor.
Coarse Male Voice. Aw, we don't want auy more of
that Sundav-school drivel down here!
ACT I BEYOND HUMAN MIGHT 1^29
A Female Voice. [Heard as before from- the right, far up
along the hillside] Why don't you listen instead, you Muck-
Peter over there? You're the dirtiest bum in all Hell, you
are!
Coarse Male Voice. Aw, shut up, you !
Falk. That kind of forces — if despair is added to them—
you think you can control them? No more than I can con-
trol the sea out there! — And now I want to tell you — for they
have been to see me — that there are those among you who
would like to go back to work again
Peter Stua. Just let 'em try!
Several. [In quick succession] Is that true?
Almost Everybody. Yes, let 'em try! [Wild excitement
seizes the crowd] We'll 'tend to them! Tell us who they are!
Names! Names! [Finally the crowd yells in time] Names!
Names !
Falk. [With a gesture of authority that stills the uproar]
Now you have violence in mind! If you knew them, you
would use violence against them ! And when it comes to that,
then murder is not far off! [Deep silence] Then more than
one of you would be ruined for life. And so would your chil-
dren and your poor wives
Blind Anders. That's true!
Braa. The people up there would have to answer for it.
Falk. Yes, if you could make them see that, then
Peter Stua. They'll have to see it!
Aspelund. The day will come when they'll see it.
Falk. But for that day you cannot wait. You must deal
with them as they are, both men and conditions. Water
won't run down-hill faster than the grade demands. To me
it looks as if the Lord wanted you to practise patience until
His time comes. And frequently it comes when we least
expect it.
130 BEYOND HUMAN MIGHT act i
Coarse Male Voice. [From the left as before] Aw, why
the devil don't you quit?
Falk. You won't get very far by calling for the devil,
folks! I fear you'll have to turn to Him who patiently lets
His sun rise over good and evil
Female Voice. [From the right] There comes Bratt!
Several. Who — Bratt. ^
Braa. Yes, he promised to come to-day.
A Man. [Who has run up the path] Yes, it's him!
All turn around. A few move toward the background:
others follow them gradually. At last only three old
women remain near Falk.
Falk. Well — why don't you go with the rest.'
An Old Woman. [Embarrassed] No, you're too nice for
that.
Falk. Three — it isn't much! But then they mean it, at
least! [He steps down from the stoop.
Braa. [In the background] Three cheers for Bratt!
The crowd breaks into wild cheering. Bratt. ivho be-
comes visible at the bend leading to the right, waves his
hand to silence them, but without effect. The ovation
continues uninterruptedly until he reaches the stoop.
Bratt mounts it, and for a while silence reigns.
Bratt. 'Way up there, where I was standing, I could hear
my predecessor in this parish say that the Lord patiently lets
His sun shine upon good and evil alike. What I want to say
first of all is that, down here, the sun never shines.
The crotvd laughs aiul repeats the last tvords.
Bratt. I have really met those who don't know that we
down here are living at the bottom of a deep river. There
used to be falls in the river, not far from its mouth. Those
falls ate their way further and further back. That's what
ACT I BEYOND HUMAN MIGHT 131
made this cleft in which we live. And that's what led to the
discovery of all the wealth in the rocks on both sides of the
river. Then they turned the water aside and started min-
ing. That's what made the big city up there. But all the
reward the workmen got for what they dragged out into the
sunlight was that they were thrust out of the sunlight them-
selves, down into this place. They earned so much for the
others that the ground up there became too expensive for
poor people. And so they had to be satisfied with what they
could get for nothing down here. But to this place the sun
never comes.
The people talk among themselves.
Braa. That's the way it is.
Falk. [Before he leaves] Be careful now, Bratt!
Bratt. [Looks for a moment at Falk; then he resumes] Little
by little it became the rule that all who went to waste up
there in the big city, or who wasted themselves, were cast
down here
Braa. Human garbage!
Bratt. Into "Hell," as they soon began to call it. . . .
Here it is dark and cold. Here few work hopefully, and no
one joyfully. Here the children won't thrive — they yearn for
the sea and the daylight. They crave the sun. But it
lasts only a little while, and then they give up. They learn
that among those who have been cast down here there is
rarely one who can climb up again.
Several. That's right.
Bratt. Here we are now. But those who own all that
vacant land we call Sunnywold have just told us that it is
something we cannot have. And at the highest point of that
land, where the old fort used to stand, there Holger has reared
his new palace — and there, in "The Castle," representatives
of the factory owners from all over the country are to meet
132 BEYOND HUMAN MIGHT acti
tliis evening. There they are to discuss how they can hold
us down so that we may never get up.
Coarse Male Voice. [From the left] Yes, let 'em try!
Bratt. I ask you, for Heaven's sake: let them by all means
gather up there. That castle was built while the distress
was increasing all around the country — as if in spite. It is
quite as it should be that they meet there and give us their
answer from there. I am told that the whole castle will be
illuminated to-night!
Coarse Male Voice. Yes, let 'em try!
All. [As before] Yes, let 'em try, let 'em try !
Bratt. But, friends, don't you understand that nothing
could be better for us.' This very day, when we have fol-
lowed Maren and her two children to their graves
Blind Anders. Yes, Maren
Bratt. Then they start an illumination! [Excitement and
anger are sliown by ths crowd] By all means, let them go on
like that! It will bring us many friends we didn't have be-
fore. And more than one will tremble before the God who
is thus mocked. Let them illuminate! Those people who
have taken the sun away from you! [The croud mutters] Yt)U
know, don't you, that everything that carries infect it)n is best
at home where the sun cannot reach it.' The sun kills off the
microbes — those of the soul as well as of the body. The sun
gives strength and cunning. The sun is company. The sun
breeds faith! All this is known by the rich people up there.
They learn it at school — and yet they let you live down here!
They have let you live here where disease and rottenness live
side bj^ side with you — here, where children lose their colour
and thoughts their clearness — here, where clothes and minds
alike grow mouldy. They have preachers and churches;
they have hymns and prayers; they have a tiny bit of
charity, too — but a God they have not. [Excitement] Can
ACT I BEYOND HUMAN MIGHT 133
we wait until they get one? Generation after generation, in
misery and sin? — What was it that happened here three days
ago? For whom were the bells tolling to-day? And we ask
if it is possible to wait? A few homes for workmen here and
there — do they end the bitter need of thousands? What is
there to herald the coming of better things? A new genera-
tion up there? Listen to what their young people answer for
themselves: "We want a good time!" And their books?
The books and the youth together make the future. And
what do the books say? Exactly the same as the youth:
"Let us have a good time! Ours are the light and the lust
of life, its colours and its joys!" That's what the youth and
their books say. — They are right! It is all theirs! There is
no law to prevent their taking life's sunlight and joy away
from the poor people. For those who have the sun have also
made the law. — But then the next question is whether we
might not scramble up high enough to take part in the writing
of a new law. [This is received ivith thundering cheers] What
is needed is that one generation makes an effort strong
enough to raise all coming generations into the vigorous life
of full sunlight.
Many. Yes, yes.
Bratt, But so far every generation has put it off on the
next one. Until at last our turn has come to bear sacrifices
and sufferings like unto those of death itself. Only a little
while ago we saw one of us break down under them. But are
you aware that she has not died in vain? Her desperation has
struck panic in more than one conscience. Never before have
the contributions to the strike fund poured in as they did
yesterday and to-day. Several have given large sums —
from one man alone we got two thousand to-day.
This neivs is received with enthusiasm.
Blind Anders. [With emotion] You don't tell me!
134 BEYOND HUMAN MIGHT act i
Bratt. What do you say about remembering her — her
fears and her sufferings? As a symbol of the misery we want
to end? As a cry of help from all those generations that liave
perished? As a desperate prayer for deliverance?
All. [Deeply moved] Yes, yes!
Bratt. And let us all try our utmost in self-sacrifice! I
am now getting along with one half of what I generally live
on. No one knows how long the ordeal will last. I have
persuaded many others to do like me. And they agree with
me, that it feels like a consecration. As I stand here now, my
hands are aflame and I seem to be charged with electricity.
My senses are more keen, my faculties more clear — fused, as
they are, into a passion for sacrifice. . . . You must practise
the art of doing without! Controlling yourself, you control
those others who need to be guided — and of those there is
enough! — Kei>p up your courage! Every day brings new sup-
port from all quarters. Never before have the workers stood
so close to their goal. Never before have we been united to
the same extent. Never have we had a firmer grip or a bet-
ter foothold. O that it might be granted the generation
which is ours — that it might be granted vs — to raise the
workers of this country out of the darkness and the <lampness
for all time to come — out of the cellar holes, so that they may
live on the sunlit side of life!
A wave of emotion passes through the crowd.
Bratt. [Who has covered his face with his hands, says quietly
as he looks up at the crowd again] Yoji had better go up to the
strike office. The money is ready for you. [Tliere is a lot of
happy excitement] And when you have got your money, you
must select the committee that is to call on INIr. Holger to-day.
You remember — he is to have his answer to-day.
Everybody looks happier. Matiy go up to Bratt to press
his hand as he steps dowu from the stoop. Then they
ACT I BEYOND HUMAN MIGHT 135
hurry away toward the city in groups, eagerly talking.
Just as Bratt himself is about to leave, after all the
rest are gone, Elias appears.
Elias. {Coining from one of the houses at the right] Bratt!
Bratt. Elias! [Hurries toward him and leads him down
the stage] At last! Where have j'ou been? Just when we
needed you most, you disappeared.
Elias. I, too, had my work to do.
Bratt. Do you think I doubt it?
Elias. [Smiling] And, for that matter, you have seen me.
Bratt. Without knowing you?
Elias. Yes. But — what did you want me for?
Bratt. First of all, I was afraid that the money we have
been receiving — that entirely too much of it came from you.
And I wanted to warn you, Elias.
Elias. Thanks! Do you know who was the last man
Maren Haug talked with?
Bratt. You?
Elias. Yes, me.
Bratt. What did she say? That she was in despair ?
Elias. She said: "Some one has to die." That's what she
said. "They'll never pay any attention to us before," she
said.
Bratt. Was that what she said — ? A case of conscious
martyrdom, then? Do you think so?
Elias. I do.
Bratt. But more than one martyr has been out of his rea-
son.
Elias. So they have.
Bratt. And the whiskey? Everybody says that she had
been drinking.
Elias. To get courage, yes! Which is only one more
proof, it seems to me.
136 BEYOND HUMAN MIGHT act i
Bhatt. Why didn't she ask us for more assistance? She
wouhl have got it.
Elias. I, too, offered to help lier.
Bratt. And then?
Elias. "I will only take it from outsiders," she said.
Buatt. Really! — Yes, there was scjraething remarkable
about that woman. — But it is wonderful ! Oh, there is much
that is great among the poor people down here. — So she
offered herself as a sacrifice?
Elias. I am sure of it.
Bratt. lean see that it has made a deep impression on you.
[Elias 7iods assent] You don't look well. You ought to go to
your sister. Have you seen her recently?
Elias. Not in the last few days. — Do you recall that re-
markable boy and girl who were with her — the children of
Sommer?
Bratt. Of course! It would be impossible to forget them.
Elias. They are not with her any longer.
Bratt. What does that mean? They were given to your
sister, were they not?
Elias. No, their uncle has taken them now.
Bratt. Holger? But the last thing Sommer said was that
your sister should have them.
Euas. That didn't matter. Now the uncle has taken
them. "Their parents are dead," he said, "and I am their
parents. I am going to make them my heirs, and they are
to be brought up in accordance with my will."
Bratt. In accordance with his will! So they are also to
become sweaters of labour?
Elias. Of course. Those people take the future itself
away from us. It's a thing that haunts me night and day —
even more than what happened to Maren. For it is worse.
Think only, that they take the very future away from us.
ACT I BEYOND HUMAN MIGHT 137
Bratt. {Looking him firmly in the eye] That kind of feeling
should be turned into action, Elias!
Elias. [Meeting his glance firmly] Well, there is no doubt
about that!
Bratt. [Putting his arm within that of Elias] Do j-ou re-
member how you and your sister came to me down here?
Elias. Now, that's strange!
Bratt. What is?
Elias. Your mentioning that. For it is just what I have
been thinking of all day.
Bratt. You came so radiantly. You had just got your in-
heritance from that American aunt of yours. You were rich.
Elias. And we came to find out what we could do with it.
Bratt. I showed you what I was doing. Your sister
wouldn't join us — it was untried ground, she said. And in-
stead she bought land and built her hospital up there. But
you
Elias. [Placing his free hand on that of Bratt] I chose to
stay with you!
Bratt. [Pointing in the direction from which Elias first
appeared] And the day you bought that miserable little house
you were as happj' as a lark.
Elias. And I haven't regretted it once. To me this is the
only kind of life worth living.
Bratt. [Gravely] But how is it then, Elias, that something
has come between you and me.^
Elias. What are you talking about. ^
Bratt. I can hear it in the ring of your voice right now!
I could see it in you before you had spoken a word — that
there is somebody who has taken you away from me!
Elias. [Freeing himself] Nobody could! Nothing but
death!
Bratt. But something has happened ?
138 BEYOND HUMAN MIGHT acti
Elias. So it has.
Bratt. [Am-ioudy] What is it?
Elias. [After a moment's thought] You ask me so many
questions. May I ask you just one ?
Bratt. My dear boy, what is it?
Elias. [With a peculiar forcejulness] Both of us l)elieve that
God is something we liave to work out within ourselves.
Bratt. Yes.
Elias. That He is evident in the eternal order of the uni-
verse, and that to man this order means justice — the growth
of justice.
Bratt. And of goodness.
Elias. But isn't He evident in war also? Could He stand
outside of that?
Bratt. Is thai your question?
Elias. Yes.
Bratt. [After having looked at him for a inornent] There are
so many kinds of war.
Elias. This is the kind I am thinking of: to sacrifice one-
self in order to destroy those that will evil.
Bratt. If that kind of war comes within the order that is
justice ?
Elias. Yes,
A Man in Brown has stolen up close to them irithoiit
being noticed hij either one of them. At this moment
he puts his head in between them, with his face close to
that of Bratt.
Bratt. Ugh! What is the use of that sort of thing? Why
must he always come like that ?
Man in Brown. [Crouching on his haunches, with his hands
resting on hbs knees, begins to laugh wildly] Ha — ha — ha — ha!
He hops around like a bird until, at a sign from Elias,
he suddenly disappears.
ACT I BEYOND HUMAN MIGHT 139
Bratt. Is it never possible to have a talk with you without
that fellow getting in between us?
Elias. What do you want me to do? He has attached
himself to me. It is his one happiness in this world. Do you
want me to chase him away?
Bratt. No, of course, I don't. But can't you keep him
from breaking in like that whenever anybody is talking to
you? That's too much.
Elias. He thinks it's funny. WTiy not let him do it, then?
Otherwise he suffers so terribly. This very day I have had
to promise him that we are to live and die together.
Bratt. What does that mean?
Elias. Oh, at times he has wonderfully lucid moments.
So I had to promise him.
Bratt. You are too good, Elias.
Elias. No, / am not too good, but mankind has too much
to bear. He with the rest. He is one of those Holger drove
out of his employ because they dared to vote our ticket. It
was more than the man could face, and so he went to pieces,
and was thrust down to us.
Bratt. I know it.
Elias. Well — and then he began to follow me wherever I
went. He would be crouching outside my house like a dog,
so I had to let him in.
Bratt. But when you give yourself to everybody like that
—then you impair your efficiency where it is most ■
Elias. [Interrupting] Pardon me for interrupting you, but
I am so restless to-day. I cannot stand still and listen. And
I have so little time to spare. I really came here just to see
you. I wanted so badly to have a look at you!
Bratt. But what we were talking of, Elias
Elias. Don't let us talk of it any more!
Bratt. Are we not to talk of it?
140 BEYOND HUMAN MIGHT acti
Elias. Afterward you will understand so much better.
I cannot stand seeing so much wrong-doing! I cannot stand
hearing that the others are going to win !
Bratt. Are the others going to win, you say? Has it got
so far with you, that you can believe such a thing for a
moment?
Elias. That far — yes! [Putting his hands around Bratt's
head] I do love you! For all that you have been to me.
From the first day you picked mc up here — until your present
moment of alarm.
Bratt. Yes, Elias, you do
EuAS. Now you must be quiet. I love you who everlast-
ingly dare to believe, and to live in accordance with your
belief. You who take hold so that the whole country can
feel it. You whose cry goes right into our souls: "Courage,
courage!" To the youth that means: "Push ahead — farther
still!"
Beatt. [Frightened] But farther than this, Elia^— that
would be to
Elias. You mustn't say anything. Nor must I!
He throws his arms around Bratt, hugging him as
hard as he can; then he lets him go only to take hold of
his head ivith both hands; having kissed him twice, he
lets him go again, and rutis out in the direction from
which he first appeared.
Bratt. But, Elias — ? You have no right to run away
without telling me what it is.— Still further—? Now? Hor-
rible! [He runs after Elias] It must be stopped! [He calls out
with all his might] Elias! [.4s the curtain falls, he is still heard
crying] Listen, Elias! Elias!
Curtain,
ACT II
An artistically furnished library of lofty proportions. The entire
rear wall is covered by drapery. At the left there is an
arched windoiv, reaching from the floor to the ceiling. The
walls on both sides of the window are covered with book-
shelves that also reach to the ceiling. At the right, facing
the window, there is an arched doorway, which is likewise
flanked by bookshelves. A table stands in the foreground
toward the left. A number of architectural drawings are
lying on the table.
HoLGER. [Seated in a huge armchair that stands between the
table and the foremost bookcase] Then there is nothing but the
basement floor to be changed?
Halden. [Standing] Yes, and not much of that. But then
there is the extension.
HoLGER. The extension.^ There is not going to be any
extension. Did I forget to tell you about that.''
Halden. You did.
HoLGER. The extension was meant for my nephew and
niece. At that time we took for granted that they were
going to live with Miss Sang.
Halden. Oh, are they not to live with Miss Sang?
HoLGER. They are to live with me. [Pause.
Halden. Then there is hardly anything left to do.
HoLGER. There is no reason, then, why Miss Sang shouldn't
move in. What do you say?
Halden. As I understand it, she was going to move in
to-day.
141
142 BEYOND HUMAx\ MIGHT actii
HoLGER. [Looking hard at Haldex] You haven't seen her?
Haldex. [Without looking at Holger] Not for a long while.
A knocking at the door is heard, and Halden hastens to
open it.
Holger. [Rising at once and going toward the door] There
she is now, perhaps.
Halden opens the door.
Braa. [Still outside] Is Holger here?
Holger. [Seating himself again] Here I am.
Halden. A delegation of workmen.
Holger. So I can hear
Halden. Well — can they come
Holger. Oh, yes, let them !
Hans Braa, Aspelund, old Anders Hoel, Henrik
Sem, Hans Olsen, and Peter Stua e?iter.
Holger. [Seated as before] Who is that blind old man.^
Braa. That's Anders Hoel — he's the father of her
Holger. Is he employed in any of the factories here in
town?
Braa. No, but his children
Holger. I won't negotiate with anybody but the workmen
from the factories.
Braa. He's the father of Maren — her that we buried to-
day — her and her two children. And so it seemed kind of
proper, as we thought, that he should come along and speak
for
Holger. That's all right. Take him outside.
Nobody moves. Nobody answers.
Blind Anders. Am I to be put out?
Braa. So he says.
Blind Anders. [Quietly] Is there anybody can tell more
than I about the hard times down there?
Braa. But he won't have it, don't you see?
ACT II BEYOND HUMAN MIGHT 143
Blind Anders. We-ell? But he ought to know Maren
ain't the only one I've lost.
HoLGER. Take that man out so we can start — eh.^
Halden. Come, Anders, I'll help you out.
Blind Anders. Who're you? Seems to me I know your
Halden. This way, Anders.
Blind Anders. No, I won't! I've been elected, I tell
you!
Several. [At once] You must!
Braa. We can't get anything done before, don't you see!
Blind Anders. Oh, you can't? Well, well — then I want
to say a couple of words first.
Halden. No, no, Anders!
Several. Naw!
Blind Anders. So you think — ? All I wanted to tell him
was that if she was here now, that smallest girl of mine — that
poor little thing, what-
Holger. [Rising] Get out, all of you! Eh?
AsPELUND. [To Blind Anders] Can't you hear? That's
no joke! And it's we that'll have to pay.
Holger seats himself again.
Blind Anders. Well, then we'll be quits. For what
you've done, I've had to pay for.
Halden. Oh, be sensible now, Anders! Come along with
me!
Blind Anders. Who're you anyhow?
Braa. It's Halden, don't you know?
Blind Anders. Oh, it's Halden! He's all right, they say.
Well — well, I'll go along with Halden.
Halden. That's a good fellow! And I'll see that you get
something to brace you up.
144 BEYOND HUMAN MIGHT act n
Blind Anders. But we're in that man Holger's house,
ain't we?
Halden. Yes.
Blind Anders. Of course, I ain't had nothing to eat but
scraps o' bread for two days, but sooner than eat a bite or
drink a drop of that man Holger's — [loith deep einotion] sooner
I'd do like them girls o' mine.
Halden. It's my own, what you're going to have.
Blind Anders. Oh, so! Oh, well — yes — well
Halden. Now we'll go, then?
Blind Anders. Now we'll go. [Takes a step toward tlie door
and turns around again\ But now you'll have to tell that man
Holger — Yes, you know, he is still sitting over there!
Several. Get out now, x\nders!
Blind Anders. [In a thunderous voice] They thought a
whole lot more of their honour than you do over there! — You
and the likes of you! — Now I'm going! Now I've said what
I wanted to. [He goes out slowly, led by Halden.
Holger. Well, what is it you want?
Braa. To-day's the day we was to meet you, ain't it?
Holger. Oh, that's it? I had forgotten.
Braa. We were looking for you down in the city first, but
then they told us you were out here. [Pause.
Holger. Well, you know that I represent all the factory
owners now — eh?
Aspelund. And we all the workmen. As far as that goes,
it's all right. [Pause.
Holger. Have you any proposition to make?
Braa. Yes.
Aspelund. Sure we have!
Holger. What is it?
Braa. That we pick a board of arbitration together.
Holger makes no reply.
Acxn BEYOND HUMAN MIGHT 145
Braa. And we thought of putting in a bill about it, too.
So it could be made a law, don't you see?
HoLGER remains silent.
Braa. We workmen feel as if there might be a future in
that.
HoLGER. But we don't.
AsPELUND. Naw— you don't want anybody to get in be-
tween
HoLGER. [Without paying any attention to him] Have you
any other propositions.^
Braa. We have authority, if youve got any others.
HoLGER. Propositions? No!
Braa. Is it just as it was before?
HoLGER. No, it isn't.
AsPELUND. [Quietly and timidly] Is there anything more
than there was before?
HoLGER. ]^ propositions. We make no propositions.
Eh?
Braa. [Tensely] What is it, then?
HoLGER. Conditions, that's what it is!
Braa. [After an exchange of glances between the workmen,
says in a subdued and Jiesitant majiner] Might we hear what
kind of condition it is?
IIoLGER. I fear you are not done with striking yet. And if
so, it's of no use.
The workmen are seen talking among themselves.
Braa. We've agreed we'd like to hear it just the same.
HoLGER. The condition, you mean? There are several.
AsPELUND. [In a wholly different tone] So, there's a lot of
'em! Well, is there any reason why we shouldn't hear about
them? Now's as good a time as any.
HoLGER. There is this reason against it: that only the fac-
tory owners of this city have agreed to them so far. But we
146 BEYOND HUMAN MIGHT actu
want everybody to agree with us. Every factory owner in the
country. We are going to meet to-night. We are going to
have a trade union, we too!
Br.\.\. So we've heard. But as the conditions have to do
with us first of all, I think we might be told about them.
AsPELUXD. Well, that's what / think, too.
Hexrik Sem and Haxs Olsen. Yes.
HoLGER. As you like. The first condition is that no work-
man can be a member of Bratt's union, or of any other union
that hasn't our approval.
The workmen exchange glances, but icithont a icord or
change of mien.
HoLGER. The next one is that you cannot subscribe to
Sang's paper, or to any other paper not approved by us.
Hans Olsen. And I suppose we've got to go to church,
too.^
Braa. [Silencing him with a gesture] And what do we get if
we agree .^
Holger. What you had before. Eh? — However, I have
to inform you that those are not the only conditions.
AsPEHJND. I think if I was you, I'd try the other way
around. Making the people a little happier instead.
HoLGER. It isn't in our power to make you happy.
AsPELUND. Oh, yes! Oh, yes! Let's have a share of the
profits, and let's get land up here to live on
Holger. People who want what belongs to others can
never be happy. Eh?
Hans Olsen. But those who've got hold of what l)elong3
to others can be happy enough.
Holger. [Striking the table with his hand] Have I got hold
of what belongs to others? What would you bo l)ut for nie?
Eh? Who has built up all this — you or me?
Hans Olsen. I guess there was a few who helped [o build
ACT II BEYOND HUMAN MIGHT 147
up — from the first — and now there's thousands that are
helping.
HoLGER. Helping? Yes, my ink-well has also been help-
ing? And the power, and the machines, and the telegraph,
and the ships, and the workmen. I put the workmen last,
because every so often they try to smash all the rest to
pieces. And neither the ink-well nor the power nor the
machines nor the telegraph can be called that stupid.
AsPELUND. You're playing a high game — I must say!
HoLGER. The game should have been still higher long ago.
Eh? Then, perhaps, talent and capital might even have
found time to make decent living conditions for the workmen.
Hans Olsen. Yes, in Hell !
Braa. No, no — that kind o' talk doesn't lead to anything.
AsPELUND. Yes, it does! It leads to what's bad. — For
Heaven's sake, come and see how we're living down there!
HoLGER. Well, why do you strike, then? You're wasting a
lot more than we could have given to help you.
Braa. Why wouldn't you do anything before we struck?
AsPELXJND. Why can't you do anything now? And be
done with it?
HoLGER. I would call that putting money into j'our strike
fund. Eh? No, this time you'll have to bear all the conse-
quences of your behaviour. For now I am in command.
{Long silence.
Braa. [To the rest] I guess we may just as well get out of
here at once. We can't do anything here.
AsPELUND. No, Blind Anders will be doing about as much
sitting outside.
HoLGER. It's my opinion, too, that we haven't got any-
thing new to tell each other. — You'd better come back when
you are done with all that strike nonsense. Eh?
148 BEYOND HUMAN MIGHT actii
Braa. So we're to be done up this time, are we? P'r'aps
it mightn't work after all!
AsPELUXD. We've got something like honour, too — just as
Anders said before.
Hans Olsen. The way you talk! We — honour? Naw,
they've got all the honour! Them as take it from the women
folks — and then send 'em ofif to America!
HoLGER. Although this has nothing to do with the strike,
or with me either — let me tell you that, once for all — yet I'll
answer it. It's the second time you've come forward with
it. And it's all the time in your paper. — Every class has its
own sense of honour. But it's by our women we can best
measure how much of tliat kind of sense we have. Such as
our honour is, such are they.
AsPELUND. Yes, there's a lot in that.
HoLGER. But when your women are such that they can be
caught by hand like fledgeling birds — what sort of honour
have you got then?
Peter Stua. [Who until then has not said a word] I'll be
damned if I stand for any more of that!
He swings himself across the table. Holger, tvho has
risen to meet him, bends him backward against the
table, as Braa and Aspelund run up to tJiem from
opposite sides.
Braa. Cut out that kind of thing!
Hoixjer and Peter Stua let go their hold of each other.
Aspelund. You'd better wait. There'll be time for that
too.
Holger. Now you'll have to get out!
Halden. [Rushes into the room] What's up here?
Aspelund. Oh, they've got to fighting about honour.
Hans Olsen. [In a rayc] All you bit; fellows have a lot of
ACT II BEYOND HUMAN MIGHT 149
sons in America that you don't want to hear of. And none
of them comes back here to teach you what honour is.
HoLGER. [Having arranged his clothing] Open the door.
Halden!— Eh.?
Braa. [Close to Holger] There is something I must talk
of. It can't wait.
Holger. But the rest will have to get out at once.
Hans Olsen. Well, we ain't hankering to stay either.
[He goes out.
Peter Stua. We'll come back again. But I guess it'll be
in a different way.
Braa. Aw — get out now!
Peter Stua goes out.
AsPELUND. [Quietly, as he is leaving] Yes, indeed, you're
playing a mighty high game. [He goes out.
Holger. [Sharply to Braa] What is it?
Braa. You can see for yourself that there are some here
that can't be controlled much longer. And it might be a
good thing to keep that in mind.
Holger. Well, why don't you keep it in mind.'* Eh.''
Braa. Tilings might happen here which everybody would
ask the Lord to spare us.
Holger. No, I wouldn't! For that would be the very best
thing that could happen.
Braa. That many thousands
Holger. The more, the better!
Braa. Well, I'll be hanged!
Holger. Eh? Now you are standing on our feet. And
then we could put you at a proper distance again for at least
another generation. And in the meantime something might
happen.
Braa. Well, then there is nothing left for me to say here.
[He goes out.
150 BEYOND HUMAN MIGHT Acrn
HoLGER. [To Halden] I Can't help thinking, whenever I
see that fellow, there must be gentle blood in him. — And
that's true of Peter Stua, too. — All who dare — all who dare to
revolt — have upper-class blood in them. Careless crossing
that, Halden!
Halden. Careless.'
HoLGER. I like those fellows. Especially the one who
came at me. Splendid chap. I should like to know who was
his father. Upper-class blood. It almost seems as if I could
spot his nose. Eh? The rest are nothing but slaves. Born
slaves. Pure and simple. — Was there anything you wanted,
Halden?
Haldex. Miss Sang has been waiting (juite a while out-
side.
HoLGER. And why didn't you tell me at once? Eh? [He
hastens to the door and opens it; not seeing anybody, he steps into
the next room; a moment later he is heard to say outside] You
mustn't think it's my fault. Eh? If I had only known
Rachel. [Beginning to speak lehile still outside] Mr. Halden
wanted to announce me. But I didn't think I ought to pre-
vent the workmen from finishing their talk with you.
Both she and Holger are in the room by tJie time she
stops speaking.
Holger. Well, they treated me to some of that bitter beer
your paper has been brewing. [At his xcords Rachel is seen to
flinch; he doesn't notice it, but leads her to a sofa, where he sits
down beside her] I have had to hear that those fellows have
made my wealth, and that accordingly I am playing the part
of an arch-thief. Eh? Quite an amusing tale! Here I have
built up a market for the labour of many thousand men. Add
to those all who are depending on tliem, and they make a
whole city. And so one fine day, l)efore I am through with it.
they turn on me and tell me it is theirs! Eh? Ami when I
ACT II BEYOND HUMAN MIGHT 151
won't make concessions at once, they rebel. I forgive them,
and everything seems to be all right again — when a crazy
preacher drops down among them and begins to proclaim the
law of God. But the law of God is that everything should be
turned topsy-turvy. Now we can't even build and live as we
please, for then we are taking the sun away from them. To
make up for this, the city is asked to build houses for those
people in Sunnywold — in Sunnywold, the pride and joy of the
whole city! Why not lodge them in our own houses? And
as it's the "law of God" — why not in heaven as well? Eh?
[Rising] I tell you. Miss Sang, if we handed out everything
we have, bag and baggage — in a year it would be all over
with the factories, the capital, the trade, and all of us would
be in the poorhouse! Eh? — I beg your pardon. Miss Sang!
Here I am treating you to the same sort of bitter brew, only
drawn from a different barrel. [He seats himself again] There
is no one I respect more than you, my dear Miss Sang. But
I happen to be made in such a way that my temper is a
part of my motive power. And as there had been such a lot
of it stored up during that meeting ■
Rachel. [Smiling] Oh, I have to hear all sorts of things
these days.
HoLGER. I thought you had already moved in. Miss Sang.
And I came here only to hand over the deed to you. It was
registered yesterday. [He takes a document from the table]
Now the park and the house are yours under the law. And I
regard it as a pleasure and an honour to have the chance of
placing this deed in your hands.
Both rise.
Rachel. A magnificent gift, indeed! Now my hospital
ought to be secure or I'll prove myself sadly incapable. I
thank you with all my heart, Mr. Holger.
[She takes his hand.
152 BEYOND HUMAN MIGHT act u
HoLGER. The document is a work of art, as you'll see.
That's Halden's doing, of course.
Rachel. [Opening the deed] Yes, so it is, I'll have it
nicely framed, and then I'll hang it right opposite the en-
trance. A thousand, thousand thanks! [They boiv to each
other] Is the deed entirely in my name?
HoLGER. Of course!
Rachel. But it's a gift to the hospital.'
HoLGER. It's a gift to you. And you will dispose of it.
Rachel. Well, I hope only that I may prove equal to it
HoLGER. You have already proved that. — 'When are you
going to move in.'
Rachel. I thought of doing so at once — if you have no
objection.'
Holger. There are some books here I want to take away.
Nothing else.
Rachel. You can't imagine how happy my sick people
are made by this. To-day we have knocked a hole in the
wall between the hospital and the park. And everybody who
could crawl out of bed had to come and watch the work.
Holger. I suppose you have a lot to attend to, and so
we'll leave you — Halden and I.
Rachel. Oh, there is something I wanted so badly to ask
of you, Mr. Holger. Although, of course, you never listen
when I ask you for something.
Holger. There is nobody, absolutely nobody, to whom I
would rather listen. [He motions her to be seated] What is it?
[He seats himself again.
Rachel. The big meeting of all the delegates that is to be
held to-night — don't hold it in the Castle! Don't make any
display! Don't illuminate the Castle!
Holger. The Castle is one of the finest pieces of archi-
ACT II BEYOND HUMAN MIGHT 153
lecture in this country. And the site of the old fort, where
it is located, makes a very fine setting for it. Eh.^
Rachel. That's true. Mr. Halden has every right to be
proud of his work. There is no one who disputes that.
But^
HoLGER. But — yes? The workmen have declared the
building and its location a direct affront to themselves.
Rachel. Many cruel deeds were committed in the old fort.
HoLGER. And now they are covered up with beauty. Is
there anything criminal in that.'* Eh.''
Rachel. The time during which the Castle was built
HoLGEK. The time. 5^ When times are hard is the best time
to make work for people. Is there anything criminal in that
either.'*
Rachel. It has been misunderstood. Remember what
happened during your housewarming.
HoLGER. A little dynamite — what of it? Sheer futility.
Those deep old moats prevent them from getting near the
place.
Rachel. But don't give another excuse for it.
HoLGER. Not only will the banquet and the illumination
be repeated, but I am going to put three bands at the big
Rachel. Oh, no, no!
HoLGER. [Rising] Eh? Do you mean to say that we are
to give way because of their evil plotting? Not while I am
in command. It is just in times like these that the Castle
has a message for certain people. Did you see it illuminated?
Rachel. No, I didn't go out at all.
HoLGER. That's where you missed it. [He goes toward the
background] Fortunately I had an artist on hand to paint it.
A very clever fellow. Here you'll see.
He pulls aside the drapery in the rear, thus revealing a
beautiful painting that covers the entire wall. It shows
154 BEYOND HUMAN MIGHT act n
a medicBval castle with towers and turrets, crenelated
walls, and a broad moat in front. The upper edges
of the building are outlined tcith electric ligftts and the
whole structure /a- strongly illuminated. Furtlier down
on the picture may be seen a city with its harbour, which
is protected toward tfie open sea by a long breakwater.
There are electric lights along the breakwater, too.
The atmospheric effect is that of a clear fall evening
with loaning light.
Rachel. [Who has risen] Yes, that's wonderful! Indeed,
it's wonderful !
HoLGER. That's how I believe things are going to look
when this earth once more finds a place for big personalities,
who dare and can proclaim their own selves. When we get
away from ant-heap ideas and centipedal dreams — back to
big men with genius and will.
Rachel. It's fascinating!
HoLGER. To me the most important feature of the whole
struggle is to make room for personality. Here you may wit-
ness the restoration of a structure belonging to a time when
personality did have elbow-room. With towers that rise and
rule. With massive walls whose strength and shape incul-
cate a religion of pomp, of power. Eh.'* — Do you want it to
stay here, or shall I take it away?
Rachel. I want it taken away.
HoLGER. [Hurt] You want ?
Rachel. Yes.
HoLGER. [To Halden] You hear that.' Will you please
see that it is taken away at once.
Halden nods assent.
Holger. I mean it literally. At once. Eh?
Halden remains quiet as before and goes out.
ACTH BEYOND HUMAN MIGHT 155
HoLGER. There is something about that fellow
[He checks himself.
Rachel. You don't like Halden?
HoLGER. Have you noticed that?
Rachel. I noticed it the first time I saw the two of you
together,
HoLGER. Oh — then! That was not to be wondered at.
Your hospital was being built right outside my park. I heard
that a young lady was using her private fortune in that way,
and I became curious. Eh.'* And so, one day, I walked right
into the place. And whom should I find there with you?
Halden. He was your architect. And he hadn't said a word
to me about it.
Rachel. He doesn't say very many.
HoLGER. What is it that has corked him up?
Rachel. I don't know. He has had to make his own way.
HoLGER. That's what all of us have had to do.
Rachel. But I imagine it comes a little harder in America.
HoLGER. How did he come to be your architect?
Rachel. Because he wanted to. And was willing to do the
work for nothing.
HoLGER. Has he done it for nothing?
Rachel. Everything.
HoLGER. [Takes a turn across the floor] Did he come to you
himself?
Rachel. No, somebody else brought me a message from
him.
HoLGER. [Stopping in his walk] Can you tell me who that
was? Can you — or don't you want to?
R.\CHEL. Yes. It was my brother.
HoLGER. Does Halden know your brother?
Rachel. Yes — or rather, I don't know. My brother
brought me that message from him: that's all I do know.
156 BEYOND HUMAN MIGHT actii
HoLGER. I have often wondered what kind of acquaint-
ances that man might have. I am not one of them.
[lie picks up hw hat.
Rachel. Well, that's more than I know.
HoLGER. [After a brief pause] I hope now that you may
feel at home out here — you and your convalescents.
Rachel. Thank you ever so much! You must come over
when we are in here — so that all of them may have a chance of
thanking you!
Holger. I will
Rachel. [Coming closer to him] Have I made trouble for
Halden by saying that he knew my brother.* For, really, I
don't know that he does.
Holger. You are greatly concerned about Halden.
Rachel. I don't want to harm anybody.
Holger. You need have no fear.
Rachel. And that other matter I spoke of — ? For the
sake of all the people, Mr. Holger, who may be tempted into
wrong-doing ?
Holger. I have already told you: there is no one to whom
I listen with greater pleasure than you. But you know also
that we have different religions, you and I. Eh.'
Rachel. People are scared. They say that old mining
galleries are still in existence under the Castle.
Holger. That's true of the greater part of the city.
Rachel. Suppose they should try ?
Holger. [Placing himself right in front of her] That would
BE the best thing THAT COULD HAPPEN'!
Rachel. [Drawing away from him] You are awful!
Holger. The religion of the masters, Miss Sang.
Rachel. And this is what you want to teach your nephew
and niece?
ACT II BEYOND HUMAN MIGHT 157
HoLGER. Yes, it is. I want to teach them the only thing
that can save all of us.
Rachel. [Urge7itli/] The damage you do will be tremen-
dous then — ! And you have no right to do it, either!
HoLGER. No right, eh.^ I, who bestow all I have on those
two young people?
R\CHEL. If you were to bestow ten times as much on them,
Mr. Holger, it wouldn't give you the right to rob them of
their souls.
Holger. Well, if I ever — eh?
Rachel. Can it be called less than that? Everything
those wonderful young creatures know and cherish — all that
you want to take away from f hem.
Holger. In order to give them what is still better.
Rachel. But which they despise, Mr. Holger. No one
has the right to shape the future by force — not by force !
Holger. That'll have to be fought out.
Rachel. Whether the children should be taken away from
their parents?
Holger. The parents are dead in this case.
Rachel. No living parents have a greater right to their
children than have these who are dead. And you know it,
Mr. Holger.
Holger. Do you mean that I should respect the silly no-
tions of the parents for that reason — even their silly notions?
Credo and Spera! Parents who are capable of naming their
children Credo and Spera — eh?
Rachel. "I believe" — "thou shalt hope" — are those such
silly notions? Thus had the parents disposed of these chil-
dren before they were born. And that's something we ought
to respect, Mr. Holger.
Holger. Respect silly notions! What kind of hope and
faith is it a question of? [In an amused tone] It is not in
158 BEYOND HUMAN MIGHT act n
this world, Miss Sang, that those who are first shall be last,
and the last first.
Rachel. That's something you know nothing about, Mr.
Holger. The future will be settled by the masses — by the
vast masses.
Holger. Hm — ! That'll have to be fought out.
Rachel. There is a current at work here that we cannot
stop.
Holger. [Merrily] Well, I'll get these two out of the cur-
rent anyhow.
Rachel. And you dare to do that, Mr. Holger.'
Holger. Dare — ■? Please don't interfere with me in this.
Rachel. You have refused to let me keep them. I can
do nothing about that. But you cannot refuse me the
right to influence them.
Holger. Oh, I cannot? Eh? The children are not going
to obey me, you mean? Then they must go away from
here!
Rachel. [Horrified] Away from here? Send the children
away? [With deep emotion] Mr. Holger, all you will gain by it
will be to make the three of us frightfully unhappy. And
besides — after the loss they have just suffered — this, too!
Oh, you cannot do such a thing!
Holger. Can't I? Eh? I'm going to do it at once. No
matter how much it hurts me to say "no" to you — but you
force me to do it.
Rachel. Every time I ask you very liard for sonu'thing, I
get a "no." And every time you say diat it hurts you.
Holger. I shouldn't respect you as highly as I do if you
were different from what you are. I hope you will grant me
the same compliment — Miss Sang!
Holger goes out. Rachel dropn down on a chair and
begins to cry. Somebody is heard hnochintj at the big
ACT II BEYOND HUMAN MIGHT 159
window. Rachel goes over to the window, her face
brightening as she moves.
Rachel. Do you want me to open — ? [The moment she gets
the window open, she cries out] No, no, no! [She shrinks back.
Credo. [Eighteen years old; comes with a leap through the
window] Good morning, Rachel!
Spera. [In her sixteenth year; enters in the same manner]
Good morning, good morning!
All three embrace enthusiastically.
Credo. What did he say to make you sorry?
Rachel. Oh, you noticed ?
Both. Of course, we noticed.
Rachel. It was about you, of course — something about
you!
Credo. He won't let us see you?
Spera. It won't do him any good.
Rachel. Worse than that. He wants to send you away.
Away from me!
Both. He wants to send us away, you say?
Rachel. [Deeply stirred] So that you cannot see me at all.
Both children embrace her.
Credo. He'll never be able to do it!
Spera. We'll never obey him in thai!
Credo. Oh, why haven't we learned to fly yet?
Spera. If he stops our mail, we'll use pigeons. And we'll
keep a diary for you to read.
Rachel. Yes, yes!
Credo. And you who can afford it, you'll come to us often,
won't you?
Rachel. W^ill I come — ? Yes, wherever you are!
They embrace again.
Credo. I'll invent something that makes the voice clearer
than the phonograph does now. That doesn't give you the
160 BEYOND HUMAN MIGHT act ii
voice itself, but just a kind of shadow of it. I have been
making a study of it, and I think I know where the trouble
lies. — And then you'll sit in your own room, Rachel, and hear
us talk to you. You'll feel that we are always about you,
Rachel, Rachel!
Rachel. I'll send you telegrams and letters every day, you
may be sure.
Credo. Until he understands how useless it is to separate
us.
Spera. And perhaps lets us come together again— what
d'you think?
Rachel. Something new and wonderful has come into my
life with you two. — I can no longer exist without you.
Both. Nor we without you.
Credo. You are the only one we can go to with everything.
Spera. Do you know why we came just now?
Rachel. No.
Spera. That toy of Credo's
Rachel. Does it fly?
Spera. Yes, all around the room, way up under the ceiling.
Credo. I have got it!
Spera. I assure you: round and round and round, without
bumping into anything. ^^
Credo. I have discovered how to steer it, you know — I
have got it!
Rachel. But isn't this something entirely new?
Credo. It's something that will grow, I tell you. Just
wait!
Rachel. So now you can make the circle in which it moves
as wide or as narrow as you want?
Credo. Exactly!
Spera. All he has to do is to set it as he wants it.
Rachel. Can't I come and see it?
ACT II BEYOND HUMAN MIGHT 161
Spera. That's why we came, you know: just because we
wanted you to see it.
Credo. We came to bring you along with us.
Rachel. But I don't know if that would be right
now
A bell is heard ringing at the main entrance outside.
Rachel. Nobody must find you here.
Spera. [Leaping out through the tvhidoio] Good-bye for a
while!
Credo. [Taking a long start and clearing the window with a
flying leap] Hurrah for the finest woman on earth!
A knock is heard at the door.
Rachel. Come in!
Elias enters.
Rachel. [Running to meet him] Elias — at last!
Elias. [Meeting her half-imy] Rachel — ^oh, Rachel !
They stand for a few moments with their arms about each
other.
Rachel. [Stroking his hair] How pale you look, Elias!
And worn out! What is it.^
Elias. [Smiling] The time's so big, and our strength so
small.
Rachel. How long it is since we saw each other!
Elias. For the same reason. I didn't have the strength.
Rachel. I can see that you have overworked.
Elias. Yes, I can't even have the nights to myself.
Rachel. Not even the nights?
Elias. And we don't get enough to eat.
Rachel. But, dear — what's the use of that?
Elias. We must practise self-sacrifice, says Bratt. And
he is right. But the effect of it has been somewhat unex-
pected.
Rachel. Why don't you sleep nights?
162 BEYOND HUMAN MIGHT actii
Elias. So this is where you are to live, Rachel? — This is
what he has given you — while he's refusing us everything.
Rachel. He has given it to the hospital. It is to be used
for the convalescents.
Elias. [Going around, looking the place over] This he has
done now — as if there were nothing else that made any de-
mands on him! Are you to live here, Rachel — in this room
here.'
Rachel. Yes, and sleep in the room next to it — the one
you passed coming in.
Elias. You have chosen peace for your share, Rachel.
Rachel. Not exactly peace, Elias. There is a great deal
of responsibility, and a great deal to do.
Elias. I know it, Rachel, I know it. All I meant was — I
cannot understand how anybody can live as he was living in
this big house— how anybody dares, while so many others —
Have you heard about Maren Haug and her two children ?
Rachel. Yes, yes, I keep track of everything. — Oh, Elias,
if you knew how my thoughts have been with you these last
days!
Elias. Perhaps that's why I have felt more homesick than
ever before — more even than at the time father and mother
still lived, and we were in the city.
Rachel. That's because you are not happy. — Tell me,
Elias: have you any faith in the strike.'
EuAS. [After a glance at his sister] Have you?
Rachel shakes her Jiead.
Elias. [Shakes his head in the same iray] It will end in the
worst defeat ever heard of. Maren Haug read the future.
Oh — she is not the only one who won't survive it.
Rachel. How it has made you suffer, Elias! I can see it.
Elias. The people in the city. Rachel, have another kind
ACT II BEYOND HUMAN MIGHT 163
of conscience than ours. Something else is needed to wake
them up.
Rachel. Can Bratt see it coming, too.'*
Elias shakes his head.
Rachel. Since when have you seen it?
Elias. Since I began to stay away from both of you — from
him as well as from you.
Rachel. [Disturbed] You have not been seeing Bratt
either.'*
Elias. I haven't had a talk with him until to-day.
Rachel. Was it about ?
Elias. No. — But don't let us talk of this now! Let us go
back for a little while to what used to be, Rachel.
Rachel. Oh, I understand.
Elias. Sit down. I want to sit beside you. Let us talk
of the old things we used to love. I am homesick, as I have
told you.
Rachel. Suppose we go back there, Elias .^ A trip to our
old home? To visit our childhood once more. The fiord,
the steep and naked mountainsides, the pale light of the
nighLs, the parsonage with the long stretch of shore in front
of it. The landslide must be covered with grass now. And
many other things also. What a trip that would be ! Nature
would be the same — a little melancholy, but faithful, and
magnificent in its wildness. And our memories — Reindeer
as tall as father and mother — Elias, let's go home — now
you are free — and so overworked — Oh, Elias!
Elias. I am not free, Rachel.
Rachel. I call it free when you are unable to do anything.
Elias. Well, that isn't quite certain.
Rachel. Oh, help them with money, yes — but you can do
that through Bratt just as well. Oh, Elias — let us go!
Elias. There is something in that, Rachel.
164 BEYOND HUMAN MIGHT actii
Rachel. It would make you well.
Elias. I'll answer you to-morrow.
Rachel. Think if we could have another look at all the
places where we used to play!
Elias. It's to those places my thoughts always go when I
am homesick.
Rachel. Do you remember how people used to say that
they never saw one of us alone, but alwaj^s the two of us
together, and always hand in hand?
Elias. And that we were always talking our heads off —
so that they could hear us from far off.
Rachel. And what a lot of queer notions you had — all
the strange things that would come into your mind, Elias!
Elias. But it was you who ruled — yes, it was! It's a fact,
you have always been the one who ruled, until we separated
awhile ago.
Rachel. Do you remember the eiders — how tame they
grew.'
Elias. I remember ever.y single nest.
Rachel. How we used to look after them!
Elias. And protect them and bring them food. And the
first time the mother bird took the little ones swimming —
we were looking on in the boat !
Rachel. And father was with us— just as nmch of a child
as either one of us.
Elias. It was he who set us going. It was always some
word from him that started us on all we undertook and all
we thought of. Heaven and earth were not separated then.
The miracles formed the rainbow that joined them. Our
eyes were looking straight into paradise
Rachel. And we saw father and mother among the angels.
Or rather, the angels had come down to them — we really
believed it!
ACT II BEYOND HUIVIAN MIGHT 1G5
Elias. Wasn't the Lord himself talking to us? Whatever
it was, it came from Him. Good weather and bad, thunder
and lightning, the flowers, and all else that was bestowed on
us. It came straight from Him. And when we prayed, it
was face to face with Him. And we seemed to see Him, too,
in the sea, in the mountains, in the sky. All of it was Him.
Rachel. And do you remember when the bells were ring-
ing — how we used to think that angels flew away with the
sound of them, to ask the people to come to church?
Elias. Oh, Rachel, those who have lived through such
things become exiles ever afterward.
Rachel. Exiles ever afterward — yes, you are right.
Elias. Nothing is good enough after that. — No sooner had
we left home than it was all over. Coldness and emptiness —
and then the doubts. But I can tell you now% in plain words,
what remains when all the rest is gone: — the craving for the
boundless.
Rachel. In you, perhaps — but I flee from it. Do you
remember when father and mother died, and everything
went to pieces, then you fled from it, too?
Elias. Yes, then we huddled close to each other. We
didn't dare to believe — not even what we saw with our own
eyes.
Rachel, We were afraid of people.
Elias. Yes, do you remember ?
Rachel. Most of all afraid that the sight of us might make
them talk ill of father and mother.
Elias. ^^^lom they didn't understand at all. But then,
when our inheritance came, after Aunt Hanna had died, do
you remember how we plunged back into the boundless at
once?
Rachel. Yes, you are right. Then it seemed at once as
if all bounds had been wiped out.
166 BEYOND HUMAN MIGHT act n
Elias. That was the time we looked up Bratt. In his
company that feeling grew, and it has been growing ever
since.
Rachel. In you, yes. But not in me. To me it comes
with a sort of sacred horror, but not with any happiness.
Elias. It is of no use fleeing, Rachel. It is in us and
about us.
Rachel. The earth can find its way through boundless
space — why not we, too.'
Elias. Do you know, Rachel, that at times I feel as if I had
wings? And no bounds — nothing to check me.
Rachel. Death checks everything, Elias.
Elias. [Rising] No, not even death — especially not death!
Rachel. [Rising] What do you mean?
Elias. [Finnly] That what we want to live must pass
through death. ■
Rachel. Through death ?
Elias. If you want to resurrect life, you must die for it.
Christianity took its life from the Cross. Our country lives
because of those who have died for it. There is no renewal
except through death.
Rachel. Is that to be applied here — ? You want the
workmen to die for their cause?
Elias. If they could do that, then their cause would be
saved. Then they would win at once.
Rachel. A revolution, in other words ?
Elias. The workmen in a revolution! Good Lord! — What
day is it to-day? Monday. Well, that means Sunday
doesn't come to-morrow. There is a whole week to Sunday.
And in that week some mighty hard work will have to be done.
Rachel. [Stepping close to him] There is only one way of
working, Elias: l)y example — by good oxaniple!
ACT II BEYOND HUMAN MIGHT 1G7
Elias. [Walking away from her] If you could only guess
how true that is. [Coming close to her agaiii] To show them
how to leap across all bounds, don't you see? To give
them an example of that!
Rachel. Across the bounds of life itself ?
Elias. First one across — then another. Isn't that the
way things always begin. Then ten, a hundred, thousands —
for it will need thousands before the millions will fall in line
to take the leap, too. But after that there can be no resist-
ance any longer. Then Sunday will be here. Then we shall
have alleluias, triumph, "Praise ye the Lord!" — First comes
the Baptist; then Jesus and the Twelve; then the Seventy;
then the many hundreds, the many thousands, and lastly
everybody, whosoever it may be! The life of resurrection
cannot be bought in any other way.
Rachel. Men have a lot of resistance in them. They
hold back for all they are worth; hold on to what they have
already gained. If they didn't, life wouldn't stay in its
proper course, as does the earth.
Elias. But stronger than the rest are those who want the
New. The eternal flame— the force that bursts all bounds —
you find it in the pioneers. It is on them everything depends.
The greater their courage, the greater will be their following!
Rachel. Into death ?
Elias. There is no other way! And why.^ Because people
will not believe fully in any one but him who dares to take
that way. But let him take that final step — into the be-
yond—and he will be believed. — Look around you: do you
find anybody in whom they believe fully now? Of course,
those that are close to Bratt believe in him. But how about
those that are further off? They are the very ones that
need to be converted. But they don't even turn their heads.
They don't care to hear what he has to say. He may get up
168 BEYOND HUMAN MIGHT Acrn
what we call a "movement" — not even then do they turn
around. No, they leave it to the police!
Rachel. Yes, you are right. That's the way it is.
Elias. But when you talk to them from the other side of
life, then they turni From there every word comes with so
much greater force — for in there the echo is so wonderful.
The great ones have to go there to get a hearing. There
the speaker's platform has been reared by life, and from it
the laws are proclaimed in tones that make them heard
throughout the world— even by those that are hardest of
hearing.
Rachel. But it's dreadful to believe in that.
Elias. Dreadful.'
Rachel. I mean that dreadful things may come out of it.
Elias. Nothing can be more dreadful than what we already
have, Rachel. What I proclaim is the religion of martyrdom.
Rachel. That's it. Of course, there is something big
about it.
Elias. More than that: once it has taken hold of you, there
exists no other religion — none at all !
Rachel. It's since you came to see this, that you have lost
faith in the strike?
Elias. I have done everything in my power to push the
strike — you can be sure of that.
Rachel. I don't doubt it, Elias. [Putting her arms around
his neck] But I am afraid on your behalf. That place down
there is not the right one for you.
Elias. There is no other place where I should like to be.
Rachel. [Still with her arms around his 7ieclc] But come
home with me now — at once! Please — at once! Just to
breathe the air of the sea, Elias! You can be sure that on
the sea you won't think and feel as you do down there.
The journey homeward too — all the different moods it will
ACT 11 BEYOND HUMAN MIGHT 169
make you pass through. You remember how it used to be,
don't you?
Elias. [Who has been gazing steadily into her face all the
time] In spite of all changes, you haven't changed in the
least, Rachel. I think you could begin right now to take
care of the eiders again.
Rachel. Yes, if you were with me!
Elias. Let me have a real look at you
Rachel. Elias!
Elias. [Drawing her still closer] You're like the eider-down.
When we were picking it, we used always to wonder how the
young birds could tear themselves away from it — do you
remember?
Rachel. Yes. And yet they would go very, very far away
from it.
Elias. Yes, they did go very far away. [Almost in a whisper]
Good-bye, Rachel!
Rachel. Are you going already?
Elias. I must — but I feel as if I couldn't take my arms
away from you.
Rachel. Hold me fast instead!
Elias. There is one thing in this life that we two never
had.
Rachel. Don't let us talk of it. What we have is so much
greater.
Elias. And yet, in the midst of what is greatest, there are
moments when we do nothing but long for what we never
had.
Rachel. Moments of tender dreams!
Elias. Moments of tender dreams!! [Kissing her] In you
I kiss all those wondrous things that have been denied me.
And then I kiss yourself — just you! [Giving her a long kiss]
Good-bye, Rachel!
170 BEYOND HLALVN MIGHT actii
Rachel. To-morrow, then?
Elias. You'll hear from me to-morrow.
Rachel. You'll come yourself, of course?
Elias. If I can.— Dear little Eider-down!
He embraces her, kisses her once more, and goes toward
the door; there he stops for a moment.
Rachel. What is it, Elias?
Elias makes a gesture ivith one hand as if brushing aside
something.
Rachel is still standing on the same spot, with her eyes
on the doorway, irlien a knock at the irindoio is heard.
She wakes up and turns around. Then she goes to
the window and opens it.
Spera. [Leaping in through the window as before] Who was
that, Rachel?
Credo. [Coming in after his sister] It was your brother,
wasn't it?
Rachel. Yes.
Spera. He must be weighed down by some great sorrow.
Rachel. Could you see that?
Credo. Indeed! What is it he wants?
Spera. Something big?
Credo. Where is he going?
Spera. Somewhere very far away, isn't he?
Rachel. We are going together.
Both. Where? When?
Rachel. To our home in the Northland. Perhaps to-
morrow
Credo. But why did he say good-bye to you then?
Spera. As if he were never going to see you again?
Rachel. Did he? — No, you misunderstood! He acts like
that when he is unhappy — always. He just won't let go.
ACTn BEYOND HUMAN MIGHT 171
A door-bell rings. Credo and Spera disappear through
the window again, and Rachel closes it after them.
Then a knock is heard at the door.
Rachel. Come!
Bratt. [Enters, breathless and distracted] Isn't he here?
Rachel. You mean my brother.'' [Eagerly] Has something
happened ?
Bratt. Hasn't he been here.''
Rachel. Yes — didn't you meet him?
Bratt. He has been here — as I thought. What did he say?
What has he in mind?
Rachel. What does he intend to do, you mean?
Bratt. I can see that you don't know — -that you didn't
talk of it.
Rachel. No — he will be back here to-morrow.
Bratt. [Quickbj] To-morrow!
Rachel. Or he'll send me word.
Bratt. What could he mean by that? [Nearer to her] Did
he mention me, Rachel?
Rachel. No — well, perhaps — I think he spoke of you
quite casually.
Bratt. Only casually. [With decision] Then he is hiding
something.
Rachel. He said that you hadn't seen each other for a
long while — until to-day.
Bratt. Did he also say that I had seen him and not recog-
nised him? Tell me, did he? Which would mean that he
had been disguised.
Rachel. [Smiling] Elias? I can never believe it.
Bratt. He was never at home at night.
Rachel. Yes, so he told me — that he didn't sleep, I mean.
— But, for Heaven's sake, Bratt, what is it?
Bratt. I can't tell all at once. And you would probably
172 BEYOND HUMAN MIGHT actii
not understand me, as I have nothing definite to go bj —
no clear expression, no tangible act.
Rachel. But if you don't
Bratt. Yes, yes, it's just as certain nevertheless. — O
that I should once more have to — ! AVait a minute, please;
I'll try to explain. That's why I came here, of course. — And
he and I who have been such friends, Rachel! What
hasn't he been to me !
Rachel. But that isn't over, is it.^
Bratt. There is somebody who has taken him away from
me!
Rachel. What do you say.^
Bratt. I didn't understand. How could I possibly under-
stand? Seeing it was Elias. Not until we met again to-
day — then I saw it at once! And the more he said, the
more clearly I saw it.
Rachel. I don't know yet what it is!
Bratt. There is somebody who has taken him away from
me! It's as sure as that fall comes after summer, and death
after fall. — By stirring his imagination. By starting his im-
petuous craving for achievement into more and more violent
vibrations. Under such circumstances, how could he possibly
feel satisfied among us? He was yearning to achieve some-
thing tremendous — all at once, with one blow.
Rachel. [Alarmed] What could that be?
Bratt. Elias is so easily led astray — he is so (juick to
believe
Rachel. Yes, indeed. But who could
Bratt. Somebody who has made the strike seem very
petty to him — a mere mistake, or something still worse. So
that Elias became horrified and was seized with dreadful re-
morse. Then the misery he had to see became unendur-
able to him. That's the way it must have happened. — So
ACT II BEYOND HUMAN MIGHT 173
he wished to make up for what had been lost — to make
up by means of something that would draw the eyes of the
whole world to our misery — something entirely new, some-
thing never heard of before. That's how it must have hap-
pened.
Rachel. [More atid more frightened] But what — what.^
Bratt. Wait! You'll misunderstand him if I don't ex-
plain myself first. For the fault isn't his. — To me he didn't
say a word — although the responsibility, the fault was as
much mine as his — not a word of reproach. He wanted to
take it all on himself — by enormous sacrifices. Now he has
given us his entire fortune.
Rachel. His entire fortune — Elias?
Bratt. Something he said made me suspect it. Now I
know. It is true! He has given us everything he possessed.
He had one thousand crowns left yesterday — this he gave us
to-day — all at once.
Rachel. [In a tone that shows her admiration] He shall lack
for nothing!
Bratt. Oh, it isn't that! But in that way he has entirely
misled us. He has been sending us these sums from east and
west and north and south, until we were made to believe in
a wide-spread public sympathy. But to-morrow it will be
all over. Beginning with to-morrow, we shall only have
enough to meet the barest necessity— and in a little while
we shall not even have that much. Nothing but unspeakable
misery !
Rachel. My poor friend !
Bratt. You may well say that, for the blame is mine.
You mustn't put it on him. Nobody can put it on him.
That's why I must explain myself.
Rachel. I am listening.
Bratt. A while ago I had reached my highest point of faith
174 BEYOND HUMAN MIGHT act n
in myself — where my feeling told me: "God is on our side!"
My sense of power sprang from the reliance placed in me by
the others — and nothing surpasses such a feeling. Then came
Elias — and before I knew what was happening he had taken
the ground from under my feet.
Rachel. Dear friend !
Bratt. But how can a man who has gone through what I
have gone through — how can it be possible for him to believe
a second time? And to believe still more strongly because
of his earlier mistake? That's where the trouble lies. And in
this there is no mistake! [He hides his face.
Rachel. My dear, dear friend !
Bratt. [Looking sharply at her] Now and then I have en-
countered a face that seemed to ask: "Can you find the right
road? Can you lead others along that road?"
Rachel shrinks back.
Bratt. [Folloioing her] Tell me now : that was the doubt in
your mind, wasn't it?
Rachel. Yes.
Bratt. And that's why you didn't stay with me?
Rachel. Yes.
Br.\tt. [Goes up close to her, she drawing back from hitn] I
don't help people. I lead them astray. Instead of guiding, I
misguide. I always achieve the opposite of what I want.
All I can do is to overreach myself — make a mess of it — and
bring all to despair. Isn't that so? There can be only one
end to it: my downfall, with the curses of thousands following
me.
Rachel. [Going up to him] If anything should happen — I
think so much of you — have from the very first
Bratt. Yet you wouldn't stay with me?
Rachel. You are a big man, and an honest man. But
you take all my strength away from me.
ACT II BEYOND HUMAN MIGHT 175
Bratt. There you have said it yourself!
Rachel. Yes, you carry me beyond what is clear to mj-self.
Bratt. There you see!
Rachel. It's a part of your nature. You can't help it.
Bratt. A man of no matter how forceful nature — if his
mind had been sown with sensible thoughts from childhood
up, and if he had learned to watch and grasp real life instead
of spending his time wool-gathering in another world — do you
think he would lead anybody astray.^
Rachel. No.
Bratt. Here we come tumbling headlong out of the mil-
lennium — ready to save the world. But while we were stray-
ing abroad, the world has turned into a pretty tough problem
— one that our brains are far from prepared for. — That's the
thought that struck me while I was scrambling up the hill
a moment ago. — Either our fancy is extravagant, or else our
will. So there is always somethmg in us that carries us
beyond our power. We, who have seen people go to heaven
in golden chariots; who have seen angels in the sky and devils
surrounded by eternal fire; who have been hungering for
miracles — how could we possibly have the kind of brains
needed to deal with real life? Oh, no! — We are to be pitied,
Rachel! We are always miscalculating the distance in front
of us. We are always starting out haphazardly. Our con-
sciences can be no reliable guides to us, for they have never
been at home on earth or in the present. We are always
striving for Utopias, for the boundless
' Rachel, For the boundless "^
Bratt. Now you understand .f*
Rachel. Elias ?
Bratt. Of course. — I have lured him on too far. I failed
to understand that a nature like his should never have been
dragged into a thing like this.
176 BEYOND HUMAN MIGHT acth
Rachel. Never!
Bratt. Now he is plunging liimself and us into that which
knows of no hounds. Soon somctliing dreadful is going to
happen. When he gave all he had, he did it with the thought
of giving himself, too.
Rachel. Himself, too? Elias- — ?
Bratt. With the thought of sacrificing himself in order
that he might carry hundreds of the others along with him to
destruction. He must have been planning it for a long time,
and now it is about to happen. Do you understand ?
Rachel. No.
Bratt. Don't you itnderstand .'
Rachel utters a cry and falls doicn senseless.
Bratt. Yes, it's better so! If I could only drop down
beside you, never to wake again!
[He kneels at her side, bending over her.
Curtain.
ACT III
An immense hall. A raised throne-like chair occupies the centre
of the left wall, flanked on both sides by seats icith richly
carved and very tall backs that are fastened to the walls.
The same kind of seats are along the other tico walls, while,
for this special occasion, a large number of chairs have
been scattered over the floor.
In the rear are tivo huge, arched windows that do not break the line
of seats. Doors in the same style as the windoivs appear
on both sides close to the rear corners. The ceiling is of
wood, with deeply sunk panels and beautifully carved. The
walls are hung xoith draperies, coats of arms, and flags,
and between these are placed fresh green branches.
HoLGER is seated on the throne, tvith a small table in front of him.
The seats and the chairs are filled with delegates representing
the factory owners throughout the country. Other delegates
are constajitly passing in and out through the two doorways.
Each time the discussion gets more heated they swarm in
from both sides, only to disappear again after a while. Serv-
ants in medioeval costumes carry around tall tankards filled
with various kinds of drinks, which they serve in goblets and
tumblers.
Anker. [He is standing on a dais just in front of the throne;
on the dais is a small table for the speaker, and a larger one at
ichich tivo secretaries are seated] Once, on a very memorable
occasion, some one remarked that "Beelzebub cannot cast
out Beelzebub." I have made this my creed in the present
177
178 BEYOxXD HUALVN MIGHT act m
case. We must not set evil against evil. For in that way
we can never bring out what is good in people. And if we
cannot bring out what is good, we have nothing whatever to
build on. And then there is no future before us.
[He steps down in the midst of general silence.
HoLGER. Mr. Mo has the floor.
]Mo. [Ascends the platform, while a number of delegates come
hurrying in from the side rooms] On behalf of the fourteen —
mind you : fourteen — factory owners in my city, I have the
honour to express concurrence in Mr. Holger's plan. And we
do this most heartily. [Cries of "Hear'"] If the workmen or-
ganise against us, then we organise against them. ["Hear"]
We give our support to the entire plan and to all its separate
clauses. — I must say that Mr. Anker's speech has greatly sur-
prised me. [Cries of "Us, too''] I think every factory owner
ought to see the advantage of having all the factories governed
by some central body to which they may turn for guidance in
times of danger. And every one ought to understand the
advantage of having every conflict with the workmen placed
under the jurisdiction of this central body — serving at once
as supreme court and highest executive. What we lose in
freedom we gain in security. Most heartily do we subscribe
to this plan. Let the workmen find out that, if they make
trouble, they'll run up against a power that is not hampered by
any kind of consideration. That will make them meek, I think
— while it will make us more respected than we have ever been.
As soon as we can get the factory owners of another country to
form a similar organisation, we'll join hands with them. And
in the end we shall have an organisation covering all civilised
countries. Holger's plan is a splentlid one. And I [turning
toward Anker] have no fear whatever of the conset|uenees.
The expression used by Mr. Anker — that this is '*to place a
small minority of mankind in opi)osiliuii to its vast majority"
ACT III BEYOND HUMAN MIGHT 179
— is totally misleading. For mankind is, after all, made up
of something else than factory owners and factory hands.
There can hardly be any question as to which side offers the
greater advantage to all the other people. ["Hear, hear"] We
and the other people — there you have the state. The state
belongs to us, as it has always done and always will. With
all my heart I concur.
Repeated cries of "Hear, hear, hear'' are followed by an
outburst of applause and general conversation as Mo
steps down from the dais.
HoLGER. Mr. John Sverd has the floor.
A Delegate. Question!
Several Others. Question! Question!
Almost All. Question!
Sverd. [Mounting the dais, places a portfolio on the table
in front of him] You don't need to be so explicit, my dear
friends. I know fairly well how the land lies. As a chemist,
you see, I am accustomed to analyse things. [Laughter] If
nevertheless I stand here, it's merely because I have prom-
ised my colleagues — those whom I have the honour of rep-
resenting — to place their opinions before you.
A Delegate. Which have been dictated by yourself!
Another Delegate. Dictator!
Sverd. If I exercise any dictatorship, it must be one of
"persuasion."
Mo. And now you're going to try it
on us
Sverd. [Good-humouredly] With your gracious permission —
so I will. For I happen to have at my disposal an argument
which no man of brains can resist.
Several. Well, well!
Sverd. I'll hand it out at once. As this honourable gather-
ing probably knows, our factories are located in the country.
180 BEYOND HUMAN MIGHT actih
And the workmen in these factories have already olitaiiied
almost everything that is in dispute here now!
Several. [Interrupting him] Oh. yes. in the cduntry!
That's another story!
A Delegate. [At the top of his voice] Smaller conditions —
and everything new!
Mo. Show us your books!
SvERD. [Pointing to the portfolio] I bring with me certified
copies of our balances during the last few years. We are get-
ting along — in a modest way, but we are getting along.
Several. In a modest way, yes.
SvERD. Yes, we are content with moderate profits — and
perhaps that's the main difference between us and you
gentlemen.
Several. Well, well!
A Delegate. Stick to your own business, please!
SvERD. And I can tell you another thing. All our work-
men are members of Bratt's union, and they take Sang's
paper. You bet they do ! And neither the hills above us nor
the falls beside us have had their complexions spoiled on that
account. And now I have saved the worst to end with:
we factory owners ourselves are members of Bratt's union
and subscr
A Majority of the Delegates. [/// a violent outburst]
Damn his cheek! What have you got to do here? Socialist!
Anarchist! Get out! Shut up!
Svehi). I fear there are not (|uile so many men of brains
present as I thought!
This calls forth laughter from some and protests from
others.
Mo. [Shouting at the top of his voice] Yes, that's like \our
impudence!
ACT III BEYOND HUMAN MIGHT 181
A Delegate. [Also shouting] How about your own head?
Don't you belong to the Numskull family?
SvERD. If I do, I have a lot of relatives here. [Laughter] I
think a great deal of that family and hope it thinks enough of
me to let me criticise Mr. Holger's plan brieflj^ What I
want to say first of all is that a union of factory owners cover-
ing the whole country — or the whole world even — is possible
only if you get all the factory owners with you.
Mo. Well, there'll be no trouble about that!
A Delegate. They'll be viade to join us.
Anker. No pressure !
Several. Yes, pressure is just the thing!
An outburst of talking follows.
Sverd. Mr. President!
HoLGER makes no sign of hearing him.
Anker. [Shouting] But suppose the banks should stand by
the others?
Several. They won't dare! We'd make them pay for it!
Sverd. But perhaps the retail dealers ?
Many Delegates. Yes, let 'em try!
Sverd. It means we shall have to have two more unions:
one of bankers and one of retail dealers.
Mo. We'll boycott the bankers and undersell the dealers.
Sverd. There, now — that's another use for the defence
fund ! And then you'll have to fight the whole Liberal Party.
Whereby the whole thing will be turned into politics.
Mo. What else is it now?
Sverd. Mo, this is something entirely new! A union of
factory owners that has a compulsory membership and uses
force against the workmen, that boycotts the banks and goes
to war with the retail dealers — this is a novelty, indeed!
Anker. That will never succeed — not in all eternity!
Many. [Angrily] It shall succeed !
182 BEYOND HLWIAN MIGHT actiu
SvERD, [Quickly] Grant that it succeeds! That it suc-
ceeds splen(HdIy! You control the employers, the workmen,
the market — which means that indirectly you control both
local and national authorities. What will be the outcome?
That sooner or later you gentlemen overreach yourselves— so
much power being a direct temptation to that sort of thing—
whereupon we'll have an uprishig more fierce in its bitterness
than any of the religious wars waged by our ancestors. Will
that be progress, do you think.^ No, retrogression — that's
what it means: a backsliding to savagery that will lead to the
destruction of our machinery, the burning of our finished
products, the killing of our foremen. We have already had a
taste of it — for the fight is on at the outposts.
Anker. That's true !
SvERD. And what kind of a war will it be? On whom do
you think the burden of it will fall? On both sides! On the
employers as well as on the workmen! It would be much
more convenient for both sides to stay at home and merely
send word to each other that, at a certain stroke of the clock,
they would— on either side — set fire to all they hail, and then
take care that the flames spread to the whole city in which
they lived, thus paralysing the country they should serve!
Against their own will, a number of delegates are moved
to applause.
Mo. Tell that to the workmen!
SvERD. Both sides have to be told that they are plunging
headlong into what is impossible and unnatural. Back of it
must lie some unreasoning racial instinct — something akin
to what turns us toward the supernatural in our search for
poetry and greatness. But I tell you. the day will come wluii
man discovers that there is more of greatness and poetr\- in
what is natural and possible — however insignificant it may
seem at times — than in all the sui)ernaturuli.sm we have
ACT HI BEYOND HUMAN MIGHT 183
ever had, from the oldest sun-myth down to the latest sermon
preached about it. And if both parties to this conflict couhl
only stick to plain reality, what do you think they would dis-
cover? That the enemy which they both fight has nothing in
common with either of them. That he is thriving on their
strife, because it places both of them more securely in his
clutch. I am thinking of the capitalist.
A Shrill Tenor Voice. You'd better leave the capital-
ist alone!
SvERD. Mj^ dear sir — why in the world should I leave the
capitalist alone.'* Especially as we all know that in a young
country like ours almost everybody has to operate with bor-
rowed money and would like very much to avoid doing so.
But the capitalist
Shrill Tenor Voice. Leave the capitalist alone!
SvERD. [Imitating the voice of the interrupter] Is he sacred,
perhaps? [Laughter.
Mo. I am quite of the same opinion. These endless, use-
less complaints against the capitalist
SvERD. [Taking the word out of Mo's mouth] Complaints
against the capitalist, you say?
Shrill Tenor Voice. Leave the capitalist alone!
[Everybody roars with laughter.
Sverd. Mr. President, won't you please stop these annoy-
ing interruptions?
When HoLGER pays no attention to the request, the
laughter is renewed and. is mingled with applause.
Sverd. This means that you refuse me freedom of speech.
It means that neither the president nor the meeting will
grant me freedom of speech. [Cries of "Hear" and laughter]
This was just what I expected, and for that reason I brought
with me a stenographer.
His words provoke a storm of protest.
184 BEYOND HUMAN MIGHT act m
All, That isn't allowed! The proeeedings are secret!
Nothing must be reported!
SvERD. Nothing but publicity will help where the right of
debate is denied. [At the top of his voice] I brought a phon-
ograph, too.
Putting his portfolio under his arm, he steps smilingly
from the dais.
All. Mephisto! Charlatan! Just what we expected!
And you talk of freedom !
HoLGER. [In a voice that rises above the din] Mr. Ketil has
the floor.
This announcement is greeted with applause and cries of
"^ Bravo.'"
Ketil. Who has been standing in the rear of the hall, calls to
SvERD, who is seen leaving with two men, one of whom carries a
small box] Are you going.'*
SvERD. [Gayly] Yes.
Ketil. But I was just going to reply to what you said.
SvERD. Oh, there are plenty left who will enjoy it.
He botes and goes out while the laughter provoked by his
reply is still lasting.
Ketil. [Mounting the dais] We have just been told how
dreadful it would be for us to do what the workmen have
been doing right along.
Several. Hear, hear!
Ketil. We learned long ago tliat we had no right to take
the initiative in our dealings with the workmen. But that we
have just as little right to follow their lead, that's something
new. [Signs of merriment] There is only one thing we can do:
obey the workmen. Everything else is dangerous. Conse-
quently: let's raise their wages — so they can spend a little
more on drink. [Laughter and cries of "'Hear, hear"] I need
ACT III BEYOND HUMAN MIGHT 185
hardly tell you that the workmen must share in the profits —
especially when there are none to share. [Ge7ieral merriment]
It follows, of course, that we must give them a voice in run-
ning the business — which, I am sure, will make the banks
much more anxious to grant us credit. [Merriment] Just now,
when the competition is more keen than ever, we are to surren-
der both profits and control — which will lead us to a fine end,
I am sure! [Wild applause] What can property in private
hands mean but slavery to all the rest.'' No, indeed — prop-
erty for nobody, and poverty for all: that's the ideal! [Tre-
mendous outburst of approval] Freedom cannot exist side by
side with the power of money. Poverty and freedom : there's
the ideal for you ! [Applause as before] Mr. Anker, who is a
God-fearing man, spoke most touchingly about the vices of
wealth — that is, about the vices of those who are wealthy or
hope to become so. And we heard of sloth, and prodigality,
and luxury, and immorality, and lust of power, and brutal
contempt for other people. These are the vices that generally
go with wealth. How much better, then, are the vices of the
workmen! For I suppose, if such a mean thought be at all
permissible, that they have theirs as well. Filthiness, sloven-
liness, slavishness, envy, drunkenness, thievishness, brawling,
and a murder now and then — nay, in these days, when an-
archism is rampant among them, mass-murder. I can't say
that I care very much for any of these vices, whether they
belong to ourselves or to the other side. But if it be that each
side must have its own, why speak only of those that go
with wealth? Is it because the vices of the workmen are so
much more repulsive? [Laughter and applause] Or can it really
be the opinion of Mr. Anker — who is a God-fearing man —
that these vices will be disposed of by letting the workmen
share in the profits? Does he mean that profit-sharing is a
cause of repentance — to them as well as to us? [Strong ap-
18G BEYOND HUMAN MIGHT actui
protml] To me that kind of rant — I hope you'll panlon the
term! — to me it seems rather weak-minded. [Laughter] Like
all the rant about morality we have to hear whenever we
want to do anything worth while, anything really effective.
As I see it, the main trouble lies just in our morality. [Roars
of laughter] The danger of which we have heard so much here
is just that we always are so dreadfully moral. [Tumultuous
applause and cries of " ThaVs right"] It prevents us from de-
fending the existing order, the state, the country — all that we
possess and want to pass on to our children — from defending
it in such a manner that they are made to realise and re-
member that here is something not to be t.\mpered with.
And until this is done, we'll never have peace.
As Ketil steps doicn he is given an ovation. Before it is
over, most of those present are on their feet, talking
eagerly.
HoLGER. [Wlien the hubbub quiets down a little] "Well, now —
Mr. Anker waats to be heard again.
A Delegate. Oh, have we got to have more of Anker?
Many. We don't want any more of Anker!
Another Delegate. We have had enough of that anchor!
[Laughter.
Third Delegate. Let's try another.
Fourth Delegate. No more anchoring ! Question!
Many. Question!
Anker. [Who in the mean time has ascended the dais] No, I
think you'll have to have another try at my anchor first.
[Laughter] The other one seemed inclined to drag, I should
say — although it went down with a big splash. [Cries of
" Well, welV ; many delegates go out, talking more or less loudly
as they leave] The new time, the new onler that is coming —
whether we want it or not — means just that there shall bt;
ACT III BEYOND HUMAN MIGHT 187
neither great wealth nor great poverty. There is something
half-way between those two, and that is what is coming.
And as we get nearer to it by degrees, the vices characterising
both wealth and poverty will drop away. This is what we
ought to realise in time — and by doing so we'll avoid these
incessant dreadful conflicts. A previous speaker remarked
that there must be something the matter with us because we
so rarely take hold in a proper way. He seemed to think that
we were caught in something that is beyond our power. No
matter what that something may be — I am sure it exists. To
me our extravagant war budget, our enormous administrative
expenses, our wasteful private living, are very serious symp-
toms: the life we live is beyond our power. But for this fact,
anarchism would be impossible. The lack of responsibility,
the utter lack of moral stamina, displayed by our men of
means in their wasting of millions, as if there were nobody in
the country but themselves and those serving their pleas-
ures: that's also anarchism — not a whit less brutal — and a
rebellion against the laws of God and man. It is like cry-
ing to all the rest: "You, too — do just what you please!"
Ketil. [Rising] Mr. President.
As HoLGER is seen to note down his name, a ripple of
pleasant anticipation passes through the assembly.
Anker. The same is true of literature — of that litera-
ture which appeals to the wealthy and well-to-do — to the
so-called "educated" classes. When it shows the same
spirit — when it preaches unrestrained individualism — when
it tears down everything and urges the violation of law and
good manners alike — then it is a form of anarchism as much
as that which hurls dynamite to kill.
A Delegate. Mr. President, I think we are getting too
far away from the question before us.
Many. Order! Order!
188 BEYOND HUMAN MIGHT act m
Several. Question! Question!
A number of oilier delegates stream in from the side rooms
and join in the cry of "Question.''''
AxKER. There is no one in tlie world who has the right to
do what he pleases with his own.
A Delegate. You bet we have!
AxKER. Indeed, we have not! Above us there are both
written and unwritten laws. And I fear that you will break
both, and especially the unwritten ones, if you try to enforce
the conditions prescribed for the workmen in Mr. Holger's
plan.
Several. [Talking simidtaneousli/] Oh, you can't frighten
us ! We are not at all scared !
Anker. I find those conditions revolting — a breach against
written as well as unwritten law. And I am sure there are
many here who agree with me. [He stops.
Holger. [Rising] I think the time has come to find out.
General Outcry. Yes, yes!
All that have been in tlie side rooms come hurrying itdo
the hall.
Holger. Will those who agree with Mr. Anker please sig-
nify that fact. [Silence] Will they please speak up. I mean.
[Silence; then laughter.
A Delegate. [At last, in a timid voice] I agree with Mr.
Anker.
A roar of laughter greets his u-ords.
Holger. One man — that's all !
The delegates yell and stamp on the floor.
Anker. If that's so, I must apologise for taking up the
time of the meeting.
lie goes toward the door, followed by the one delegate who
agreed with hijn.
A Delegate. Good luck!
ACT III BEYOND HUMAN MIGHT 189
Anker. [In the doonvay] That's more than I dare to wish
you ! [He disappears.
HoLGER. The question has been called for.
Many. Yes, yes!
HoLGER. Then you don't want to hear Mr. Ketil first.''
Everybody. Oh, yes, yes! [Applause.
HoLGER. But there is one speaker before Mr. Ketil — Mr.
Blom. [Silence.
Blom rises — a serious man, elegantly dressed in black.
He has not taken any part whatsoever in the various
demonstrations. But he has been seen from time to
time trying to catch Holger's attention, not succeed-
ing until a few inomcnts before Ketil demanded the
floor.
HoLGER. I suppose you are also in favour of the motion
before us?
Blom. I am.
HoLGER. Mr. Blom has the floor.
Blom. [Mounting the dais] May I ask for a glass of water.'
HoLGER. [Looking around; many delegates do the same]
What has become of the servants?
Several delegates hurry to the side doors to look for
servants.
Mo. Here's one! [He beckons, and a servant appears.
Blom. Bring me a glass of water — iced. [The servant leaves]
Our country has already lost millions — millions. The annual
profits of our factories are already swallowed up. And more
than that.
A Delegate. And more than that.
Blom. [Politely] And more than that. For this reason the
light-hearted — not to say flippant — tone characterising these
proceedings has offended me very much.
A Delegate. Very much.
190 BEYOND HUMAN MIGHT act in
Blom. [Politely] Very much. We shall not weather the
crisis just started — just started — without self-control and
discipline.
A Delegate. And discipline.
Blom. [Politeli/] And discipline. [Laughter] \^^len we pos-
sess self-control and discipline, then, and only then, can we
hope to have with us — on our side — that power
The Servant has in the mean time returned zvith a mag-
nificent pitcher and an equally magnificent goblet on a
tray; he pours water into tlie goblet and offers it to
Blom.
Blom. Which is the greatest of all — namel.>
[He takes tlie goblet and drin/cs.
A Delegate. Namely ?
Second Delegate. The army.
Third Delegate. The king.
Fourth Delegate. The voters.
Fifth Delegate. The ladies. [Laughter.
Sixth Delegate. The cash. [More laughter.
Blom. [Putting down the goblet] I mean the Church.
Several. Aw — the Church!
Blom. The Church. Only by self-control and discipline
can we get the Church with us.
A Delegate. With us.
Blom. [Politely] With us.
Another Delegate. [Seated very far back] "What the
devil do we want with the Church when it can't make the
workmen behave.^
Several. Hear, hear!
A Third Delegate. What have we got it for, any-
how.''
Blom. [Unmoved] The Church docs not side with the work-
men. We can see that — sec thai. Hiil ncillier does the
ACT III BEYOND HUMAN MIGHT 191
Church side with us, because we lack the order and discipHnc
we want to enforce on the workmen — on the workmen — and
which we want the Church to help us enforce.
A Delegate. To help us enforce.
Blom. [Politely] To help us enforce. I agree entirely
with the proposed plan. But unless we obtain the support
of the Church, the carrying out of it will be impossible to us.
A Delegate. Impossible to us.
Blom. [Politely] Impossible to us. That's my opinion.
[He steps down.
HoLGER. Mr. Ketil has the floor.
General applause. Everybody pushes forward to hear
better.
Ketil. [Mounting the dais during the applause] Well, well — •
it's ive, then, that lack discipline! [Laughter and cries of
"Hear, hear"] And the Church, poor thing, is standing there,
not knowing what to do — not daring to help us because we
lack order and discipline. [Laughter and cries of "Hear,
hear"] So that's the reason why the Church has always been
helping those that had the power.' And we must suppose
that all who ever held power have also had self-control and
discipline! [Signs of general satisfaction] Let us then by all
means get hold of the power, so that we, too, can be sure of
the Church! [A storm of approval follows] And of the work-
men also! AVhen the French Government shot down ten
thousand of them at Paris — including all the worst mischief-
makers — there came peace for many years. A little blood-
letting now and then has its uses. [Laughter; cries of "Hear,
hear"; talk among the delegates] I understand they are soon
going to have another one down there. [Laughter] I don't
think anything of that kind is needed here. But it depends
on ourselves. If we seize the power to-day and show that
we mean to keep the social body in good health, even if it
192 BEYOND HUMAN MIGHT act m
takes a blood-letting to do so, then I think we may escape
it — but not otherwise. [Loiid cries of "Hear"] Somebody said
here a while ago that we were to blame for the anarchism
of the others — that we were anarchists ourselves — and that
the anarchism on both sides was wrecking the national
welfare. Perhaps. But if you consider what some fool of
a millionaire, or — to mention a still worse fool — some son of
a millionaire [laughter] wastes in the course of several years:
what does it matter in comparison with what a strike can
waste in a few weeks? Nay — if you turn to England, or,
still more, to America — in a few days, when, as frequently
happens, the striking workmen destroy machinery, burn
millions' worth of property, bring every form of business to a
standstill, and upset the markets all over the world. ^ With
that kind of human beasts — always lying in wait within the
workmen, no matter how peaceful they may seem — we are
to share the control of our business and the profits which
guarantee that control. And having to deal with such
people, we are supposed to hesitate about seizing the power
and using it for the good of all! [Loud applau.ie] Not only
do I cast my own vote for every point of ISIr. Holger's plan,
but I demand that we adopt it unanimously.
He steps down in the midst of a tempestuous ovation, all
except Blom rising to their feet.
A Delegate. Let's carry it by acclamation !
Everybody. Yes, yes! [Applause.
Mo. Three cheers for Holger — our great leader! Hurrah!
All present join in, including Blom, wlio has now risen.
Anker. [Appearing suddenly in the doorway with the man
who followed him out] Beg your pardon, Mr. President, but
we can't get out.
Holger. Can't get out?
Anker. All the doors arc locked.
ACT in BEYOND HUMAN MIGHT 193
HoLGER. But the doorkeeper — eh?
Anker. The doorkeeper isn't there.
HoLGER. What's that.'' What has become of the servants?
Eh?
Anker. We couldn't find any servants.
[Signs of general anxiety.
Mo. But one of them was here a moment ago.
Several delegates rush to the doorways.
A Delegate. There he is now. [He beckons.
The Servant enters.
Holger. One of the extra servants. [To the Servant] See
that these gentlemen get out. [The Servant looks at his
watch before he goes out with Anker and the other delegates]
And try to find the doorkeeper. Eh?— You need not be dis-
turbed, gentlemen. I have caused the doors to be locked in
order to provide against intruders. The police are outside.
And I suppose the servants are getting ready for the dinner.
Several. [In tones of relief] Oh, that's it!
Holger. This interruption has prevented me from express-
ing my gratitude as spontaneously as I could have wished — ■
my gratitude for this splendid tribute — and also for the
confidence you have shown me by the adoption of my
plan. You may be sure that I shall not disappoint you. I
thank you also for helping me to break up that constitutional
debate into which we found ourselves plunged so unex-
pectedly. [Laughter] The tendency to play at parliament, in
season and out, is one of the scourges of our time. Every
idea is talked to death; every higher aim is dragged
down. But I suppose that what has its origin in a choice
exercised by mediocrity can hardly act otherwise. [Cries
of "Hear, hear"] Please be seated, gentlemen [A few sit
down, a majority remain standing] The action we have taken
here now I regard as decisive. As I see it, it is a great
194 BEYOND HUMAN MIGHT actiii
event and it has been the chief aim of my life. [Cries of
"Hear"] Shortly before I had the honour of bidding you wel-
come, I had a conference with the workmen, at which I had
once more to hear that they, and not we, have built the
factories — that they are making the money we are living on.
And we know, of course, that the same is true of the state:
they have built it, and they are maintaining it. All we do
is to live by their efforts. — But the truth is, that at no time
or place have the efforts of scattered workers achieved any-
thing like that. They have never been able to reach beyond
their own needs — beyond the earning of bare necessities.
Only the co-ordination of such efforts could achieve something
more by uniting great numbers in the pursuit of a common
goal. This work of co-ordination used to rest principally on
the big landowners and the great guilds. Those were the
men of power that built our societies. The warriors were
partly a help and partly a hindrance. The same holds
true of the priests — they sometimes helped and sometimes
hindered. But we are the heirs both of the nobility and the
guilds. In our own day we stand for this work of co-ordina-
tion. We are now the founders of great fortunes. It Ls by
us that city and country alike are built up; it is through us
the workmen gain a living; and from us springs that prosper-
ity which finds something to spare for the arts and sciences.
[Tumultuous and prolonged enthusiasm] As long as the greater
part of the wealth remains controlled by us, so long will all
that is born out of it continue to be rich in individuality,
originality, and variety. Every one consults his own taste,
and everybody finds it suited. But imagine in our place a
single authority, be it that of community or state! Only
one producer, only one purchaser, and, of course, only one
taste. And also, of course, only one standard of value.
That would be outright Hell! Then, all the year around,
ACT III BEYOND HUMAN MIGHT 195
this earthly life would be reduced to one long Sunday after-
noon of boredom. [Laughter] In the end the nations would
then grow so much alike that we could hardly tell whether
we were living in this ant-heap or in that — ^except possibly
by our manner of growling at each other. [Laughter] Al-
though I suppose in the end that difference would be wiped
out, too — eh? [Alore laughter] When they call out to us
from the other side that the will of the majority must rule,
and that they are the majority, then we reply: the insects are
also in a majority. [Cries of "Hear, hear"] If such a majority
should come into power here — by the ballot or any other
means — a majority, that would mean, without the traditions
of a ruling class, without its nobility of mind and passion
for beauty, without its age-tested love of order in big things
and small — then, quietly but firmly, we would give the word:
"Guns to the fore!"
The entire gathering is on its feet in a moment, shouting,
applauding, and crowding up about Holger.
HoLGER. And now, gentlemen, the banquet will begi
ui:
[He turns around to push a button; as he does so, the first of
three guns is fired outside, while at the same moment an orchestra
begins to play a lively march composed especially for the occa-
sion] I'll take the liberty of leading the way.
He steps down from the throne and offers his arm to
Ketil; behind them the rest begin to fall in, two
abreast.
Anker. [Appears again with his companion midway be-
tween the two doors] We cannot get out. [Everybody stops to
listen] We are even unable now to get below this floor. We
have tried both stairways.
Holger. Burst open the doors then!
Anker. We could tell that the doors were fastened with
heavy bars — on the outside.
196 BEYOND HUMAN MIGHT act m
HoLGER. [Leaving Ketil] What does this mean? Where
is that servant?
Anker. He disappeared.
The delegates begin to shotv apprehension.
Mo. There he is now.
[Pointing toivard one of the side rooms.
HoLGER. [In a commanding voice] Come here!
The Servant approaches.
Several. What does all this mean? What is it?
HoLGER. [With a silencing gesture] If you please! [Takes
the Servant by the arm and leads him down to the foreground]
Explain! What docs all this mean?
Many Delegates. [Crowding around the man] Yes, what
does it mean?
Servant. Let go! [Holger drops his hold] You want to
know what it means?
Everybody. Yes!
The Servant mounts the dais.
Several. Well, he's going to make a speech!
Servant. You want to know what it means?
Everybody. Yes!
Servant. We are locked in
Holger. But the doorkeeper, the servants ?
Servant. They have left.
Holger. Of their own will? Or under compulsion?
Servant. Both. Those that wanted to go took care that
the rest did. Now there is no one left.
[Panic-stricken silence prevails.
Many. But the police? [They begin to stir about uneasily]
The police! Call the police!
A couple of delegates lead the way and many follow them
to the big windows, ivhich are thrown open, several lean-
ing out to look for the police.
ACTiu BEYOND HUMAN MIGHT 197
A Delegate. No police are in sight!
Several. We can't see any. There are none outside!
Many. What? Are we locked in?
[They surge toward the windows.
Mo. [Coming forward and shouting at the top of his voice]
Explain! There are no police there — not one outside!
The delegates crowd around the Servant again.
Ketil. Have you fixed the police too?
Servant. Yes, the police lines have been moved further off.
Holger. Was that done in my name?
Servant. It was.
Delegates. [Packed together in the foreground] That's a
devilish trick! What's up? What's going to happen?
We're betrayed! What can be done?
Mo. [Mounting a chair] Keep quiet, everybody! [To the
Servant] What's going to happen? [All stop talJcing, with
the result that the lively strain of the inarch is heard the better]
Can't anybody stop that foolish music?
Several. Stop the music!
Everybody. Stop the music!
Blom. [Leans out of the window, shouting] The music must
stop! Stop it!
Everybody listens expectantly, but the music continues
icith undiminished vigour.
Mo. [Desperately] Can't anybody make it stop?
Holger. You'll have to send somebody up to the roof —
that's where the orchestra is.
Ketil. It has been done already.
New pause, during which the music goes on as before.
Mo. It goes right on ! For Heaven's sake, go, some of you!
Three or four delegates rush out.
Servant. [To Blom, who has come forward again] And
such poor music at that!
198 BEYOND HUMAN MIGHT act m
Blom. No, I don't think so! I don't tliink so. But the
whole thing is dreadful. [The music stops.
Mo. At last!
Several. [With evident relief] That's better!
Mo. [To the Servant] Will you tell us now: what does it
mean? [.I breathless pause ensues.
Servant. You have been summoned hence.
The same deep silence prevails again.
Mo. [After a long ichile, almost in a ivhisper] By whom.'
Servant. By Maren Haug — the woman we buried yester-
day. She wants you to join her. [Deep silence again.
Mo. [All the time remaining on the chair] What — what does
that mean.'
Servant. WTien this place was built, electric wires were
laid from the rooms down to the old mining gallery that
runs right beneath us. That gallery has been cleared, and
during the last few nights it has been loaded.
[Silence as before.
Holder. [Who so far hasnt made a movement] Who's in
charge of the job?
Servant. The man who laid the wires.
HoLGER. Is he here now?
Servant. No, he has more to do afterward.
Mo. [Bursting out] Who are you?
Servant. What does it matter? I am not lookinj^ for
immortality.
Mo. Kill the fellow! [Leaps from the chair.
Many. [Trying to get at the Servant] You scoundrel!
Assassin !
Holger. [Stepping in between] No, no! Wail! Wait. I
tell you! [When comparative quiet has been restored] I want
to speak to this man alone. [To the Servant] Will you come
<I()\vn here and let nie talk with vou?
ACTin BEYOND HUMAN MIGHT 199
Servant. [After a glance at his watch] You'll have to be
brief.
He steps down arid goes to Holger; hath come further
down the stage, Holger motioning those around them
to witMraw.
Holger. What do you want for letting us out? Go as
high as you like. Ask any guarantee you choose. How do
you want the money paid out? — You can leave here on a
special steamer this very evening. — Why don't you answer?
Servant. {Goes over to the throne and mounts the -platform
on iL'hich it stands] Now I am master here! It's under my
command you'll have to make this trip! And you'd better
hold fast when it begins to roll.
General alarm and whispering among the delegates.
Ketil. a question to our master — if it so please him?
Servant. [With his ivatch in his hand] Yes — but quick.
Ketil. What's the good of all this?
Servant. Of the — ascension?
Ketil. Yes. What's the use of it?
Servant. Advertising.
Several. [Repeating in irhispers] Advertising?
Ketil. I dare say this advertisement will cost you a lot
more than us.
Servant. Oh, others will follow. It's the numbers that
will do it. Like so many shining stars you're going to pro-
claim our cause! And I hope you appreciate the undeserved
honour of your glorious ending!
Holger. And now's the time?
Servant. Now is the time. Most noble fellow stars — at-
tention! [He starts toward the rear.
Holger. Well, you'll give no signal!
He pulls out a revolver and fires four shots in quick suc-
cession at the Servant.
200 BEYOxND HUMAN MIGHT actih
Sekvant. [As the shots ring out, takes a fete steps bachrard,
putting hiji fuind first to his heart, and then to his abdomen; at
last he clasps his head with both hands] That's good!
He reels forward and falls at th^fcet of Holger, uho has
been folloiring him. All rush forward to have a look
at the prostrate body. Some mount the speaker s dais,
others climb up on the throne, while others gel up on
chairs to look over the heads of those in front of them.
At that moment tlie Max ix Brown appears suddenly
beside tJic body.
Man in Brown. Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!
He crouches doum and slaps his knees as lie Iiops around
like a bird; then he runs like a flash toward the right,
while Holger fires two shots after him. ^
Mo. [In utter panic] Are there others.'
Everybody. There are others! There are others! What
will happen now.' [They run around aimlessly.
Mo. [Who has been running toward the windows] Ssh! Ssh!
A Delegate. What is it?
Mo. Ssh, ssh! I think some one is calling outsick
He leans out of one of the windows, all of ivhich are open.
Many. [Eagerly] Is there anybody to help us.'
[They rush wildly toumrd the windows.
Mo. Ssh, I tell you ! It's a woman. She's standing on the
other side of the moat. Listen ! Can't you see her.?
A Delegate. She's signalling to us.
Mo. Keep quiet now! [Silence.
A Woman's Voice. [Though barely lieard, its horror-
stricken tone can be distinguished] Come out of there! They
have mined the ground under the Castle!
Servant. Rachel!
ACT III BEYOND HUMAN MIGHT 201
HoLGER. [Still standing beside him, says in a low voice] Is
he alive?
Several. [Calling out] We can't get out!
Mo. One at a time. [Shouting] We can't get out! Send
somebody to open for us!
Many. Send somebody to open for us!
Most of those that have remained behind hurry to the
windoivs to get a look.
Mo. Ssh! Keep quiet. [Sile7ice.
Woman's Voice. Nobody can get there! The draw-
bridge is raised !
Servant. Rachel.
HoLGER. [Who has remained immovable, says almost in a
tohisper] Can he be her brother.^
Delegates. [Sweeping backward jrom the windows again and
talking all together] The drawbridge is raised! We're locked
in and trapped! What can be done? Are there no ropes
to slide down — no ladders?
A Delegate. [Shouting above the din] Are there no ropes
we can slide down on to get hold of ladders?
Holger. I am afraid not. Everything is new here.
Mo. Why in the world did you bring us here?
A Delegate. It's a murder-trap, that's what it is!
Several. You shouldn't have brought us here! It's your
fault!
Many. If anything happens to us, it's your fault!
Mo. Your boundless vanity and arrogance are to blame
for this!
Almost Everybody. It's dreadful! It's up to you to get
us out ! You saw last year that the place was dangerous ! We
relied on you! Why don't you do something?
Holger. [Calmly] Gentlemen, try to be a little more calm!
Bear in mind that the explosion cannot wreck the whole
•■ZO^ BEYOND HUMAN MIGHT act m
castle. And bear in mind, too, that the man who was to give
the signal is lying here.
At these icords tfie Servant makes an effort to raise him-
self.
A Delegate. [Shouts] He's alive!
Several. Is he alive?
Again the crowd closes around the Servant, wJio is
barely able to raise his head.
A Delegate. Ssh! He's trying to say something!
Servant. I — I am not alone. [He sinks back again.
Another Delegate. [In a lohisper] ^\^lere are the others?
Several. [In low tones] Where are the others? ^Miere
do you think the explosion will take place?
A Delegate. Right here, of course!
Other Delegates. Yes, of course, right here!
Many. Right here! Of course, it must be right here!
Mo. [Bursting into itild laughter] Why didn't I think of
that before? Ha-ha-ha-ha!
He runs to one of the windows and flings himself out
before anybody has time to stop him.
Several. [Run to the windows, but draw) back in horror]
Killed! Smashed against the stone pavement!
They repeat this to others, who didnt hear at first.
Others. Horrible! What's to become of us?
Another delegate vmnts to throw himself out of the
ivindoio, and wfien the rest try to stop him a fight
ensues.
Holger. [In commanding tones] Take care! Despair is
contagious!
Several. [To the rest] Yes, it's contagious! You'd better
take care!
Holger. Whv don't vou trv to meet the inevitable with
ACT III BEYOND HUMAN MIGHT 203
dignity? All of us have to meet death once. And our death
will do more for order in this country than any one of us
could achieve in the longest of lifetimes. For you may be
sure that the power will never pass into the hands of people
who resort to such methods. Remember that! And let us
die happy for that reason! Our death will fill our fellow citi-
zens with just that resentment and courage which alone can
save our country now. Long live our country!
All. Long live our country!
Quiet has barely returned, when the frightful laughter of
the Man in Brown is heard from the right.
A Delegate. Oh, it's him, of course!
[Runs in the direction of the laughter.
Several. Yes, it must be him. [Run out.
Many. It's him! Catch him! [Runout,
All. It's him! Catch him! Kill him!
All except Holger, Anker, and Ketil rush out wildly,
Blom ivalking out after the rest.
Ketil. [To Holger] They don't know what they are doing
any longer.
Holger. [Who has been following the wild rout with his eyes]
Yes, they are trying to run away from it — of course!
Anker. [Gently] Friends, there is nothing left for us now
but to trust in the mercy of God.
Ketil. Well, go ahead, old chap! As for me, I am an old
sailor and have looked death in the eye before.
Anker kneels down at the left and begins to pray.
Holger. [Walks back and forth; as he passes the body of the
Servant he says] He's dead now, that fellow.
[All three keep silent for a while.
Ketil. There isn't any way out of this?
Holger. [Absently and without stopping] None at all.
204 BEYOND HUMAN MIGHT actiii
Ketil. No, I thought so — not when a massive thing like
this begins to go — Well, now I'll sit down here and not
make another move — come what may!
Anker. [Turning his head toward Ketil] But don't put on
airs about it. Dear friend — why don't you come and pray
for your soul instead?
Ketil. Not much use, I fear. I guess the soul is what it is.
It can't change as quick as all that. And if anybody should
be waiting for it on the other side — well, I imagine he won't
let himself be fooled by what little I could say now.
The laughter of the Max in Brown w h.eard right above
them, followed immediately by tlie cries and clatter of
his pursuers.
HoLGER. [Stops and listens for a while; tfien fie goes slowly
up to Ketil] And for the sake of that pack of cowards !
Ketil. Yes, they are not much good.
HoLGER. I have known it all the time. But as long as
they would take orders — eh.'
Ketil. Yes— they were good for that — very good. But let
them only get scared
HoLGER. Then they run like dogs from a whipping. I can
see that now.
Ketil. Yes, we need better stuff than that.
Holger. [Ajter a while] I should have liked to live a little
longer !
Anker. [Turning his face toward the other two] Let us pray
for our children! It'll be so hard on them to begin with. Let
us pray that God may console them, and that there may not
be so much evil in their time as there has been in ours. Let us
pray for that !
The laughter is now heard from the left, not far off; then
tfic yelling and shouting of the pursuing croicd, coming
ACT III BEYOND HUMAN MIGHT 205
nearer and nearer, until the tvhole pack bursts into the
hall, crossing it from left to right. Blom walks after
the rest.
HoLGEE. [Who follows the crowd with his eyes as long as any-
body remains in sight] One mob or the other
Ketil. No — strong men, that's what we need.
HoLGER. One will be enough. And he'll come!
Anker. Hurry up now and pray with me — ^pray God to
help the righteous so that they may bring light and peace to
those who are suffering. God save our country! God
A deep rumbling noise is heard; then wild human cries
quickly cut off. Ketil, with the chair on which he sits,
is lifted from the floor and disappears. Holger falls
and disappears also. Clouds of dust envelop every-
thing in an obscuring mist. Anker remains barely
visible for a while longer — it looks as if he were passing
right through the wall. But to the very last his voice
can be heard.
Anker. God save our country ! God save
Curtain.
ACT IV
Under the trees of a big park. Wooden scats arc built around
some of the trunks. Faint strains of gently melanchobj
music are heard before the curtain rises and continue to be
heard through the act — a distant chorus, as it were.
Rachel enters slowly, followed by Halden. During the en-
suing scene Rachel remains standing or walking around.
Halden leans against a tree most of the time, but now and
then he sits down for a feio moments.
Rachel. Thank you! [She looks around] How fortunate it
is that I have this park. Within doors the sorrow breaks nie
down — I have had a bad night. Out here I can stand up
under it. These walks, with nothing but the sky above, and
the spring weather— oh, it feels good!
Halden. There is consolation in nature.
Rachel. [Looking at him] Yes, but nature does not try to
rob us of our sorrow, as do liuman beings. It only lets us
feel its own imperishable iK)wer, and reminds us of what
lives on. [Softly, as if to herself] Lives on.
Halden. That's just the point at issue. Your sorrow must
become absorbed in that which points ahead.
Rachel. It's what my sorrow cannot do. And I don't
want it to. — Please don't get impatient : don't you see that I
am winning him back to myself through my sorrow.' I
couldn't keep up with him while he was alive — and so I let
him get away from me that last evening because I didn't
206
ACT IV BEYOND HUMAN MIGHT 207
understand him. He was a man of faith who preached no
creed except that embodied in his own deeds. Faith is action.
But one without faith finds it so hard to understand him wlio
has it. And so I let him get away from me. It's something
I can never forgive myself, something I shall never cease to
regret. It stabs and claws at my flesh; it fills the air around
me with sobs and screams. Sometimes I seem to share his
agony where he lies buried in the ruins; at other times I am
passmg by his side through a hail-storm of curses poured
upon him by hundreds of thousands ranged in endless rows.
— And it is not him they hit. He knew in advance that very
few could grasp what he was doing. It only made his man-
date more compelling. In that way only could his action
rise to sacrifice. So great was his pride toward his fellow
men; so great his humilitj' toward the cause he served. I
feel certain that he scorned to explain himself even to those
he had to lead into death. He was too modest to do so. — •
No lash or blow can reach to him — but me — to me they reach.
How could I be so mistaken.^ How could my love for him so
fail to sharpen my perception?
Halden. What is to become of you? You must resist.
Rachel. What is to become of me? If I can sleep at
night, my suffering begins anew in the morning, and if I can-
not sleep — then I shall die. Nor can I weep! The tears are
there — yet I cannot weep. But I like it better so, for thus I
win him back to me again.
Halden. If he were alive, he would say: "Don't waste
any sorrow on me, but give it to "
Rachel. [Interrupting] So he would! He was like that!
I thank you for those words! As he lived, so he died — for
others! But / can find no place for all those others. Al-
though now the fate of those he died for is worse than ever,
I can find no place for them — I have no place for any one but
208 BEYOND HUMAN MIGHT act iv
him. — Oh, when I think of the man who hired him on to
this. — It has been written tliat wlioso shall offend one of the
little ones, it were better for him that a millstone were
hanged about his neck and that he were drowned in the depth
of the sea. But what of him who leads astray the yearning
of another man for noble deeds — what should be done to
him?
Halden. Oh, I suppose both of tliem meant to do good, to
save somebody else by their deed
Rachel. [Interrupting again] The idea that anybody could
be saved m such a way ! By first being made cruel enough to
desire other people's destruction! What are people to be
saved from? Or if evil is to be suppressed by the sowing
of still more evil, how can goodness get a chance to grow?
Halden. Suppose what has happened should arouse the
conscience of the people?
Rachel. Why, that's what he was saying — his very words,
I think — Arouse tlie conscience of the people? After all
these thousands of years that we have been subject to the in-
fluence of the family and of religion, can it be possible that we
are unable to arouse people's conscience except by — O ye
silent and exalted witnesses, who hear without answering and
see without reflecting what you see, why don't you show me
how to reach the upward road? For in the midst of all this
misery there is no road that leads upward — nothing but an
endless circling around the same spot, by which I perish!
Halden. Upward means forward.
Rachel. But there is no forward in this! We have been
thrown back into sheer barbarism! Once more all faith in a
happy future has been wipetl out. Just ask a few questions
around here! The worst feature of such a mad outburst of
evil is not the death of some or the sorrow of others: it is that
all courage is frightened out of tlie worhl. Mercy has fled.
ACT IV BEYOND HUMAN MIGHT 209
and all are crying for vengeance. Justice, kindness, forbear-
ance, all our angels of light have fled away. The air is filled
with fragments of mutilated corpses, and armed men are
springing out of the ground. All others are in hiding — I can't
dress a patient's wound without having to remember — I
cannot hear a moan without getting sick at heart. And then
the knowledge that no matter what I do, it won't help — it
won't help!
Halden. No, it won't help ! That's what tormented him.
Rachel. And was that a reason for scattering his torment
broadcast over all of us.'* For robbing everybody of what
courage they had.^ Could it be possible to inflict a worse
wound on mankind? Wliat is death itself compared with a
life without the courage to live it.^ When I look at that one
man who was saved — when I see him in his chair, lame
and wordless — he who possessed limitless courage — and when
I see the workmen follow him around begging for mercy —
those men who once thought they could crush him — ! And
then the sun, the spring — ever since that dreadful night —
nothing but fine weather, night and day — a stretch of it the
like of which I cannot recall. Is it not as if nature itself were
crying out to us: "Shame! Shame! You sprinkle my leaves
with blood, and mingle death-cries with my song. You
darken the air for me with your gruesome complaints."
That's what it is saying to us. "You are soiling the spring
for me. Your diseases and your evil thoughts are crouching
in the woods and on the greenswards. Everywhere a stink
of misery is following you like that of rotting waters."
That's what it is telling us. "Your greed and your envy are
a pair of sisters who have fought each other since they were
born" — that's what it says. "Only my highest mountain
peaks, only my sandy wastes and icy deserts, have not seen
those sisters; but every other part of the earth has been filled
210 BEYOND HUMAN MIGHT act iv
by them with blood and brutal bawling. In the midst of
eternal glory mankind has invented Hell and manages to keep
it filled. And men, who should stand for perfection, harbour
among them what is worthless and foul." — At last I have
found a voice! Until now I have done nothing but listen,
and help, and have kept silent, and fled from everything. —
But I knew that out here my sorrow would find words.
Halden. It must be great indeed to make you so unjust.
Rachel. But it is relief nevertheless — almost like crying.
— But you are right: sorrow is an egoist. Others do not exist,
or they are only in the way. I am abusing your kindness.
Halden. Don't talk like that!
Rachel. But in those few words of yours there was some-
thing that — that — Oh, I hate those calculations on a large
scale. They overlook what is human, although in this alone
salvation lies. I fear whatever is inhuman. ^ — Isn't it horrible
to think of? With me Elias had already suffered all a man
can stand of the inhumanity of the miracle. And on top
of it he must needs fall victim to the inhumanity of
theories — ! Now^ I am coming to see how it happened. It
is not enough to say that somebody made a wrong use of his
passion for self-sacrifice. That would not be enough to
explain such a choice on his part. No, something more was
needed. They got hold of his worship for everything of
supernatural dimensions. He was like his father: both had
a childish fondness for that kind of thing. The dreams of
idlers had in him become a religion. He could not perceive
the salvation that lies in furnishing peace and light for the
toil of the millions. He could see it only in great characters,
in commanding wills, in monstrous happenings. That's why
he gave away his big fortune as he did — to die the death of
a Samson! That's why he did it all secretly, silently. That
seemed to him the noblest way of all. — Yes, they must have
ACT IV BEYOND HUMAN MIGHT 211
filled his imagination with the idea of something surpassing
all that had been counted greatest before. Thus it was
carried beyond what is human. There were no boundaries
to be crossed in such a case. Some one must have observed
how easily the passion for the superhuman can be led astray,
and then made use of this fact. It was like handing a razor
to a child with the words: "Put it in your mouth."
Halden. But it cannot possibly have happened like that.
Rachel. I am not condemning anybody. What right has
the sister of Elias Sang to condemn anybody.'' But tell me,
Mr. Halden: when goodness uses dynamite, what is then to
be called good, and what evil? The greatest thing about
goodness is that it creates. Out of its own it adds joy, and
perhaps strength as well, to other wills. But how can it take
away life.'' What a horrible fate Elias had to meet: to fall
into the hands of such a monster! — I was standing on the
ramparts when that enormous structure blew up. I was
standing beside Bratt. We were thrown to the ground, and
when he got up again his reason was gone. If I hadn't had
him to care for at once, the same thing would have hap-
pened to me. Do you think Elias could have done it if he
had caught sight of us two standing there.'' — His face that
last evening, as he was leaving me, was like a cry of distress !
Now I understand why. Can you imagine anything more
cruel than a power within ourselves that goads us on to that
which our whole nature resists? How can happiness be possi-
ble on this earth until our reasoning faculties become so spon-
taneous that no one can use us like that? — Oh, the pain within
me! — Oh, that I could weep myself free from it! — If he were
here, that man who has done all this — if he could hear how I
am crying out lest my sorrow choke me — do you think that
through my wail he would hear the wailing of thousands of
others? — But were he standing here — I shouldn't speak a
212 BEYOND HUMAN MIGHT act iv
harsh word to him. All human beings live as if surrounded
by a cloud of smoke. They do not see. We are brought up
to be what we are. — Oh, I am not accusing anybody. But
God, whom we are to understand better the further we
proceed — there is something in the brightness of this day, in
its everlasting wholesomeness and beauty, that tells me —
God must be present in all that we suffer from what is un-
natural, irrational, and inhuman. The more numerous and
frequent and loud our complaints become, the more deeply
will God make himself felt. — Thus, brother, you have also
been of service in your death. Not as that man of dread
made you believe — but by calling forth suffering and opening
the gates of sorrow. No circumstance is wholly our own until
touched by sorrow; no ideal until sorrow has breathed upon
it; no insight until the eyes of sorrow have met ours. Our
mind is like a room full of visitors until sorrow steps across the
threshold, be it with harsh or gentle tread — then the room
becomes our own; then we are left by ourselves!— O Elias,
Elias, only now do I understand you as you deserved to be
understood! From now on I shall never leave you again —
nor that for which you died. Our sufferings shall purge it;
our tears shall glimmer through it like flames and render it
sacred to thousands. — My wishes outstrip my powers. My
strength is gone. Once more I am thrust back into impo-
tence. Even sorrow demands strength.
Halden. There they are bringing Holger.
Rachel. [Going toward the left to mcd him] Poor feiK)\v, he
has had his morning tour.
Haldkx places himself at the left so that he cannot be seen
by IIoixJEU, who is carried by servants in a comfort-
able and luxurious armchair. Other servants follow
behind. Holger's head i^ wrapped in bandages; his
right hand is paralysed.
ACT IV BEYOND HUMAN MIGHT 213
Rachel. [Holding Holger's left ha7id] He wants to rest
awhile here.
The Servants put down the chair.
HoLGER. [Who has tried to raise his right hand] I am always
forgetting that my right hand is useless. I wanted to make
the servants
Rachel. [After bending over him, to the Servants] Please
step aside a little.
The Servants leave.
HoLGER. [In a low voice] I have something to say to you.
Rachel. What is it, dear friend?
HoLGER. \Vlien they had dug me out — and it was found
that I was the only survivor, you asked — to be allowed to
nurse me.
Rachel. Yes.
HoLGER. And so — I couldn't help being brought here — and
became your first patient in the house and the park I had
just handed over to you.
Rachel. [On her knees beside him] Does it trouble you, dear
friend? Is it troubling you in any Way?
HoLGER. No — but — I have been too ill to tell you
Rachel. What? [Long silence.
HoLGER. Has your brother's body been found?
Rachel. Yes — dreadfully mangled
HoLGER. Nothing to show, then — how he died ?
Rachel. [With sharpened attention] Didn't he die in the
same way as the rest?
HoLGER. He spoke to us — told us a signal would be sent
to the galleries below — and then he was shot down
Rachel. [Drawing back] He was shot down ?
HoLGER. I didn't know him.
Rachel. [Rising icith a quick movement] You shot him?
HoLGER, I didn't know him. I wasn't aware — that he
214 BEYOND HUMAN MIGHT act iv
was your brother. But I am afraid — had I known him — I
should have shot him just the same.
Rachel. [In a whisper] Oh, it's horrible, horriWe!
HoLGEU. He died splendidly. — Just after he had lieen hit
he said: "That's good!"
Rachel. Oh, how he must have been suffering !
HoLGER. He heard your voice outside. And so he spoke
your name — You called to us twice, and both times he
spoke your name.
Rachel. Elias, Elias !
HoLGER. Are you going to cast me oflf.^
Rachel. [Thrmcing Jierself on her knees beside him] No, no!
[^4; that moment she bursts into tears] Oh, now I can cry — now
I can cry ! And I say as he did : that's good ! [She is shaken
by sobs; finally she rises to her feet again] Elias, Elias, you kept
your own pain hidden from mc — but now you have relieved
me of mine! [She breaks into sobs again.
HoLGER. Come — come and take me away.
The Servants hurry up to him and carry him out to the
right, moving very slowly.
Hans Braa and Aspelund enter from the left and follow
after Holger. They are seen exchanging a few xi-ords
with each other while crossing tlu; stage.
Rachel. [Without noticing tlie worlcmen] So he spoke my
name! I don't understand — but since I learned that
[She begins to weep again; sits doum.
Halden comes forioard. For a moment he stands look-
ing doum at her. Then lie kneels solemnly before her
and raises both arms toward heaven until both his
hands meet palm to palm.
Rachel doesnt notice him at once; but when she does so
she turns instinctively away.
Halden. You were right.
ACT IV BEYOND HUMAN MIGHT 215
Rachel. [Almost inaudibly] In what ?
Haldex. And I yield to you.
Rachel. [Still in a low voice] ^Vliat do you mean?
Halden. More than you thmk.
[He rises to his feet and stands very erect.
Rachel looks fiard at him. Just then Bratt's voice
is heard and he becomes visible in the background.
Halden makes a deprecatory gesture with one hand and
goes out to the left.
Bratt. [As if speaking to somebody walking beside him]
So-o! — Really, you think so? — Well, indeed!
Rachel. [Following Halden icith her eyes] There was
something — But I can't make out the rest. — Oh, is that you,
Bratt?
Bratt. [Looking ill and speaking in a low, dragging voice]
Yes — and Mr. Lasalle. May I introduce: Miss Sang — Mr.
Lasalle. [He hows first to one side, then to the other.
Rachel. But you have introduced him to me so many
times.
Bratt. Perhaps I have. But it wasn't you I had in mind.
It was Mr. Holger, Junior. Was it not he that stood here a
moment ago?
Rachel. Holger, Junior?
Bratt. Yes, that fellow with the electric wires.
Rachel. [Leaping to her feet; in a whisper] WTiat are you
saying ?
Bratt. [Stepping back] You frighten me.
Rachel. Who was it that stood here, you say?
Bratt. That stood — that stood ?
Rachel. That stood here — who was it?
Bratt. Well — ? Yes, who was it? There are times
when I can't •
216 BEYOND HUMAN MIGHT act iv
Rachel. [Going closer, but speaking very gently] \Mio was it
that was standing here?
Br ATT. Will you permit me to ask Mr. Lasalle?
Rachel. Yes, do!
Bratt. [Bowing slightly toward the right] Pardon me, Mr.
Lasalle, but who was it — who was it first started the work on
the ruins?
Rachel. Oh— I see! [She siLs down.
Bratt. [Xcarcr to her] For now ruins are quite the fashion,
I understand.^
Rachel. Are you still going up to the ruins of the Castle
every day?
Bratt. Yes — it was there it disappeared, you see.
Rachel. How are you to-day?
Bratt. Yes. — Oh, yes, thank you. — If it were not for this
thing that disappeared — and that I can't find again. [He
stands staring, a little downward and a little to the left, with his
left cheek resting in his left ha7id] That thing I looked for so
many years. And now I can't remember what it is. Isn't
that awful?
Rachel. [Rises, caresses him gently, atid straightens out his
dress] Now, my dear Bratt, you'll be all right here with me.
Bratt. Yes, I am all right. — If it were not for this thing I
can't get hold of.
Rachel. But I am sure Mr. Lasalle w ill help you.
Bratt. Mr. Lasalle says we have to search the ruins.
Rachel. Yes, of course, it was there it disappeared.
Bratt. It was there it disappeared.
Rachel. Well, go over there now.
Bratt. Yes.— If you care, Mr. Lasalle — ? Oh!— Yes.—
Good-bye! [He goes out, seeming to listen to somebody beside
him] Do you think so? I assure you that I am looking all
ACT IV BEYOND HUMAN MIGHT 217
the time, but I can't find it. And I had taken so much
trouble with it
The last words are heard from the outside, as he disap-
pears to the left.
A Servant appears follounng Bratt.
Rachel. [To the Servant] He mustn't be allowed to leave
the place. [The Servant goes out to the left] I haven't the
strength to divide myself. And I wouldn't if I could.—
Come back to me, you thoughts of my grief! Come to me,
my black doves, and close me in! — Elias! — I should have been
to you what mother was to father. She had the courage and
the consecration. I didn't have enough, and so you com-
plained of me in your last moments. For to call me then,
when life was leaving you, was like a call to all that then
was passing out of your reach unfinished, to all that in which
you had not succeeded — and you gave it my name! That's
the reason why your eyes are pursuing me: I see them as
they were when, with the breathing of that complaint, the
light went out of them. — There you lay deserted by all, while
your life was ebbing away, and my name on your lips was
the last glimpse of the waning shore. — And I feel as if for
me, too, life was passing out of sight, and I stood here utterly
alone, calling to you.
She walks a few steps as if held by some vision; then she
sits down.
The music, audible all the time, assumes now a brighter
colour, more suited to what follows.
Credo and Spera enter quickly. As they catch sight of
Rachel, they halt. Then they steal up to her slowly,
one from either side of the tree at which she is sitting.
And finally they kneel beside her, one on either side.
Rachel. You here.'^ [She draws them to her] And I didn't
even remember you existed! Thank you for coming — thank
218 BEYOND HUMAN MIGHT activ
you! [She breaks into tears as she takes her arms away from
them; they wait quietly] Did you have permission to come?
Credo and Spera. Yes.
Spera. [Cautiously] We came here to see uncle?
Credo, [hi the same way] And as we had come
Spera. Just now
Credo. He said that after this
Both. We might stay here with you.
Rachel. Did he say that?
Spera and Credo. Yes. He said that now he was going
to build for us here.
Rachel. Oh — this is the first glimpse of daylight!
Spera. He said that everything should be arranged
Both. As you want it.
Rachel. [Drawing them to her again] My own friends!
[Silence.
Spera. [Cautiously, as before] Oh, we haven't talked of
anything but you these days.
Credo. [In the same way] And of what we wanted to tell
you — if we had a chance.
Spera. For we were afraid that you couldn't stand talking
to anybody
Credo. That you were suffering too much.
Rachel. It has been hard. [Slie cries again.
Credo and Spera wait with their arin.s folded about her.
Spera. [Softly] We know that we cannot be to you what
fie was. But we will try.
Credo. [In the same loay] We'll try to be just as you want
us. We'll share with you everything that happens to us.
Spera. That's what we used to do when father and mother
lived.
Credo. We'll discover so many new things together.
Rachel. No, there is no longer any future for me!
ACT IV BEYOND HUMAN MIGHT 219
Both. But you have us!
Spera. You have our future!
Rachel. You have the whole world before you.
Spera. And how about you.^ You who are giving so many
a share in the future?
Credo. You are so kind to everybody.
Spera. To everybody w ithin reach.
Rachel. Oh, I can't even see them. I have tried, but I
can't bear it. And even if I could, what would be the use?
Spera. Of making people well and happy?
Credo. There is nothing finer on the earth !
Spera. You should have heard father speak of it!
Credo. Of conquering what he called "the racial pessi-
mism."
Rachel. [Becoming attentive] The racial pessimism?
Credo. [Cautiously] Yes, that thing to which your brother
succumbed.
Rachel. [To herself] Racial pessimism.
Spera. [With tJie same care] Which has grown to such an
extent lately. It is awful to hear people talk now.
Rachel. What a strange word! What did your father
have to say about it?
Credo. It was to him our worst misfortune — what we
ought to fight against first of all.
Spera. And it was to that fight he wanted us to devote our
lives.
Rachel. But how did he want you to fight it?
Both. By means of inventions.
Spera. First of all, in that way.
Credo. He began to teach us when we were little children.
Spera. Credo knows just what is needed.
Credo. Yes, I do. This is what I am working at every
day.
220 BEYOND HUMAN MIGHT activ
Rachel. But how can inventions ?
. Credo. Make men more content.' By making it cheaper
for them to live — and easier.
Spera. So that a few square yards of ground will give food
enough for a man.
Rachel. "Would that be possible.''
Credo. When our clothes can be made out of leaves
and straw; when we can make silk without silkworms and
wool without sheep; when our houses can be built for one-
twentieth of what they cost now and heated for nothing —
don't you think that will make a difference.'*
Spera. And then the railroads, Credo!
Credo. When we can bore tlirough rock as cheaply as
through ordinary soil; when we get rails made of cheaper
material than iron; when we can get the iron out of the ore
more easily than now; when we get a motive power costing
next to nothing — then the railroads will be like streets, on
which travel is free. Then it will be as if we had abolished
distance.
Spera. And the air-ships. Credo.
Credo. Oh, you know all about that, Rachel — that we'll
soon be able to sail the air as we are sailing the sea now?
Spera. Credo will work it out, I tell you!
Credo. Travelling must cost a trifle only and life must
be made interesting.
Spera. People must cease to go hungry, to live in cold and
darkness and ugliness, to go around in nasty clothes. That
comes first — afterward we can take up other things.
Credo. Tell what you mean to do, Spera.
Spera. No, you first!
Credo. I'll start Young People's Leagues.
Rachel, What ?
Credo. Young People's I.,eagues — all over the country.
ACT IV BEYOND HUMAN MIGHT 221
I'll get hold of the brightest, you know. I'll begin with the
schools — for at school they must start learning how to live
for each other. Each school will choose some one thing to
work for, and then there will be other things for which several
schools work in common. And there must also be something
for which all the schools in the country work together. Do
you see? And it won't end there. We'll do the same thing
with the day-labourers, the skilled workmen, the sailors, the
clerks, the university students — there must be something
each group works for, and something else that all the groups
work in common for. Isn't that right? There must be
rivalry about it, and pride in what they get done. And,
finally, there must be something that every organisation in
the whole country helps with. — Now it's your turn, Spera.
Spera. [Timidly] I want to learn how to speak in public.
If I can, I shall try to tell the women that they, too, must
have something to live for — from the time they begin going
to school. For instance, two or three might join together in
taking care of a smaller girl — and she would be theirs, don't
you know?
Rachel. Oh, let me kiss that sweet little mouth! [Kisses
Spera] The mere fact that sucli dreams exist — I suppose
that's in itself a promise of never-ending renewal.
Credo. All that we have to suffer now, what is it in com-
parison with what people used to suffer in the past?
Spera. Yet thej' pushed ahead. And we are only just
beginning now.
Rachel. Oh, you darling!
Credo. Do you know what father used to say? Think
only, he would say, when all those are set free who are now
employed in making war — when they begin to work with
the rest. What new inventions we'll have then! And what
prosperity!
222 BEYOND HUMAN MIGHT activ
Spera. And then he said
Credo. [IVaving fier ciside] And then he said, that cvrn that
was nothing compared witli what wouhl happen when all men
took np their home on eartli once more.
Spera. Heaven is here! In all that we do, don't you
know? That's where heaven is!
Credo. And in the future, and in what we do for the
future — there's heaven !
Rachel. There is a longing in everybody
Credo. For something better! It proves that more hap-
piness is in store for us here! Don't you think so?
Rachel. When you talk like that, I can see him I
Credo. Do you know — about us and father and
mother ?
Spera. We have, so to speak, to do the work they left
behind.
Rachel. You mean that I should be doing his — I,
who — —
Credo. But, Rachel — just because you have suffered so
terribly !
Rachel. You think ?
Spera. Oh, tell her about what came after the "iron age"
of which the ancients used to talk.
Credo. No, about Antichrist, rather!
Spera. Well, that's the same.
Credo. Men have always known that, when their dis-
couragement and despair reached their utmost, then the re-
newal was at hand — then they got strength enough for it —
only then!
Spera. Every strong race has had a feeling of it.
Credo. Their poetry has prophesied al)()ul it.
Spera. [Caittiovsly] Soon you will come to feel it, too.
ACT IV BEYOND HUMAN MIGHT 223
Rachel. [Rising] I'll go to Holger at once, to thank him
for this happiness!
Credo and Spera rise also.
Credo. All three of us will go!
Spera. [Nestling close to Rachel and speaking very tenderly]
All four of us will go !
Rachel. [Kissing her] Thank you! — All four of us! — And
do you know what we'll do besides.^
Credo. No.
Spera. What?
Rachel. We'll ask him to see the workmen.
Both. Yes, yes!
Rachel. For some one must begin to forgive.
Both. [Repeating in low tones] Yes, some one must begin
to forgive.
They go out together to the right.
The music, which has been hovering about them all the
time, follows them like a greeting out of the future.
Curtain.
LABOREMUS
(LABOREMUS)
1901
PERSONS
WiSBY
Lydia
Dr. Kann
Langfred
BORGNY
A BeliiBoy
LABOREMUS
(L A BORE M US)
ACT I
A small but elegantly furnished sitting-room in a first-class
German hotel. There is a door in the rear, and doors on
both sides. At the left, well to the front, stands a sofa, on
which lies a bridal dress carefidhj spread out. A bridal
wreath, a veil, and a pair of lady's gloves appear on the
table in front of the sofa; also a tall hat and a pair of
men's gloves. A man's summer overcoat hangs over a chair
further back in the room. There are chairs around the table.
The morning is well advanced.
An elderly man enters from the right. Over his underclothing he
tvears a dressing-gown that hangs about him in rich folds.
He looks around the room. When fie discovers the dress on
the sofa, he approaches it automatically and stands gazing
at it. Then he begins to look around again as if he were
missing something. At last he stops in front of the door at
the left. Finding it ajar, he manages stealthily to peer
through the room beyond. Then he throios the door wide
open and disappears, bid returns in the next moment to
ring for an attendant. In a short while a knock is heard at
the door in the rear.
WiSBY. Come!
A Bellboy enters.
WiSBY. Did my wife go out?
2^28 LABOREMUS act i
Bellboy. Yes, sir.
WisBY. Long ago?
Bellboy. About an hour, I think.
WisBY dismisses him with a gesture, and the Bellboy
leaves the room.
Then Wisby icalks about for a while, stopping in front
of the dress on the sofa again, and also taking another
look into the room at the left. Finally he sits down
on one of the chairs at the table and falls at once into
deep thought.
The door in the rear is opened from the outside and
Lydia comes in, dressed in a very fashionable walking-
suit and looking radiant. The door is closed behind
her by somebody on the outside. On seeing Wisby,
she stops for a moment hit begins almost at once to
move very, very softly toieard him. He neither sees nor
hears anything until she falls on her knees beside him.
Wisby wants to rise, but slie holds him down.
Lydia. Good morning!
Wisby. [Brightening up\ Good morning! — So you liave al-
ready been out for a morning walk?
Lydia. [Tenderly] The pleasantest I ever had.
Wisby. [Kissing her] How you smell of the fresh air! And
how beautiful you are! — You have slept well?
Lydia. I fell asleep the moment — the moment you left me.
[Rising to her feet] And I slept until the clock struck nine.
[She takes off her hat and gloves and puts them on the table,
where she also places lier parasol; then she picks up tJic veil and
the ivreath as if to caress them; then she puts them back again and
goes over to Wisby, wIw has been watching her every movement]
Perhaps you are wondering how I could go out alone?
Wisby. No.
Lydia. I had to do it. Just that. I had to see if I could
ACT I LABOREMUS 229
recognise myself in this place, by the little lakes out there,
in the park. And among the pretty houses in the suburb.
Especially among those houses.
WiSBY. If you could recognise yourself?
Lydia. No, I didn't use the right word. I wanted to know
how it felt when I appeared among them again as their equal.
WiSBY. As their
Lydia. The last time I was here, I had to beg for their
favour. I used to be scared as I passed them, thinking of
my concert. At that time I was still nothing but an infant
prodigy. We gave three recitals in this place. — And God
help me if I failed to do my best. This dread that so often
takes hold of me — I think that was the time when it first
came into my life.
WiSBY. Do you really think so?
Lydia. Those suburban villas — those residences of the rich
— and the old trees that are more dignified than the houses
even — and those little lakes — all those things stood for what
is firmly established. While I stood for all that is adrift.
And I used to look at them humblj' — and in fear. But to-
day! — For two hours I have been walking around among
them. For two hours I have spread myself. Passed by
them on grand parade, so to speak. Greeted the company
and received their greetings in return. [Throwing herself at his
feet] Oh, how grateful I am to you !
WiSBY. [Stroking her hair with his hand] My sweet one!
Lydia. I have never felt sure what kind of a person I
was. Never until this morning. I have always been kept
busy asking about it. Just to myself.
WiSBY. You, too?
Lydia. Wliat? [Rising quickly] Are other people like that
also?
WiSBY 7iods.
230 LABOREMUS act i
Lydia. And I thought it was only myself — No, really! —
To-day — well, to-day I know who I am. And to-day all the
others know it, too. I could see tliat they knew it — the villas,
and the tall old trees, and the lakes. While I was still far off,
as soon as they caught the first glimpse of me, they got them-
selves ready and came forward to greet me.
WiSBY. [Smiling] And the people?
Lydia. I am not talking about the people. Oh, when I
used to be sitting up there on the platform pla>ing, and never
had a chance to be alone — how I did suffer! That one thing
— to be alone, to have something for myself, to do what I
myself wanted — it seemed heaven to me. You talk of the
people.'* Yes, if I could have taken a single one of them off
into a corner, where nobody else could hear us — Those eyes:
"\Mio is she.' AMiere does she come from.' Wliat does she
want of us?" — The moment I was free, I rushed away from
them, and out into the suburb; out to the trees and the little
lakes, for in them I had faith. They stared proudly at me, of
course, and I had to keep at a distance. But all the same I
could say to them: sometimes I want to be like you — to have
everything as fixed and secure as you have it. That's
just what I have now! [Leaning over Wisby] You, dearest,
you didn't go around asking other people about me. You
came straight from j'our big place to ask me: " Will you be my
wife?" That's the way it should be. No one in the whole
wide world except you and me ever guessed that such a
thing could happen. That's the way it should be! That's
what makes complete haj)piness.
Wisby. Thank you!
Lydia. [Turned aicay from him.] Can it be possible for any-
body else to know what in the last instance brings two people
together? Do we know it ourselves? Do we ever quite
know why we are what we are? Can anv one of us remember
ACT I LABOREMUS 231
what we were two years ago? Wlien somebody comes and
tells me what I did or said that far back, it makes me feel as
if I were reading it in a book. I am no longer what I was
two years ago — not to speak of five or ten years ago. The
person I was then can very well be more of a stranger to
me than you are now.
WiSBY. You are absolutely right.
Lydia. You feel that way, too?
WiSBY nods.
Lydia. Nobody can expect, then, that we should let our-
selves be ruled by what was. After all, we are not mere con-
tinuations. Whatever new thing is added to us must change
us, mustn't it?
WisBY. Of course.
Lydia. That we two have found each other, that now we are
one, brings with it so much that is new. And this comes in
everywhere. In this way we become new persons and cannot
help acting quite differently.
Wisby. Well, does anybody doubt that?
Lydia. No, but let us also have the courage to live up to it.
[She kneels beside him] Beginning with last night, only you and
me — no one but you and me! [Cautiously] Let nothing old
ever come between us.
Wisby. [Feverishly] Never! I have promised you ! Never,
I tell j^ou!
Lydia. Otherwise I wouldn't dare. The memories that
you have put behind you — you shall be compensated !
Wisby. I am already. [Lydia rises] Every word you say
makes me so happy. [He rises also.
Lydia. Of all men you are the noblest and least exacting.
For that reason I can tell you what I want. When I woke
up this morning — you know, I slept from the moment you
left me without being awake once
232 LABOREMUS act i
WisBY. Youth! — So you told me before.
Lydia. I slept right up to nine o'clock. Then I jumped
out of bed. I could barely take time to dress myself, so eager
was I to get out into that bright, delicious air — to the suburb,
the park, the lakes! I wanted to bask in the sun and to have
a real good chat.
WiSBY. A real good chat.'
Lydia. Not with people! No, with the houses, with — oh, I
have already told you! — How I am longing for Paris, too!
But there we'll go driving.
WiSBY. We'll keep horses. I love horses.
Lydia. They must be grey — and the liveries must be pale-
grey — and then you must drive yourself. You look so
handsome. And I'll sit beside you. You'll drive me around
to all the places where I — and won't it make me happy,
though! [She leans very close to him; he takes hold of her hand
and strokes ii\ But we'll keep all outsiders at a distance.
WiSBY. We will.
Lydia. We'll only see them from our box at the opera, in
the theatres, at the races.
Wisby. Yes, at the races.
Lydia. But we must give a couple of receptions with
music during the winter, mustn't we.' And they must be
swell. Just a couple of them. The rest of the time, all by
ourselves.
WiSBY. By ourselves — that's what I love.
Lydia. [Leading him hack to his chair] Don't think I'll take
advantage of you. I know your taste so completely. I
want to be a part of you in everything.
Wisby. [Silting doitm] Dearest one!
Lydia. [Turned away from him] Oh, there is something
from home that pursues me! There was a barrel factory.
The staves lay piled up outside — and then they were put to-
ACT I LABOREMUS 233
gether, with hoops to hold them. Oh, that feeling of being
nothing but staves — of not being able to put oneself together!
WiSBY. [Rising] Lydia — dear friend — you can rely on me.
Lydia. [Turning toward him] What you have done for me
is splendid. So is what you tell me now. But perhaps
the most splendid thing of all is that you can accept all I have
to give — all that I am eager to give to youl Most people
couldn't do that. They can only accept a little at a time.
But I want to throw myself open to you, body and soul. —
As a child I used to play at hide-and-seek with myself in a
dell in the woods. I used to imagine that the place was
known only to me, and that I owned it — the sun and I.
That dell I give to j^ou. — ^No, sit down! — Yes, you must sit
down again. I want you that way — there now — and me like
this. [She kneels down beside him] I am the younger one.
From me you shall draw the warmth of youth. In the midst
of winter you shall have a table set for you as if it were sum-
mer. You have told me that you get tired of your own
thoughts at times. That will never happen hereafter. For
then I'll play to you. You love music, don't you.'^
WiSBY. [Wistfully] I do love it.
Lydia. A wliile ago I read about a rose-bush that was
peeping through the window at one who lay sick. Of course,
you are not sick, and I am certainly not a rose-bush. But
you want everybody to keep at a certain distance — even those
who wish you well. You shall have me just the way you
want me. I know your nature.
WiSBY. You are good — oh, how good you are!
Lydia. You say that so wistfully — ? [Looking hard at him;
then, in a frightened voice] Are you not well.''
WiSBY. Only a little tired.
Lydia. You didn't sleep well.-^
WiSBY. No.
234 LABOREMUS act i
Lydia. [Rising] Why? — Heavens, hut you haven't — Is
anything the matter with your heart?
WiSBY. Dear — it's something entirely <lifferent.
Lydia. Something that has happened? Last night? It
cannot be possible. [Suddenly] You have hati a letter
Wisby. No, no! Nothing of that kind. At bottom there
is nothing at all.
Lydia. You who were so happy — last — when you left me.
Wisby. So I am now. You can be assured of that.
Lydia. I shall feel still more assured when you have told
me what it is.
Wisby. If only there was something. But there isn't.
Lydia. You have come to think of — of what? |'
Wisby. Don't ask me any more, please. ^
Lydia. Oh, now I know: you have had a dream.
Wisby gazes at her a moment; tJien he nods.
Lydia. Such a very trying dream?
Wisby. Perhaps it wasn't a dream.
Lydia. It wasn't — Oh, now you must tell me more.
Wisby. I won't tell anything — because there is nothing to
tell. Don't speak of it — then it will be all done with.
Lydia. I who felt so happy — and didn't notice that you
were depressed!
Wisby. [Rising] I am not at all depressed, I can assure
you. Haven't we said from the very first — and haven't we
just repeated it — the past does not concern us? And it is not
going to concern us.
Lydia. So it was something out of the past? Like a
visit
Wisby. In a dream, or something like that. Yes. The
foolish part of it is that it has robbed me of my sleep. But
more than that it cannot do. I tell you — I tell you —
ghosts have to be bullied. Back into the night with them!
ACT I LABOREMUS 235
For the day has come — a new day! I'll go in and dress,
and then we'll eat and have a drive. It's such wonderful
weather.
Lydia. Yes, the weather is wonderful — but the shadow that
has fallen upon you — now it's on me.
WisBY. Oh, Lydia — help me instead! It is as if you
wanted to drag me down in a grave.
Lydia. There you see! Do you stick so deeply in it.^
You have to ask for help to get out of it — and you expect me
to take that lightly.'^
WiSBY. Every added word about it — —
He stops short and walks toward the back of the room; as
• he comes forward again, Lydia goes to meet him.
Lydia. Last night you were visited by your dead wife.
WiSBY stops horrified and speechless.
Lydia. [Who is also deeply stirred] In a dream — or ?
WisBY. I don't know.
Lydia. What did she want of you — ? What did she want
of you.'*
Wisby. I had just returned from your room. I had barely
got into bed. Then — I saw her standing there! [Pause.
Lydia. Did she speak.''
Wisby. [Raising one of his hands] Don't, don't! — I
shouldn't have said anything at all.
Lydia. Perhaps not. But you cannot stop now.
Wisby. No more can I go on.
Lydia. Then I shall have to. She said something you dare
not repeat.
Wisby. [In despair] All that has no place in the daylight.
Let it stay where it belongs !
Lydia. In your soul? In your silent hours?
Wisby. [Energetically] I'll push it away from me — like this!
[He makes a movement as if rubbing something out of one hand
236 LABOREMUS act i
iriih the palm of the other; then he vses the first hand in tlie same
iray; this gesture lie repeats several times, and each time he ac-
companies it icith an energetic] Like this!
Lydia. But you cannot push it away from me. After this
I shall never be able to look at you without asking in my
thoughts: \Vhat was it she said to him?
WisBY. This is not right. As long as you don't repeat such
things they fade out — by degrees — a little every day — until
at last there is nothing but a shadow left. But if you repeat
them [lie checks himself, turns around, and walks away.
Lydia. [Following him] But if you repeat them?
WisBY. [Facing her again] Then we put life into them,
don't you understand? And then they grow. I tell you, I
tell you: sensible people don't give dreams and ghosts a
chance to raise their heads — We'll leave this place to-night.
Lydia. Are you sure that no one else will come along?
WisBY. Come along?
Lydia. And sit between us — mix in our talk?
WiSBY. But, Lydia
Lydia. For I am sure she will. I can see her behind you
now.
WiSBY makes a deprecatory gesture.
Lydia. I shall always see her behind you. Don't come to
me any more — for you are not alone when you come!
WisBY. But, Lydia, how
Lydia. She will drive me out of the house. Who could
sleep where you are sleeping— with her watching you?
WisBY. But if I told you, what could ?
Lydia. Then there would be two of us to face it. Then we
would take each other by the hand and walk right up to
it — no matter what it was or whence it came.
WisBY. [.4fter a moment" s thought] \\d\—[Then abruptly]
No— I won't tell.
:t I LABOREMUS 237
Lydia. [In a low voice] It was about me, then?
WiSBY remains silent. Lydia's face grows hard.
WisBY sees it, and they stand staring at each other.
Lydia. You had better go m and dress now.
WiSBY goes out to the right.
For a little while Lydia stands tvithout moving. Then
her glance turns toward the left, where the bridal dress
is lying. She goes over and throws it on the floor.
Then she throws the veil and the gloves after the dress
and tramples down the whole pile. At last she tears
up the bridal wreath and scatters the pieces on top of
the rest. This done, she throws herself on a chair,
with her arms on the table and her head buried in her
arms. Then she bursts into loud sobbing.
WiSBY, u'ho had left the door ajar on leaving, is suddenly
seen standing in the middle of the room without any
dressing-gown on.
Curtain.
ACT II
A large and richly furnislicd sitting-room in a French liotcl.
There is a door in the back and another at the right, near the
foreground. A grand piano stands at the right. Near it,
but farther forward and away from tJie wall, is a chaise-
longue. An antique cabinet of magnificent workmanship
stands at the left. Nearer the foreground on the left are
grouped a table, a sofa, and several chairs.
WiSBY enters with a card in his hand. He is followed
by a Bellboy.
Bellboy. Yes, sir.
WisBY. Is my wife up?
Bellboy. I don't tliiiik so, sir. I'll find out.
Wisby. Never mind. Let the gentleman come in.
The Bellboy goes out and closes tfie door.
Wisby goes to the cabinet, icithin tvhich a number of de-
canters and glasses became visible ivlien he opens the
door. He takes out one of the decanters, pours out and
drinks two glasses of something in quick succession,
and then closes the door again.
The Bellboy opens the rear door. At that moment a
liotel clerk passes rapidly along the corridor outside,
from left to right, crying out: " Forty-two, forty-three,
and forty-four.'' He is followed by a group of people
in travelling clothes. One of these, a man, calls out
after the clerk: "Not too far, please l" An elderly
238
ACT n LABOREMUS 239
lady calls to him in the same way: "On the sunny side,
please.''^
After all of these people have disappeared. Dr. Kann
enters from the right with a large leatlier case under his
arm.
The Bellboy closes the door behind him.
WiSBY meets him holding out his hand, ivhich Dr.
Kann seizes. Neither of them speaks. Dr. Kann's
glance rests steadily on Wisby, wlio evades it. At last
Dr. Kann puts down the leather case.
Wisby. You come from Norway.^
Dr. Kann. By way of England.
Wisby. Won't you sit down.^ [Both sit down.
Dr. Kann. [Looking around] You're splendidly fixed here.
Have you been living here all the time.^
Frequent pauses occur during the ensuing conversation.
Wisby. We travel during the summer.
Dr. Kann. I heard you were in Switzerland
Wisby. [Leaning hack in his chair, with his arms folded] Is
it long since you left Norway?
Dr. Kann. About a week.
Wisby. I suppose it was real winter there.''
Dr. Kann. Real winter — and that makes the spring down
here the more pleasant.
Wisby. How long are you going to be here?
Dr. Kann. It depends. I am not here for my pleasure.
Wisby. [Sharply] I have been expecting you.
Dr. Kann. He is young. And it is better to commit what
follies you must while you are young.
Wisby. He has been gone for a month. But last night he
returned. [With a show of surprise] You know it?
Dr. Kann. I come from him now.
Wisby. You do?
240 LABOREMUS act n
Dr. Kann. I have a room in this hotel, next door to his.
WisBY. Oh!
lie rises, walks over to the door at the right, and makes
sure it is locked.
Dr. Kann. Is anybody in there.^
WiSBY. I don't think so. [He sits down] But tliose rooms
belong to us.
Dr. Kaxx. You have been giving some musicales, I ha\e
heard.
WiSBY. Yes.
Dr. Kanx. Does she play as well as she used to?
WiSBY. Better than ever. I tell you
He checks himself as he bends forward; tlien he throws
himself back in the chair, folds his arms as before, and
sits staring in front of himself.
Dr. Kann. That was the way they met, wasn't it.^
WiSBY. [Not moving a muscle\ Right here.
Dr. Kann. She played to him — his own Rondo?
WiSBY. [Turning his face toward Dr. K\xn] You ought
to have seen it. [lie resumes his previous position.
Dr. EIann. It wasn't long ago. was it? Only a couple of
months?
WiSBY. Just about — sonietliiiig like that. [Turning his
head toward Dr. Kann again] Are you going to take him home
with you?
Dr. Kann. I have no authority over him.
WiSBY. You haven't — as his uncle and guardian?
Dr. Kann. Even if I had, I wouhln't interf«M-o.
WiSBY. [Jumping up] You wouldn't interfere? You
wouldn't interfere?
Dr. Kann. Not so that he could notice it.
WiSBY. Oh ! [He seats himself.
Dr. Kann. But you, Wisby ?
ACT II LABOREMUS 241
WiSBY. [F alter ingly] What about me?
Dr. Kann. Why don't you go home? After all, that
would be the best solution.
WiSBY leans forward with a quick movement and rests his
hands on his knees as if about to say something; then
he sits back as before.
Dr. Kann. I went out to your place just before I left.
[WiSBY makes no response] When I showed myself, your dogs
almost went crazy. I think it made them feel that you
couldn't be far away, either. [Wisby shores restlessness] Don't
^ou hear the pack at times — in full cry among the hills —
through those wonderful woods of yours? That clean-cut
bay of Diana's?
WiSBY. How — how did the dogs look?
Dr. Kann. Well, that was the worst! Or rather-^it was
the only thing I could find fault with. Diana had grown fat —
she like the rest. And the horses were also too fat by far.
Wisby. [With a burst of temper, as he rises] Oh, that loafer,
Ole — that arch-loafer! Haven't I told him? Haven't I
written him, too? " Don't let the dogs get fat ! " And I have
written him besides, that the horses should be exercised every
day. [He rushes back and forth] It's simply unbearable! I
tell you — I tell you, there isn't one I can trust!
Dr. Kann. But you mean to go home, don't you?
Wisby does not reply.
Dr. Kann. You haven't asked what made me go out to
your place.
Wisby. [Stopping] Was anybody sick?
Dr. Kann. No, they're all right, every one. — But I thought
that, as I was coming here, I ought to bring something with
me for you
Wisby. For me?
Dr. Kann. [Rising] I went into your study — and this is
242 LABOREMUS act u
what I brought. [He goes over to the leatlier case] I had a
nice case made for it. [He picks up the case and sets it on end
on the table after having released a support attaclied to the back]
Perhaps*, I thought, it might give you pleasure to see her
again.
WisBY. You don't mean to say it's
Dr. K.\nn. Yes, it is. It is she herself.
Opening the front of the case, he reveals the portrait of a
woman. Only her Iiead and shoulders appear, but
life-size. She wears a high-necked black dress, with
a broad collar of white lace. Tlie portrait suggests
strongly a Van Dyck.
WiSBY. Amelia !
He approaclies it slowly, as if in fear, and kneels in front
of it; rising again, he takes out his handkerchief and
wipes the picture with great care, giving special at-
tention to one side of it.
Dr. Kann. I don't think there is any dust on it. But it
needs varnishing.
WiSBY. Yes.
He moves away from it slowly and breaks into tears as he
sits down.
Dr. Kann. And how about your daughter, ^Visb^•?
WiSBY. I have no daughter. [He begins to cry again.
Dr. Kann. What kind of talk is that.^
WisBY. She is so far away. And she doesn't answer my
letters.
Dr. Kann. So you have written to hcr.^
WiSBY. I have written again and again.
Dr. Kann. Well, I know positively that she has written to
you also.
WiSBY. [Surprised, in a low voice] What are you saying.'
ACT II LABOREMUS 243
Dr. Kann. She has written repeatedly. And she says
just what you do: that she never gets an answer.
WiSBY. [Rises with an instinctive glance toivard the door at
the right: he takes a few steps in that direction; then he turns
around] Will you — will you be absolutely frank with me.'*
Dr. Kann. Of course I will.
WisBY. I find — I find it so hard to speak of it — but I have
nobody to ask. And'I don't want to write. [He looks around
before he goes on] Who is — [After another glance toivard the door
at the right he forces himself with difficulty to say] Yes — who is
she.' [Wlien Dr. Kann doesnt reply at once, he adds] It scares
me — it scares me to think that everj'body may know it
but me.
Dr. Kann. That may very well be the case.
WiSBY. [With deep feeling and evident bitterness, while still
speaking in a subdued tone] To think of it, that nobody
would tell me anything! Not even you!
Dr. Kann. Did we have a chance.' Did anybody have
the slightest idea of what you were up to.'
WiSBY. Perhaps not. Perhaps not. And yet — that no-
body should speak up ! She had been staying with us, after
all.
Dr. Kann. Yes, she had. But when you left in that sud-
den way, all of us thought you had gone to bring home your
daughter. You had caused the house to be disinfected, don't
3'ou know. — And then, instead, you bob up in Paris as a
married man!
WisBY. Don't let's talk of it! — What are people saying.' — •
Don't spare me: what are they saying?
Dr. Kann. Suppose we sit down.
WiSBY. All right, but — why?
Dr. Kann. I have something to tell you; something that
will take a little time. [Both sit down.
244 LABOREMUS act ii
WisBY. [Gets up again] Wait a moment! [He goes to the
leather case and closes ii; then he comes back and sits down once
more] Now!
Dr. KLvnn. It happened several years ago, at one of our
Norwegian health resorts. One day, about the middle of the
season, there arrived a beautiful young lady, more fashionable
than all the rest, and a famous pianist to boot.
WisBY. I see!
Dr. Kann. In some strange way she had become para-
lysed.
WisBY. Who had become paralysed?
Dr. Kann. She. — She could barely get her feet down on
the floor. She had to be lifted and carried and wheeled
around in an invalid's chair.
WisBY. Well, if I ever !
Dr. Kann. Wait a moment! You can easily imagine what
a pleasure the gentlemen took in doing it for her.
WiSBY. But — that's something she never told me!
Dr. Kann. They carried her to and from the table, to the
piano and away from it. They lifted her into the wheel-chair
and out of it again. And for the privilege of wheeling her
about — I won't say exactly that it came to fighting — although
Norwegians are ready to fight for less than that — but all her
power over them was needed to prevent it. She couldn't
bear any kind of scandal. She was very virtuous — made a
special point of it. She didn't show the slightest preference
for anybody. So that everybody was in hopes, everybody
was trying to win her favour by service. By and by the
tension became too intense, and parlies were formed for and
against. Old men made fools of themselves; married couples
were talking of divorce; other ladies fled from the place —
until at last something hai)j)ened.
WiSBY. [Who has been wiping the sweat from his brow] Well.^
ACT 11 LABOREMUS 245
Dr. Kann. The youngest of the attendant physicians —
who, besides, was the one who had lost his head most com-
pletely — had to give up his own room to a patient. In the
mean time he was put in a room next to the lady in ques-
tion — on the ground floor. Of course, he couldn't sleep. He
lay awake listening — to hear if she should stir, if she should
cough or sigh, if she — until, in the middle of the night, he
heard her get out of bed and begin to walk around.
WiSBY. She walked.^
Dr. Kann. Of course. Back and forth. During a whole
hour. The night after that she began to dance. The
woman was as chipper as a sparrow, and she simply had to get
some exercise. The third night he didn't hear a thing — be-
cause she had left — he having given her a hint himself.
WiSBY. Well, if I ever in all my living days
Dr. Kann. The fellow was so ashamed that he kept it en-
tirely to himself. That is, until you married her, Wisby.
Then he told.
Wisby gets up and begins to ivalk back and forth.
Dr. Kann. That's pretty good, isn't it?
Wisby. [Laughs in a strange fashion, then he comes hack to
Dr. Kann] Is there anything more? Of course, there must
be more!
Dr. Kann. There is that story about old man Stephansen.
Wisby. You mean Stephansen ?
Dr. Kann. Exactly! The millionaire!
Wisby. Isn't he dead.^
Dr. Kann. Yes, he's dead now. But he lived quite a
while, that fellow. She has an annuity that came from him.
Wisby. [Attentive] From him.'' — It's from him it comes?
And she says — [He stops and makes an evident effort not to
speak; in the same way he forces himself to sit doivn again]
What was the matter with old Stephansen?
246 LABOREMUS act ii
Dr. K1\nn. The old chap was seventy, or more, when he
became so enamoured of her that he followed her all over
Europe. He stayed invariably at the same hotel she did.
It lasted quite a while. He was determined to marry her.
But his relations took- a hand in it — as might be expected.
They didn't want to lose all the money. So he had to give
up. But the old man was never himself after that.
WiSBY. [After a while] So that annuity comes from old
Stephansen. — Is there still more?
Dr. Ka.nn. I have no way of knowing everything — but I
read a few years ago about a young English officer — he shot
himself at a hotel in Amsterdam. Outside the door of a
woman artist, the report said. It created quite a sensation
at the time. Every newspaper printed it.
WiSBY. Why — that happened while my wife wa-s still living.
I think we read it together. Yes, I am sure. — Did that
refer to her.^
Dr. Kann. No name was given — or it was not given in
full, at least. But now I have every reason to believe that it
was she.
WiSBY. Outside! So it wasn't on the inside, after all.'
Dr. Kann. [Looking at him with svrprise] But, Wisby
WiSBY. [Rising] Oh, leave me alone! [lie walks axtay.
Dr. Kann. [Following him with his eyes] That oflBcer prob-
ably had no money.
WisBY. [Stops abruptly, then with a movement toward Dr.
Kann] Do you think it will ever do for me to go home?
Dr. Kann. Alone? Yes. [Rising] Frankly speaking — do
you want to go on with this?
WiSBY. [Turns from Dr. Kann //; great e.vritement, eomes
back, tries to say something, tnrns away again, and manages
finally to say] That time she wa.s leaving us — it was in the
winter, an ice-cold day without snow — my wife was lying
ACT n LABOREMUS 247
inside — she was much worse again — and there, on the outside
— there she was getting into the carriage — she who had
brought us music and hope. It was as if life itself was
leaving us. I asked her to stay. But she wouldn't. That
time
Dr. Kann. Pardon me for mterrupting you. But she
didn't leave of her own will.
WiSBY. What are you saying.'
Dr. KAi>jTsr. She didn't leave of her own will, I say.
WiSBY. How — .'' You ?
Dr. Kann. Yes, I — I drove her away.
WiSBY. [Friglitened] Why?
Dr. Kann. She wanted to kill the woman that was inside.
WiSBY. Kill her?
Dr. Kann. Not with a dagger, or with poison. Not by
choking her. But with her eyes and her will. She wanted
to take the place of that woman.
WisBY. O Lord !
Dr. Kann. The sick woman could feel it. And that was
enough! — What was it she couldn't feel, Wisby?
WiSBY. What — did she feel?
Dr. Kann. I can see that you have guessed it.
Wisby. As sure as there is a God above, I didn't under-
stand at that time! As sure as there is a God above, I
wasn't false to my poor wife — not by a word, not by as much
as a gesture
Dr. Kann. No. It wasn't necessary, either. She could
feel what you were thinking. That was enough. Without
that the other one could never have triumphed.
Wisby stares at Dr. Kann until at last he sinks down
on the chair beside which he has been standing.
Dr. Kann. No one has a right to say that she would have
succumbed, no matter what happened. If I hadn't thought
248 LABOREMUS act h
that she could live, that she was on the way to recovery — do
you think I would have left her? Or turned her over to my
colleagues? Oh, no! — When I got back, the worst had hap-
pened. Then it was too late.
WiSBY. [Jumps up and begins to run about; suddenly he re-
members the cabinet and rushes over to it; but, as he opens the
door, he recalls that somebody else is present, and so he slams the
door again, and rushes back to tlie clmir, wfiere he sinks down,
overwhelmed] Why didn't you tell me all that.^
Dr. Kann. I wanted to spare you, man! Can't you un-
derstand that?
WiSBY. Spare me? If you had spoken, you would have
spared me all this!
Dr. Kanx. It was such a desperate case that I couldn't
but believe that you saw through it yourself.
WisBY. No, no, no!
Dr. Kann. How, then, did you get on the track of it?
WiSBY. [Rising in a sort of ecstasy] I tell you — I tell you —
she came into my room, just as she used to come and go in
her lifetime — wearing her black dress with the lace collar
around the neck
Dr. Kann. [In a whisper] Amelia? Your dead ?
WiSBY. The night of the wedding. I was sitting on my
bed — or at least it seemed to me that I was wide-awake and
sitting on my bed, when she came in and looked so sadly at
me. And .she said, "She from whom you have just come
took my life!"
Dr. Kann. [As before] She said that?
WiSBY. And since — well, since then everything has been
driving me to despair. I have not been able to think of any-
thing else. [He walks away, only to return at once] But if I am
her accomplice — well, then — then
Dr. Kann. This cannot go on!
ACT II LABOREMUS 249
WiSBY. It must! Just on that account!
Dr. Kann. There is one who can help in this matter.
WiSBY. Me? Help me? Do you think I want to be
helped? Do you think I can ever forgive myself? — ^There is a
proverb that says: We reap as we have sown. But I tell you
— I tell you — we reap because we have Jiot sown! Weeds—
that's what we reap! I have never done a thing in all my
life. And that breeds unwholesome tendencies.
Dr. Kann. [Interrupting him] This cannot go on ! That's
all there is to it! — There is one still living who has the
power of pardon. She can bring it to you — day by day — in
your own home.
WisBY. Borgny? I dare not look at her again ! Not after
to-day — not after what I have just learned
Dr. Kann. But she will dare. That's the main thing.
She will take you into her arms — to bring that about was just
the reason I took this with me.
[He goes up to the case containing the portrait.
WiSBY. Yes, open it again ! Just for a moment !
Dr. Kann. [Opens the case] They resemble each other,
mother and daughter, like two
WisBY. [With his eyes on the portrait, he doesn't hear Dr.
Kann, but speaks simultaneously] Good heavens! — I say — I
say: forgive me!
Dr. Kann. Do you want to keep it, Wisby?
WiSBY. [Alarmed] No, no! Take it along! [He takes in-
stinctively a feio steps toward the door at the right; then in a low
to7ie] Why, it's open! — No, not now! — But it was!
Dr. Kann. The door was open for quite a while.
WiSBY. Is it possible? But when I looked
Dr. Kann. [Standing by the portrait] So you don't want to
keep it?
WiSBY. No! Take it along! It mustn't stay here!
250 LABOR EMUS act u
Dr. Kaxn. [Closes Ow case quirldy, takes it under his arms
and picks up his hut] Then I'll go. Good-bye!
WiSBY. [Has once more, quite mechanically, made for the
door at the right; as he turns about, he sees that Dr. Kann
is gone, and that he has not closed tlie rear door on leaving; going
to the rear door to close it, he discovers outside a rcoman dressed
exactly like the portrait aiui looking very much like it; as he sees
her standing in front of tJie open door, he reels backward and cries
out with all his might] Lydia! Oh, Lydia!
Lydia comes running from the right with her h-air doirn,
and dressed in an elegant, loosely draped morning
gown. She sees xohat her husband is staring at. She
and h3 stand close together. The tvoman on tlie out-
side, who seemed on tJie verge of entering, passes on.
WisBY. This — this is the second time! Now there can be
no mistake.
Lydia. But what is it.'
AVisBY. [Deeply shaken] Doesn't your conscience tell you.'
Lydia. [Recovering her self-control] My conscience.' — Oh,
close that door, will you?
WisBY. It's more than I dare.
Lydia. Well, I dare!
She goes rapidly toward the door, but wlien slie is near it
she stops and recoils; at that moment somebody closes
the door from the outside.
WiSBY. [Apjyroaching her] What did you see?
Lydia. Nothing. — It is nothing. Absolutely nothing.
You are drunk, of course!
WisBY. What am I ?
Lydia. This is Dr. Kann's doing!
WiSBY. Dr. Kann's? But, Lydia
Lydia. I heard every word you two said to each other.
WiSBY. Oh, you did?
ACT II LABOREMUS 251
Lydia. You have betrayed me! You have deceived me!
You who said that we were to start life all over again ! Noth-
ing of what had been should continue to exist. Neither for
j^ou nor for me. That's what you promised. And you broke
your promise the very first day! You have been breaking it
ever since! All the time since then! — Haven't you tortured
me enough yet.'*
WiSBY. But, Lydia
Lydia. [Stamping her foot] Haven't you said everything
yet.^ Are you not done yet.^
WisBY. [With dignity] I'll go. But I tell you— I tell
you [He goes out through the door in the rear.
Lydia. [As she follows him toward the door] I tell you — I
tell you — that you are a scoundrel! You two have been
lying shamefully about me! Oh, shamefully, shamefully!
In his excitement Wisby forgets the door, which is left
open as he disappears. A mament later somebody is
heard humming a melody outside, and a light-haired
young man becomes visible in the doorway.
Langfred. Oh, here you are.
He enters and closes the door behind him; then he walks
slowly toward Lydia, as if anticipating some great
pleasure.
Lydia, who had stopped to listen at the first sound of the
hummed melody, now puts both her hands up to her
heart; in that way she remains, ivithout turning about.
Langfred. [Stepping up beJmid her and whispering into her
ear] Thanks for last night!
He puts his arms through hers with a stealthy, gliding
motion.
Lydia turns around quickly and leans her head against
his shoulder.
252 LABOREMUS act u
Langfred. Lydia!
Lydia breaks into tears.
Langfred. Has anything happened?
Lydia. Don't abandon me, Langfred! Hide me!
Langfred. What is it, dear?
Lydia does not reply, but the convulsive shaking of Jicr
body shows that she is still crying.
Langfred. Any unpleasantness on my account? [She does-
nt answer] Has anybody been saying anything to you?
Lydia shakes fier liead.
Langfred. Do you know that my uncle is here?
Lydia. [Vehemently] Nobody must part us, Langfred!
Langfred. [Quickly] Has he said anything? [She doesn't
ansioer] Has he been speaking to you?
Lydia shakes her head.
Langfred. We had a long talk about you to-day — imcle
and I.
Lydia. [Raises her head irith a rapid movement, as she partly
frees herself from his hold; looks hard at him] What did he have
to say?
Langfred. He knew you. I wasn't aware of that.
Lydia. What did he have to say?
Langfred. Nothing that wasn't good.
Lydia. [After a moment's thought] Oh, but he is clever!
Langfred. Why do you say that?
Lydia. Because you are not clever. Oh, don't let him part
us, Langfred!
Langfred. Uncle? How could you imagine anything of
the kind?
Lydia. Nobody in the world can be to you what I am —
you have said it yourself. Do so again! Tell me again!
Langfred. Nobody in the world!
Lydia. For nobody loves you as I do. Nobody can love
ACT 11 LABOREMUS 258
you as I do. And nobody understands your music and your-
self as I do. You have said it. Isn't that so.'* You have
said it!
Langfred. [Kissing her passionately] Is this answer
enough "^
Lydia. Never enough! — Oh, as I now wind myself about
you, so I want to be a part of all your thoughts. Where our
work is, there is also our love. So you have told me. Do
you remember.'* You said it was true of all normal people.
The same instinct that makes us choose our work makes us
also choose our wives — that's what you told me!
Langfred. Perhaps I did.
Lydia. You did, you did! Nothing ever made me more
proud. — I, who was in love with your Rondo long before I
saw you — wasn't that a sign.? And I was playing it when you
came in. For the first time — unexpectedly. It must mean
something. Things must have been prepared for us two.
What do you say.''
Langfred. Nobody has ever played my Rondo as you did
that time.
Lydia. That, too ! It couldn't be a mere accident, could it.'*
Langfred. I don't know about that. But I do know that
since then we two have not been able to keep away from each
other.
Lydia. [Eagerhj] That, too! That, too! And that your
Rondo grew into a whole opera
Langfred. Oh, no, that had happened before.
Lydia. Oh !
Langfred. Don't you remember.^ It was the first thing
we talked of. The Rondo as basis for an opera — in order to
find expression for the tremendous longing toward nature that
lay back of the story.
254 LABOREMUS act n
Lydia. Yes, perhaps. [Coaxitiyly] And now it's the opera
we are to live for?
Langfred. [With feeling] Of course!
Lydia. Let nobody part us tlien.
Langfred. [Looking at her xvith surprise] What do you
mean?
Lydia. There is danger ahead. I know it positively.
That is, I can feel it. I always feel such things in advance. —
Let us go away from here, Langfred!
Langfred. Now?
Lydia. This very evening. I don't know — but I have a
feeling that we must. Oh, I beg you^et us get away from
here!
Langfred. But I shall have to tell uncle.
Lydia. No, no, no! It is he, don't you know!
Langfred. AVho wants to part us?
Lydia. That's just why he has come here.
Langfred. Uncle?
Lydia. My feeling warns me of all such things. I am so
sure
Langfred. But he has told me the very opposite — on my
honour!
Lydia. What has he told you?
Langfred. That he understood perfectly how we two must
be fond of each other.
Lydia. That's rather ambiguous, Langfred.
Langfred. Uncle is frankness and truthfulness personified.
Lydia. Have I said anything to the contrary?
Langfred. He is my best friend. Has been ever since my
father's death. He tells me everything — without the least
reserve.
Lydia. I don't doubt it.
Langfred. Oh, can't we have a little nuisie? I am thirsty
ACT II LABOREMUS Q55
for music. That's why I came. Why, I haven't heard you
play yet!
Lydia. I have to be in the mood to do so.
Langfred. And you are not — ? That's too bad!
Lydia. The first time I am to play for you again — Oh,
you must understand — I must be feeling just right
Langfred. Let us talk music, then! Please! This whole
month I haven't had a soul — let's sit down! It's a fact, we
haven't j^et had a real talk together. For last night
Lydia. Now, now!
Langfred. I won't say anything about last night. It was
too splendid to be talked of.
Lydia. We'll sit down, then!
Langfred. The way we are used to! You over there. [He
points to the chaise-longue] And I beside you.
Lydia lets herself be led to the chaise-longue.
Langfred. Oh, it seems so long ago! [He makes her lie
down; she chooses her own 'position, ivith one arm supporting her
head, and the other one resting along her body; he changes the
position of her legs slightly, and then steps back to look at her]
Like a wave! Once I saw a wave on a picture. A single
wave. It was coming straight at us
Lydia. [Smiling] As if to bury us.'*
Langfred. Yes, to draw us into itself!
Lydia. Undine! Always Undine!
Langfred. [Taking a chair] What else do you expect me
to be thinking of.' [He sits down.
Lydia. I had a strange experience while you were away.
Langfred. A strange experience?
Lydia. Perhaps that isn't the word for it. Let us call it —
a vision.
Langfred. What have you got to do with visions?
Lydia. [Smiling] So that isn't right, either? Well, I'll tell
256 LABOREMUS act n
it just as it was. I saw snow-crystals in the sunshine on a per-
fectly clear clay.
Langfred. It snowed on a perfectly clear day?
Lydia. Not snow — snow-crystals, I said — the loveliest
snow-crystals. The air was full of them
Langfred. [Fascinated] On a perfectly clear day.'
Lydia. On a perfectly clear daj'! I have never seen any-
thing so radiantly pure. They glittered in the air, in the sun-
light, by millions, and sank downward without a sound.
Langfred. How could that lx» turned into music? For it
suggests music, doesn't it?
Lydia. Can you guess what I made out of it?
Langfred. Oh — a seraphic chorus— distant, invisible?
Lydia. No! Something much nearer — nearer to us. It
made me tliink of you and me.
Langfred. What?
Lydia. If you could have your wish, then I should be di-
vided into atoms that pervaded your music. I should glim-
mer through it like those snow-crystals, refining it — do you
understand?
Langfred. I'll be hanged if I do!
Lydia. [Sitting up] You love me only in your music.
Langfred. Immaterially?
Lydia. Well, well — ! Nowadays I have to be Undine.
You see m me nothing but your Undine.
Langfred. Well, if that were so?
Lydia. [Eagerly] If that were so? It does not satisfy me.
I love you!
Langfred. I can't see the difference.
Lydia. You cannot? [She lieif down again] Well, if that
Langfred. Perhaps you think — you love me apart from
my music?
Lydia. Yes! Yes, I tell you!
ACT n LABOREMUS 257
Langfred. Without it, you wouldn't even know me. It
would change me so completely.
Lydia. But I want to be something more to you than your
Undine ! You scare me.
Langfred. Is that so.'' "What do you think Undine means
to me.''
Lydia. An operatic libretto! A lot of themes! An inspir-
ing subject! It may be inexhaustible, perhaps — but you and
I are not in it.
Langfred. Yes, as surely as both our natures are in it.
Don't you see? It was our natures that made the choice —
the choice of just this thing. Later, perhaps, we may choose
something else, and meet in that. Perhaps ! But now we are
here! This is the way our natures are to find expression.
This is the way they are to expand. That much is certain —
isn't it?
Lydia. [hi a ivhisper] Perhaps — partly.
Langfred. What is Undine but the sea itself? A poem
of the sea. The sea that strives to climb the shore — the rest-
lessness that surrounds what is fixed. Don't forget that the
sea also mirrors the sky; don't forget that! It mirrors the
sky, too. What longing, don't you see! How it must — •
how wistfully the sea must be gazing into that infinity!
Isn't that so? What yearning! It cannot move the land;
it cannot reach the heaven above.
Lydia. [Whispering] No.
Langfred. But that's the music, dear! The music that
circles life as the sea circles the land. And that which
ventures away from it — the continuation of it, so to speak —
which cannot be held back — which cannot be overtaken — but
which can never come to rest, either — —
Lydia. [Whispering] Undine.
Langfred. Undine that is reaching out her hands toward
258 LABOREMUS ac t n
the sky for more — that mirrors the sky without possessing
it — and so must away — away from all that is fixed and un-
attainable — at once clinging to it and flying from it — don't
you see? — at once craving it and recoiling from it.
Lydia, wfu) has raised herselj into a sitting position,
trembles and tries to ptdl Langfred down beside her.
Langfhed. [Rising] Always on the border-line — between
what's known and unknown. The music goes further than
it is aware of. When everything has been said, then the
music goes on. But it comes to an end in what even the music
cannot express.
Lydia. [Wlio has also risen] Langfred!
Langfred. It solves and sets riddles. AVith its eyes full
of the sky, it turns back into itself and sobs. — Oh, there are
moments so dreadful that I could leap backward from every-
thing — I too — like the wave — crushed into spray. For it's
beyond reach — beyond my reach!
Lydia 'presses close to him.
Langfred. {Controlling himself] No, don't cry! For this
concerns me — not you!
Lydia. Both of us!
Langfred. Don't cry! I wanted you only to understand
that it means a great deal when I call you Undine.
Lydia. I feel such dread. Rid me of it! Lift me up to
yourself. Let me come with you. Hide me within yourself.
Langfred. I shall never abandon you.
Lydia. [Passionately] Oh, Langfred — that name was given
you for my sake — it means the "long peace" that you are to
bring me. [She presses still closer to him.
Langfred. [His voice becoming more intimate as Jie looks
straight into her eyes] Don't you think I understand .'
Lydia. Ever since I was sixteen — no, even before that - 1
ACT u LABOREMUS 259
had to sit there on the platform, playing, playing — and think-
ing. If only one would come who took me and carried me off !
To some sheltered spot! So that nobody could see me, and I
saw nobody! That's what I was thinking while I sat there
and played. But no one came.
Langfred. Lydia!
Lydia. Of course, there came — but not the one who could
carry me off — not you!
Langfred. Undine — how you have been bored — haven't
yoii?
Lydia. Oh !
Langfred. [With still greater intimacy] And you've been
up to a lot of crazy mischief — haven't you.^ Out of sheer
boredom — haven't you.^
Lydia. [Quickly freeing herself] What do you know .^^ What
have you heard .^
Langfred. Not a thing. I just guess it.
Lydia. You guess it?
Langfred. One doesn't play as you do without having
had
Lydia. Some passionate longings, Langfred !
Langfred. [As before] More than longings! — How about
it? — The first time I heard you, I thought — do you know
what I thought?
Lydia makes no reply.
Langfred. "That woman has dived pretty deep! That
forceful grip on the most secret things has not come to her
for nothing. She has been down in the undertow herself, she
has. On her way to the bottom. — Heart cries!"
Lydia. Oh !
Langfred. "But she has pulled herself up again. What a
power there is in her!"
260 LABOREiMUS act u
Lydia. That came when I saw you!
Langfred. No — you didn't see me.
Lydia. I saw you the moment you came in. Do you think
I could be mistaken about such a thing?
Langfred. You didn't see me. That's absolutely sure.
You didn't look up at all. I stood there waiting for you to
do so.
Lydia. Then I felt your presence. When I am playing I
am aware of everything.
Langfred. That may be.
Lydia. Oh, Langfred! After all, it came about just as I
had dreamt it. I sat and played, and then you came. Came
and took me and carried me off! To a sheltered spot.
[Leaning up against him] Now I understand why it couldn't
have happened before. You are younger than I, of course. —
That, too, fills me with such dread at times.
Langfred. Of us two, you are the younger, the stronger,
the wilder! [Lydia throws her arms around his neck with a
little cry.] Isn't it true, perhaps.'
Lydia. [In a whisper] It is love that does that, Langfred!
Langfred. So that's what does it?
Lydia. It adds to our stature. There is nothing we want
when we love but to add to our own selves.
Langfred. How wise you are to-day !
Lydia. Of course, you couldn't love anybody but one who
brings you music — ever more music?
Langfred. No.
Lydia. Do you see? She must be music, the woman you
love.
Langfred. So she must. But she can be that williout
knowing how to play.
Lydia. She can be music without ?
ACTH LABOREMUS 261
Langfred. Yes, she can.
Lydia. Do you really think so?
Langfred. I know it.
Lydia. Have you met anybody who ?
Langfred. I have. Oh, several!
Lydia. Who brought you music — without knowing how to
make music?
Langfred. Indeed! Listen — if you were only in the
mood!
Lydia. To play?
Langfred. Yes — oh, play a little!
Lydia. Just when you are telling me that the ability to play
is nothing?
Langfred. That's not what I said— But couldn't we
possibly talk of something else than ourselves?
Lydia. Certainly!
Langfred. Well, forgive me, but I am tortured by some-
thing I didn't get a chance to tell you yesterday. I didn't
want to let it disturb us. Not the first time.
Lydia. [Apprehensively] What do you mean?
Langfred. I haven't been working. I can't work any
more.
Lydia. [Frightened] You can't work?
Langfred. No, I can't!
Lydia. You? You, who are richer than all the rest to-
gether?
Langfred. [With intensity] Don't say that kind of thing
to me! — Forgive me! — The last time we were together, I got
so many new ideas. That's true. I have never been richer
than I was then. But I couldn't do anything with them. I
could never find the quiet I needed for it.
Lydia. But you went away to get quiet?
262 LABOREMUS act ii
Langfred. And didn't find it. I can't work any more —
Perliaps the subject, too, is somewhat to blame. It doesn't
seem real to me. And then it's so monotonous. Only that
longing, that continuous longing
Lydia. For a soul, Langfred! For a higher life.
Langfred. Of course. But it brings you all the time back
to that same endless heaving— as in Wagner. It isn't my
line.
Lydia. Nobody, nobody can vary a theme as you can.
Langfred. [Desperately] Don't look at me like that! —
You shall have the whole truth: When I am away from you,
everything turns to longing for you — and when I am with
you
Lydia. [Interrupting him quickly] Let's sit down at the
piano !
Langfred. Yes, let us — Tliat is, if I dare .^
Lydia. Dare? Wasn't that what you wanted?
Langfred. Well, you see — [Putting his hand into one of his
pockets] I have brought something.
Lydia. [Running to tfie piano] And you didn't tell me at
once!
Langfred. I don't feel sure of myself. I don't think
it's
Lydia. [Opening the piano] Come now! [She strikes a few
chords containing the primary theme of "Undine'"] Do you
remember?
Langfred. [Interrupting her in a firm tone] Xo! I won't!
It isn't on a level with that.
[lie puts tJie manuscript back info hi.t pocket.
Lydia. [Gets up, goes to him, and says tenderly] Langfred!
Langfred. You don't know what a hard time I have had.
Lydia. And you didn't write me? If you had, I would
have come to you.
ACT II LABOREMUS 263
Langfred. I didn't want to admit it, you know. — Besides,
I didn't feel quite sure of it myself.
Lydia. I am thankful that you turned to me at last. In
spite of all! And you shall not be disappointed! — I shall
build up a vast, vast stillness about you — as if you were living
in a forest — in a deep forest, Langfred.
Langfred. [Growing attentive] What do you mean by that.'*
Lydia. The problem is to find solitude; to get away from
everything on the outside.
Langfred. Exactly!
Lydia. The last time we couldn't. Our whole time was
wasted in that way — trying every possible scheme to be left
alone. Thafs what caused our restlessness. — Can't you see
that.?
Langfred. Perhaps! — Well, you know
Lydia. [Interrupting him] Let us go away from here,
Langfred! — Yes, there is no other way out of it! — You and
I — I and you — and stillness, stillness — nobody — no one else
and nothing else — then you will see!
Langfred. I wish it were possible — for I am pretty far
gone!
Lydia. Let us go, Langfred! — Oh! — Oh, come down-town
with me — at once!
Langfred. Down-town.'*
Lydia. I'll just run in and change my dress, and then we'll
go down-town and get ready.
Langfred. What has down-town to do with all this?
Lydia. Why, I must have a few things for my travelling
outfit.
Langfred. Haven't you clothes enough.'
Lydia. For travelling.? No!
Langfred. [Smiling] And we who are going away to be
alone ?
264 LABOREMUS act ii
Lydia. I fear you don't understand what an outfit implies?
Langfred. Yes! A lot of trunks! Big, cumlxTsome
beasts! An infernal drag!
Lydia. But tliere is something in all those trunks that ean
be turned into art. ^Vlmost in the same way as your bundles
of musical manuscripts. — Tell me: what does a painter know?
Langfred. A painter? Not much, as a rule.
Lydia. About his art, I mean — about his own art?
Langfred. Oh! I suppose — things about drawing and
colouring
Lydia. And a sculptor?
Langfred. About lines and shapes.
Lydia. And a musician?
Langfred. What in the world ?
Lydia. [Interrupting] And a musician?
Langfred. Well— about tonality and
Lydia. An outfit is all that put together. A part of our-
selves — that is, when we are wearing it. And we ourselves,
you know — we ourselves
Langfred. [Kissing her] Enchanting! — I'll go with you!
They are standing near tlie door at the right.
Lydia. Now you have warmed up a little.
Langfred. You thmk so?
Lydia. Well, not as much as you should! — I tell you — to
love one like you is a terrible thing. Can you deny that?
Langfred. Yes.
Lydia. I won't flatter you by setting you right.
Langfred. Good-bye then! [lie goes totvard tlie rear door.
Lydia. [Whispering after him] You mustn't let your uncle
know about this!
Langfred. [Turning around with a suiilr] Of course, uncle
had to turn up at last! [He starts to leave again.
:t n LABOREMUS 265
Lydia. [By the door at the right] Are you going out that way?
Langfred. Is there another — that's available?
Lydia glides out backivard to the right.
IjANGFRED folloivs her.
Curtain.
ACT III
A smaller room in the same hotel. There is a door at the back.
To the right of it, a bed with a screen in front. Beside the
bed stands a rather large, open trunk; also a hat-case. On
a cliair lies a plaid, loith a suit-case placed on top of it, and
on top of that again a hat. Nearer the foreground stands
a "horse," on tohich rests a small case for music-books.
A quantity of sheet music lies on the floor beside it.
Langfred Kanx statuls by the case sorting out the music. Some
of it he throws away, and some of it lie puts carefully into the
case.
Against the opposite wall — that is, at tfie left — are a toilet table
and a wardrobe. A table, with chairs around it, is near
this wall, which lias a door in the extreme foreground.
Langfued. [As a knock is heard on the door at the left] Come
in!
Dr. Kann. [Enters, carrying a small box in one hand]
Well — ? You're packing?
Langfred. [Flustered] There was a lot of music lying
around since I was here before. It had to be sorted out some-
time. [He goes on with his work.
Dr. Kann. [IVfw has made an crcursion up to the big trunk
and is now peeping through the half-open door of the wardrobe]
Why, you have cleared out the wardrobe, too?
Langfred. I got here last night, and I haven't unpacked
yet.
266
ACT in LABOREMUS 267
Dr. Kann. Here I have something for you. [Langfred
turns toivard him] You remember, we couldn't find any trace
of your father's seal
Langfred. [Pleased] Have you found it.^
Dr. Kann. It had been broken. Your father had just sent
it away to be mended when he was taken sick. Somehow the
address was lost at the engraver's. There was no call for it,
and the man didn't know whose it was. Then he happened
to get an order from me — and the same seal appeared on my
letter. That's how it came to be returned. Here it is.
Langfred. Thank you ever so much! You couldn't
have brought me anything more precious. [He takes the seal out
of the box and reads the motto on it] Laboremus! — There it is!
Dr. KL^nn. In our seal !
Langfred. In our blood, I hope!
Dr. Kann. I am not here alone, you know. I have a
young girl with me.
Langfred. Whom you went to London for — an American.'*
Dr. Kann. No, she has only lived in America. She's a
Norwegian.
Langfred. x\nd speaks Norwegian.'*
Dr. Kann. Of course. She's quite young. Only seven-
teen.
Langfred. Well, it's too bad — I haven't much time left.
Dr. K\nn. Oh, you haven't?
Langfred. Well, don't misunderstand me! — But what
about the girl.'*
Dr. Kann. I happened to tell her about the story of your
"Undine." — You don't mind, do you.^
Langfred. No-o!
Dr. Kann. And do you know what she said?
Langfred. What?
Dr. Kann. "It seems rather monotonous to me."
268 LABOREMUS act m
Langfred. And she is seventeen? But she is right. Is she
clever?
Dr. Kann. Rather original. "I know what an Undine
is," slie said. "I could tell him about one."
Langfred. She could? — Oh, she is thinking of some fairy
tale.
Dr. Kann. No, of an actual experience. "It might turn
all his plans upside down," she said.
Langfred. We-ell? You've heard it, I suppose? Can't
you tell me about it?
Dr. Kann. Wouldn't you rather hear it from her?
Langfred. Well, can I?
Dr. Kann. Of course!
Langfred. But when? At once?
Dr. Kann. Why not? Could she come in here?
Langfred. Would it do?
Dr. Kann. Do you think she's afraid? One who is Amer-
ican and Norwegian at the same time?
Langfred. Probal)ly I am the one who ought to be afraid?
Dr. Kann. [.l^ he starts to go out] Yes, rather! She's in
there. [He goes out through door at the left.
Langfred makes Jmste to get things a little in order.
Dr. Kann. [Is heard saying outside] Oh, come now!
Borgny enters a moment later. Slie Juis on a black dress
with collar and cuffs of lace, and resembles, in her
features and the manner in which her hair is arranged,
the portrait seen in the previous act.
Dr. Kann. [Following her into tlic room] May I iutroduct-
Miss Auclaire — -my nephew, Langfred Kann.
Langfred. Yt)u are looking for something. Miss Auclaire?
Borgny. I thought there must be a i)iano here.
Langfred. You play?
Borgny. Not much. But I thought you played.
ACT m LABOREMUS 269
Langfred. I am only on my way through here.
BoRGNY. You are going away?
Langfred. Yes — oh, not at once!
BoRGNY. I had looked forward with such pleasure to hear-
ing a composer play.
There is a knock at the door on the left.
Langfred. [Impatiently] I wonder who that can be.?
Dr. Kann. Oh, T think it's for me. If you'll permit me?
He goes to the door and opens it; a Bellboy hands him a
card on a tray, and Dr. Kann reads the card.
Bellboy. The gentleman says you are expecting him, sir.
Dr. Kann. That's right. — You'll have to excuse me.
[He goes out, followed by the Bellboy.
Langfred. [To Borgny] Won't you sit down, please?
BoRGXY. Thank you.
They seat themselves on opposite sides of the table.
Langfred. You have something to tell me, haven't you?
Borgny. Can I go right ahead?
Langfred. If you please.
Borgny. I want to tell you something that happened in
my own family. A woman — one of the finest that ever lived
— became very sick. She was confined to a chair or her bed.
She couldn't do anything — couldn't play, though she cared
more for that than for anything else — couldn't even have
her daughter about her.
Langfred. Why couldn't she have her daughter about her?
Borgny. Because her disease was infectious.
Langfred. Oh!
Borgny. Her longing for music and for her daughter made
her worse. The doctors decided that she must at least have
music. The family was living in the country, but was very
rich. So they made inquiries through the musical agencies
for a fine woman pianist.
270 LABOREMUS act hi
Langfred. But the disease was infectious?
BoRGNY. Tliat's why nobody would come for a long while.
But finally they found one who dared.
Langfred. A good one.'
BoRGNY. An exceedingly gootl one — with a big reputation
even.
Langfred. This is very interesting: music as a remedy
against disease! — Well, how did it turn out.''
BoRGNY. Splendidly. The woman who came proved per-
fectly captivating. There was about her person and her
playing something — something having almost hypnotic in-
fluence. The invalid took a new lease of life; her appetite
improved; she became able to sleep. Her hold on life grew
to such an extent that the doctors at last began to have hopes.
People began to talk about it. This was a case where music
actually had worked a miracle.
Langfred. That music has healing power — who can doubt
it?
Borgny. Another person besides the invalid was listening.
A timid man, who was always hiding in a corner.
Langfred. The husband of the sick woman?
Borgny. [Nods assent] Those two people had been living
all by themselves on their estate. He wanted it, and she had
let him have his way, although she herself had a lively tem-
perament and was fond of fun.
Langfred. He was eccentric, I suppose?
Borgny. He was a passive nature — living mostly in his
own thoughts and out-of-doors. But he, too, loved music.
So he took great pleasure in that woman's playing, and still
more in the fact that his wife was recovering. He admired the
artist, and his gratitude hail no limits. She saw this — and
she made use of it.
Langfred. To get around him?
ACT in LABOREMUS 271
BoRGNY. She was skilled in that kind of thing, and he had
no experience whatever. So he was easilj' captured.
Langfred. You don't mean .^
BoRGNY. She wished no longer to cure his wife. Instead
she wished to get her out of the way. She wanted to take
her place.
Langfred. But the sick woman herself ?
BoRGNY. Understood everything — oh, at once! She was
a very spiritual, very sensitive nature.
Langfred. And didn't tell.^
BoRGNY. I wouldn't have done that either. — Soon she
became incapable of doing so.
Langfred. In what way.'
BoRGNY. The other one was taking her strength away
from her. Inch by inch! By means of her will, her eyes,
her music — yes, she turned even the music against her.
Langfred. [Rwing] Well, I never
Borgny. The poor invalid had long been giving her full
confidence to one of the doctors, but he was away at the
time. When he returned at last, she was too far gone to
speak. But she wrote to him — a line now and a line then —
and asked him to let her die.
Langfred. [Gently] And she did die.'
Borgny answers icith a nod.
Langfred. To be so utterly heartless! To employ music
like that! [He takes a turn up and down the floor] You
shouldn't have told me this. I am the sort of fellow who
never gets rid of a thing like that.
Borgny. [Rising and speaking very calmly] Well, you
shouldn't get rid of it.
Langfred comes to a stop.
Borgny. W^hy, here you have your Undine!
Langfred. Undine.' Like that.'
272 LABOREMUS act m
BoRGXY. As dark and as passionate — taking her colouring
from her own element.
Langfred. So she does in my work, too. You needn't
doubt that. But she isn't as cold as that!
BoRGNY. The wave is cold.
Langfred. But she loves. And she wants to rise.
BoRGNY. Yes. But whatever stands in her way she kills.
Langfred. [In a flash of comprehension] Of course! — In
other words: he must be married.'*
BoRGNY. Yes.
Langfred. The man whom Undine loves must be mar-
ried — ? Undine — one morning Undine sees them together
on the shore. That's it ! She sees them folded in each other's
arms. Then she makes up her mind to kill — at once! — Good
gracious !
Borgny. She begins to flatter her, and tempt her.
Langfred. She pulls and pulls — they struggle — the dark
voice and the white one. And then choruses of spirits —
those of the sea, and those of the world above it. What
colours!
Borgny. But after that he must refuse to have anything
to do with her.
Langfred. That's a foregone conclusion. Of course!
Undine has violated laws that are unknown to her. She
has closed to herself the world into which she wanted to rise.
And cannot understand it.
Borgny. So, I suppose, she is forced back into the sea.^
Langfred. Back into the sea — Now the whole thing
grows bigger, and those two incompatible elements [As if
speaJciny to hinisclf] — I must tell her about this at once.
Borgny. Yes, I hear you are collaborating with somebody.
Langfred. Oh, no, I don't. I always work alone. But
there is a person I consult with — a prominent woman i)ianist.
ACT III LABOREMUS 273
[Those words, as he speaks them, seem to give him pause] I
want to tell her about it. — [With a sudden change of tone]
And you are only seventeen?
BoRGNY. I am older than that — seventeen years and three
months.
Langfred. That's what I thought — that you must be older.
BoRGNY. I should like to say one thing more.
Langfred. Why only one.^
BoRGNY. Because it's all I have to say. — He — I mean the
man whom Undine loves — must be a dreamer.
Langfred. That's what I have him — a nature-lover,
BoRGNY. A poet, for instance — or a musician.
Langfred. Why.?*
BoRGNY. Because such people are more easily capturedl
Langfred. And you are only seventeen years and three
months old.''
BoRGNY. And five days!
Langfred. Oh, yes, that's what I thought: seventeen years
and three months would not have been enough. — And you
have absolutely nothing more to say.^
BoRGNY. Only a wish on your behalf: that the air may be
clean where you are to work. — Good-bye!
Langfred. A very modest wish!
BoRGNY. What more can you expect of one whose age is
only seventeen years, three months, and five days?
[She drops him a curtsey.
Langfred. [Simultaneously] And five days! — I should like
to know whether there are not a few hours to be added?
Borgny. I'll go to my room and figure it out. Will you
let me come back when I have done that?
Langfred. Why, certainly!
Borgny. Then, perhaps, I might hear at the same time
274 LABOREMUS act hi
what your lady has to say about tlic changes. You will tell
her the story, won't you?
Langfred. Oh, what a (juestion! — Is there really nothing
more, then?
BORGNY. No, thank you! Tliis'will do.
[She curttieys again.
Langfred. But we'll see each other again!
He accompanies her to the door; when she has left and he
turns around, hisjace is beaming with pleamire.
A knock is heard at the door in the hack.
Bellboy. [Entering] Madame Wisby asks if you are ready
to go shopping with her.
Langfred. Ask Madame ^Yisby if I can see her. Tell her
I want to speak to her.
Bellboy. Madame Wisby is outside, sir.
He opens the door, which has stood ajar until then, and
Lydia becomes visible. She wears a very elegant street
dress and is just pulling on her gloves.
The Bellboy leaves.
Lydia. [Entering] What is the trouble? Dr. Kann?
Langfred. [As he goes to the door and closes ii] No, no, no!
Something entirely different, indeed! [Coming back to Iter]
It's about Undine. She has become more of a natural force.
All the sentimentality is gone. She has become terrific —
something huge!
Lydia. A new subject?
Langfred. No, the old one, but expanded. The man
whom Undine has fallen in love with — he who is to lift lier
up — he has a wife.
Lydia. Is he to be married?
Langfred. Wait now! This is ever so much better. Just
wait! — Undine sees them tt)getluT on the shore.
ACT III LABOREMUS 275
Lydia. Him and his wife?
Langfred. Him and his wife. She sees the wife caressing
him. She sees him embracing her. She sees them walking
away with their arms around each other. You can imagine
her rage, can't you.'
Lydia. But this is something ■
Langfred. No, wait now! Then begins the real story.
Undine — she wants to have her own way, you know —
wants it passionately! Undine can bear no resistance.
All her host surrounds her. Next time the wife appears on
the shore, siren songs rise from everywhere. Songs that
tempt and pull. And out of those waves of melody rises
Undine herself. A dark, rich voicq, — you can hear it, can't
you.-^ It proclaims nature — proclaims health for the wife, who
is sickly and languid. Health is to pour in upon her from
the sea. "Come," chants the chorus from every side — tempt-
ingly, oh, so temptingly. "Come," sings Undine, "and the
sight of you shall once more please your husband: in my
arms there is health waiting for you."
Lydia. She kills the wi
[She checks herself in the midst of a word.
Langfred. You are struck by that, are you not.'' That
idea is one that opens new vistas. Of course, she doesn't
realise what she is doing: she is Undine. And then he
appears, just as it is happening. P'irst he shows despair, then
disgust, and then hatred. And Undine is horror-stricken.
For it is something she cannot understand. — Then the
choruses — the tremendous choruses — now they swell out.
The chorus that represents Undine, that champions her
cause and strives to carry her upward. And the chorus stand-
ing for the moral world — how it is gathering force. It comes
on like a storm. It overthrows her, and all that is hers,
amidst thunders and terrors. — Back into the sea with her!
276 LABOREMUS act m
[After a pause, in a subdued tone] I feel as if I couMn't wait to
begin !
Lydia. Where have you got hold of that idea? You
haven't read it?
Langfred. No — a story I heard a few minutes ago — it
came out of that. An actual happening. Something dread-
ful.
Lydia. A story ?
Langfred. A story about a sick wife who was highly
musical. They thought she might be cured by music. A
wonderful idea, don't you think? And so they sent for a
renowned woman pianist, who was to play for her — who was
daily to pour out this draught of strength. And so she did
with remarkable effect. The strength of the sick woman be-
gan to increase. It seemed to be nourished by the music —
like a plant taken from the cellar and given light and air.
Lydia. Wasn't that splendid?
Langfred. Splendid? You call it splendid? Do you
know what she did?
Lydia. The pianist?
Langfred. She killed that woman !— Just think: to have
the power of restoring health by music, and to use it for the
purpose of killing! She turned it in the wrong direction.
She took away the husband. She took the life of her who was
lying helpless. She took it by means of a thousand and one
secret arts.
Lydia. Who— who has told you that? Dr. Kann?
Langfred. Uncle? He hasn't said a word. Not a thing!
My uncle seems to have become a fixed idea with you! —
But can't you imagine the possibilities of orchestration
around this new, white voice? The outcry of helplessness
— the white lamentation of innocence. Then the cold cruelty
of nature by which it perishes — the dark voice, you know.
ACT in
LABOREMUS 277
Lydia. But it cannot possibly have happened that way.
Langfred. What do you mean? What are j'ou talking of?
Lydia. She — the woman who was killed, as they say
Langfred. The sick woman — ? What makes you think —
How did it happen?
Lydia. How can I tell? How can anybody' know such a
thing? Can't you see that they have been fooling you?
Langfred. No — Who the devil would have an interest
in doing that?
Lydia. That anaemic woman whom they want to drag into
your opera — what has she to do there? In the realm of
natural forces? She— that sickly thing! She is to bring in a
"white" colouring, you say? Colourless — that's what it will
be. Moonshiny — just moonlight!
Langfred. You take sides against her?
Lydia. With a man placed between those two — on one side
that woman who can neither live nor die — on the other side
one who is both whole and strong — do you want me to take
sides with the sick one?
Langfred. But, Lydia !
Lydia. You want to force me to do so? To sympathise
with her who could no longer be a wife — and who had prob-
ably not been so for many years!
Langfred. How do you know?
Lydia. Why, you said so!
Langfred. Did I?
Lydia. Or else it became clear to me while you were telling
the story. It's a foregone conclusion.
Langfred. There is just one thing you forget: that other
woman — the pianist — had come to the place to cure — to bring
health to the poor sick woman through her music.
Lydia. And while she was doing so the husband became
attracted to her. That's easy to understand, I should say.
278 LABOREMUS act m
Langfred. [Shows that he is controlling himself with diffi-
culty; at laM he manages to sai/] But when she noticed that ?
Lydia. Well, what then? I don't know what happened —
but I imagine that she stood up for her right.
Langfred. Her right.^ Do you mean the right of a beast
of prey.^
Lydia. Why isn't it possible to talk of this — of this thing
that concerns neither you nor me — to talk ?
Langfred. Calmly of it? Well, if you have the stomach
to do so, go ahead! [Silence.
Lydia. You love only those who are fortunate, Langfred.
Those whose powers are properly adjusted — so that they fit in
everywhere.
Langfred. Is that so? Was that the reason why L'n-
dine became my first love — because her powers were properly
adjusted?
Lydia. No, I shouldn't say that exactly.
Langfred. Nor do I think you could say so — But, of
course, all this is on the side. We were talking of the opera.
You object to this change?
Lydia. Object to it? That isn't strong enough: I hate it!
All this sentimental stuff and nonsense!
Langfred. Sentimental? This!
Lydia. W'hat it comes to is a struggle between love and
morality. Just as if we didn't liave enough of that anyhow!
Langfred. I am not a philosopher
Lydia. Nor am I!
Langfred. But nevertheless I can see that in this way
Undine is brought face to face with what humanity has gained.
If she could grasp that — it would mean that she, too, had
a soul.
Lydia. What was it she should grasp?
Langfred. 'riial Iuimkui life is based on higher laws.
ACTin LABOREMUS 279
These she violates, and is repulsed. Can't you hear the
swarming deeps gathering around her in uncomprehending
onslaught? Hordes! And then the replies — the radiant
replies from above — like a shower of lances burning with the
light of victory ! And the thunder!
Lydia. That's getting too grand for me. What I could
understand was her lack — what she suffered because of her
environment — her longing to ascend toward what she could
never attain — her craving after a higher form of life — her be-
lief that she might reach it by making the soul of a man her
own— and that through him she might win a share of life.
[She is deeply moved.
Langfred. It is there! And will always be! All of it!
Lydia. Only that she may be betrayed! Only that she
may be cast back into that out of which she strove to rise !
- Langfred. Yes, because she tried to rise by means of a
crime. Because she offended against the order of that higher
world into which she wanted to rise. It cannot be done
in such a way. That's the new element that has been added.
Lydia. Crime—? I cannot see anything criminal in
Undine. The tale of Undine stands for the yearning of all
nature — for the vast love of what lies above — for that which
saves, no matter what may happen.
Langfred. The sky reflected in the mirror of the sea —
that's a dream only. A dream cannot save anybody.
Lydia. Yes, if it is met by another dream of equal power!
By a love so great that it can raise the blackest sinner up to
itself. That it can take her m its arms and whisper: "By
me you shall be cleansed! My eyes alone will do it — so full
of kindness toward you they are. All that against which you
have wounded yourself before shall now melt away. Noth-
ing, nothing whatever shall be able to resist my hands when
they are held out toward you. I shall carry you to where
280 LABOREMUS act in
the angels dwell. Even for that my love is strong enough.
Yes, should it be demanded— should no other way be open
to us— then I would die the death of atonement with you—
holding you in my arms — and then they would have to let
us pass."
Langfred. That is something I have read about.
Lydia. It is the great love! That was what I wanted you
to create in your work. It was in that love we met. [With
despair in her voice] Why don't you remain faithful to it,
Langfred?
Langfred. Because that story has been shattered for me —
into a hundred thousand fragments.
Lydia. In what way.^
Langfred. Oh, that glittering disc of the sea, that blind
natural force — Undine wanting to reach heaven — when you
try to take hold of it in earnest, you can't do it. For then
you find your way barred by everything man has achieved,
by everything he feels and knows to-day.
Lydia. [With grief] You cannot ?
Langfred. Nobody can: the distance is too enormous.
Not a single change would suffice — but a hundred thousand
changes in the course of millions of years — if such a creature
is to reach heaven! There is no stroke of the bow that would
tell such a tale. It is more than a modern imagination can
accept.
Lydia. [Hopelessly] Then you have abandoned Undine
Langfred. That was not Undine. No, the one who kills
mercilessly in order to have her way — that's the true Undine.
Then you get the proper distance.
Lydia. [.4* before] You won't, then? You won't, then!
Langfred. Bear in mind what life is. All imaginative
creation is nothing, after all, but an enlargement or a fore-
shortening of life. For life is the only thing we know.
ACT in LABOREMUS 281
Lydia. As if life didn't hold thousands who have done
worse things to get up! — Oh, Langfred, Langfred!
Langfred. But they don't get up!
Lydia. And you dare to tell me that?
Langfred. Not to heaven! Not to what heaven stands
for in our minds! — Think again!
Lydia. But that hysterical skeleton which is clawing at
real, living life with her dry bones — she belongs to heaven,
you think.'* That gasping thing that poisons existence with
her breath — that creature of consumptive passion — is she
going to heaven.'* Are the forces of life and nature's own
power to be driven out by her.^ I hate her! And — I could
hate you, too — indeed, I could — when you run astray like
that and get yourself slavered over with all sorts of senti-
mentality. It's a treachery! Don't look at me like that!
I could — I could
Langfred remains 'perfectly calm.
Lydia. Now you are thinking: "Is that you.''"
Langfred. [Quietly] Yes.
Lydia. No, Langfred, this is not I! It is only my despair!
If you could understand — this inane talk of mine must make
you understand — how dear our dream has been to me! And
what might not have become of it, if we two had been allowed
to work together — I don't mean together — but if I had only
been allowed to watch you ! Forgive me what I have been
saying. All I want, don't you know, is to keep my hold —
to cling to the fact that Undine's limitless love springs out
of eternity and makes for eternity? Why should her faith
be disappointed, Langfred? — Oh, you must save her, Lang-
fred — also for my sake, in a way!
Langfred. Do you really want us to talk it over?
Lydia. Yes.
282 LABOREMUS act in
Langfred. For, of course, wc can hardly be said to have
done so — can we?
Lydia. No! I hope you'll forgive!
Langfred. And sui)pose we sit down?
Lydia. Yes. [She ?> about to sit dowti.
Langfred. [Pointing] Over there, if you please.
Lydia. Just as you say !
Sfie seats herself on the chair he occupied xchile talking to
BoRGNY, and he takes the chair on which Borgny was
sitting.
Langfred. Everything has become so clear to me. Listen
now. What Undine seeks is peace from all her longings,
isn't it?
Lydia. Yes, indeed!
Langfred. But one thing is certain: that if she takes his
peace — then he has none left to give her.
Lydia. But love?
Langfred. It is the same thing over again. He cannot
take into his arms what would freeze him.
Lydia. Do you think she is cold?
Langfred. I am thinking of that warmth which has grad-
ually become a part of human life. She has nothing of that.
It doesn't include her. He and she belong to different worlds.
Thousands of years lie between them.
Lydia. She doesn't feel in the same way as he — is that what
you mean?
Langfred. She cannot feel as he does.
Lydia. Not entirely, perhaps — what does it matter?
Langfred. Imagine a man with a mission to fulfil. And
then, by his side, one who tries to stop him.
Lydia. Why should she trj' to stop him?
Langfred. It is as if our mind were driving four-in-hand —
and our imagination takes the place of the leaik-rs. It is in
ACT in LABOREMUS 283
our imagination everything comes into existence — long before
— long before we begin in earnest to analyse, to concentrate,
to mould into shape. But just there — in our imagination —
with the leaders — that's where everything is at stake. [He
speaks as if lost in reflection] There — they must
Lydia. [Tensely, yet timidly] There — what about it?
Langfred. [Decisively] Nothing must stop them; nothing
must lead them astray — Our imagination must have pure
air to breathe. The air in everj^ room must be pure.
Lydia. We were talking about the feelings.
Langfred. [As before] And there must be peace — which is
impossible when two people feel difTerently. [Rising] Those
wrathful choruses of spirits from above — those should surpass
anything I have ever done before!
Lydia. [Rising] Surpass.^ That stuff? — When you dis-
tort a great classical theme by psychological pettifogging —
when you try to modernise a venerable marble column, after
fishing it out of the river where it has been scoured by sand
and water for many thousand years — you'll never become
great by surrendering to that kind of thing!
Langfred. And still less by not being true to my own feel-
ings.
Lydia. [In a rage] Oh, that Christian rant — ! Is there
anybody — ■? Is anybody listening at that door?
She goes quickly to the door at the left, opens it, and falls
back with a heart-rending cry.
Borgny enters.
Lydia. That woman again! [Going straight up to Borgny]
Who are you?
Borgny. My mother's daughter.
Langfred. What ?
Lydia loses all her strength. She walks slowly toward
!284 LABOREMUS act m
the door in the rear. At the door she turns around and
gives a long look to Langfred. Then she leaves.
Dr. Kann. [lias entered in the mean time; now he puts his
hand on Langfked's shoulder] Now you'll put all that be-
hind you!
Langfred. But that cry, uncle — that heart-rending cry!
Dr. Kann. Will pursue you for a long time — until it turns
to music.
Langfred, deeply stirred, is about to reply, when he
notices Borgny and checks himself.
BoRGNY. [Embarrassed] I can go to father now.'
Dr. Kann. Oh, you must. I'll stay here.
IVhen Borgny has left, Langfred rushes into his uncle's
arms.
Dr. Kann. You'll he able to work now.
Langfred. Not at once. Oh, not for a long time!
Dr. Kann. Perhaps not — but all the better when the time
comes.
Curtain.
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