Chapter IV: Introduction (4)

STUDENT. Is he in his right mind?

JOHANSSON. Who can tell?--All his life he has been looking for one born on Sunday, he says--which does not mean that it must be true....

STUDENT. What is he after? Is he a miser?

JOHANSSON. He wants to rule.... The whole day long he travels about in his chair like the god of thunder himself He looks at houses, tears them down, opens up new streets, fills the squares with buildings.... At the same time he breaks into houses, sneaks through open windows, plays havoc with human destinies, kills his enemies, and refuses to forgive anything.... Can you imagine that a cripple like him has been a Don Juan--but one who has always lost the women he loved?

STUDENT. How can you make those things go together?

JOHANSSON. He is so full of guile that he can make the women leave him when he is tired of them.... Just now he is like a horse thief practising at a slave-market.... He steals human beings, and in all sorts of ways.... He has literally stolen me out of the hands of the law.... Hm.... yes.... I had been guilty of a slip. And no one but he knew of it. Instead of putting me in jail, he made a slave of me. All I get for my slavery is the food I eat, which might be better at that....

STUDENT. And what does he wish to do in this house here?

JOHANSSON. No, I don't want to tell! It's too complicated....

STUDENT. I think I'll run away from the whole story....

_The_ YOUNG LADY _drops a bracelet out of the window so that it
falls on the sidewalk_.

JOHANSSON. Did you see the Young Lady drop her bracelet out of the window?

_Without haste, the_ STUDENT _picks up the bracelet and hands
it to the_ YOUNG LADY, _who thanks him rather stiffly; then he
returns to_ JOHANSSON.

JOHANSSON. So you want to run away? That is more easily said than done when _he_ has got you in his net.... And he fears nothing between heaven and earth except one thing or one person rather....

STUDENT. Wait--I think I know!

JOHANSSON. How could you?

STUDENT. I can guess! Is it not--a little milkmaid that he fears?

JOHANSSON. He turns his head away whenever he meets a milk wagon.... And at times he talks in his sleep.... He must have been in Hamburg at one time, I think....

STUDENT. Is this man to be trusted?

JOHANSSON. You may trust him--to do anything!

STUDENT. What is he doing around the corner now?

JOHANSSON. Watching the poor dropping a word here and a word there.... loosening a stone at a time ... until the whole house comes tumbling down, metaphorically speaking.... You see, I am an educated man, and I used to be a book dealer.... Are you going now?

STUDENT. I find it hard to be ungrateful.... Once upon a time he saved my father, and now he asks a small service in return....

JOHANSSON. What is it?

STUDENT. To go and see "The Valkyr"....

JOHANSSON. That's beyond me.... But he is always up to new tricks.... Look at him now, talking to the police-man! He is always thick with the police. He uses them. He snares them in their own interests. He ties their hands by arousing their expectations with false promises--while all the time he is pumping them.... You'll see that he is received in the Round Room before the day is over!

STUDENT. What does he want there? What has he to do with the Colonel?

JOHANSSON. I think I can guess, but know nothing with certainty. But you'll see for yourself when you get there!

STUDENT. I'll never get there.

JOHANSSON. That depends on yourself!--Go to "The Valkyr."

STUDENT. Is that the road?

JOHANSSON. Yes, if he has said so--Look at him there--look at him in his war chariot, drawn in triumph by the Beggars, who get nothing for their pains but a hint of a great treat to be had at his funeral.

OLD HUMMEL _appears standing in his invalid's chair, which is
drawn by one of the_ BEGGARS, _and followed by the rest_.

HUMMEL. Give honour to the noble youth who, at the risk of his own, saved so many lives in yesterday's accident! Three cheers for Arkenholtz!

_The_ BEGGARS _bare their heads, but do not cheer. The_ YOUNG
LADY _appears at her window, waving her handkerchief. The_
COLONEL _gazes at the scene from a window in the Round Room.
The_ FIANCÉE _rises at her window. The_ MAID _appears on the
balcony and hoists the flag to the top_.

HUMMEL. Applaud, citizens! It is Sunday, of course, but the ass in the pit and the ear in the field will absolve us. Although I was not born on a Sunday, I have the gift of prophecy and of healing, and on one occasion I brought a drowned person back to life.... That happened in Hamburg on a Sunday morning just like this....

_The_ MILKMAID _enters, seen only by the_ STUDENT _and_ HUMMEL.
_She raises her arms with the movement of a drowning person,
while gazing fixedly at_ HUMMEL.

HUMMEL. [_Sits down; then he crumbles in a heap, stricken with horror_] Get me out of here, Johansson! Quick!--Arkenholtz, don't forget "The Valkyr!"

STUDENT. What is the meaning of all this?

JOHANSSON. We'll see! We'll see!

_Curtain_.

SECOND SCENE

_In the Round Room. An oven of white, glazed bricks occupies
the centre of the background. The mantelpiece is covered by a
large mirror. An ornamental clock and candelabra stand on the
mantelshelf_.

_At the right of the mantelpiece is a door leading into a
hallway, back of which may be seen a room papered in green,
with mahogany furniture. The_ COLONEL _is seated at a
writing-desk, so that only his back is visible to the public_.

_The statue stands at the left, surrounded by palms and with
draperies arranged so that it can be hidden entirely_.

_A door at the left of the mantelpiece opens on the Hyacinth
Room, where the_ YOUNG LADY _is seen reading a book_.

BENGTSSON, _the valet, enters from the hallway, dressed in
livery. He is followed by_ JOHANSSON _in evening dress with
white tie_.

BENGTSSON. Now you'll have to do the waiting, Johansson, while I take the overclothes. Do you know how to do it?

JOHANSSON. Although I am pushing a war chariot in the daytime, as you know, I wait in private houses at night, and I have always dreamt of getting into this place.... Queer sort of people, hm?

BENGTSSON. Yes, a little out of the ordinary, one might say.

JOHANSSON. Is it a musicale, or what is it?

BENGTSSON. The usual spook supper, as we call it. They drink tea and don't say a word, or else the Colonel does all the talking. And then they munch their biscuits, all at the same time, so that it sounds like the gnawing of a lot of rats in an attic.

JOHANSSON. Why do you call it a spook supper?

BENGTSSON. Because they look like spooks.... And they have kept this up for twenty years--always the same people, saying the same things or keeping silent entirely, lest they be put to shame.

JOHANSSON. Is there not a lady in the house, too?

BENGTSSON. Yes, but she is a little cracked. She sits all the time in a closet, because her eyes can't bear the light. [_He points at a papered door_] She is in there now.

JOHANSSON. In there, you say?

BENGTSSON. I told you they were a little out of the ordinary....

JOHANSSON. How does she look?

BENGTSSON. Like a mummy.... Would you care to look at her? [_He opens the papered door_] There she is now!

JOHANSSON. Mercy!

MUMMY. [_Talking baby talk_] Why does he open the door? Haven't I told him to keep it closed?

BENGTSSON. [_In the same way_] Ta-ta-ta-ta! Polly must be nice now. Then she'll get something good. Pretty polly!

MUMMY. [_Imitating a parrot_] Pretty polly! Are you there, Jacob? Currrrr!

BENGTSSON. She thinks herself a parrot, and maybe she's right [_To the_ MUMMY] Whistle for us, Polly.

_The_ MUMMY _whistles_.

JOHANSSON. Much I have seen, but never the like of it!

BENGTSSON. Well, you see, a house gets mouldy when it grows old, and when people are too much together, tormenting each other all the time, they lose their reason. The lady of this house.... Shut up, Polly!... That mummy has been living here forty years--with the same husband, the same furniture, the same relatives, the same friends.... [_He closes the papered door_] And the happenings this house has witnessed! Well, it's beyond me.... Look at that statue. That's the selfsame lady in her youth.

JOHANSSON. Good Lord! Can that be the Mummy?

BENGTSSON. Yes, it's enough to make you weep!--And somehow, carried away by her own imagination, perhaps, she has developed some of the traits of the talkative parrot.... She can't stand cripples or sick people, for instance.... She can't bear the sight of her own daughter, because she is sick....

JOHANSSON. Is the Young Lady sick?

BENGTSSON. Don't you know that?

JOHANSSON. No.--And the Colonel--who is he?

BENGTSSON. That remains to be seen!

JOHANSSON. [_Looking at the statue_] It's horrible to think that.... How old is she now?

BENGTSSON. Nobody knows. But at thirty-five she is said to have looked like nineteen, and that's the age she gave to the Colonel.... In this house.... Do you know what that Japanese screen by the couch is used for? They call it the Death Screen, and it is placed in front of the bed when somebody is dying, just as they do in hospitals....

JOHANSSON. This must be an awful house! And the Student was longing for it as for paradise....

BENGTSSON. What student? Oh, I know! The young chap who is coming here to-night.... The Colonel and the Young Lady met him at the opera and took a great fancy to him at once.... Hm!... But now it's my turn to ask questions. Who's your master? The man in the invalid's chair?...

JOHANSSON. Well, well! Is he coming here, too?

BENGTSSON. He has not been invited.

JOHANSSON. He'll come without invitation--if necessary.

OLD HUMMEL _appears in the hallway, dressed in frock coat and
high hat. He uses crutches, but moves without a noise, so that
he is able to listen to the two servants._

BENGTSSON. He's a sly old guy, isn't he?

JOHANSSON. Yes, he's a good one!

BENGTSSON. He looks like the very devil.

JOHANSSON. He's a regular wizard, I think because he can pass through locked doors....

HUMMEL. [_Comes forward and pinches the ear of_ JOHANSSON] Look out, you scoundrel! [_To_ BENGTSSON] Tell the Colonel I am here.

BENGTSSON. We expect company....

HUMMEL. I know, but my visit is as good as expected, too, although not exactly desired, perhaps....

BENGTSSON. I see! What's the name? Mr. Hummel?

HUMMEL. That's right.

BENGTSSON _crosses the hallway to the Green Room, the door of
which he closes behind him_.

HUMMEL. [_To_ JOHANSSON] Vanish!

JOHANSSON _hesitates_.

HUMMEL. Vanish, I say!

JOHANSSON _disappears through the hallway_.

HUMMEL. [_Looking around and finally stopping in front of the statue, evidently much surprised_] Amelia!--It is she!--She!

_He takes another turn about the room, picking up various
objects to look at them; then he stops in front of the mirror
to arrange his wig; finally he returns to the statue_.

MUMMY. [_In the closet_] Prrretty Polly!

HUMMEL. [_Startled_] What was that? Is there a parrot in the room? I don't see it!

MUMMY. Are you there, Jacob?

HUMMEL. The place is haunted!

MUMMY. Jacob!

HUMMEL. Now I am scared!... So that's the kind of secrets they have been keeping in this house! [_He stops in front of a picture with his back turned to the closet_] And that's he.... He!

MUMMY. [_Comes out of the closet and pulls the wig of_ HUMMEL] Currrrr! Is that Currrrr?

HUMMEL. [_Almost lifted off his feet by fright_] Good Lord in heaven!... Who are you?

MUMMY. [_Speaking in a normal voice_] Is that you, Jacob?

HUMMEL. Yes, my name is Jacob....

MUMMY. [_Deeply moved_] And my name is Amelia!

HUMMEL. Oh, no, no, no!--Merciful heavens!...

MUMMY. How I look! That's right!--And _have_ looked like that! [_Pointing to the statue_] Life is a pleasant thing, is it not?... I live mostly in the closet, both in order to see nothing and not to be seen.... But, Jacob, what do you want here?

HUMMEL. My child our child....

MUMMY. There she sits.

HUMMEL. Where?

MUMMY. There--in the Hyacinth Room.

HUMMEL. [_Looking at the_ YOUNG LADY] Yes, that is she! [_Pause_] And what does her father say.... I mean the Colonel.... your husband?

MUMMY. Once, when I was angry with him, I told him everything....

HUMMEL. And?...

MUMMY. He didn't believe me. All he said was: "That's what all women say when they wish to kill their husbands."--It is a dreadful crime, nevertheless. His whole life has been turned into a lie--his family tree, too. Sometimes I take a look in the peerage, and then I say to myself: "Here she is going about with a false birth certificate, just like any runaway servant-girl, and for such things people are sent to the reformatory."

HUMMEL. Well, it's quite common. I think I recall a certain incorrectness in regard to the date of your own birth.

MUMMY. It was my mother who started that.... I was not to blame for it.... And it was you, after all, who had the greater share in our guilt....

HUMMEL. No, what wrong we did was provoked by your husband when he took my fiancée away from me! I was born a man who cannot forgive until he has punished. To punish has always seemed an imperative duty to me--and so it seems still!

MUMMY. What are you looking for in this house? What do you want? How did you get in?--Does it concern my daughter? If you touch her, you must die!

HUMMEL. I mean well by her!

MUMMY. And you have to spare her father!

HUMMEL. No!

MUMMY. Then you must die ... in this very room ... back of that screen....

HUMMEL. Perhaps.... but I can't let go when I have got my teeth in a thing....

MUMMY. You wish to marry her to the Student? Why? He is nothing and has nothing.

HUMMEL. He will be rich, thanks to me.

MUMMY. Have you been invited for to-night?

HUMMEL. No, but I intend to get an invitation for your spook supper.

MUMMY. Do you know who will be here?

HUMMEL. Not quite.

MUMMY. The Baron--he who lives above us, and whose father-in-law was buried this afternoon....

HUMMEL. The man who is getting a divorce to marry the daughter of the Janitress.... The man who used to be--your lover!

MUMMY. Another guest will be your former fiancée, who was seduced by my husband....

HUMMEL. Very select company!

MUMMY. If the Lord would let us die! Oh, that we might only die!

HUMMEL. But why do you continue to associate?

MUMMY. Crime and guilt and secrets bind us together, don't you know? Our ties have snapped so that we have slipped apart innumerable times, but we are always drawn together again....

HUMMEL. I think the Colonel is coming.

MUMMY. I'll go in to Adèle, then.... [_Pause_] Consider what you do, Jacob! Spare him....

[_Pause; then she goes out_.

COLONEL. [_Enters, haughty and reserved_] Won't you be seated, please?

HUMMEL _seats himself with great deliberation; pause_.

COLONEL. [_Staring at his visitor_] You wrote this letter, sir?

HUMMEL. I did.

COLONEL. Your name is Hummel?

HUMMEL. It is. [_Pause_.

COLONEL. As I learn that you have bought up all my unpaid and overdue notes, I conclude that I am at your mercy. What do you want?

HUMMEL. Payment--in one way or another.

COLONEL. In what way?

HUMMEL. A very simple one. Let us not talk of the money. All you have to do is to admit me as a guest....

COLONEL. If a little thing like that will satisfy you....

HUMMEL. I thank you.

COLONEL. Anything more?

HUMMEL. Discharge Bengtsson.

COLONEL. Why should I do so? My devoted servant, who has been with me a lifetime, and who has the medal for long and faithful service.... Why should I discharge him?

HUMMEL. Those wonderful merits exist only in your imagination. He is not the man he seems to be.

COLONEL. _Who is_?

HUMMEL. [_Taken back_] True!--But Bengtsson must go!

COLONEL. Do you mean to order my household?

HUMMEL. I do ... as everything visible here belongs to me ... furniture, draperies, dinner ware, linen and other things!

COLONEL. What other things?

HUMMEL. Everything! All that is to be seen is mine! I own it!

COLONEL. Granted! But for all that, my coat of arms and my unspotted name belong to myself.

HUMMEL. No--not even that much! [_Pause_] You are not a nobleman!

COLONEL. Take care!

HUMMEL. [_Producing a document_] If you'll read this extract from the armorial, you will see that the family whose name you are using has been extinct for a century.

COLONEL. [_Reading the document_] I have heard rumours to that effect, but the name was my father's before it was mine.... [_Reading again_] That's right! Yes, you are right--I am not a nobleman! Not even that!--Then I may as well take off my signet-ring.... Oh, I remember now.... It belongs to you.... If you please!

HUMMEL. [_Accepting the ring and putting it into his pocket_] We had better continue. You are no colonel, either.

COLONEL. Am I not?

HUMMEL. No, you have simply held the title of colonel in the American volunteer service by special appointment. After the war in Cuba and the reorganisation of the army, all titles of that kind were abolished....

COLONEL. Is that true?

HUMMEL. [_With a gesture toward his pocket_] Do you wish to see for yourself?

COLONEL. No, it won't be necessary.--Who are you, anyhow, and with what right are you stripping me naked in this fashion?

HUMMEL. You'll see by and by. As to stripping you naked--do you know who you are in reality?

COLONEL. How dare you?

HUMMEL. Take off that wig, and have a look at yourself in the mirror. Take out that set of false teeth and shave off your moustache, too. Let Bengtsson remove the iron stays--and perhaps a certain X Y Z, a lackey, may begin to recognise himself--the man who used to visit the maid's chamber in a certain house for a bite of something good....

_The_ COLONEL _makes a movement toward a table on which stands
a bell, but is checked by_ HUMMEL.

HUMMEL. Don't touch that bell, and don't call Bengtsson! If you do, I'll have him arrested.... Now the guests are beginning to arrive.... Keep your composure, and let us continue to play our old parts for a while.

COLONEL. Who are you? Your eyes and your voice remind me of somebody....

HUMMEL. Don't try to find out! Keep silent and obey!

STUDENT. [_Enters and bows to the_ COLONEL] Colonel!

COLONEL. I bid you welcome to my house, young man. Your splendid behaviour in connection with that great disaster has brought your name to everybody's lips, and I count it an honour to receive you here....

STUDENT. Being a man of humble birth, Colonel and considering your name and position....

COLONEL. May I introduce?--Mr. Arkenholtz--Mr. Hummel. The ladies are in there, Mr. Arkenholtz--if you please--I have a few more things to talk over with Mr. Hummel....

_Guided by the_ COLONEL, _the_ STUDENT _goes into the Hyacinth
Room, where he remains visible, standing beside the_ YOUNG LADY
_and talking very timidly to her_.

COLONEL. A splendid young chap--very musical--sings, and writes poetry.... If he were only a nobleman--if he belonged to our class, I don't think I should object....

HUMMEL. To what?

COLONEL. Oh, my daughter....

HUMMEL. _Your_ daughter, you say?--But apropos of that, why is she always sitting in that room?

COLONEL. She has to spend all her time in the Hyacinth Room when she is not out. That is a peculiarity of hers.... Here comes Miss Betty von Holstein-Kron--a charming woman--a Secular Canoness, with just enough money of her own to suit her birth and position....

Hummel. [_To__himself_] My fiancée!

_The_ FIANCÉE _enters. She is white-haired, and her looks
indicate a slightly unbalanced mind_.

COLONEL. Miss von Holstein-Kron--Mr. Hummel.

_The_ FIANCÉE _curtseys in old-fashioned manner and takes a
seat. The_ DANDY _enters and seats himself; he is in mourning
and has a very mysterious look._

COLONEL. Baron Skansenkorge....

HUMMEL. [_Aside, without rising_] That's the jewelry thief, I think.... [_To the_ COLONEL] If you bring in the Mummy, our gathering will be complete.

COLONEL. [_Going to the door of the Hyacinth Room_] Polly!

MUMMY. [_Enters_] Currrrr!

COLONEL. How about the young people?

HUMMEL. No, not the young people! They must be spared.

_The company is seated in a circle, no one saying a word for a
while_.

COLONEL. Shall we order the tea now?

HUMMEL. What's the use? No one cares for tea, and I can't see the need of pretending. [_Pause_.

COLONEL. Shall we make conversation?

HUMMEL. [_Speaking slowly and with frequent pauses._] Talk of the weather, which we know all about? Ask one another's state of health, which we know just as well? I prefer silence. Then thoughts become audible, and we can see the past. Silence can hide nothing--but words can. I read the other day that the differentiation of languages had its origin in the desire among savage peoples to keep their tribal secrets hidden from outsiders. This means that every language is a code, and he who finds the universal key can understand every language in the world--which does not prevent the secret from becoming revealed without any key at times, and especially when the fact of paternity is to be proved--but, of course, legal proof is a different matter. Two false witnesses suffice to prove, anything on which they agree, but you don't bring any witnesses along on the kind of expedition I have in mind. Nature herself has planted in man a sense of modesty, which tends to hide that which should be hidden. But we slip into situations unawares, and now and then a favourable chance will reveal the most cherished secret, stripping the impostor of his mask, and exposing the villain....

_Long pause during which everybody is subject to silent
scrutiny by all the rest_.

HUMMEL. How silent everybody is! [_Long silence_] Here, for instance, in this respectable house, this attractive home, where beauty and erudition and wealth have joined hands.... [_Long silence_] All of us sitting here now--we know who we are, don't we? I don't need to tell.... And all of you know me, although you pretend ignorance.... In the next room is my daughter--_mine_, as you know perfectly well. She has lost the desire to live without knowing why.... The fact is that she has been pining away in this air charged with crime and deceit and falsehood of every kind.... That is the reason why I have looked for a friend in whose company she may enjoy the light and heat radiated by noble deeds [_Long silence_] Here is my mission in this house: to tear up the weeds, to expose the crimes, to settle all accounts, so that those young people may start life with a clean slate in a home that is my gift to them. [_Long silence_] Now I grant you safe retreat. Everybody may leave in his due turn. Whoever stays will be arrested. [_Long silence_] Do you hear that clock ticking like the deathwatch hidden in a wall? Can you hear what it says?--"It's time! It's time!"--When it strikes in a few seconds, your time will be up, and then you can go, but not before. You may notice, too, that the clock shakes its fist at you before it strikes. Listen! There it is! "Better beware," it says.... And I can strike, too [_He raps the top of a table with one of his crutches_] Do you hear?

_For a while everybody remains silent_.

MUMMY. [_Goes up to the dock and stops it; then she speaks in a normal and dignified tone_] But I can stop time in its course. I can wipe out the past and undo what is done. Bribes won't do that, nor will threats--but suffering and repentance will [_She goes to_ HUMMEL] We are miserable human creatures, and we know it. We have erred and we have sinned--we, like everybody else. We are not what we seem, but at bottom we are better than ourselves because we disapprove of our own misdeeds. And when you, Jacob Hummel, with your assumed name, propose to sit in judgment on us, you merely prove yourself worse than all the rest. You are not the one you seem to be--no more than we! You are a thief of human souls! You stole mine once upon a time by means of false promises. You killed the Consul, whom they buried this afternoon--strangling him with debts. You are now trying to steal the soul of the Student with the help of an imaginary claim against his father, who never owed you a farthing....

_Having vainly tried to rise and say something_, HUMMEL _sinks
back into his chair; as the_ MUMMY _continues her speech he
seems to shrink and lose volume more and more_.

MUMMY. There is one dark spot in your life concerning which I am not certain, although I have my suspicions.... I believe Bengtsson can throw light on it.

[_She rings the table-bell_.

HUMMEL. No! Not Bengtsson! Not him!

MUMMY. So he _does_ know? [_She rings again_.

_The_ MILKMAID _appears in the hallway, but is only seen by_
HUMMEL, _who shrinks back in horror. Then_ BENGTSSON _enters,
and the_ MILKMAID _disappears_.

MUMMY. Do you know this man, Bengtsson?

BENGTSSON. Oh yes, I know him, and he knows me. Life has its ups and downs, as you know. I have been in his service, and he has been in mine. For two years he came regularly to our kitchen to be fed by our cook. Because he had to be at work at a certain hour, she made the dinner far ahead of time, and we had to be satisfied with the warmed-up leavings of that beast. He drank the soup-stock, so that we got nothing but water. Like a vampire, the sucked the house of all nourishment, until we became reduced to mere skeletons--and he nearly got us into jail when we dared to call the cook a thief. Later I met that man in Hamburg, where he had another name. Then he was a money-lender, a regular leech. While there, he was accused of having lured a young girl out on the ice in order to drown her, because she had seen him commit a crime, and he was afraid of being exposed....

MUMMY. [_Making a pass with her hand over the face of_ HUMMEL _as if removing a mask_] That's you! And now, give up the notes and the will!

JOHANSSON _appears in the hallway and watches the scene with
great interest, knowing that his slavery will now come to an
end_.

HUMMEL _produces a bundle of papers and throws them on the
table_.

MUMMY. [_Stroking the back of_ HUMMEL] Polly! Are you there, Jacob?

HUMMEL. [_Talking like a parrot_] Here is Jacob!--Pretty Polly! Currrr!

MUMMY. May the clock strike?

HUMMEL. [_With a clucking noise like that of a clock preparing to strike_] The dock may strike! [_Imitating a cuckoo-clock]_ Cuckoo, cuckoo, cuckoo....

MUMMY. [_Opening the closet door_] Now the clock has struck! Rise and enter the closet where I have spent twenty years bewailing our evil deed. There you will find a rope that may represent the one with which you strangled the Consul as well as the one with which you meant to strangle your benefactor.... Go!

HUMMEL _enters the closet_.

MUMMY. [_Closes the door after him_] Put up the screen, Bengtsson.... The Death Screen!

BENGTSSON _places the screen in front of the door._

MUMMY. It is finished! God have mercy on his soul!

ALL. Amen!

_Long silence. Then the_ YOUNG LADY _appears in the Hyacinth
Room with the_ STUDENT. _She seats herself at a harp and begins
a prelude, which changes into an accompaniment to the following
recitative_:

STUDENT. [_Singing_]

"Seeing the sun, it seemed to my fancy
That I beheld the Spirit that's hidden.
Man must for ever reap what he planted:
Happy is he who has done no evil.
Wrong that was wrought in moments of anger
Never by added wrong can be righted.
Kindness shown to the man whose sorrow
Sprang from your deed, will serve you better.
Fear and guilt have their home together:
Happy indeed is the guiltless man!"

_Curtain_.

THIRD SCENE

_A room furnished in rather bizarre fashion. The general effect
of it is Oriental. Hyacinths of different colours are scattered
everywhere. On the mantelshelf of the fireplace is seen a huge,
seated Buddha, in whose lap rests a bulb. From that bulb rises
the stalk of a shallot_ (Allium Ascalonicum), _spreading aloft
its almost globular cluster of white, starlike flowers_.

_An open door in the rear wall, toward the right-hand side,
leads to the Round Room, where the_ COLONEL _and the_ MUMMY
_are seated. They don't stir and don't utter a word. A part of
the Death Screen is also visible_.

_Another door, at the left, leads to the pantry and the
kitchen. The_ YOUNG LADY _[Adèle] and the_ STUDENT _are
discovered near a table. She is seated at her harp, and he
stands beside her_.

YOUNG LADY. Sing to my flowers.

STUDENT. Is this the flower of your soul?

YOUNG LADY. The one and only.--Are you fond of the hyacinth?

STUDENT. I love it above all other flowers. I love its virginal shape rising straight and slender out of the bulb that rests on the water and sends its pure white rootlets down into the colourless fluid. I love the colour of it, whether innocently white as snow or sweetly yellow as honey; whether youthfully pink or maturely red; but above all if blue--with the deep-eyed, faith-inspiring blue of the morning sky. I love these flowers, one and all; love them more than pearls or gold, and have loved them ever since I was a child. I have always admired them, too, because they possess every handsome quality that I lack.... And yet....

YOUNG LADY. What?

STUDENT. My love is unrequited. These beautiful blossoms hate me.

YOUNG LADY. How do you mean?

STUDENT. Their fragrance, powerful and pure as the winds of early spring, which have passed over melting snow--it seems to confuse my senses, to make me deaf and blind, to crowd me out of the room, to bombard me with poisoned arrows that hurt my heart and set my head on fire. Do you know the legend of that flower?

YOUNG LADY. Tell me about it.

STUDENT. Let us first interpret its symbolism. The bulb is the earth, resting on the water or buried in the soil. From that the stalk rises, straight as the axis of the universe. At its upper end appear the six-pointed, starlike flowers.

YOUNG LADY. Above the earth--the stars! What lofty thought! Where did you find it? How did you discover it?

STUDENT. Let me think.... In your eyes!--It is, therefore, an image of the Cosmos. And that is the reason why Buddha is holding the earth-bulb in his lap, brooding on it with a steady gaze, in order that he may behold it spread outward and upward as it becomes transformed into a heaven.... This poor earth must turn into a heaven! That is what Buddha is waiting for!

YOUNG LADY. I see now.... Are not the snow crystals six-pointed, too, like the hyacinth-lily?

STUDENT. You are right! Thus the snow crystal is a falling star....

YOUNG LADY. And the snowdrop is a star of snow--grown out of the snow.

STUDENT. But the largest and most beautiful of all the stars in the firmament, the red and yellow Sirius, is the narcissus, with its yellow-and-red cup and its six white rays....

YOUNG LADY. Have you seen the shallot bloom?

STUDENT. Indeed, I have! It hides its flowers within a ball, a globe resembling the celestial one, and strewn, like that, with white stars....

YOUNG LADY. What a tremendous thought! Whose was it?

STUDENT. Yours!

YOUNG LADY. No, yours!

STUDENT. Ours, then! We have jointly given birth to something: we are wedded....

YOUNG LADY. Not yet.

STUDENT. What more remains?

YOUNG LADY. To await the coming ordeal in patience!

STUDENT. I am ready for it. [_Pause_] Tell me! Why do your parents sit there so silently, without saying a single word?

YOUNG LADY. Because they have nothing to say to each other, and because neither one believes what the other says. This is the way my father puts it: "What is the use of talking, when you can't fool each other anyhow?"

STUDENT. That's horrible....

YOUNG LADY. Here comes the Cook.... Look! how big and fat she is!

STUDENT. What does she want?

YOUNG LADY. Ask me about the dinner.... You see, I am looking after the house during my mother's illness.

STUDENT. Have we to bother about the kitchen, too?

YOUNG LADY. We must eat.... Look at that Cook.... I can't bear the sight of her....

STUDENT. What kind of a monster is she?

Young Lady. She belongs to the Hummel family of vampires. She is eating us alive.

STUDENT. Why don't you discharge her?

YOUNG LADY. Because she won't leave. We can do nothing with her, and we have got her for the sake of our sins.... Don't you see that we are pining and wasting away?

STUDENT. Don't you get enough to eat?

YOUNG LADY. Plenty of dishes, but with all the nourishment gone from the food. She boils the life out of the beef, and drinks the stock herself, while we get nothing but fibres and water. In the same way, when we have roast, she squeezes it dry. Then she eats the gravy and drinks the juice herself. She takes the strength and savour out of everything she touches. It is as if her eyes were leeches. When she has had coffee, we get the grounds. She drinks the wine and puts water into the bottles....

STUDENT. Kick her out!

YOUNG LADY. We can't!

STUDENT. Why not?

YOUNG LADY. We don't know! But she won't leave! And nobody can do anything with her. She has taken all our strength away from us.

STUDENT. Will you let me dispose of her?

YOUNG LADY. No! It has to be as it is, I suppose.--Here she is now. She will ask me what I wish for dinner, and I tell her, and then she will make objections, and in the end she has her own way.

STUDENT. Why don't you leave it to her entirely?

YOUNG LADY. She won't let me.

STUDENT. What a strange house! It seems to be bewitched!

YOUNG LADY. It is!--Now she turned back on seeing you here.

COOK. [_Appearing suddenly in the doorway at that very moment_] Naw, that was not the reason.

[_She grins so that every tooth can be seen_.

STUDENT. Get out of here!

COOK. When it suits me! [_Pause_] Now it does suit me!

[_She disappears_.

YOUNG LADY. Don't lose your temper! You must practise patience. She is part of the ordeal we have to face in this house. We have a chambermaid, too, after whom we have to put everything back where it belongs.

STUDENT. Now I am sinking! _Cor in aethere!_ Music!

YOUNG LADY. Wait!

STUDENT. Music!

YOUNG LADY. Patience!--This is named the Room of Ordeal.... It is beautiful to look at, but is full of imperfections.

STUDENT. Incredible! Yet such things have to be borne. It is very beautiful, although a little cold. Why don't you have a fire?

YOUNG LADY. Because the smoke comes into the room.

STUDENT. Have the chimney swept!

YOUNG LADY. It doesn't help.--Do you see that writing-table?

STUDENT. Remarkably handsome!

YOUNG LADY. But one leg is too short. Every day I put a piece of cork under that leg. Every day the chambermaid takes it away when she sweeps the room. Every day I have to cut a new piece. Both my penholder and my inkstand are covered with ink every morning, and I have to clean them after that woman--as sure as the sun rises. [_Pause]_ What is the worst thing you can think of?

STUDENT. To count the wash. Ugh!

YOUNG LADY. That's what I have to do. Ugh!

STUDENT. Anything else?

YOUNG LADY. To be waked out of your sleep and have to get up and dose the window--which the chambermaid has left unlatched.

STUDENT. Anything else?

YOUNG LADY. To get up on a ladder and tie on the cord which the chambermaid has torn from the window-shade.

STUDENT. Anything else?

YOUNG LADY. To sweep after her; to dust after her; to start the fire again, after she has merely thrown some wood into the fireplace! To watch the damper in the fireplace; to wipe every glass; to set the table over again; to open the wine-bottles; to see that the rooms are aired; to make over your bed; to rinse the water-bottle that is green with sediment; to buy matches and soap, which are always lacking; to wipe the chimneys and cut the wicks in order to keep the lamps from smoking and in order to keep them from going out when we have company, I have to fill them myself....

STUDENT. Music!

YOUNG LADY. Wait! The labour comes first--the labour of keeping the filth of life at a distance.

STUDENT. But you are wealthy, and you have two servants?

YOUNG LADY. What does that help? What would it help to have three? It is troublesome to live, and at times I get tired.... Think, then, of adding a nursery!

STUDENT. The greatest of joys....

YOUNG LADY. And the costliest.... Is life really worth so much trouble?

STUDENT. It depends on the reward you expect for your labours.... To win your hand I would face anything.

YOUNG LADY. Don't talk like that. You can never get me.

STUDENT. Why?

YOUNG LADY. You mustn't ask.

[_Pause_.

STUDENT. You dropped your bracelet out of the window....

YOUNG LADY. Yes, because my hand has grown too small....

[_Pause_.

_The_ COOK _appears with a bottle of Japanese soy in her hand_.

YOUNG LADY. There is the one that eats me and all the rest alive.

STUDENT. What has she in her hand?

COOK. This is my colouring bottle that has letters on it looking like scorpions. It's the soy that turns water into bouillon, and that takes the place of gravy. You can make cabbage soup out of it, or mock-turtle soup, if you prefer.

STUDENT. Out with you!

COOK. You take the sap out of us, and we out of you. We keep the blood for ourselves and leave you the water--with the colouring. It's the colour that counts! Now I shall leave, but I stay just the same--as long as I please!

[_She goes out_.

STUDENT. Why has Bengtsson got a medal?

YOUNG LADY. On account of his great merits.

STUDENT. Has he no faults?

YOUNG LADY. Yes, great ones, but faults bring you no medals, you know.

[_Both smile_.

STUDENT. You have a lot of secrets in this house....

YOUNG LADY. As in all houses.... Permit us to keep ours! [_Pause_.

STUDENT. Do you care for frankness?

YOUNG LADY. Within reason.

STUDENT. At times I am seized with a passionate craving to say all I think.... Yet I know that the world would go to pieces if perfect frankness were the rule. [_Pause_ I attended a funeral the other day--in one of the churches--and it was very solemn and beautiful.

YOUNG LADY. That of Mr. Hummel?

STUDENT. Yes, that of my pretended benefactor. An elderly friend of the deceased acted as mace-bearer and stood at the head of the coffin. I was particularly impressed by the dignified manner and moving words of the minister. I had to cry--everybody cried.... A number of us went to a restaurant afterward, and there I learned that the man with the mace had been rather too friendly with the dead man's son....

_The_ YOUNG LADY _stares at him, trying to make out the meaning
of his words_.

STUDENT. I learned, too, that the dead man had borrowed money of his son's devoted friend.... [_Pause_] And the next day the minister was arrested for embezzling the church funds.--Nice, isn't it?

YOUNG LADY. Oh! [_Pause_.

STUDENT. Do you know what I am thinking of you now?

YOUNG LADY. Don't tell, or I'll die!

STUDENT. I must, lest _I_ die!

YOUNG LADY. It is only in the asylum you say all that you think....

STUDENT. Exactly! My father died in a madhouse....

YOUNG LADY. Was he sick?

STUDENT. No, perfectly well, and yet mad. It broke out at last, and these were the circumstances. Like all of us, he was surrounded by a circle of acquaintances whom he called friends for the sake of convenience, and they were a lot of scoundrels, of course, as most people are. He had to have some society, however, as he couldn't sit all alone. As you know, no one tells people what he thinks of them under ordinary circumstances, and my father didn't do so either. He knew that they were false, and he knew the full extent of their perfidy, but, being a wise man and well brought up, he remained always polite. One day he gave a big party.... It was in the evening, naturally, and he was tired out by a hard day's work. Then the strain of keeping his thoughts to himself while talking a lot of damned rot to his guests.... [_The_ YOUNG LADY _is visibly shocked_] Well, while they were still at the table, he rapped for silence, raised his glass, and began to speak.... Then something loosed the trigger, and in a long speech he stripped the whole company naked, one by one, telling them all he knew about their treacheries. At last, when utterly tired out, he sat down on the table itself and told them all to go to hell!

YOUNG LADY. Oh!

STUDENT. I was present, and I shall never forget what happened after that. My parents had a fight, the guests rushed for the doors--and my father was taken to a madhouse, where he died! [_Pause_] To keep silent too long is like letting water stagnate so that it rots. That is what has happened in this house. There is something rotten here. And yet I thought it paradise itself when I saw you enter here the first time.... It was a Sunday morning, and I stood gazing into these rooms. Here I saw a Colonel who was no colonel. I had a generous benefactor who was a robber and had to hang himself. I saw a Mummy who was not a mummy, and a maiden--how about the maidenhood, by the by?... Where is beauty to be found? In nature, and in my own mind when it has donned its Sunday clothes. Where do we find honour and faith? In fairy-tales and childish fancies. Where can I find anything that keeps its promise? Only in my own imagination!... Your flowers have poisoned me and now I am squirting their poison back at you.... I asked you to become my wife in a home full of poetry, and song, and music; and then the Cook appeared.... _Sursum corda!_ Try once more to strike fire and purple out of the golden harp.... Try, I ask you, I implore you on my knees.... [_As she does not move_] Then I must do it myself! [_He picks up the harp, but is unable to make its strings sound_] It has grown deaf and dumb! Only think that the most beautiful flower of all can be so poisonous--that it can be more poisonous than any other one.... There must be a curse on all creation and on life itself.... Why did you not want to become my bride? Because the very well-spring of life within you has been sickened.... Now I can feel how that vampire in the kitchen is sucking my life juices.... She must be a Lamia, one of those that suck the blood of children. It is always in the servants' quarters that the seed-leaves of the children are nipped, if it has not already happened in the bedroom.... There are poisons that blind you, and others that open your eyes more widely. I must have been born with that second kind of poison, I fear, for I cannot regard what is ugly as beautiful, or call evil good--I cannot! They say that Jesus Christ descended into hell. It refers merely to his wanderings on this earth--his descent into that madhouse, that jail, that morgue, the earth. The madmen killed him when he wished to liberate them, but the robber was set free. It is always the robber who gets sympathy! Woe! Woe is all of us! Saviour of the World, save us--we are perishing!

_Toward the end of the_ STUDENT'S _speech, the_ YOUNG LADY
_has drooped more and more. She seems to be dying. At last she
manages to reach a bell and rings for_ BENGTSSON, _who enters
shortly afterward_.

YOUNG LADY. Bring the screen! Quick! I am dying!

BENGTSSON _fetches the screen, opens it and places it so that
the_ YOUNG LADY _is completely hidden behind_.

STUDENT. The liberator is approaching! Be welcome, thou pale and gentle one!--Sleep, you beauteous, unhappy and innocent creature, who have done nothing to deserve your own sufferings! Sleep without dreaming, and when you wake again--may you be greeted by a sun that does not burn, by a home without dust, by friends without stain, by a love without flaw! Thou wise and gentle Buddha, who sitst waiting there to see a heaven sprout from this earth, endow us with patience in the hour of trial, and with purity of will, so that thy hope be not put to shame!

_The strings of the harp begin to hum softly, and a white light
pours into the room_.

STUDENT. [_Singing_]

"Seeing the sun, it seemed to my fancy
That I beheld the Spirit that's hidden.
Man must for ever reap what he planted:
Happy is he who has done no evil.
Wrong that was wrought in moments of anger
Never by added wrong can be righted.
Kindness shown to the man whose sorrow
Sprang from your deed, will serve you better.
Fear and guilt have their home together:
Happy indeed is the guiltless man!"[1]

_A faint moaning sound is heard from behind the screen_.

STUDENT. You poor little child--you child of a world of illusion, guilt, suffering, and death--a world of eternal change, disappointment, and pain--may the Lord of Heaven deal mercifully with you on your journey!

_The whole room disappears, and in its place appears Boecklin's
"The Island of Death" Soft music, very quiet and pleasantly
wistful, is heard from without_.

_Curtain_.

[1] The lines recited by the _STUDENT_ are a paraphrase of several passages from "The Song of the Sun" in the Poetic Edda. It is characteristic of Strindberg's attitude during his final period that this Eddic poem, which apparently has occupied his mind great deal, as he has used it a number of times in "The Bridal Crown" also, is the only one of that ancient collection which is unmistakably Christian in its colouring. It has a certain apocryphal reputation and is not regarded on a par with the other contents of the Poetic Edda.

THE FIRST WARNING

(FÖRSTA VARNINGEN)

A COMEDY IN ONE ACT

1893

CHARACTERS

_The_ HUSBAND, _thirty-seven (Axel Brunner)_
_The_ WIFE, _thirty-six (Olga Brunner)_
ROSE, _fifteen_
_The_ BARONESS, _her mother, forty-seven_
_A_ MAID

_The scene is laid in Germany, about_ 1890.

_A German dining-room, with a rectangular dinner-table
occupying the middle of the floor. A huge wardrobe stands at
the right. There is an oven of glazed bricks_.

_The door in the background stands open, disclosing a landscape
with vineyards, above which appears a church spire_.

_At the left is a door papered like the rest of the wait. A
travelling-bag is placed on a chair by the wardrobe_.

_The_ WIFE _is writing at the table, on which lie a bunch of
flowers and a pair of gloves_.

HUSBAND. [_Entering_] Good morning--although it's noon already. Did you sleep well?

WIFE. Splendidly, considering the circumstances.

HUSBAND. Yes, we might have broken away a little earlier from that party last night....

WIFE. I seem to remember that you made the same remark a number of times during the night....

HUSBAND. [_Playing with the flowers_] Do you really remember that much?

WIFE. I remember also that you got mad because I sang too much.... Please don't spoil my flowers!

HUSBAND. Which previously belonged to the Captain, I suppose?

WIFE. Yes, and which probably belonged to the gardener before the florist got them. But now they are mine.

HUSBAND. [_Throwing away the flowers_] It's a nice habit they have in this place--of sending flowers to other people's wives.

WIFE. I think it would have been well for you to go to bed a little earlier.

HUSBAND. I am perfectly convinced that the Captain was of the same opinion. But as my one choice was to stay and be made ridiculous, or go home alone and be made equally ridiculous, I preferred to stay....

WIFE. ... And make yourself ridiculous.

HUSBAND. Can you explain why you care to be the wife of a ridiculous man? I should never care to be the husband of a ridiculous woman.

WIFE. You are to be pitied!

HUSBAND. Right you are. Frequently I have thought so myself. But do you know what is the most tragical feature of my ridiculousness?

WIFE. I am sure your own answer will be much cleverer than any one I could give.

HUSBAND. It is--that I am in love with my wife after fifteen years of marriage....

WIFE. Fifteen years! Have you begun to use a pedometer?

HUSBAND. For the measurement of my thorny path, you mean? No. But you, who are dancing on roses, might do well in counting your steps To me you are still as young as ever--unfortunately--while my own hair is turning grey. But as we are of the same age, my looks should tell you that you must be growing old yourself....

WIFE. And that is what you are waiting for?

HUSBAND. Exactly. How many times have I not wished that you were old and ugly, that you were pock-marked, that your teeth were gone, just to have you to myself and be rid of this worry which never leaves me!

WIFE. How charming! And once you had me old and ugly, then everything would be so very peaceful until you began to worry about somebody else, and I was left to enjoy all that peace alone, by myself.

HUSBAND. No!

WIFE. Yes! It has been well proved that your love loses its fervour the moment you have no reason to be jealous. Do you remember last summer, when there was not a soul on that island but we two? You were away all day, fishing, hunting, getting up an appetite, putting on flesh--and developing a self-assurance that was almost insulting.

HUSBAND. And yet I recall being jealous--of the hired man.

WIFE. Merciful Heavens!

HUSBAND. Yes, I noticed that you couldn't give him an order without making conversation; that you couldn't send him out to cut some wood without first having inquired about the state of his health, his future prospects, and his love-affairs.... You are blushing, I think?

WIFE. Because I am ashamed of you....

HUSBAND ... Who....

WIFE. ... Have no sense of shame whatever.

HUSBAND. Yes, so you say. But will you please tell me why you hate me?

WIFE. I don't hate you. I simply despise you! Why? Probably for the same reason that makes me despise all men as soon as they--what do you call it?--are in love with me. I am like that, and I can't tell why.

HUSBAND. So I have observed, and my warmest wish has been that I might hate you, so that you might love me. Woe is the man who loves his own wife!

WIFE. Yes, you are to be pitied, and so am I, but what can be done?

HUSBAND. Nothing. We have roved and roamed for seven years, hoping that some circumstance, some chance, might bring about a change. I have tried to fall in love with others, and have failed. In the meantime your eternal contempt and my own continued ridiculousness have stripped me of all courage, all faith in myself, all power to act. Six times I have run away from you--and now I shall make my seventh attempt. [_He rises and picks up the travelling-bag_.

WIFE. So those little trips of yours were attempts to run away?

HUSBAND. Futile attempts! The last time I got as far as Genoa. I went to the galleries, but saw no pictures--only you. I went to the opera, but heard nobody--only your voice back of every note. I went to a Pompeian café, and the one woman that pleased me looked like you--or seemed to do so later.

WIFE. [_Revolted_] You have visited places of that kind?

HUSBAND. Yes, that far have I been carried by my love--and by my virtue, which has embarrassed me by making me ridiculous.

WIFE. That's the end of everything between us two!

HUSBAND. So I suppose, as I can't make you jealous.